marc the first to initiate physical contact with bez is not a compilation i thought we'd have and yet here we are.... sending thoughts n prayers to my boy marco bezzecchi whose love language is physical touch… stay strong brother 🙏🫡
I need to cope from the lack of marcmarc (read: they decide to never finish together) so here's a blurb from cota sprint which i think can fit for this week too
Marcmarc temporary fight with each other, silent treatment, etc. Zero reasons to come up at the other too because they're focusing on their own performances.
Until they both are scarred and bruised—unfortunate in the race.
Their eyes meet again after they both finish up their interviews in the media pen. Marco notices a new bruise on Marc's arm, trying to figure out if it's from the race they both crashed out from or any of the previous sessions. He doesn't know, because they haven't talk.
Of course Marc notices Marco staring too, he never misses it. The same longing eyes that looked into him many, many times whispering "I love you," wanting him to know that he's serious about him, about them. He can't stand them being—what is this? Strangers again? It's just a bump in their relationship. He also sees how Marco’s skin is reddening in every spot that was pressed by the helmet, marking his cheekbones. The same spot where he always leaves kisses when they have time to spend the night together. Why were they fighting again?
He doesn't care. Maybe he's stripping himself too bare—vulnerable, as if there's no way Marco will hurt him. (He absolutely can, but he never believes so.) So when he comes across Marco walking down his motorhome stairs— he can't help it. The sun's setting, the air is cold, and he just dives himself in that warmth he misses. Smiling stupidly to himself when Marco returns the gesture, his arms wrapping around Marc's waist. They look at each other, still in silence—until they break in laughter.
"I miss you," he tucks himself between Marco’s neck and his shoulder. Marco hums. "Yeah. I'm sorry that I ignored you." His thumb brushes against Marc's cheek. And he sees that pair of brown eyes staring at him again—undoubtedly, he's his Marc.
"We're both two hotheaded bastards." He chuckles. The sun has fully set now. There's no other light beside from the ones that are gleaming from the vans in the paddock. It's not too dark though, for Marc to see his lover's face clearly.
No question asked, and they're back in Marco’s room. Maybe it isn’t "normal" yet, maybe there's still the awkwardness hanging between them, but it just feels natural, familiar, when their bodies fall into the same rhythm. It's not even remotely sexual. Once Marc’s thin shirt is taken off, Marco has dedicated his time to observe every scar and bruise Marc has. Like many times before. It's as if he's remembering again, every piece of Marc engraved into his memory.
Marc just melts, letting the younger man do anything.
"This one's new," he said.
"Mmm, maybe from the crash in the morning."
He doesn't expect Marco to kiss it though. A sound escapes his lips, his hand goes to grab on Marco's curls. Then Marco goes from another, mumbles "pretty" to himself every time he presses a light kiss into Marc’s bruise—scarred skin. He lets him. The gesture is overwhelmingly gentle and—his body never realizes that it's what exactly what he needs, until now.
Marco doesn't leave any spot behind, even with Marc's nasty arm scar. He caresses it softly, and Marc feels like he can hear his own breath. In that moment he realizes how naked he is too Marco
"Don't look." Marco raises his head, confused. "It's ugly."
Furrowing his eyebrows, Marco disputes. Offended as if it's his own scar. "No, it isn't." Words of disagreement were already hanging on Marc's tongue, but Marco had beaten him to it. Tells him how brave he is, "I wish I could've been there for you."
Marc knows it wasn't possible at all. They barely knew each other back then. Yet he didn't argue, not when once again Marco’s soft lips press lightly into his skin, appreciating the mark he has. A mark of strength, bravery, and patience that he has.
Maybe he has exposed his vulnerability—but it lets him take in another strength, like love—support. For once he feels like his body is resting, comfortably. Like he's safe.
