What Are You Doing New Year's Eve (Clay x Wife!Reader)
Summary: It was a sweet, simple question. One that you really didn’t take seriously at the time. Considering it came for the lips of your charming, loving husband. However after the twins had been put down, along with their newborn (2-week-old) sister, and the champagne began to flow freely. The wholesome, quiet night in you had planned on…quickly transformed into…
Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut. Oral (fem receiving), premature postpartum oral (implied penetrative) smex, hint of a breeding kink, manipulative/possessive Clay, and… his skilled tongue/thick, long dick.
Notes: Happy Holidays, lovelies! Welcome to track nine of my special holiday mix, What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve! ❤️💚
(Merry Christmas and Happy Belated Birthday, @fuckmyskywalker! 🎅)
- “What are you doing New Year’s Eve?” Words muttered against the soft, crimson streaked skin of your soft tummy. Gravelly voice rumbling through your tired, bloated body. Sending sparks of apprehensive excitement to your neglected sore core. “Mmmh…I can think a few things, angel.”
- Hands massage and knead your ample, plush love handles greedily. “Clay…” Lips trailing, placing reverent kisses along the intricate web of stretch marks. “It’s t-too soon…” Descending lower, drawing ever closer to that quivering, pudgy mound. “I can’t…we can’t…”
- Tongue glides across the delicate, see-through fabric. Wetting, saturating. Making it stick to your freshly shaven skin, together with your tacky arousal. “Don’t be ridiculous…” While his teeth graze over, canines nip lightly. Gather up, grab hold of that band of frilly lace. Pulling and tugging. Tearing the scanty pair he had ‘lovingly’ gifted you for Christmas. “Of course we can…”
- Hovering mere inches above. His hot breath fans and washes over your swollen, soaked silt. “Tonight is for celebrating…” A hungry look flickering behind those cool, blue orbs. As he gazes fiercely up at you from his place nestled between your thick thighs. “And that’s exactly what we’re going to do…”
- Burying his face, he licks and laps…prods and teases. Pushing past your velvety folds to wrap around, envelope your sensitive bud with his warm tongue. Sucking lightly, groaning in contentment…unknowingly vibrating, stimulating that little bundle of nerves. In a way that has your…
- Small hands fumble, lace through his golden curls. Back arches slightly, hips rock shyly against his face. “More, m-more…” Weakly you mewl, eyes sliding shut. Quickly losing yourself in how he rubs you deliciously, rolls your cute clit perfectly. “P-please, more…” So sloppy, so messy; oh, so wonderful. “P-please, p-pretty please…”
- “Hmmh…since you asked nicely.” Answering your desperate pleas; mouth suctions, seals over your tiny hole. Tongue delves deeply, reaches those place that your stubby ones could never manage. Coaxing the sweetest, filthiest moans from your parted lips.
- Cheeks go flushed. That familiar heat rises up inside of you, begins to grow overwhelming. “I…I…” Arms and thighs start to tremble, shake. Pace stutters and falters, becomes uneven. “Ooooh, I…I…” Gummy walls flutter and clench. Breaths come out in feeble, shallow pants. “Hub-Hubby…”
- Palms migrate, cup your full cheeks. Squeezing them harshly, firmly. Anchoring you to him, keeping you securely in place. All the while guiding, moving you faster. His tongue circling, plunging fervently. Growling low…into your creamy center…
- Yanking on his locks, pathetic cry escapes… Legs lock tightly, squishing and smothering Clay’s head with your pillowy flesh…. Gushing, convulsing… Completely coming unraveled, undone…
- Spent, exhausted…you lay shaking, spread out on the lavish rug. The heat from the crackling fire seeping into aching muscles. Casting an orange glow on your sweat covered body. Milky chest heaving slowly up and down. “Th-that was amazing, but I don’t think-”
- “What are you doing New Year’s Eve,” he chuckles, muses. Running his fingers through your puffy lips. Gathering your sticky slick. Covering and coating his painfully hard, leaking length in it. His eyes locking, never leaving yours the whole time. “Simple. I’ll be doing the same as last year and the year after that…and after that.”
- Easily hooking your legs over his broad shoulders. “Pumping you full, making sure you give me another kid.” He bullies, forces his fat tip in. “Don’t care what the doctor says” And all you can do is take it, because… “It’s how we ring in the New Year, our little tradition…”
summary: Marcus is fine. He wakes up, goes to work, goes home, goes to sleep, and then does it all over again, just the same, every day. And he's fine.
And then he meets you.
a/n: this is for @guiltyasdave and @sizzlingcloudmentality's writing through the seasons challenge! you can see my prompt and moodboard here (which I borrowed from for the header). I had the prompt ("to live with the delusion of being found") banging around in my head for days and it just screams Marcus to me. thank you @katareyoudrilling for being a wonderful beta, as always.
tags/warnings: angst, fluff, flirting, meet cute, Missy is a fun teenager, texting, coffee shop, touching, I named Miracle Guy Rob and Missy's mom Melissa, self deprecation (Marcus), shifting POV, kissing, grinding, reader has no description other than being a woman and having a job, no age mentioned but just FYI I was imagining her in her 30s or 40s, first date, coffee, pet names (beautiful, sweetheart), some Spanish (mija, calmate)
...
On Monday, Marcus woke up with his alarm.
Missy had picked it out – it wasn’t one of the sounds that came with his phone. She’d used some app to make it play part of “Takin’ Care of Business,” but only on weekdays. He didn’t know how to change it. He probably could have looked it up but he wouldn’t, anyway – she’d said it made her think of him going to work every day. So now it made him think of her, and at least he had that thought, if nothing else, to warm him as he got out of bed.
(His mood never quite matched the song’s, but at least he had a goal to work towards. Right?)
So he woke up when the piano came in, and sighed as he swung his legs off the bed. He sat there for a moment, letting Randy Bachman sing to him about getting to work by nine.
He sighed again.
He turned off the alarm, finally, and stood. He did not look in the mirror on top of his dresser as he walked past it into the bathroom.
Marcus showered and dressed on autopilot, mind almost blank. As always he just picked the next slacks, jacket, and shirt, whatever was at the front of his closet. He’d done this so many times, on so many mornings, it barely required him to be awake.
When the coffee maker beeped, he found himself standing fully dressed in his kitchen without really noticing that he’d walked there. He poured his coffee – just a splash of cream – and sat at the kitchen table to turn on the news. As he let the sound of yet another day wash over him, he texted Missy, smiling when she responded almost instantly.
Marcus
08:27 AM: Good morning, mija
Missy
08:28 AM: dad
08:28 AM: why did I sign up for a 9am dad
08:29 AM: i’m dying
Marcus
8:30 AM: if I’m remembering correctly, you had “big gym plans”
Missy
8:32 AM: never listen to me about gym plans again
8:33 AM: what was I thinkinggggg 😩
Marcus let his amusement at Missy’s texts buoy him to the sink and then out to his car, feeling a bit lighter.
Like his morning routine at home, he barely noticed the drive to work. It was the same as always, and in 17 minutes he was getting out of his parked car at HQ. He felt his shoulders stiffen as he stepped through the double doors into the lobby.
On his floor, Marcus walked to the kitchen first to drop off his lunch. He nodded at the same people he walked past every morning. Then he sat at his desk, answered his emails, and attended some meetings about upcoming missions for the current active teams. On his way to the break room for lunch he nodded at the same people again. After lunch he attended a few more meetings, dodged Rob in the hallway when he asked about Marcus’ weekend, and answered more emails.
At 5pm he stood up from his desk and walked to his car, nodding to the same people again on his way out.
Marcus drove home on autopilot, and 17 minutes later he found himself walking into his kitchen from the garage. He sighed as he opened the fridge, and decided dinner would be leftovers. Again.
Since it was Monday, and Missy wouldn’t be calling, he sat on the couch and turned the TV to the Food Network. He let the soothing sounds of low stakes cooking problems take over and crowd himself out of his own head.
10pm found Marcus in bed, setting his alarm. He got comfortable, stretched out his back, which always seemed to be aching these days, and pointedly did not think about the fact that he couldn’t think of a single thing he’d done at work that day.
As he fell asleep, he thought idly that he was glad his time as an active member of the Heroics had taught him how to fall asleep anywhere, if nothing else.
…
On Tuesday, Marcus woke up with his alarm.
His morning unfolded almost identically to Monday’s, aside from the fact that Missy wasn’t awake yet to respond to his good morning text – her Tuesday classes started at 11:30 and she usually took full advantage of the chance to sleep in.
As he sat and sipped his coffee, something on the news briefly caught his interest, until he realized it was something that had already crossed his desk the week before.
He sighed.
Marcus drove to work – 17 minutes – and went through the motions of another day at the office.
He ate lunch with Rob in his office, which had bigger windows than Marcus’s, and got his regular updates on how Rob’s family was doing (Peter had gone off to college, too, and they commiserated about their kids abandoning them).
Rob, as always, asked Marcus how he was doing with a knowing look that Marcus, as always, pointedly ignored.
“I’m fine,” he said, as always, stabbing a piece of chicken in his tupperware dish with a bit too much force. He was always fine. What else would he be?
Rob eyed him. “Are you?”
Marcus chewed and did not sigh. “Yes, I am,” he promised.
Rob squinted, and Marcus squinted back. That made his friend laugh, at least, and they changed the subject.
Marcus left the office a bit quicker that night and 17 minutes later he walked in the house just as his phone rang.
“Hi, mija,” he said, smiling as he picked up his daughter’s regular Tuesday phone call. She had a long walk home from her last class and usually called him to pass the time.
He let her voice wash over him, soothing the tension that had crept into his shoulders when Rob had squinted at him over lunch. Missy’s updates on her classes and her friends carried him through reheating his leftovers and collapsing on the couch. By the time she had to go he was more relaxed than he’d been in days. (Since her last call, probably, he did not let himself think, and made sure to tell her he loved her before she hung up.)
With a bit more help from the Food Network, Marcus successfully distracted himself until it was time for bed.
…
On Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, Marcus woke up with his alarm.
He got dressed, went to work, nodded at his coworkers, answered emails, ate lunch, nodded a bit more, and went home.
And through all of it, he was fine.
He was fine.
…
Marcus spent Saturday at home doing chores, and Sunday at the farmer’s market and the grocery store. Missy called once, and Rob texted him to invite him to Corina’s birthday dinner in two weeks. Marcus added it to his calendar and took care not to notice how every other weekend was empty.
…
On Monday, Marcus woke up with his alarm.
He moved automatically from his bed to his bathroom and then to his closet, showering and dressing as usual.
He walked downstairs, thinking idly about the meetings he had scheduled in the morning, and the training he needed to plan for the newest crop of Heroics.
Lost in thought, Marcus stood holding an empty mug in front of his coffee maker for almost 5 minutes before he realized it hadn’t beeped.
He blinked and looked down, confused.
There was no coffee in the pot. He realized he hadn’t smelled the coffee as he usually did while he was getting ready. He looked it over and saw that the setting was right, but there was no coffee.
He frowned.
Poking at the coffee maker revealed that the screen wouldn’t come on, even though it was plugged in. A few more moments of tinkering and he knew – it was broken.
Marcus sighed and checked the time – 8:10 AM. He texted Missy.
Marcus
08:10 AM: Mija, I am sorry to report that after a long and fruitful life, our beloved Mr. Coffee has percolated his last brew. May he rest in peace 🪦
Missy
08:12 AM: nooo!! not Mr. Coffee 💔
08:13 AM: your best friend, taken from us too soon
08:13 AM: how will you go on without him
He smiled. He knew she’d be able to cheer him up.
Marcus
08:15 AM: with difficulty, but I will persevere
Missy
08:17 AM: wait!
08:17 AM: dad you should go to the Bean Box!! I know you never actually did when I told you to
08:18 AM: it’s on your way to work dad you have to go
08:18 AM: it’s the best the coffee is so good
08:19 AM: daaaaaad
Marcus
08:20 AM: ok ok, calmate
08:20 AM: I’m going
Missy
08:22 AM: good! and get a scone to eat in my honor
08:23 AM: I miss those scones
15 minutes later Marcus pulled up in front of the small facade of the Bean Box and couldn’t help but smile. It was exactly the type of place Missy would like – cozy and colorful, with lots of tables stuffed inside and flower boxes overflowing along the bottom of each of the large windows in the front.
When he stepped inside, the smell of freshly roasted coffee filled his nose and he almost stopped in the doorway. It smelled good.
He joined the long line for coffee and scrolled idly on his phone, checking the news, a bit oblivious to his surroundings.
So he was surprised when his phone almost flew out of his hand a few moments later. Someone knocked into him from behind and he stumbled forward. He made some sort of noise as he juggled his phone between his hands, just barely catching it before it could fall.
“Good catch,” an admiring voice said from behind him. He turned as they continued, “Wait, I mean, I’m so sorry about that! Shit.”
Marcus turned around fully and almost froze. A woman was standing there with her hands out, as if she had just caught her balance, grimacing at him. A very beautiful woman, he couldn’t help but notice. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, but she was just as beautiful as she’d been a moment before. His eyes darted across her features but he didn’t let himself sweep his gaze over the rest of her. He didn’t want to be a creep.
Suddenly it felt much warmer in the coffee shop, and he was very aware of how close they were standing to each other.
“Shit,” she repeated. “Sorry, again. I tripped,” she pointed at the leg of a chair that was almost in the aisle, “and ended up sort of falling on you. But I’m glad you caught your phone! Nice catch, really.” She looked down and he did, too. She’d dropped her bag and some of her belongings had spilled out. She sighed. “Shit.”
Marcus was crouching before he’d even thought about bending down. “It’s alright,” he said, smiling a bit. “No harm done. Sorry about your stuff.” he gathered some papers and held them out to her. She had followed him down, kneeling as she gathered her things back into her bag.
She took them and said, “wait, you don’t have to do that! I already almost knocked you over, you don't have to help me.”
He shook his head. “Like I said, it’s fine.” He realized she had all of her things but they were both still crouching. He stood and offered her his hand to help her up.
She slid her hand into his easily and his breath caught as she said, “well, thank you, and sorry, again.” Her hand was warm and he ignored the way his fingers tingled at her touch.
She was smiling, then, and Marcus couldn’t help but notice that her smile was very pretty. So pretty he had to drag his eyes away from it, trying not to stare.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this. There was warmth in his chest and a floaty feeling in his stomach and the tips of his fingers were still tingling where they’d touched hers. It felt almost foreign, it had been so long. He felt lightheaded.
“Please don’t worry about it.” He looked around and realized the line had moved a little, so he took a step forward to move with it. She did the same. “I’m Marcus, by the way.”
She gave her name and he smiled. It suited her.
“Can I buy you an apology coffee?” she asked, looking hopeful. “I still feel bad.”
He shook his head, laughing. “No, it’s really ok. I mean it.”
“Hmm,” she hummed, looking suddenly thoughtful and amused. “I’ve never had anyone turn down a free cup of coffee from here before. You must be new.”
Marcus was smiling. He realized he might have been smiling at her the whole time, and felt a bit of wonder at that. “It’s that obvious? I am. New, I mean. My daughter has been telling me to come here for months but this is my first time.”
Her eyebrows raised and he hoped he was imagining the way her expression closed off a bit. But in the next moment he wondered at himself for even thinking of it. Don’t be a fool, he warned himself, even as he felt the urge to explain. She’s just nice, she’s not interested.
“She has good taste,” she said lightly. “What took you so long, then?”
Marcus sighed and gave in to the urge. “It’s just me at home, with her away at college, and I’ve just been torturing my ancient coffee maker by keeping it alive. But it took its last dying breaths this morning and I was forced to venture out for coffee, instead.”
She nodded solemnly. “Rest in peace, ancient coffee maker.” The jokingly serious look on her face reminded him of the way Missy would tease him and he couldn’t help but smile. Again.
Suddenly Marcus realized they’d made it to the front of the line. He wasn’t ready to order, or to stop talking to this beautiful woman who had almost knocked him over.
“I guess I’m up,” he said, as the person in front of him started to pay.
He tried not to watch as she bit her lip, hesitating for just a moment. “Well, Marcus,” she said, voice light again. “I’m here most mornings, so you’ll have to come back and let me know if you liked it.”
Marcus felt his cheeks warm and he smiled. “Ok then. I’ll try.”
For the rest of the day, he found he couldn’t quite wipe that smile off of his face, not even when Rob teased him about it.
…
On Tuesday, Marcus woke up with his alarm, already smiling.
He glanced at himself in the mirror as he got dressed, and was stunned to see his face looking so relaxed for once.
Is that all it takes? He wondered, amused at his own expense. A bit of flirting and a pretty smile? But it wasn’t just about her pretty smile, he knew that. He’d felt something the day before, something he hadn’t felt in years.
Something he wanted to feel again.
He’d told Missy he liked her coffee shop the night before and promised he’d be back (and that he’d get a scone, this time). So he hurried downstairs and out to his car as soon as he was dressed, ready to find out if he would run into her again.
When he pulled up outside The Bean Box, he took a deep, slow breath. Sure, he was a teensy bit invested. Something about her had kindled a tiny fire in his chest. But he didn’t want to get his hopes too high. He shouldn’t. Right?
But as he stepped inside, he realized he needn’t have worried. She was standing by the door, looking just as stunning as the day before. And she was watching the people coming in.
When she saw him, she grinned. “I knew you’d be back! It’s good, right?”
Marcus nodded as felt a smile stretch across his face. “It is. And I promised my daughter I’d get a scone this time.”
Her eyes lit up. He couldn’t look away. “Oh, you definitely need to get a scone. They’re amazing.”
She stepped into line next to him and he noticed they both kept their bodies turned towards each other as they talked.
“You said she’s in college, right?” She tilted her head at him. Marcus tried not to trace the line of her neck with his eyes. “Is she enjoying it?”
He nodded. “She’s a freshman, but she settled in quick. She’s so independent, I knew she would.” He looked down, smiling as he thought about his daughter, and told her about Missy’s major. “She blows me away, honestly.”
When he looked back up he found her smiling softly at him. “Sounds like she’s got a great dad.”
Marcus smiled and ducked his head again. “I miss her, but it helps that she’s doing so well. And we talk a lot. More than I expected, really. Figured she’d be too busy.”
He felt something warm on his arm and realized she had reached out and lightly rested her hand on his forearm. He blinked and felt a flush rise in his cheeks and start to travel down his neck. He suddenly wished he wasn’t wearing a sweater over his dress shirt, wished he could feel her hand on his skin again.
“I’d say that means you’re definitely a great dad.” She was still smiling. “Take it from me, and my memories of college. I definitely didn’t talk to my parents that much.” She laughed and Marcus felt his breath catch at the way it lit up her features. Her hand was still on his arm and he fought the urge to cover it with his own, to keep it there.
He shook himself and nodded. “It’s been just us for so long. We are pretty close.”
She squeezed his arm lightly and he felt a shiver run up his spine. When her hand fell away, he missed it immediately. “Has it been tough? Adjusting without her.”
Marcus sighed and nodded. “My house is so empty now.” He laughed, ruefully. “I swear, it echoes in there. Never expected I would miss all the noise.”
She nodded. “I’ve got nieces and nephews, and they’re so loud, but I always miss it when they’re gone. It’s not the same, but I get that.”
As the line moved forward, she told him more about her sister’s kids and their antics. Marcus found himself smiling and laughing more than he had outside of a call with Missy in… months. Longer? He didn’t want to think about it, not when he was caught up in feeling like this instead.
By the time they reached the front of the line, he was only wishing they had more time.
She hesitated when it was almost her turn to step up to the counter. “Did you get your coffee maker fixed?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t think it’s fixable, and honestly it deserves to rest. It lived a long life.”
She laughed and then bit her lip. It drew his eyes like a magnet.
“So, will I see you again tomorrow?” She looked hopeful and he wanted so badly to read into it.
“I think so,” he agreed, smiling a bit shyly.
She grinned at him. “Good.”
He carried the memory of that grin with him through the rest of the day, until Rob managed to weasel the whole story out of him over lunch. He told his friend about the way they’d met and how she’d been standing inside the door that morning.
But somehow telling it to someone else had Marcus second guessing the whole thing.
“I’m probably just imagining it.” He was standing with Rob in the hall by his office, coming back from lunch, wishing it had never come up.
“Well, I think you should go back and you should talk to her again.” Rob furrowed his brow at Marcus and poked him in the arm.
Marcus frowned and brushed his hand away. “Rob, she’s probably not interested.”
His friend frowned back, exaggerating the expression until it was comical. “Sounded like she was. Why wouldn’t she be?”
Marcus shook his head and grimaced. “Why would she be? I’m a sad, boring, almost 50-year old man who does nothing but go to work and wait for his daughter to call him. I’m not delusional, ok, I know no one wants to deal with that. Especially not someone like her.”
Rob sighed. He reached out and grabbed Marcus’ shoulders and squeezed. “Marcus. Listen to me. You are a smart, funny, and caring man who loves his daughter and his friends. You deserve more, ok? Tell me you know that.”
Marcus shook his head. “Know what?”
“That it’s not a delusion to think you deserve to be loved.”
“Loved?” Marcus shook his head and tried not to scoff. “We’re just talking about someone I met at a coffee shop.” He ignored that his heart had started to beat just a bit faster when he thought about her, just like it had in The Bean Box when she’d touched his arm. And when she’d smiled at him, looking so hopeful that she’d see him again.
Rob raised his eyebrows. “Someone you can’t stop thinking about, and who flirted with you and got you out of your shell. Right?”
Marcus sighed.
“Marcus,” Rob said, voice careful, and Marcus knew what was coming next. “Is this about Melissa? I–”
He shook his head, interrupting. “No, I mean, not really. You know I’ve gone on dates, well, a while ago. It’s just…” He closed his eyes. “It’s been so long, and since Missy left for college, I’ve just been…” he trailed off, looking for the right word. “Asleep, I think. It’s so quiet. Every day is the same.”
Marcus opened his eyes to find his best friend frowning at him.
“I get it. But it sounds like this shook you out of that routine, right?” Marcus sighed. “Marcus, look, just– promise me you won’t just dismiss it, ok? Give it a chance.”
He wanted to scrub his hands over his eyes but Rob was still holding his shoulders. “How do I do that?”
Rob shrugged. “You’ve already run into her twice. Just keep going back. See what happens.”
Marcus closed his eyes and finally broke out of his friend’s hold. He leaned against the wall behind him. “Ok. Ok, I can do that.”
Rob let out a long breath, clearly relieved. “Good. And just let yourself enjoy it, ok? I know you know how to flirt. Even if you’re rusty.”
Marcus rolled his eyes and shoved Rob back a bit. “Yeah, yeah. I thought you wanted me to go back, huh? Stop making me nervous.”
Rob waved his hand, laughing. “You’re already nervous. But I’ve seen you flirt, man, even if it’s been a minute. I believe in you.”
At least someone did.
…
On Wednesday, Marcus woke up with his alarm, and immediately felt nervous.
He paused in front of his closet, actually looking at his clothes for the first time in a long time. Should I wear this shirt? Or a sweater? He hesitated, cursed himself for wasting time, and then grabbed the next shirt and slacks, as always.
He walked straight past his kitchen on his way to his car, only glancing at the clock. 08:14 AM.
Missy
08:17 AM: are you going to the Bean Box again
08:18 AM: have I created a monster
Marcus
08:27 AM: just pulled up
08:27 AM: I’ll eat a scone for you
Missy
08:28 AM: mail me one 🙏
Marcus
08:29 AM: counter offer: I’ll buy you one when you’re home next
Missy
08:29 AM: deal
Marcus was smiling at his phone as he opened the door into the coffee shop, belatedly looking up at his surroundings after he stepped inside. He didn’t see her and started to frown.
“Let me guess – your daughter?”
He turned to find her behind him, leaning against the high table by the door. She gestured at his phone with a smile. He nodded. “How’d you know?”
She stepped closer and looked down at his phone. “You were smiling at it as you walked in.”
He couldn’t help but smile again. “She asked me to mail her a scone.”
She laughed and Marcus watched the way it changed her face. Beautiful.
“Would it survive?” She grinned and fell into step next to him in the line for coffee.
He shook his head. “No, but I promised I’d buy her one next time she’s home.”
“When’s that?”
“Spring break.”
She frowned sympathetically. “So far away! That’s too bad.”
Marcus sighed, agreeing. “It is, but it helps knowing that she’s having such a great time.”
She looked thoughtful and nudged Marcus with her shoulder. He felt himself flush. “You know, you could look up coffee shops near her campus and buy her a gift card or something. Somewhere similar. Probably better than mailing a scone.”
He blinked, surprised. That was a good idea. “I…” he trailed off. “That’s–”
“Sorry,” she interrupted, wincing. “I didn’t mean–”
“No,” he said, not wanting her to apologize. He touched his fingertips lightly to her arm – she was wearing short sleeves, and the touch of his skin against hers deepened his flush. His fingertips started to tingle and he felt his heart start to beat faster in his chest. “I was going to say, that’s a great idea. Thank you.”
She grinned at him and leaned forward, which brought her arm more in contact with his hand. Suddenly he found himself with a light hold on her forearm, gripping it gently. He stroked his thumb across her skin before he even realized what he was doing.
“I was worried I’d overstepped,” she said without moving away from him.
Marcus shook his head, momentarily speechless at the feel of her skin and the knowledge that she hadn’t pulled away.
“No,” he murmured. “I’m definitely going to do that. She’ll love it.”
For a moment he didn’t move, and neither did she. He noticed the line moving out of the corner of his eye but didn’t do anything about it until the person behind them in line cleared their throat.
Startled, he stepped forward, losing contact with her arm. She was still smiling at him as she turned.
“You know,” he said, wishing he could reach out to touch her hand. “I never asked what brings you here every day.”
She hummed. “Well the coffee, of course,” she winked at him, “but I also work from here most mornings. I like the atmosphere, and all of my meetings are in the afternoon.”
He nodded, thinking that sounded nice. “So if I were to keep up my new coffee habit, you’d be here in the mornings?”
She turned towards him then and he leaned closer.
“Yep,” she agreed. “Most days. Maybe you could stick around sometime.” She raised her eyebrows but he sighed.
“I can’t,” he said, looking down. “Have to be in the office.”
Her face fell and he felt something twist inside his chest. She opened her mouth to reply but he interrupted. He didn’t want her to feel like that, not when he was feeling like this.
“Maybe we could,” his voice came out a bit strangled and he cleared his throat. “Maybe we could have dinner sometime instead?”
Marcus watched as her face transformed from disappointed to hopeful. He smiled.
“I’d like that, Marcus.”
…
Marcus couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on a date, it had been so long.
(That was a lie – he just didn’t want to remember, it had gone so badly. But it had been years – he was pretty sure Missy had been in middle school at the time.)
He spent way too long staring at his clothes and trying to ignore Rob’s encouraging texts. He settled on dark jeans and a sweater. When his phone pinged again, he finally looked down to check it.
Rob
(5:37 PM): Corina says wear the dark green sweater
(5:38 PM): I don’t even know which sweater she’s talking about but I assume you do
Marcus looked down and laughed. He had, in fact, chosen the dark green sweater.
Marcus
(5:41 PM): tell her I am and that I had the same idea
Rob
(5:43 PM): she says good choice and have a great time
(5:44 PM): I mean, me too
Marcus smiled as he walked downstairs. He was glad for the support, but he knew he looked good in this sweater. It was one of the few purchases he’d made in recent years just because he liked the way it looked.
He got in the car and headed towards the restaurant where they’d agreed to meet. It was a short drive but he could feel himself getting more and more nervous the closer he got.
After he parked, he stopped and took a deep breath. He thought of Melissa, as he’d done quite a bit since he met the beautiful woman in the coffee shop. It had been so long since they’d lost her, and he’d had quite a bit of time to think about dating again. This wasn’t even his first try.
But it always made him a little wistful. He took a moment to think about what she’d say – probably something about how his arms looked in the sweater. The thought made him laugh and shake his head. He got out of the car.
She was waiting by the door, and she was stunning.
…
You tried not to fidget as you stood by the door to the restaurant. It was a place your coworker had recommended, but you’d never been. Your nerves had driven you to arrive ten minutes early and now you had nothing to do but wait, and think of the gorgeous man you were waiting for.
And he really was gorgeous. You’d known that from the moment he’d turned around after you’d almost knocked him over in your favorite coffee shop – a memory that made your cheeks burn, even now, you’d been so embarrassed. He was tall with a jawline that made you want to bite, shoulders that were so broad you needed to get your hands on them, and warm brown eyes that had so much feeling in them, it took your breath away.
And then he’d smiled at you, and helped you with your things. And flirted. And then he’d come back, and kept coming back. For coffee, of course, but also to talk to you.
Every time he walked into The Bean Box, he looked around, looking for you. And when he saw you, his face lit up. You couldn’t help but smile just thinking about it.
How is he single? It was a question you’d been wondering about all week. You figured it was probably because he was a single dad, and his daughter had just gone to college. But at the same time you couldn’t comprehend that no one had locked this gorgeous, thoughtful, funny, caring man down. Their loss, you thought, and smiled again.
At that moment you looked up, and caught sight of Marcus getting out of his car. Your smile stretched into a grin.
“Hello there,” he said, smiling as he walked closer to you. “You look stunning this evening.”
You looked him over and tilted your head. “So do you, in that sweater.”
He blushed and you bit your lip. It was so charming when he did that.
“Ready for dinner?” he asked, and when you nodded he turned to guide you inside. You felt his hand come up to rest on your lower back. It was big and warm, just as warm as it had been when he’d held your arm. You shivered.
The restaurant had a table waiting for you, and you turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. He smiled and shrugged. “I called two days ago when you said yes to dinner.”
The table they led you to was cozy – tucked in a corner with a window, a romantic candle flickering in the center. When you sat, you realized a couple of plants hid you from the rest of the room.
“Cozy,” you said, smiling.
Marcus nodded. “My best friend has brought his wife here, says it’s fantastic. And romantic.”
“Hmm,” you hummed, reaching out to nudge his hand where it rested on the table. “Romantic, huh?”
Marcus looked suddenly unsure, which made you slide your hand over his and squeeze. “Is that alright?”
You nodded. “It’s more than alright, Marcus. It’s perfect.”
He smiled again, and the two of you settled into an easy conversation about your weeks, about his daughter, and about your work. It flowed just as comfortably as it had at the coffee shop and you felt the warmth that Marcus had kindled inside of you from the first moment start to burn again. It carried you through dinner.
You watched his face as he talked and couldn’t help but marvel again at how handsome he was. He seemed to notice your focus and smirked a bit. “What?”
“Hmm?” you blinked, eyes snapping back to meet his.
He reached across the table and laced his fingers with yours. “I was just wondering what you were thinking.”
Your face warmed but you wanted to tell him, anyway. “Just got distracted by how handsome you are.”
Marcus blushed again and you grinned. “Really?” he looked doubtful, and you couldn’t have that.
“Oh yes,” you said, leaning towards him. “Not for the first time. You know how hard it was not to stare, in the coffee shop?”
He laughed and picked up your hand. He leaned forward, too, and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. You bit your lip at the sensation of his lips against your skin. “Me?” he asked, smiling against your knuckles. “What about you? You’re so beautiful I couldn’t take my eyes off you. And then you smiled, and well.” He kissed your knuckles again. “Still can’t look away from you, even if I wanted to.”
For a moment you just stared at each other, smiling.
“Marcus,” you started, lifting your fingers to press against his jaw. He held on, but let you turn your hand until you could cup his cheek. “Do you want to come home with me?”
He blinked, clearly surprised. “I–” He swallowed, looking nervous. “It’s been a while, since…” he trailed off. “It’s been a while,” he repeated, smiling shyly.
You traced his cheekbone with your thumb. “There’s no rush,” you promised. You leaned a little closer and he leaned in to meet you. “I just want you to kiss me, Marcus,” you murmured, and watched his pleasure at that idea take over his handsome face. “And then we can just see where it takes us. No rush, no pressure.”
His eyes darkened as he smiled, a new sort of smile you hadn’t seen before. It made you press your thighs together under the table. “No rush,” he repeated, “but I’ve been wanting to kiss you, too,” he said, voice low and warm. He moved to stand. “Let’s go.”
…
Marcus stepped up close behind you at your door, and you smiled at the feeling of his warm body almost touching yours. His hand came to rest on your waist and you shivered.
You finally managed to unlock the door and he followed you in.
So quickly it made your head spin, Marcus turned and pressed you up against the inside of your door. you gasped. His chest was just as broad and firm as you’d thought, and he held you easily in place, right where he wanted you. You marveled at his sudden confidence – it looked very good on him.
“Hi there, beautiful,” he murmured, looking down at your lips. “Can I kiss you?”
“Please,” you breathed. Before you could say anything else, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.
Marcus’s lips were warm, and soft, and his kiss was slow and gentle. It seeped into you and you felt his warmth light you up from the inside.
Your hands found his hips and you tugged him forwards until your bodies were touching from shoulder to knee. He moaned lightly, into your mouth, and suddenly his kiss wasn’t so gentle anymore.
It was fierce. Your head was spinning as you opened your mouth to him and felt his tongue stroke along yours.
His thigh came to rest between yours and you shivered.
“Marcus,” you sighed, breaking the kiss. He pressed soft kisses along your cheek and jaw before he let his head drop to your shoulder.
“You feel perfect against me, you know that?” His voice sounded almost hoarse, and you wrapped your arms around his waist. His sweater was soft and it made you smile. His right hand was flat against the door by your head but his left came up to cup your jaw and neck. “Shit, sweetheart. You’re perfect.”
You pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “I’m not perfect,” you laughed.
He shook his head against your shoulder. “Feels pretty perfect.” He thrust his hips forward and pressed his thigh against you more firmly. You moaned.
You felt Marcus huff a small laugh against your shoulder and pulled back to eye him. “What?”
He was smiling. “It’s nothing.” He shook his head as you raised your eyebrow, still confused. “I was just thinking how lucky I am that my coffee machine broke that day. Never would have met you, otherwise.”
You felt your face relax as you smiled back and leaned in for another soft kiss. “Sounded like it was on its last legs, from what you told me.”
He laughed again, and you grinned. “It was. RIP, Mr. Coffee, and thank you for your timely death.”
You hummed. “I like to think I would have found you, anyway. Maybe on another day at the Box.”
Marcus pressed forward and buried his face in your neck again. You felt his soft kisses working their way down to your shoulder and shivered. “Yeah? How?”
You shrugged and he nipped at your shoulder. “Just feels right, you know? I felt it the moment I met you.” You leaned your head to the side and he took advantage, worrying a mark at the spot where it met your shoulder. It made you squirm and his grip on you tightened. “Like I’d found something I’d been looking for, and didn’t even know it.”
He lifted his head again and the look in his eyes made your breath catch in your throat. “I know exactly what you mean, sweetheart. You woke me up when you almost knocked me over.” He grinned, teasing you.
“What do you mean?” You lifted one of your hands and let your fingers trail through his hair.
He leaned into it, smiling. “I’ve been… asleep. Living the same day, over and over again. And then I met you, and it’s like I’m awake for the first time since Missy left. Before that, probably.” He leaned forward and kissed you, gently. “You woke me up,” he repeated. You smiled, surprised and pleased that you’d had such an effect on him, too.
Marcus kissed you again, and for a while after that there wasn’t a lot of talking. You could only manage his name, and please, and don’t stop.
If i wrote a fic for the movie Awake (with hayden christensen) would anyone wanna read It? I have a neat idea but writing fics based on movies is a lot of work and I don't want to do it if no one's interested in reading it. Like, reblog, or comment as a vote if you'd read it. Thaaaaanks!
