Peter and Oberon find warmth with each other. Another Fae has different plans.
Warnings for this chapter: Fluff, smut and angst, magic and folklore, mischief, masturbation, anal (fingering), hand job, rather vanilla sex tbh? it’s full of love, then regrets and a scene that could be compared to how victims respond after rape (and the next chapter that will release on Ostara will likely contain actual dub-/noncon so please continue with care), Mysterio is here to fuck shit up.
Go to the Masterpost for all the teaser poems and chapters!
Read Company - Chapter 3: Imbolc on AO3
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Here it is! Chapter 3! The next one will be posted on Ostara, March 21st. Thank you for reading it, if you do! I hope you enjoy!!! <3
- Lien
...
The Fae haunts Peter. His thoughts, his dreams- both day and night. Oberon’s smile and intense gaze follow Peter through life. He catches himself yearning to hear the man’s laughter, to feel his fingers curl in Peter’s neck as he did when he took off Peter’s coat. Sometimes, Peter imagines how he would whisper, laying next to him in bed. How his soft lips and stubble would contrast themselves on the shell of Peter’s ear. He can only guess the words the Fae would tell him, but part of him wonders what his name would sound like from Oberon’s tongue.
“Peter…”
The young man gasps as he shakily thrusts up into his hand, spilling over his lower abdomen. His muscles tense and his lips part to let out a strained noise in a half-assed attempt to hold back his ecstatic experience. Wave upon wave of pleasure floods over him until his body and member slack. Peter pants, eyes closed, and whispers the Fae’s name in reply to his imagination.
“Oberon-”
Peter knows he shouldn’t be thinking of Oberon like this. The more he gives in to his growing infatuation with the Fae, the more likely he is to slip up and give himself to the man fully. He can’t help the small voice in the back of his head, wondering how bad it would be to spend eternity with Oberon. Would it be bad at all?
…
When Imbolc finally arrived, Peter took the first train to the woods. Maybe he’s a little eager, but he simply can’t wait to see Oberon again. He scrolls through his phone, smiling at some silly photos of May he took last week and setting one as his lock screen. She’s alive again because of the Fae- because of Oberon. And all the man wants is company. Nothing more, nothing less. Well, Peter thinks. If it’s company he wants, it’s company he’ll get.
With the snow gone, Peter more confidently finds his way through the woods. He’s still not exactly sure where to go, but at least the direction he’s taking feels like it makes more sense.
“Oberon?” Peter uses his hands to help his voice carry further. “You here?”
“Why, aren’t you cute.” Peter’s back straightens and he turns, startled, at the voice behind him. A man with slightly longer, pushed back, dirty blond hair grins down at him from a large branch. His short, trimmed beard enunciates his jawline and he has large eyes, almost comically so. They glow dim, just like Oberon’s. Fae. Bad news.
Peter swallows and presses his lips on top of each other, breathing in through his nose.
“Says a strange man sitting in a tree by himself in the middle of the woods,” he replies calm and collected. The Fae chuckles darkly, causing a shiver to run down Peter’s spine. The man hops off the branch and lands effortlessly.
“Hmm,” the Fae hums. “If it is strange I am here in the woods by myself, then why is it not odd you are here?”
“I’m looking for someone,” Peter answers earnestly. “A friend who goes by Oberon.”
Suddenly, Peter’s blood seems to freeze, locking him in place as the Fae stalks closer until he is right in front of Peter. He looks down, locking Peter’s eyes with his. The Fae grins and leans in, nearly letting their noses touch.
“You may call me Oberon, then.” The man’s breath is cold on Peter’s face and the young man blinks in an attempt to fight a sudden drowsiness that washes over him. “I’ll be your friend.” The Fae’s gaze holds him in place and momentarily, Peter wonders if the beauty of the being’s bright blue eyes are the cause of this sleepiness. He is using magic on Peter and only now does it become painfully obvious what Oberon could have done to him from the start, but never did.
“I don’t think I should-” As quickly as the Fae got hold of him, he lets Peter go again. He looks to his side cautiously and when Peter blinks, the Fae is gone.
“Puck,” a familiar voice speaks. Immediately, a smile grows on Peter’s face. He pivots and the Fae seems surprised by how Peter beams.
“Oberon, hey!” Peter holds himself back. Part of him wants to fall into the Fae’s embrace straight away, but as much as his feelings for the man have rooted and grown, he’s not sure Oberon has gone through the same.
“Who were you talking to?” Oberon inquires curiously. Peter cocks his head and frowns. With an uncertain pout, he looks around him.
“Nobody- eh, myself, I guess? I tend to do that.”
…
“What’s that?” Oberon creeps over Peter’s shoulder, staring at the device in Peter’s hand. The young man is seated on the soft pillows of Oberon’s cabin. Peter grins.
“With my aunt back at work, she started making money again.” He holds up his phone to proudly show it to Oberon. “She gave me this phone for Christmas!” The Fae frowns slightly and shuffles to sit down next to Peter, who sucks in a breath at how close the man is to him.
“Phone…” Oberon repeats, lost in thought. “It looks fragile.”
“Well,” Peter chuckles. “I wouldn’t throw or toss it. I don’t want it to break- these things are expensive.”
“Huh.” Oberon cocks an eyebrow. There’s a curious glimmer in his eyes as he stares at Peter’s fingers caressing the screen. “May I… May I see it?”
“You are seeing it, aren’t you?” Peter smirks. Oberon scoffs and gestures at the phone.
“From up close, please?”
“Since you asked so nicely,” Peter says theatrically, wanting to hand Oberon the device. However, he quickly pulls back. “There’s metal in this.”
“I can handle it, remember?” Oberon says with an encouraging nod. “I am Iron Man.”
“Right- right,” Peter chuckles at the silly nickname and passes the phone to the Fae.
The man turns and twists it in his hands, studying it intently. His eyes squeeze to slits in an attempt to look into the charger hole.
“Press the button on the screen,” Peter instructs. Oberon looks up at him confused, but does as told. The screen lights up and a photo of Peter and May together appears. Oberon gasps in awe.
“Who is that?”
“M-“ Peter stops himself, nearly saying her name. “My aunt.”
“The one I helped?” Peter nods.
“She seems nice.”
“She’s the nicest.”
“Not I?” Oberon jokes, causing Peter to scoff a soft laugh.
“Don’t make me choose.” Oberon perks up at that, eyes wide and glimmering, mouth open in a wide smile.
“So, you think I am nice?”
“I- I don’t mind spending time with you.” Peter looks away into the fire, blushing profusely and silently swearing at himself for feeling it crawl up to his ears. Oberon stays quiet, but Peter can practically hear him grinning. The Fae settles flush next to him as they both stare at the flames.
“I think you are nice too,” Oberon speaks softly. He slowly raises his hand to give the phone back to Peter.
Instead of taking it, Peter curls his fingers around Oberon’s and presses the home screen again. Oberon seems surprised by Peter’s actions, but watches intrigued as Peter swipes up, opening the camera without unlocking his phone. Oberon gasps when he is met with his own moving image on screen.
“It is a mirror?” Oberon moves the phone closer to his face with Peter’s hands still on top of his.
“A camera.”
“For… Photos?” The Fae looks at Peter with a cocked head. The young man smiles and nods.
“Correct,” he replies with a posh accent. “And videos too. Here-” Peter takes the phone out of Oberon’s hands and angles it so they are both in shot. His thumb hovers over the button on screen. “Cheese!”
Right as Peter presses the button, Oberon turns to him with a frown.
“Cheese?” Click. “What does that have to do with pictures?” Peter snorts and looks down at his phone to open his album. Oberon’s captured face is pricelessly confused, but Peter understands where it came from.
“I- I’m not actually sure,” Peter chuckles. “I think it has to do with the word itself? Like, you kind of smile when you say it?”
“I smile when I say cheese because it reminds me of its lovely taste.” Only then Oberon notices the photo on Peter’s screen. “Oh, that one is not particularly flattering,” he deadpans as he leans in to look at himself. “Can we tear it?”
“Let’s not rip up my phone.” Peter smiles. “I’ll delete it.”
“Just because I cannot lie, does not mean I cannot tell when others do,” Oberon says smugly. Peter hides his phone, but his eyes shimmer mischievously.
“We could also just try again?”
“Yes, let’s do that,” Peter says, already promising to himself that that photo will be his home screen.
Peter unlocks his phone and raises his arm to angle it right again. His breath hitches when he feels Oberon press himself against Peter, to fit in the frame better. The Fae’s breath is warm in his neck and Peter nearly forgets what they were doing. He smiles awkwardly, but it turns into a genuine laugh when Oberon pokes his side slightly and exclaims:
“CHEESE!”
…
“So, which one of these are edible?” Peter asks as he pulls at the leaves of a bush, nodding at the berries resting at the base of the twigs.
“For starters, that one leads to an eternal nap, so I would advise against it,” Oberon states dryly. Peter immediately lets go of the plant and stands up straight again. They had decided, since Peter can’t actually eat food that Oberon offers him, to go foraging. That way, Peter can collect his own food. It’s been around five hours since Peter had arrived at the cottage and their conversations were as interesting and comfortable as they could be. Peter really loves his time with Oberon.
“How about that one?” Peter sheepishly points at another bush with darker berries. Oberon smirks and saunters towards it, taking exactly one berry off of it and tossing it into his mouth. He chews and swallows.
“Good pick.” He picks another few berries and eats them. Peter can only stare at Oberon’s bobbing Adam’s apple. After a few bites, Oberon cocks an eyebrow. “Are you alright, Puck? The berries are safe.” Peter blinks and steps towards the bush, but Oberon doesn’t move. Instead, he moves to angle a branch so that the berries are easier to pick for Peter.
The young man fills his hand with berries and gratefully pulls his arm back from the bush. Two got squashed in his greedy attempt to fit as many as possible in his hands, but they still look edible. Peter takes his free hand and tastes a single piece. It’s a little sour, but incredibly tasty. He immediately perks up and tosses another three in his mouth, not noticing Oberon’s intense stare on him. Peter’s next bite is a little too eager. To prevent the berry from falling out, he clenches his teeth. However, the berry wasn’t in Peter’s mouth all the way, so it squashes and starts dripping down his chin.
“Shit-” Peter exclaims as he makes a cup of his hands to catch the juice dripping down.
“Here,” Oberon says quickly. “Allow me-” The Fae raises his hand and steps closer until their breaths mingle. Peter can’t move as Oberon’s thumb finds his jaw and wipes away the juice. He looks up at the man with big eyes, jaw slacked as his mind races. Oberon, seemingly reluctantly, takes his hand back but Peter stops him by dropping the berries he still had to the ground and grabbing hold of the Fae’s wrist.
His mouth is dry, regardless of the juicy fruit he just ate. He feels like he’s not breathing, but judging by the fact that he can feel his heart thump in his head and that he sees his chest rising and falling rapidly from his peripheral vision, he’s still taking in oxygen.
“Puck?” Oberon whispers. “Are you-”
“I think there’s still some left on my lips,” Peter replies breathlessly. It is a bold move, but one he was definitely willing to make after so many more hours of talking and getting to know the man better.
“My hands are already sticky.” Oberon licks his lips, eyes strained on Peter’s plump ones. Peter absentmindedly mimics Oberon’s actions.
“Only one way to get rid of it then…”
Oberon scoffs softly at Peter’s directness. The corner of his mouth curls up as he leans in, closing his eyes. Peter’s and Oberon’s noses brush together and Peter can’t help but close his eyes as well, relishing in the feeling of Oberon’s heat flush against him and his breath mingling with the Fae’s. He gasps softly when he feels a tongue flick against his lips, but the Fae remains distanced in a way that drives Peter mad with want.
“I can only imagine how sweet you would taste,” Oberon mutters.
“Don’t imagine anymore…” Peter’s order soon turns into a plea. “Please.”
“Since when are you so loose? So relaxed? Why would you let me steal a kiss from y-”
Peter lets out a strained noise at Oberon’s indecision on what to do, now knowing damn well the Fae wants exactly the same Peter wants. He boldly leans in, immediately opening his mouth so Oberon can push his surprised moan into him. Where Peter took initiative, Oberon now takes the lead. Peter lets himself be guided into the kiss, letting go of Oberon’s hand, so it can find its way into Peter’s hair. After a little bit, Peter pulls back slightly and scoffs a quiet laugh, still not opening his eyes.
“Maybe your spells are finally working.”
…
The door to Oberon’s cabin gets blown wide open as he and Peter are glued to each other, breathing rapidly and tugging at their clothes. The Fae lifts Peter effortlessly, kicks the door shut and pushes the young man up against it. His hips grind into Peter’s crotch and the human whimpers at the friction against his clothed cock.
“O-Oberon-” he begs. “More- more, please-” The Fae immediately moves his lips to Peter’s neck to suckle on it. He grins against Peter’s skin when a certain spot has Peter buck his hips involuntarily. Oberon sucks at it a little harsher, drawing the most delicious sounds from Peter. “More-”
“I will give you all- everything- all of it.” Oberon’s mutters are nearly incoherent as he ravishes down Peter’s neck, pulling at the hoodie until he can reach Peter’s collar bone. He grazes his teeth past it and pushes his hips up against Peter’s crotch again.
“Yes, yes, please-”
Oberon carries Peter over to the pillow pile on the floor and sits down with Peter still on top of him. The young man’s eyes flutter open to stare straight into Oberon’s. They glow brighter than they did before. Peter immediately pushes in to kiss him again, rolling his hips into Oberon’s and moaning with every sting of stimulation on his aching clothed cock. The Fae pushes his hips up invitingly as he pulls his head back to take off his shirt. Peter stares, nearly drools, at the beautifully toned chest.
“Your turn,” Oberon chuckles darkly. Peter follows the Fae’s lead and undresses his upper body.
When Peter’s head is hidden in his dress shirt as he awkwardly pulls it over his head, there’s a sudden intense, wet suckle on his left nipple.
“A-ah!” Peter exclaims, twitching under Oberon’s attention. The Fae’s large hands keep Peter in place. He wants to get rid of his shirt asap, but now that he can’t see, the sensations of Oberon’s tongue circling his sensitive bud are all the more overwhelming. When he’s free, Peter throws the shirt away from him and moves his hands into Oberon’s hair to anchor himself. The roll of his hips into Oberon’s crotch is steady now, but both men are ready for more.
Peter feels like he’s floating as the Fae turns them both around until he’s pinning Peter on the floor. He rubs their clothed crotches together and all Peter can do is take whatever is given him.
“Can I-” Oberon gasps as he sucks possessive marks on Peter’s chest. “M-May I-”
“Fuck me-” Peter orders. “Please, I need you-”
“Oh, Dandelion,” Oberon moans, tugging at Peter’s pants. “Sweet Chamomile, Bluebell, Primrose…” Each flower nickname is paired with a kiss or a mark or the scraping of teeth over Peter’s skin. His head spins and his eyes roll back as he tries to buck up into Oberon. He can’t close his mouth anymore. All he can do is gasp and moan and attempt to catch Oberon’s lips with his before the Fae moves back to ravish Peter’s neck again. “Clover, Columbine, Sunflower-”
When all clothes have been discarded and both men are grinding into each other naked, Oberon’s voice rumbles through the cottage.
“Puck-” Peter smiles at how much that particular name takes him out of it.
“Parker.” Oberon freezes at Peter’s last name. He pulls back, wide-eyed until he can look at Peter properly. Both of them pant, hips still gently rolling into each other as a soft reminder they’re still going.
“What?” The Fae whispers.
“Puck isn’t a sexy name, is it,” Peter chuckles, bringing his hands up to trace patterns on his chest with his index finger. He gasps quietly when he brushes past his nipples. “You already know my last name…” Peter half-closes his eyes and licks his lips in an attempt to seduce Oberon to continue. “Use it.”
“Parker…” The word gently falls from Oberon’s lips and Peter can feel that same tug at his heart as he did last time. It feels amazing. “Parker,” Oberon repeats, seemingly feeling pleasure from simply saying it as well. “Parker-Parker-Parker-“ Sparks seem to fly from Oberon’s eyes and he growls, moving in to eat Peter up again. Peter is unsure what is happening, but it feels absolutely heavenly. Is it Fae magic? Oberon isn’t in pain, like he said he would be if he broke his promise, so it’s not Oberon using magic directly on him. Maybe Peter feels the unwritten rules of the Fae; rules no one can go around. Not even promises.
Oberon might not have Peter’s full name, but through this, part of Peter wonders if he is already bound to him. In all honesty, he couldn’t even mind it if he tried. It feels too good. The sensation is everything; an overwhelming pleasure that makes Peter yearn for more. Earlier, Peter wondered if it would be bad to be bound. But if it feels like this, he is certain that it’s not bad at all. Not with someone as sweet and caring and loving and giving as Oberon.
Peter gets brought back to reality by Oberon snapping his finger. The young man blinks dreamily and smiles up at the Fae.
“Are you with me?” Oberon checks and Peter nods.
“Feels so good-” The Fae grins but it soon fades when Peter cheekily cocks an eyebrow. “However, I do believe I told you to fuck me,” Peter says cheekily. Oberon scoffs a laugh and leans back until he’s up straight again.
“Proof of autonomy, right there,” he chuckles as he brings one hand down to circle Peter’s hole. Peter immediately pushes down and lets out a soft whine.
“Make me yours-” he gasps. Oberon licks one long stripe from Peter’s right nipple over his collar bone, up to his neck and jaw.
“You already are, my flower.” Oberon’s voice is dark and Peter can’t help a high pitched sigh escape his throat.
“Are you alright with Oberon?” Peter double checks.
“From your lips, always,” the Fae smirks, still teasing around Peter’s entrance.
“Anything else, my king?” Peter jokes, referencing the fact that the character is king of the Fae. Oberon freezes at that, causing Peter to open his eyes. “Too much?” Peter ponders out loud. Oberon licks his lips and swallows, seemingly regaining his composure.
The Fae then pushes in without warning, curling his finger. Peter’s surprised the glide comes so easily. Like he is already lubed up. Magic, he guesses. He doesn’t really want to think more of it and the ecstasy already makes him forget what just happened. When Peter’s body complies and follows without protest, it doesn’t take long for a second finger to be added. And then a third. Peter is fucking himself on Oberon’s fingers while the man searches for the spot that will make Peter scream. Soon enough, he finds it. Though, after brushing past it once and earning the most delectable noise from Peter, he pulls his fingers back. Before Peter can whine about the lack of touch, the fingers are replaced by Oberon’s stiff cock.
“Wasps-” Peter chuckles at the characteristic swear coming from the Fae. “You’re so tight, Parker. So tight.”
Oberon bottoms out and stops moving, allowing Peter to get adjusted to the Fae’s girth. Peter, however, is so ready to be fucked, he doesn’t really want to wait anymore. He reaches his, up until now jelly and motionless, arms up until his fingers wrap around Oberon’s shoulders. He then starts pulling and smiles when Oberon lets himself be guided. The Fae’s eyes are closed, like he’s trying to concentrate. It makes him a lot more compliant, which Peter uses to his advantage.
Peter keeps pulling and turning until Oberon is laying down and Peter is sitting on top of him. The young man’s hands rest on the Fae’s chest.
“Your turn,” Peter whispers, repeating what Oberon said earlier, as he leans down to obscenely lick at Oberon’s perched nipples. He wets them up nicely and moves back enough so his index fingers and thumbs get enough space to start rolling the nipples between them. Oberon chokes back a moan. His entire body is tense. It’s only now that Peter notices Oberon’s arms are spread, fists clenched and… Is that magic in his closed palms?
“Are you alright?” Peter inquires. Oberon nods, simply and aggressively.
“Holding back-” he chokes out.
“What are you holding back?” Peter’s question is paired with a first, slow and gentle roll of his hips. Oberon sucks in a breath and Peter stares curiously at the sparks, brightening in the Fae’s hands.
“Magic. My- m-”
“Is that magic dangerous to me?” Something about that question thrilled Peter. The only thing that actually frightens him right now is the idea Oberon might want to stop. And also the fact that he may or may not have fallen in love with the man below him.
“No,” Oberon groans. “J-Just magic-” he pauses to react to Peter slowly lifting himself up his cock, only to lower himself again and slightly wiggle his hips when he bottoms out.
Peter’s curiosity grows by the second, just as his need to get both Oberon and himself off.
“What kind?” The words roll off Peter’s tongue, low and alluring.
“Illusions- I think I- I can make them be illusions.” Peter isn’t sure what Oberon means with that exactly, but the reply surely piqued his interest. He picks up the pace riding the Fae, reveling in how Oberon falls apart below him. The magic in Oberon’s hands intensifies and it is now Peter’s sole mission to have the man let go for him. Peter leans in and kisses Oberon on the lips, so soft and gentle.
“Oberon,” Peter whispers as he sits up straight again, slowly but surely turning his rolling into bouncing. “Open your eyes.” The Fae obeys and moans at the sight of Peter’s body on top of him. In a reflex, the man starts fucking up into Peter in tune with Peter’s bouncing. “O-oh, yes!” Peter exclaims. “I- I wanna see it, Oberon. Y-your magic. Let it out-“
Oberon’s eyes roll back as he loses tension in his fingers. Blues and purples shoot from his hands, surrounding the two lovers with an endless galaxy. Peter gasps surprised, staring at the infinity around them. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. When he looks down at Oberon again, whose eyes still glow and flicker, he notices even the ground has turned to stars below them. He grins as he picks up the pace again.
“Never thought I’d get to fuck in space,” he chuckles, riding Oberon feverishly. “Or y’know, get fucked by a Fae.”
“You,” Oberon sighs with a smile. “You talk too much.”
Now that Oberon doesn’t have to hold anything back anymore, he quickly turns them around like they were before. His hands, still sparking with magic, cup Peter’s cheeks and he brings them together in a hungry kiss. He has once again taken the lead and is now thrusting into Peter, chasing his high. One hand swiftly finds its way down between them. Peter moans into Oberon’s mouth when the Fae’s fingers curl around his shaft to pump him at the same pace as Oberon’s hips move against him. They’re wet and sticky with magic lube and precum and the sounds their crashing bodies make are downright porn-worthy.
“Parkeeer…” The Fae groans.
“O-Oberon,” Peter replies breathlessly. Their pace is relentless now, bodies tensed and nearing release.
“Stark,” the Fae says, causing Peter’s eyes to shoot open when he feels another tug at his heart. The Fae looks down at him with a panting half-smile. “If I get to call you Parker, you get to call me Stark.”
Last names.
Peter’s entire body shakes and trembles as the edge is ever so close. He’s on fire, surrounded by moons and stars and milky ways and Oberon- Stark, right there with him, above him, making him see even more stars.
“S-Stark-” he whispers. Around him, the scene intensifies and Oberon’s eyes glow even brighter.
“Yes, that’s it, my sweet, my flower, my Parker-” Peter squeezes his eyes shut. “So close-” Peter isn’t sure if Oberon means himself or Peter, but either way, he’s right.
“Wanna cum,” he gasps, biting into Oberon’s lower lip slightly.
“Go on then, show me your beauty,” Oberon encourages, moving to sit up a little straighter and parting their faces from each other.
Peter instinctively tries to move up along with Oberon, so he can keep their lips locked, but Oberon pushes him back down. The Fae’s thrusts are more calculated now, angled exactly where Peter needs him to go. His last free hand shifts to gently roll Peter’s balls while his other still pumps the young man’s shaft feverishly.
“Stark!” Peter’s body thrashes and he cums, spilling himself all over Oberon’s hand and his own belly. He clenches down on the Fae’s cock and smiles deliriously when he milks Stark, the feeling of his insides being coated white adding another surge of pride and pleasure to his high.
“Oh, flower,” Stark sighs, nearly dropping himself on top of Peter. “You were so good, so sweet.” Peter’s eyes are already closed, Oberon’s cock still sheathed inside of him.
“Hmm…” Stark/Oberon shifts until they are both laying on their sides, bodies still flush together.
“Will you sleep for me tonight?” Peter nods absentmindedly, still grinning ear to ear and basking in the afterglow. The smile brightens slightly when he feels Oberon’s lips press a soft kiss on his nose. “I will be here in the morning. Take your rest. I’ll hold you.”
Peter drifts to sleep to the soft humming of the Fae’s voice. Not bad, he thinks before losing himself to slumber. Not bad at all.
…
A chilly breeze hits Peter’s face. His lips curl up and he turns, feeling around for Oberon. For Stark. His smile fades when the haze of just waking up fades and he notices just how cold the room actually is. His hand ends up on the cool flooring. Oberon isn’t there. Peter opens his eyes and sucks in some air when he notices there is snow. Inside. He quickly moves to sit upright, pulling the blankets up to keep himself warm, and he looks around.
Oberon sits by the opened door, hands folded together in front of his mouth. He’s hunched up and his expression is stern. Tight. Worry settles in Peter’s stomach.
“O-Oberon?” He isn’t sure if he should be saying the Fae’s actual name now. Oberon doesn’t look up.
“Get dressed.”
“Is something wrong?” Peter’s browns curl together.
“Get. Dressed.” Peter remains seated, frozen in place and at a loss for words. When Peter still doesn’t move, Oberon finally turns his face to stare Peter down. “Do as you’re told.”
“Excuse me?” The young man’s eyes go wide with surprise. Who does this man think he is?
“You’re leaving,” Oberon says with a shaky voice. “Now.” He looks away again. “Get dressed.”
The world around Peter collapses. Everything they had been through together, everything that had happened… Is over?
“I don’t understand-”
“Do not make me get over there and force you.” Peter immediately stands and grabs his clothes, feeling his tears threatening to spill. The only word going through is head right now is why. Why would Oberon do this? Why is he suddenly so different? Why does Peter have to leave so suddenly? Why is this happening?
Once Peter is dressed, he grabs his phone from where it’s resting against a pillow. The screen doesn’t light up. Great; his new phone is dead too. He stares at his reflection in the dark screen. His cheeks are red and his eyes puffed. He blinks and then the tears fall.
“Puck.” Peter gasps and looks up at the Fae who now stands. An odd glow now radiates from the middle of his chest. The man’s expression is pained, like he’s holding back. “You are no longer indebted to me. You are to go home and forget about us. Do not come back to these woods. Ever.”
“You,” Peter pushes out through gritted teeth, his sadness slowly making place for anger. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?” Oberon doesn’t speak. The only response Peter gets to his accusation is the twitch over Oberon’s upper lip. “You manipulated me enough to have sex with me and now you’re dropping me.” The Fae looks away and takes hold of the door, gesturing to outside.
“Leave,” Oberon orders. “Please.” Peter is confused at how the Fae’s voice cracks, as if he actually cares about Peter.
“Unbelievable,” the young man breathes. “I can’t believe I fell for this. For you!”
“LEAVE!” The Fae’s aggression reverbs through the cottage, making it even colder than it already was. Peter’s jaw trembles as his tears now freely glide down his cheeks.
Peter runs. Past the pots and pans at the cooking area, past the herbs hanging from the ceiling, past Oberon, through the door. The second he sets foot outside, he hears the door being thrown shut, but when he turns around he finds the cabin has disappeared entirely. It’s gone. And now Peter is alone in the woods. He shakes violently, dropping to his knees and sobbing. Part of him hopes that wherever Oberon is, that he can hear him wail.
…
When Peter arrives home, he plugs in his phone and heads to the shower. He feverishly washes himself, scrubbing his body and hating how he can still feel the Fae’s touch lingering on his skin. He wants it gone. Wants the Fae gone. He sobs under the stream, knowing damn well that he will never be able to get rid of the sensation of disgust. After an hour of letting his tears disappear in the drain, he turns off the tap, broken and drained- empty and dulled. He drops himself on his bed and simply lays there. He won’t be able to sleep anyways.
…
Peter is startled back to reality by his buzzing phone. The alarm he had set for the morning after Oberon went off, now that the battery was fully charged again. He swallows and grabs his phone, snoozing his alarm. He wants to put the phone away, but notices something is off. He unlocks it and the notification that caught his guard now fully pops up.
Recording ended due to empty battery.
Confused, yet curious, Peter opens his album to check which recording the notification meant. He blinks a few times when he spots the right one. Two hours and forty-two minutes. When did that happen? He selects it and starts the recording, not entirely unsurprised to be met by Oberon’s face, extremely close to the camera. The sight stings him.
“Oh, this is a video right?” Oberon’s voice asks from the phone’s speakers. “Right. Well, hello, future Puck, I am going to show you something.” The Fae turns the camera to show a peacefully sleeping Peter. The camera moves closer to Peter and he can hear a bit of shuffling. He guesses Oberon went to lay down next to Peter.
“Do you see your face?” Oberon’s voice is toned down and soft, now that he’s so close to Peter’s sleeping form. Peter watches what Oberon means, already feeling the tears sting in his eyes again. “You wear no mask now…” A hand appears from the corner of the screen to move a few of Peter’s curls out of the way. His fingers caress Peter’s cheek, causing an unwelcome shiver to run down Peter’s real spine. “You are at peace like this. So wonderful, so beautiful…” The Fae sighs content. “I could watch you like this for hours, you know?”
“I know.” Peter is startled to hear himself talk in the video. In his sleep. Oberon chuckles.
“Oh, do you?”
“Mhm.”
“Tell me, Puck, what is your favorite season?”
“Spring.”
“Well, aren’t you lucky that’s right around the corner.”
Peter wants to throw his phone to the other side of the room. Oberon is having a conversation with him that he doesn’t remember having. Because he was asleep. It makes him feel uneasy and wonder what else the Fae asked him.
“Think you can do some math right now? That ought to be fun to make you try.” The Peter in the video doesn’t reply, so Oberon simply continues. “Puck, what is two plus two?”
“Four,” Peter replies promptly. “Easy.”
“Alright how about twenty-one times forty-eight?” It’s quiet for a few seconds, but Peter replies still.
“One thousand and eight.”
“I honestly would not know how to check if it is correct, but I would surely assume you are correct.”
Oberon asks Peter some more insignificant questions before falling silent again, simply looking at Peter. It seems he forgot he was filming Peter as the phone is quickly put away in a standing position. Peter guesses this was the spot he found his phone in, looking out over the entire cottage. Peter scrolls ahead in the video, not wanting to watch Oberon play with Peter’s hair for one and a half hours.
Peter plays the video at normal speed again when he spots Oberon standing up. He shuffles around the room and speaks softly.
“I will be out back to collect some more berries. Will you be alright, my love?” The name is a punch in the gut for Peter and he pulls at his hair. He doesn’t know why he’s still watching, but part of him wonders if whatever made Oberon change his mind like that so suddenly has been caught on camera.
“Be fine,” Peter in the video mumbles bluntly. “Love you, bye.” A wide, surprised smile spreads on Oberon’s face and he walks out, mumbling something to himself.
Again, nothing happens for half an hour, when suddenly…
“Here you are…” A familiar voice speaks. A stranger saunters into Oberon’s cottage. Peter feels like he’s seen him somewhere before, but he can’t recall where. His eyes glow blue, like Oberon’s and when he reaches Peter, he squats down. “Didn’t expect someone as delectable as you to spend time with our heir.”
Heir…?
Peter’s skin crawls when the man’s hand traces down his bare body, curiously lifting the blankets and grinning wide at his findings. Peter instinctively clutches his sheets, covering himself more. He feels even more disgusted now.
“Oh, aren’t you spent…” His eyes darken and his smirk turns ever so evil. “Used.”
“Was so good,” the Peter in the video says. The man perks up surprised.
“You speak in your slumber?”
“Mm…”
“Oh, what a nice turn of events…” The man’s hand cups Peter’s face. “Does the prince know your name?”
Prince-
“No- yes. A little.”
“A little? How does that work?”
“Last name.”
“Oh, like so. Well then, sweet thing, what is your last name?”
“Parker.” Peter feels the tug at his heart again. No, is all he can think. Don’t say more.
“And then, if you’ll indulge me… What is your first name?”
“Your voice is silenced in eclipse, no more words fall from your lips-” Oberon rushes in and reaches his hand forward at Peter, quieting him immediately. The second the spell has settled on Peter, Oberon’s eyes widen and he freezes before he collapses clutching his chest and letting out an agonized groan. Peter stirs, but the other Fae waves his hand once.
“Do not wake ‘til morning comes, Parker, I have plans for you.” The man turns back to Oberon and scoffs a laugh. “I can spell him all I want, I have no promises to break. Unlike you, cousin.”
Oberon gasps as he trembles, the area where he clutched his chest now glows blue like his eyes. Like Peter had seen the morning after. Oberon broke his promise and now had to deal with the consequences- the pain. He broke his promise; to protect Peter.
“Why are you here,” Oberon seethes.
“Why, I was quite intrigued to find this beautiful specimen in the woods yesterday. Searching for Oberon. I suppose that is you?” The man laughs condescendingly. “And you are not even king yet.” He turns back to Peter. “Pathetic… You didn’t even take his name.”
“Step away from him.”
“I will not. You have not claimed him, so I will.”
“Mysterio-“ Oberon threatens, squaring up. His hands turn to ice like they had done when he almost spelled Flash. Snow is brought through the opened door by a wind Oberon conjures up.
“Leave Puck alone.”
“Oh!” Mysterio exclaims. “You call him Puck? And he calls you Oberon. How disgustingly sweet.” His expression drops. “I’m going to hurl.”
“He’s not yours to take, leave us!” The snow in the cottage thickens as Oberon’s skin pales more with anger and cold magic.
“Iron Man, do not tell me you love him.” Oberon’s jaw tightens at Mysterio’s condescending tone. “Oh, you love him.” Mysterio confirms to himself. “Well, then I’ll certainly enjoy taking him for myself.”
“I will not let you!” Peter doesn’t understand why Oberon doesn’t just force the man out of his home.
“You will, cousin.” Mysterio stands upright and circles Peter like a hawk, waiting for the right moment to take his prey. “For if you do not, I will tell all of Winter Court of the human you bedded. The human you want. The human you did not trick. The human who is not yours, for you do not have his name.”
“You would not,” Oberon breathes. “All the Fae will come for him then. I won’t be able to protect him.”
“That is what you are worried about?” Mysterio scoffs. “Not that your father will revoke your title and pass the throne to me for your dishonorable and disappointing behavior?”
“I do not want to be a king like my father. The title means nothing to me.”
“Then why not pass it to me?”
“And leave you in charge of all of Winter Court? I’d rather eat my own two feet.”
“Rude, much,” Mysterio says faux-offended. “Tell you what. I’m giving you one chance to redeem yourself.”
“What will you have me do.”
“Claim him.”
“No,” Oberon immediately counters, taking two steps forward. Desperation seeps off every word. “No, please, do not make me do this.”
“You choose, Oberon,” Mysterio taunts. “You either take his name and keep your honor, or you will lose your title to me and all of Winter Court will be scouring these woods to use him the way you would not.” He cocks his head and grins. “And I will be first in line. Your boy will certainly look lovely at my feet, having no choice but to worship me for all eternity.”
“You disgust me,” Oberon seethes. Though, his magic loses power as his shoulders start hanging.
“And you me, cousin.” Mysterio then steps over Peter’s body as he casually makes his way to the door, past Oberon. He places his hand on Oberon’s shoulder and pats twice. “Make our court proud.”
Mysterio then leaves Oberon and Peter alone in the cottage- in the cold. Oberon’s sad eyes find Peter’s figure and after a minute of visibly holding in his tears he manages to shuffle towards Peter. A soft sob escapes his throat as he lays down next to Peter again, fixing his hair where Mysterio had undone it. The new light emitting from Oberon’s chest now lights up both of their faces. The Fae waves his hand over Peter’s face to undo the spell he had put on him. He then sniffs and the Peter watching the video cries along with him.
“Oh, Puck, my flower,” Oberon mumbles through his tears. “I do not wish to lose you. I want to keep you.”
“Keep me,” sleeping Peter replies softly. Oberon swallows and closes his eyes.
“I can’t.”
“Keep me,” Peter repeats.
“No.” Oberon is sobbing quietly now. His shoulders shake with every intake of breath. “No.” The Fae presses his lips together and swallows. “I love you too much to keep you.”
“Love you too, bye.” Oberon can’t help but scoff a quiet laugh through his tears. Peter is still asleep. Whatever he says is steered on by his subconscious. It’s quiet for a few minutes, but Peter can’t get himself to stop the video. He watches as all possible emotions in existence pass over Oberon’s face.
“Puck,” Oberon asks suddenly. Peter holds his breath, anticipating the question. “What is your name?” Peter stares breathlessly at the screen, but when the Peter in the video opens his mouth to speak, Oberon swiftly covers it. “No. No, I do not want it.” He averts his gaze. “I should not have asked to begin with, I am sorry.”
“It’s okay,” sleeping Peter answers, probably only responding to the I am sorry part, not actually aware of what it was attached to.
“It is not.”
It’s quiet again for a little bit. Peter notices the video is almost at its end. He wonders if anything else will be said before his phone’s battery died. In the last thirty seconds, Oberon speaks once more.
“I have decided to let you go, flower.” Oberon’s words are shaky. “You deserve your freedom more than I deserve anything else.” Peter is sobbing now, so painfully aware of the things he had accused Oberon of when he left the cottage. “You will never see me again after this, so I want- I want you to have this… To have mine.” Peter frowns through his tears. His…? His what? “My name…” Peter’s eyes widen and he sits up straight in his bed. Is Oberon giving him the one thing they would never share? “My name is-”
Peter stares at a black screen as the video and audio cut right when Oberon was about to say his name. After five solid minutes of being frozen in place, something in his mind finally clicks. He has to go back. Back to the woods, back to Oberon. Stat. Straight away. Pronto. Immediately. Now.
…
Peter runs as fast as his legs can carry him. The ground in the woods is treacherous and uneven, but he can’t get himself to slow down. The wind cuts the skin on his face and his quick breath condenses in front of his mouth.
“OBERON!” His screams carry far. “OBERON, COME TO ME!” He nearly trips, causing him to stop running altogether. “OBERON, PLEASE!” he cries out. “PLEASE!” Peter wants to protect Oberon the way he had protected May.
Mysterio hadn’t given Oberon this third option; to let Peter leave. It was a risk Oberon had taken in an attempt to go around Mysterio’s threat, since in both, Peter’s freedom would be taken. The Fae was presented with two choices: claim the name or don’t and suffer the consequences. Thing is, Oberon did not claim Peter’s name. That means Mysterio will still tell all of Winter Court about Peter. Oberon will lose the throne and be shunned from his people forever.
That is why Peter is here. Oberon has to take his name. He simply has to. And now, Peter is more than ready to give it to him. The Fae had sent Peter away to protect him from being taken, but there is nothing he wants more right now then to be taken. By no one other than-
“OBERON!”
It’s no use. Peter has been walking for hours now, searching the woods for any sign of the Fae. Or any Fae for that matter. He assumes they would’ve already found him by now, but they are nowhere to be seen. He unlocks his phone and swears when he realizes what day it is. The human world and the Fae world are parallel to each other and they only really mingle on the actual Pagan celebrations. It’s no longer Imbolc. The veil is back.
Peter couldn’t find any fairy circles or other signs of passage to their realm in his desperate attempt to locate Oberon, which means there is no way he can find the Fae before the next time Oberon and he were supposed to meet. Ostara. March 21st. Defeated, Peter falls to his knees on the forest floor, clutching his phone against his chest and crying without tears. He had none left. Peter inwardly has to tell himself that he is going to have to go home… And that he is about to face the longest one and half months of his life…
Tomorrow, on February 1st, the next chapter of Company, my Fae!Tony (Starker) fic, will be released! Chapter 3: Imbolc!
Prepare for SMUT, my beans! But also.......... a n g s t. See ya tomorrow! :D
Peter returns to the woods on Ostara. Will he find who he's looking for? Or will someone else find him first?
Warnings for this chapter: Angst with a good ending, magic and folklore, mischief, lightly implied dub/non con.
Go to the Masterpost for all the teaser poems and chapters!
Read Company - Chapter 4: Ostara on AO3!
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I can’t believe I made it! This chapter would not have been posted on time had it not been for Kim, who has majorly helped me out writing this chapter! Thank you so much bean! Words can’t describe my gratitude! <3
The next chapter will be posted on May 1st (Beltane) and will contain only good things so get ready for that! <3
Thank you for reading this chapter, if you do! I hope you enjoy! <3
- Lien
...
Peter knows he shouldn’t stare at the clock every minute of every day but he can’t help himself. The days on his calendar are crossed out one by one but it’s not going fast enough. Never fast enough. Oberon is out there, somewhere, being punished for being kind and good. All Peter can do is wait it out and, by God, does he hate waiting.
The final day is the worst by far. The train ride seems to take three times as long as it normally does and the walk from the train station to the woods weighs heavy on his shoulders, almost as if the edge of the forest is miles and miles further than it actually is. When the trees finally appear in his field of vision, Peter can barely contain himself. His feet are on autopilot, quickening their pace as Peter’s heart pumps between his ears.
Once he reaches the border of town into the woods, his mind catches up. Peter’s body halts abruptly. His breath catches in his throat and he closes his eyes.
“I can’t go in,” he mutters to himself. If he does, the Fae will come for him and he will never be able to find Oberon. They’d make sure of that.
Frustrated, Peter paces back and forth along the edge of the woods, trying to think of a way to contact Oberon this far away from where Peter vaguely recalls his cottage being. He doesn’t notice he inches further and further away from town, but he doesn’t really care. He cares about finding Oberon. Nothing else.
After half an hour of walking, he opts to sit down right at the edge, just out of the Fae’s reach, but hopefully close enough for Oberon to sense his presence. He crosses his legs and stares intently into the distance. He guesses he will be here a while.
…
It’s nearly noon and doing nothing always exhausts Peter rather quickly. He listens to his breathing, eyes scanning past the nature scene in front of him. Sometimes he catches an animal scuttering over the ground between the bushes. The green trees, with the sun shining through them, distort Peter’s vision slightly as his gaze unfocuses over time. He blinks, trying to refocus, but he can’t really fight his sleepiness anymore.
“Puck?” A distant voice calls out. The silhouette of a figure appears among the trees in Peter’s vision. The young man immediately perks up. Tears well up in his eyes and distort his vision even further.
“Oberon?”
“Puck,” the Fae confirms. Peter scoffs relieved, crawling to stand up and once again his feet have a mind of their own.
Peter runs as fast as his legs can take him. Oberon spreads his arms invitingly and Peter automatically gravitates towards the Fae. The pull is so strong, Peter couldn’t deny it if he tried. Tears of relief now stream down his face and soon enough, he crashes into his love. The man embraces him immediately, gently stroking his hair as Peter sobs against the Fae’s chest. His grip on Oberon is tight; he’s not planning on letting go anytime soon.
“I- I thought- I-”
“Sssssh, ssh-ssh,” Oberon shushes gently, not pausing the kind petting. It feels slightly possessive, but Peter doesn’t mind a bit. It’s what he has wished for for all this time he had to wait. It’s what he wants- yearns for. To be Oberon’s. To be Stark’s .
Peter’s shoulders shake through his crying and he melts when he feels Oberon’s lips on the top of his head. Oberon’s smell is different, yet intoxicatingly sweet. The fragrance has Peter slightly lightheaded and for some reason, his cock takes interest in it too. There are whispers beyond the trees, but Peter phases them into the background, only for his subconscious to listen to. He doesn’t care about other Fae right now- only about the man he is with.
“I thought I lost you,” Peter finally whispers.
“You cannot lose what is not yours,” Oberon replies, causing Peter to frown slightly against the Fae’s chest. “For you are mine.”
“Not yet,” Peter says quickly, pulling back to look into Oberon’s deep eyes. “But there’s nothing I want more in the world than to be yours.” A wide grin spreads on the Fae’s face.
Peter blinks a few times, briefly wondering when this strange fog had appeared and surrounded them. The scent is even more intense than it was before and he sways on his feet, not understanding what’s happening. His head is swimming, but when he vaguely processes Oberon is smiling, the corners of his own mouth gently curl up, smiling along.
“Be mine?” Oberon asks.
“Please-”
“Then give me your name, beautiful. Give me your name and give yourself to me.” Oberon’s hand caresses Peter’s cheek and the young man closes his eyes, leaning into it. “Forever.”
“ Peter… ” The tug Peter feels at his heart is wanted now. Needed. It feels delicious and it has Peter leaning against the Fae in front of him even more. He opens his eyes to see Oberon’s face shift into Beck’s, but he feels so good, that he no longer cares. This is where he is meant to be now. With the Fae who knows his name. “ Peter Parker .”
...
As the sun begins to set, Tony wonders why he’s still out here. It’s Ostara after all. He should be at home to celebrate the first hints of spring. He may not be a part of the Summer Court, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t respect nature’s natural cycle. Especially since residing in his cabin in the forest he finds himself more in harmony with the life around him, no matter how small. He never misses a celebration.
Well, except for this past year. He’s already skipped Samhain, Yule and Imbolc. All because of a boy. Tony sighs when he thinks about Puck’s lovely smile. He should’ve known it to be a bad idea. A relationship between a Fae and a human is destined to go wrong. The power imbalance is too big. It’s too dangerous.
Yet, here he finds himself, wandering the edges of the forest in the hopes of perhaps catching even the slightest glance of the boy he’s grown so attached to. Tony knows his attempts are fruitless. Puck is no longer bound to their agreement. He’s not coming back, and while Tony knows he did the right thing… It hurts.
“The decades will pass,” he whispers to himself. “You’ll forget about him soon enough. He’s just human, after all."
Tony frowns when a sudden, awfully annoying tune demands his attention. It’s a human song, that much is certain. No fae would ever dare playing something this appaling.
Somewhat curious, he makes his way over to where the sound comes from. He’ll put a stop to the screeching melody and chase the humans away. He doesn’t like the anxious thunderstorm whirling in his chest.
The sound grows louder and louder, but otherwise it’s awfully quiet. Almost as if the tune plays by itself…?
Tony pushes past a large low-hanging branch- and stops walking. He stares at the familiar device on the floor and his nostrils flare. Could that… Could that be Parker’s phone?
He walks closer, careful in case it’s a trap, and then crouches down. He taps his finger at the back of the phone once. When nothing happens, he turns it around. There’s a large crack in the screen and Tony swallows. He remembers how Puck told him that phones are incredibly expensive. He pushes the button and gasps, nearly dropping the device when the familiar picture of Puck and his aunt lights up underneath the damaged surface.
“Parker…” he whispers. Then, louder, “-Parker?” He stands up and his eyes scan past his surroundings panickedly. “Puck, are you there?”
When no response comes, Tony can feel the dread settle deep within his chest. He winces as the hurt digs so deep that it nearly physically pains him. Puck had come back for him. Puck waited for him- and Tony hadn’t showed up.
Parker would never leave his precious belonging in the forest like this- not even because of the cracks. Something happened. Another Fae must’ve found him.
Beck.
-
It doesn’t take Tony very long to find Beck’s large residence in the midst of the Winter Court’s Royal grounds. He stares up at the large, labradorite granite staircase leading up to the dark, wooden doors.
Puck’s phone is clutched tight within his grip. The bothersome, harsh-sounding tune keeps playing every few minutes. It’s been quiet for a short while now, but Tony knows it’ll start playing again at any given moment. There’s no chance he’ll be able to sneak inside unnoticed.
Then again, he knows Beck is counting on him to show up. Beck loves to put up a show. Tease and torture poor human beings and then ultimately claiming them to use them as slaves. It’s not unusual. This is how fae are. Tony grew up with the same values. Yet his father had taught him to not take the ordeal lightly, and how to look after human beings to make sure they’re well taken care of. Beck is cruel. Driven with greed and jealousy and every single bad thing the fae have ever been known for in the human world.
Tony has to save Puck before it’s too late. Every single fiber in his being wishes for Puck to not have given up his name. If that’s the case… Tony can’t even think about that. Puck may hate him, or despise him all he wants. But Tony won’t let him rot away in this hellhole of a house.
Tony straightens his shoulders. While Beck may be royalty, Tony still is the rightful heir of the entire Winter Court. He’s a prince . Beck will have no choice but to let him in. The black-haired fae resolutely makes his way up to the staircase and bangs his fist against the doors.
“Beck, I demand access to your property!”
The doors swing open and Beck leans against the doorpost with a smug grin plastered on his face.
“Ah! What did I do to have earned Your Highness’s valuable time?” Beck cocks his head, but Tony ignores the mocking use of his title.
“Cut the playing. I know you have Puck and you’ll give him back to me. He does not belong to you.” Tony says through gritted teeth. Beck laughs, the sound echoes through the large hallway behind him.
“I admire your spirited devotion to the human boy, but he is in fact, not yours either. Is he? You should’ve claimed him when you had the chance.” Beck chuckles. “He’s lovely. Come, I’ll show you how… pliant he is under my spell.”
Tony feels sick to his stomach. Beck’s twisted words make him want to slit the other fae’s throat, but then he may never see his loved one again. His flower.
“Just lead me to him.”
“As you wish, Your Highness-” Beck physically flinches when the phone starts it’s awful tune again. The Winter Court Fae’s head snaps around and he stares at the device in Tony’s hand, but he doesn’t comment on it when he sees what it is made of- what it contains. Iron. There’s nothing Beck could do and suddenly, Tony wishes he could dial up the volume even more. He’d happily endure the painful screeching in his ears if he knew it’d torture his cousin.
“He’s right here,” Beck announces as he pushes through a large drape hanging from the ceiling. Tony’s heart sinks in his chest. Puck’s body is lifelessly pressed against the back of a throne, only a tight silken rope around his chest keeping him from tumbling forward onto the floor.
“Isn’t he pretty?” Beck tuts, circling the seat and grinning wide. “A true treat for my eyes.”
“You’re sick,” Tony mumbles, restraining himself from running over to the boy. Shake the limp body to bring his Parker back to life.
Beck halts his saunter when he’s at Puck’s side and slowly moves in, planting an open mouthed kiss before speaking.
“Do I make you feel good?” It seems to take Puck a lot of effort to lift his head slightly and reply weakly.
“Yes, My Lord.” It’s a pleasured sigh, but Tony can hear part of it feels forced. Beck grins victoriously.
“Mm, I told him to call me that- doesn’t it sound good as it rolls off his tongue? Finally, I get the respect I deserve.”
“You are not worthy of his respect, nor are you worthy of mine,” Tony growls, taking another step forward. “I demand you return Parker to me.”
“Return? He was never yours to begin with, Oberon! ” Beck spits out mockingly. “The boy is mine. I have his name. He gave it to me.” The scowl on his face turns downright evil and the heavy weight of desperation sinks in Tony’s chest. “And now I will use him however I see fit. My pretty Peter Parker .”
Tony feels an empty tug at his heart now, but something feels off about it. Incomplete.
“You cannot do this!”
“No, Tones. I’m a Winter Fae . This-” his voice betrays his delusions. “This is what we do. You! You are a disgrace to your father. To our legacy!”
“I-” Their conversation is interrupted when the phone starts playing again. Beck lets out an exasperated sigh and he snarls at Tony.
“Stop doing that!”
Tony shakes his head, holding his hand up defensively. Beck inches closer and stares at it intently, clearly wanting to rip it apart. The only thing holding him back from doing exactly that is the iron matter inside of it. Only Tony can touch it. Only Iron Man. Beck’s fingers would burn if he’d touch it. Tony has never been more grateful for his strange tolerance towards the substance.
“I don’t know how to stop it. It’s human technology.”
Beck swiftly turns his attention back over to Parker. He tugs at Puck’s hair roughly to lift his head. Tony swallows when he hears a pained moan fall from the boy’s lips. Beck narrows his eyes and lowers his lips until they’re right next to Puck’s ear.
“Dearest,” he whispers. Parker visibly shivers. “Please tell our Prince how to cease the music, will you?”
Puck whimpers quietly, his eyelids fluttering a few times but never opening fully.
“W-What’s on the screen?” Tony hates how grave Puck’s voice sounds, but he does raise the device and looks past the cracks. It says one simple word and Tony frowns.
“May?”
Puck’s lips curl into a faint smile and he mumbles something incoherent. After a particularly aggressive tug on his hair, Parker speaks up louder.
“Swipe… Swipe the green button to the right and bring the phone to your ear.”
Tony wonders why on earth he’d have to bring it to his ear, but he follows Parker's instructions. Carefully, he presses his finger onto the green image in the screen and drags it towards the right. Immediately, the colors on the screen change. Tony’s eyes widen and he quickly brings it to his ear, glancing at Parker for any cue as to what to do next. He-
Tony freezes when he hears a surprised breath coming from the phone. Is… Is someone in there?
“PETER. BENJAMIN. PARKER- WHERE ARE YOU?”
Everything happens insanely fast after that. Tony shivers, his legs buckling as he drops onto his knees. Parker. Peter Benjamin Parker. Tony looks up at the boy and a smile cracks through his face. He ignores the worried shouting in his ear. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters . He feels a light, energetic turmoil within his chest as his magic springs to life automatically, forging his interminable bond with his loved one.
Beck approaches, a confused frown wrinkling his face.
“What happened? Tony? What are you-”
“He’s mine.” Tony breathes, a surprised, hysterical laughter bubbling up in his throat. Beck’s eyes widen at the statement. Tony is a Fae after all, he can’t lie.
“What?!”
“His name. I have his name.” Tony whispers and stands up again. “His full name.” He walks over to the chair and licks his lips. His fingers tremble when he touches Puck’s- Peter’s - cheekbones carefully. Beck steps away, his eyes big and frightened with his leverage on Tony slipping through his fingers.
“No, you do not. He gave his name to me. Not you!”
“Peter Benjamin Parker, ” Tony breathes, the name foreign but so incredibly good on his lips. Peter’s eyes flutter again, until they open fully. They’re big and bright and awe-struck. Love-filled. Beautiful .
“S-Stark?”
“Anthony Stark,” he replies softly, leaning in to connect their foreheads. Peter’s chest heaves as he takes in a breath of fresh air. Beck is already forgotten, his importance ceasing to exist now that the two of them are eternally connected. The Fae and the human smile at each other, grateful for this turn of events and for each other. “But you may call me Tony.”
👀👀👀👀👀👀 a a a a a !!!!! Tonight's the night! There will be fluff and smut and angst and ooooo all the good shit! Once I get home from work imma have dinner and POST THE HECK OUT OF THIS FAE FIC CHAPTER!
“I know you need a miracle right now to help with all of this and- well, I don’t really know anyone who’s good at that kinda stuff, but... “ MJ scoffs an awkward laugh before continuing. “I mean, the help of a Fae would be nice, but it’s not that those just show up if you ask them to.”
“A Fae?” Peter chuckles, though his eyes don’t spark. “Like Puck? From the play we had to do at Summer camp?”
“Sort of, yeah!” MJ grabs Peter’s other hand and places both of them on his knees, resting her own on top. “But I’m playing with you, Pete. It’d be a stretch to find one willing to help,” MJ says.
Lucky for Peter, he is quite flexible.
Or: May's health is deteriorating fast and Peter is running out of options (and money), so he goes into the woods at night on Halloween to find a Fae willing to help him out.
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Warnings: Mentions of chronic/incurable illness, blood, etc. Magic and folklore. Slow burn with resolved sexual tension. Lots of mischief, a bit of spooks and of course fluff, angst and smut.
Read Company on AO3
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Author’s note:
Welcome to my new multichapter fic! I've been wanting to write this fic since Kim and I were working on Jar of Dirt (which was like half a year ago, whoops). Originally, Kim was going to be writing for this too, but with her large to write list we decided to take some pressure off her shoulders, so she's going to focus on those! Kim has wayyy more knowledge on Paganism than I do, though, so she will be beta reading my fic on all the folklore, etc! She also makes the moodboards for this fic! <3
Important to know:
This fic is going to go with the flow! There will be a teaser poem during the wait, but every chapter will be posted on the next Pagan celebration. This means there will be an upload schedule:
Teaser 1
Chapter 1: Samhain (uploaded on October 31st 2020)
Teaser 2
Chapter 2: Yule (uploaded on December 21st 2020)
Teaser 3
Chapter 3: Imbolc (uploaded on February 1st 2021)
Teaser 4 XXXX (No teaser due to writer’s block)
Chapter 4: Ostara (uploaded on March 21st 2021)
Teaser 5 XXXX (no teaser once again cause life happened lol)
Chapter 5: Beltane (uploaded on May 1st 2021)
The wait is long, but it's all with good reason! It will give me the time to do it properly, it'll give me time to work on other fics/one shots in between and I gotta say, it also gives another layer to the artsy-ness. Everything you read happens on the day it's posted! Every chapter will contain a brief summary of what happened in the last, so you won’t lose track of it! If you want to be added to a taglist, please let me know! <3
I'd love to hear your thoughts and input on this fic! While I do have a set plot I follow, I'm actually very keen on implementing what the readers would like to see! Thank you for your continued support and I hope you enjoy this fic!
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EDIT: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR JOINING ME FOR THIS PROJECT! I JUST UPLOADED THE FINAL CHAPTER AAAAA <3
pairing: Chris Beck/Mark Watney
fandom: The Martian
note: title from 'love me like you do' by ellie goulding. i really got the urge to write after finishing my nano story but couldn't think of a damn new thing to write so this is a re-write from another story I did a while ago that I particularly had fun writing (with a few changes obv) and I hope you guys enjoy it! *inspired by/based on 'Lost Girl'
on AO3
-
“Wow,” Beth stared in amazement, “you’re a bit of a failure aren’t you?”
“Shut up,” Mark groaned.
“No, seriously,” Beth slowly started to grin. “You’re an incubus and you’ve never had sex? How does that even happen?”
Mark didn’t say anything to that, just rubbed a hand over his face and sighed.
“This is amazing,” Beth continued, gleeful and completely ignoring Mark’s embarrassment.
“Why did I get partnered with you?” Mark groaned louder this time.
“Because I’m clearly the best partner in the world,” and then before Mark could ask why, because he thought Beth kind of really sucked at this whole partner shtick at the moment (and not in the fun way), she continued, “I’m going to get you laid!”
Mark’s head shot up so fast his neck cracked. Beth winced.
“Wait, you’re gonna what?” Mark asked, horrified.
Beth just smirked. “I, a lowly siren, and going to get you, an incubus, laid. You are clearly doing something wrong and how could I, you’re ever loving friend and work partner, stand by and do nothing?”
Mark stared at her for a prolonged moment, saw she was utterly serious, and let his head fall into his hands.
How was this his life?
-
It’s not that Mark’s never tried - of course he’s tried. He was designed for sex after all. Well, not specifically, but try asking anyone the first thing that comes to mind when you say succubae and incubae and, well – enough said.
Yet here Mark was, 30 years old and still, embarrassingly, a virgin – a disgrace to his community and family name.
“So really, how does that work? Don’t you need to have sex to live and shit?” Beth asked later that day - their first day partnered together and already with the invasive questions.
Mark sighed and gripped his thermos tight. “That’s a misconception actually – it’s not the sex we need, but life-force, which we can get without sex. Sex just makes it more –” Mark thought for a moment.
“-potent,” he decided. “It works better and lasts longer. We don’t need to feed as often if we feed during sex.”
Beth hummed, a thoughtful look on her face. “So how often do you need to feed then?”
“That depends,” Mark shrugged. The dispatch radio in their car crackled to life, asking for someone to respond to a domestic disturbance call involving a fire fae. It was on the other side of the city though so they let another team get it.
“That depends,” Mark continued, “on what happens between feedings. If I get injured I’ll need to feed to supplement my healing. If nothing happens between feedings, usually around every two to three days.”
Beth nodded. “And if you were getting laid?”
“About once a week.”
Beth was silent, and Mark had already learned enough about his partner in their short acquaintanceship to be nervous about that. Mark hadn’t known how well it would work out – an incubus and a siren being partners, but they were getting along so far.
(ignoring, of course, Beth’s odd interest in Mark’s sex life)
“So, I know a guy,” Beth started a moment later.
Mark groaned, loudly, in an attempt to drown out Beth’s words, but Beth just spoke louder. Mark slid down in his seat as Beth continued to talk about ‘her friend,’ and wished he could be anywhere other than there at that moment.
Clearly, this was the start of a beautiful partnership.
-
“Beth, I’m seriously going to leave now,” Mark insisted.
“Noooo!” Beth pouted. She was a bit (well, very) drunk, but that was what happened when you knocked back five shots of gorgon spirits in a row.
“No, I, you need’ta meet someone!” Beth protested. Mark frowned.
Since they’d been partnered together Beth had made it her mission to get Mark laid – a mission she took way too seriously if you asked Mark. Even a year later she still hadn’t given up, despite her lack of success thus far.
“Beth,” Mark sighed.
“No!” Beth declared as she reached out to grab him, surprisingly tightly. “You’re meetin’ ‘im!”
Beth started to drag him somewhere as Mark protested, albeit a bit weakly – when she was this drunk it was best to humor her until you could direct her attention elsewhere.
“Chris!” she called, wide, drunk grin on her face, and waved her arm in the air wildly like an idiot. Mark smiled at her, fond, and then turned to look at the person she wanted him to meet so badly.
It felt like the air was punched from his chest when he met enchanting blue eyes. They were curious as they scanned him over before the Adonis they were attached to turned to Beth with a smirk as they reached him.
“You totally took that last shot, didn’t you?”
“Ssssh!” Beth giggled. Mark rolled his eyes and desperately tried not to stare at the personification of perfection standing in front of him.
“Chris, this is Mark! Mark, mee’ Chris! He’s a Gemini,” Beth whispered that last part to Mark like it was a secret.
Mark’s mind automatically went to a bad place where he imagined himself and two identical copies of Chris getting as dirty as possible in the best way possible.
Mark swallowed and Chris’s smirk turned filthy in the blink of an eye. “You’re the incubus, right? Beth’s been telling me all about you.”
Mark flushed. “Oh god, please, please, just ignore her and anything she has to say,” Mark pleaded, mortified that Beth had been telling someone like Chris about his sad lack of love life.
Chris just laughed, low and throaty, and Mark wanted to drop to his knees right then and there and beg the other man to let him suck his cock.
“But she had such interesting things to say,” Chris said lowly as he blatantly checked Mark out. Chris looked the opposite of ashamed when he met Mark’s eyes again and licked his lower lip.
“She told me all about your little… problem,” Chris stepped forward and Mark took an instinctive step back. Beth, who was still (somehow) attached to Mark like a limpet was dragged along for the ride (Mark was pretty sure she was unconscious at this point, so it wasn’t like she’d mind).
“D-did she now?” Mark stuttered.
Was it just him or was it suddenly like ten degrees hotter in there?
“Yea,” Chris stepped closer again, and once more Mark took another step back.
“So,” Chris grinned, all teeth. “Wanna fuck?”
Mark tripped, and it was only his quick reflexes that kept him and Beth from braining themselves on the bar floor. Chris watched, clearly amused (and unwilling to help), as Mark struggled to stop an uncooperative Beth from curling up on the floor and going to sleep.
“I, no, no, I think I should look after Beth,” Mark finally answered once he’d succeeded – somewhat. Beth was now slung across his back and snoring (loudly) into his ear.
“Pity,” Chris shrugged, “I’d have made it worth your while,” he promised. Mark gulped.
“If you ever change your mind,” Chris trailed off, implication clear, before he winked, turned, and sauntered away through the crowd. Mark stared after him, feeling a bit dazed, until a particularly loud snore reminded him of what he was supposed to be doing.
“Right,” he muttered to himself as he turned to leave, “drunk, unconscious Beth.”
Now the only question was this – should he use the cold water hose, or the stereo system cranked to max volume tomorrow to wake his partner up?
-
Mark had honestly forgotten about Chris (a Gemini! A sex fae’s fantasy lay right there) until he ran into him again a week later, purely on accident.
Also, literally.
Mark hadn’t exactly been expecting anyone to be standing directly behind him when he went to pick up his coffee order at the nearest Starbucks (Beth insisted). So when he turned around and rammed right into the person behind him, he spilled both coffees on the ground.
“Fuck!” he hissed.
“My fault,” the person replied, and Mark froze, because he knew that voice.
His head shot up and he was unsurprised to see Chris standing there, an infuriatingly attractive grin on his face.
Mark managed to keep the whimper he’d released to himself – barely.
“C-Chris!” he stuttered.
Chris laughed that same laugh that made Mark want to kneel for him. “Mark,” he teased.
“Um, what are you doing here?” Mark swallowed.
“Getting coffee?”
Mark wanted to smack himself. Obviously.
“I mean here, in this particular Starbucks, where I have never seen you around before and I mean, it’s odd that I’m running into you now and I just wanna know if this is gonna be a regular thing so I can prepare myself, ya know?” Mark rambled.
Then he flushed, so embarrassed, and Chris laughed again.
“Why would you need to prepare yourself?”
“For when I make a fool out of myself, like right now,” Mark muttered.
“You know,” Chris’s lips twitched, and Mark was instantly on guard. “If you took me up on my offer, we could probably get rid of that pesky problem of yours,” Chris whispered, inches away from Mark suddenly.
Mark inhaled sharply, which was definitely a mistake, because now all he could smell was ChrisChrisChris.”
“W-what problem is th-that again?” he somehow managed to breathe out.
“How adorably flustered you get when I’m near you,” Chris leaned forward to whisper against he shell of Mark’s ear.
Mark jerked back and nearly tripped over his feet in the process, but Chris grabbed him, lighting fast, and righted him.
“Thank you,” Mark muttered, painfully aware of the way everyone in there seemed to be staring at them.
“No problem,” Chris grinned.
“I need to go now,” Mark waved towards the door and managed to pull himself away from Chris. He power walked away and didn’t look back.
“But your coffee!” Chris called after him. Mark ignored him.
There were plenty of other coffee shops after all.
-
It ended up being more than just Starbucks. After that Mark started to see Chris everywhere.
When he was out buying groceries he’s run into Chris holding fruit suggestively in the produce section. When he was putting more gas into his car he’d see Chris straddling a motorcycle with attractively windswept hair.
(that last one fueled his fantasies for a week straight)
At the park on his weekly run he’d see Chris out tanning next to the lake, distractingly half-naked. At the gym, using the machines on the other side of the room and looking deliciously sweaty.
Mark even ran into him at the station once, and as soon as he saw Chris he’d turned around and walked the other way as he pretended not to hear the way Chris called after him.
Mark didn’t have time for stupidly attractive fae that only wanted to get into his pants. No matter how badly he wanted them to as well.
-
“So,” Beth started.
Mark eyed her warily. He knew that tone, and it never resulted in anything good for Mark.
“Whatever you want, no,” he said preemptively.
“I haven’t said anything yet!” Beth protested.
“Doesn’t matter, still no. Now go away, I need to finish my paperwork,” Mark gestured to the pile of work he’d let grow over the course of the week because he’d been too lazy to do it right away.
Beth frowned. “Chris’s been asking about you,” she said instead.
Mark nearly tore a hole in the paper he was writing on.
“What?”
Beth smirked, the traitor. “He’s been asking about you. Said you keep running away from him and he’s very sad about it. He just wants to get to know you Mark,” Beth tutted.
“He just wants in my pants,” Mark muttered.
“Is that so bad?” Beth asked, and she sounded genuinely curious.
Mark was silent for a moment. “No, not bad, but I just,” he paused and struggled to gather the words. “Whenever people learn that I’m an incubus, the only thing they want from me is to sleep with me, like that’s all I’m good for. And when they learn that I’m a virgin, they want to have the honor of saying they were an incubus’ first. I just, I’d rather someone want to sleep with me because it’s me, you know? Not because of my species.”
Beth eyed him as Mark stared resolutely at his paperwork. Then Beth leaned forward to hug him.
“I’ll tell Chris to back off,” she whispered, and Mark smiled.
“Thank you.”
-
His next meeting with Chris was drastically different.
For one, Chris didn’t immediately hit on him. Two, it took place at Mark’s apartment.
“How’d you find out here I live?” Mark asked, bewildered.
Chris looked appropriately sheepish. “I bribed Beth.”
Mark rolled his eyes (and honestly he should have known) and stepped aside, door held open. “You might as well come in then. Want anything to drink?”
Chris stepped into the apartment and shook his head as Mark closed the door behind him. “No, I’m fine.”
Mark nodded and walked over to his couch before he flopped down on it unceremoniously. “Well, sit down then. What d’you want?”
Chris looked embarrassed. “I wanted to apologize. Beth talked to me, and I didn’t mean to make you so uncomfortable,” Chris sounded earnest, and his expression was contrite.
Mark sighed. “It’s fine Chris, I’m used to it. Comes with the territory after all. You weren’t the first and you won’t be the last. Thank you though, for apologizing.”
Chris frowned, but he didn’t say anything, something Mark was grateful for. He’d heard it all before.
“Can we start over?” Chris said instead, and Mark was surprised.
“Start over?”
Chris nodded and then smiled. “Yeah. Like – hi, I’m Chris Beck. I’m a Gemini and an insatiable flirt; it’s nice to meet you.”
Mark stared at him for a moment before he grinned. “Hello Chris Beck, Gemini. I’m Mark Watney, a virgin Incubus. It’s nice to meet you too.”
They grinned at each other, a little stupidly, and Mark resolutely ignored the little kick his heart gave.
-
As it turned out, being Chris Beck’s friend was worse than being a potential conquest.
Well, for Mark at least. Now instead of dealing with Chris constantly hitting on him, he had to watch as Chris constantly hit on other people.
“It’s like he’s the incubus instead of me,” Mark complained to Beth one night.
Beth hummed noncommittally and Mark pouted.
“Beth!” he whined. “Pay attention to me!”
“I am,” Beth replied, distracted by whatever she was doing on her phone. “You want Chris’s dick now that he isn’t trying to get in your pants all the time, woe is you.”
Mark kicked her in the thigh.
“Fuck!” Beth dropped her phone and glared. Mark glared right back.
“Pay attention to me and my problems!” he demanded again.
“Shit, fine! What do you want me to do?” Beth rubbed at her thigh absently. Mark huffed.
“Help me in my time of crisis!”
“You mean your inability to make up your mind?” Beth deadpanned.
Mark raised his foot threateningly again and Beth winced.
“When did you get so violet?” she complained.
“When I was partnered with you,” Mark returned sweetly.
Beth rolled her eyes. “Look, you’re an Incubus. Sex is what you do,” Beth stressed.
“If you want Chris so badly, just go up to the guy and seduce him.”
“It’s not that easy Beth!” Mark complained.
“Why not?” she demanded. “It’s Chris! You’re friends now, so if he slept with you it’d be because it’s you, not your species, and isn’t that what you wanted?”
Mark stared at the ground and Beth exhaled in realization.
“Shit, Mark, do you like him?”
Mark shrugged and Beth groaned.
“Look, its Chris. He’s not going to hold it against you. Just go up to him and kiss him or whatever. See how he reacts.”
“Just like that?” Mark made a face.
Beth shrugged. “It’s Chris, that’s really all you need.”
-
Mark was going to take Beth’s advice, honest!
He tried, the next time Chris invited him out to a bar, but by the time he got there Chris had already found a group of people who wanted to entertain him.
Mark hesitated near the table, unsure of his reception, but then Chris looked up and spotted him. His face lit up and Mark felt his heart give a familiar little jolt.
“Mark!” Chris waved, as if Mark wasn’t looking right at him. “You’re here!”
Mark grinned a little and took the offered seat next to him. Chris immediately slid a drink in front of him and Mark cradled it in his hands so he’d have something to do. Chris threw an arm over his shoulder and introduced him to his new friends.
Mark was distracted by the comforting weight of it, partnered with the way Chris’s scent washed over him.
Mark didn’t remember their names by the end of the night, just the way they were all looking at Chris. Mark tightened his grip on his drink and forced a smile on his face as Chris laughed away beside him. He occasionally chimed in with something, but by that point he hadn’t worked up the guts to follow Beth’s advice.
Instead, he watched as Chris flirted his way into an invite to one of his new friends’ homes. The two of them left around midnight, Chris throwing Mark a wink over his shoulder as he went. Mark gave him a half-hearted thumb up in return.
As soon as Chris had gone Mark made his excuses and left.
-
It wasn’t until a week later that Mark got to see Chris again. There had been a spree of killings that week and it wasn’t until that same night that they’d managed to catch the killer.
Mark was surprised when he got home to see Chris in front of his door, looking sheepish.
“Chris?”
Chris kicked at the ground. “I just… wanted to make sure you were okay. I heard about the case from Beth and she said you were injured.”
Mark melted a little at Chris’s concern and he nodded. “Yeah, the guy got a shot at my back when I was turned. Beth was there though, so I’m fine.”
Chris nodded and looked up at Mark through his lashes. “I just, needed to see for myself,” he whispered, suddenly shy in a way Mark had never seen him.
Mark’s heart clenched. “Thank you Chris, that was sweet of you. Do you want to come in?”
“If you don’t mind?” Chris looked torn.
Mark shook his head and stepped around him to unlock his door. “I wouldn’t offer if I did,” he pointed out.
Chris followed him inside and kicked his shoes off. “We should watch a movie,” he declared, shyness apparently over at the invite inside.
“Oh?” Mark stared at him, amused.
Chris nodded firmly. “To help you unwind. Do you have popcorn?” Chris was already moving towards his kitchen. Mark shook his head as he followed.
“First cabinet over the stove on the left. What movie did you have in mind?”
“The Captain America movies?” Chris offered as he located the popcorn and set a bag in the microwave.
Mark hid a grin. “Sounds like a plan. If you manage to stay awake through all of them I might even let you sleep over,” he teased.
Chris mock gasped. “You doubt me? Watch, I’ll stay awake longer than you,” he grinned.
Chris was passed out in Mark’s lap as Civil War began. Mark stared down at him, one of his hands carding through Chris’s hair gently. Chris looked peaceful in his sleep, younger, and Mark couldn’t stop himself from falling at this point even if he wanted to.
“I am so fucked,” he whispered.
-
Everything came to a head two nights later.
Mark should have noticed the warning signs, had been trained to since he was a kid, but he missed them. It had been a trying day at work, one where he and Beth were called on near the end of their shift to pick up a fae causing a disturbance at a nearby fae-only bar.
The fae just happened to be a frost giant, and both Mark and Beth had been lucky that they weren’t seriously injured by the raging man. Beth was the one who managed to take him down using her voice from a distance since neither of them could get close without risk of being frozen - as it was they were lucky to only have minor injuries.
Chris was waiting inside his apartment when Mark got back, and he couldn’t be bothered to be annoyed.
“I should have never told you where the spare was,” he groaned instead and all but collapsed on the couch. His eyes were closed but even without looking he could see the grin on Chris’s face.
“You should find another hiding spot then if you don’t want me coming over,” Chris pointed out.
“Too much work,” Mark grunted.
Chris laughed and Mark sighed at the beautiful sound. He could hear Chris moving nearby, but he couldn’t find the energy to open his eyes. Mark really just wanted to sleep.
“Mark?” Chris asked. “You look a bit pale, are you okay?”
A hand touched his forehead and Mark somehow managed to gather the energy to open his eyes. Chris knelt on the ground in front of him, a frown on his face. Mark blinked, but before he could muster up the energy to answer Chris started to look alarmed.
“Shit, Mark, your eyes!”
Mark frowned, or tried to in any case, and Chris cursed spectacularly once more. “You need to feed! Mark, you must be starting, how could you be so reckless?”
Mark blinked, and finally he registered the deep seated hunger in his bones, the lack of energy, and the way he wasn’t quite processing things as fast as normal. He swallowed, but the lack of energy meant he couldn’t get properly worked up about just how fucking bad this situation was.
“Mark,” Chris was suddenly in front of him again, a serious look on his face. “Mark do you trust me?”
“Course,” Mark slurred out weakly.
“Good,” Chris nodded.
Then Chris was undoing the buttons on Mark’s jeans. Mark would have panicked, but he couldn’t. He knew what Chris was doing.
“Chris,” he started, but Chris glared at him.
“Don’t,” he bit out. Then he softened, and almost pleaded as he whispered, “Please, let me help you.”
Mark stared at him and slowly nodded as his heart thumped painfully slow in his chest. Chris smiled at him then finished pulling Mark’s jeans and boxers down just enough. Mark’s body was conserving energy for the most important things (like keeping his heart beating) so he wasn’t hard, but Chris didn’t seem deterred in the slightest.
Chris handled him gently, like he was fragile, even when he took Mark into his mouth. Mark watched, eyes hazy, and his heart skipped a beat as Chris did something with his tongue that would normally have his eyes rolling into his head.
Mark moaned and wanted to touch, feel the other man’s hair slip through his fingers as he gripped and thrust into Chris’s willing mouth, but he didn’t have the energy. Chris seemed to get the point though, as he drew back (which Mark definitely didn’t want) and smiled up at him, lips wet and shiny, before he gripped Mark’s hand and placed it on his head.
Mark managed to curl his fingers into the silky strands as Chris went back to what he’d been doing, one hand going down to palm the hard outline of his own cock through his jeans. Mark was slowly starting to grow hard, which Chris clearly took as encouragement as he hummed the next time he went down.
Mark thrust upward reflexively and Chris rode it out, not gagging at all. Mark swore softly, slowly growing stronger, and then Chris looked up at him, mouth full, and Mark swore louder.
Chris hummed again and then did something that made Mark throw his head back and tighten his grip on Chris’s hair, painfully so probably, but Chris didn’t complain.
Mark was too hungry to last, and Chris was too turned on by the way he was affecting Mark so strongly, and it only took another minute before Mark came completely undone. Chris swallowed it all gladly and squeezed himself through his jeans as he did.
Mark, more himself again, drew Chris up just as Chris felt himself starting to come. Mark’s eyes were a glowing and ethereal blue that drew Chris in and made him want to do whatever Mark wanted, so long as he kept looking at him like that. Then Mark’s mouth closed of Chris’s, hot and insistent, and Chris let go.
Mark drew back a bit as he fed and Chris was captivated by how he looked when it happened. Chris could feel the pleasure coursing through him, more intense than anything else he’d experienced, and wondered if that was because Mark was an incubus or because it was Mark.
Mark released him a moment later and Chris collapsed downwards until his head rested on Mark’s thigh. Chris’s eyes were closed but Mark knew he wasn’t asleep, only resting. Mark panted for breath and felt more sated than he ever had before.
What the hell had just happened?
When Chris looked up at him, eyes bright and lips stretched in a warm smile, Mark knew there was no hope for recovery.
He was in love with Chris Beck, and there was no coming back from it.
-
“You know, there’s something different about you today,” Beth mused.
Mark continued to do his paperwork, which he was once again seriously behind on. “What happened this weekend? I couldn’t get a hold of you,” Beth pressed.
Mark worked hard to keep his expression neutral as he replied with ‘nothing happened.’
Beth stared.
“You know,” she started slowly, “I couldn’t get a hold of Chris this weekend either.”
Mark very deliberately placed the completed form in his finished box and reached for another.
“Were you two together?” Beth pressed.
Mark didn’t say anything, and Beth slowly started to grin. “You were, weren’t you? Oh my god!”
Mark gripped his pen a bit harder and Beth started to laugh. “This is fabulous! You finally confessed, didn’t you? I knew you had it in you Mark, look at you, getting yourself a man and getting some all in 48 hours!” Beth crowed.
Mark slammed his pen down and glared at his partner. “I didn’t confess, Chris and I aren’t together, and nothing happened,” he growled.
Beth froze, eyes wide, and Mark breathed deeply. Beth slowly slid down from her position on top of Mark’s desk (and on top of some very important paperwork as well) and moved to crouch next to him instead.
“Mark?” she asked quietly, and the concern in her voice nearly made Mark’s resolve break.
“I’m fine, it’s nothing,” he dismissed.
“Are you s-?” Beth started, frowning, but he cut her off.
“Yes Beth,” he promised as he smiled at her, if a bit sadly, “I’m fine. I promise.”
Beth nodded slowly, clearly not believing him, but also willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“You know you can talk to me, right? That I’m here? I’m not just your partner, I’m your friend,” Beth reminded.
Mark smiled at her, more genuine this time, and nodded. “I do, thank you. I really need to finish this paperwork now though, and you should probably do your own.”
“Please, that’s what interns are for,” Beth scoffed.
Mark laughed, and for the first time since that morning he wasn’t thinking about Chris.
-
Mark tried not to think about that weekend as he drove home.
How, after that rather spectacular blowjob, Chris had sidled up next to Mark and cuddled him.
How they’d spent the rest of the weekend in Mark’s bed naked as they exchanged slow kisses and got each other off. How Chris had pulled Mark from bed Sunday night and made him a delicious dinner that they ate curled together on the couch as they watched cheesy rom-coms.
How Chris had still been there in the morning when he’d left for work that day, getting up early enough to make Mark breakfast and put coffee in his thermos. How Mark had crowded Chris against the door and kissed him senseless before he left.
Chris had made no promises that weekend, had made it clear before that first blowjob (of many) that he was helping a friend out. Then Chris had simply stuck around because a wall had broken between them, and Mark didn’t know where the two of them stood now.
Mark didn’t expect Chris to still be there when he got back, and in fact had expected him to be long gone off to a bar to pick up his latest conquest.
So Mark was surprised when he walked through the door to hear Chris humming in the kitchen and the smell of mouth-watering food filling the apartment.
“You’re back!” Chris walked into the hall and beamed at him. Mark nodded, still a bit in shock, and Chris moved to crowd him against the door like Mark had done to him that morning.
Chris kissed him, sweet and slow, and when he pulled back Mark was dazed. Chris just laughed and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“Get washed up? Dinner should be done in fifteen, okay?”
Mark nodded and went through the motions of putting his things away, showering, and then changing into more comfortable clothes on automatic.
Chris was setting food onto Mark’s rarely used kitchen table when he was done and Chris looked up at him and grinned. “Dig in!”
Mark sat down but was too busy staring at Chris to eat the no doubt delicious food laid out in front of him - Chris, who hadn’t left, who was still there, and who had made him fucking dinner.
“What is this?” Mark asked abruptly.
Chris blinked as he looked up, confused. “It’s… dinner? Do you not like it?”
Chris looked worried and Mark wanted to laugh hysterically.
“No!” he shouted, and Mark slowly exhaled when Chris flinched.
“No, Chris,” Mark started again. “I mean what is this? Why are you still here? What do you want?”
Chris looked hurt. “I thought, I mean, after-” he stuttered, obviously as lost as Mark was, and Mark swallowed. His heart beat painfully in his chest and he tried not to get his hopes up.
“Chris,” he whispered, “why did you stay?”
“Because I wanted to,” he answered, like it was that simple.
“But why?” Mark asked desperately.
“Because I want to be with you.”
Mark’s breath caught in his chest. Chris’s face was open, expression serious, and Mark couldn’t believe that he’d heard him right. There was no way Chris wanted him.
“I, you, what?” Mark stuttered.
Chris smiled, fond, and he suddenly seemed more confident than he had a minute ago. “I want to be with you Mark. You’re… amazing,” he breathed.
Mark was sure he was dreaming.
“I didn’t think you were interested so I stopped trying, but then Beth talked to me the other day and I-”
“That traitor,” Mark interrupted. Chris simply smiled.
“If it weren’t for that traitor this probably wouldn’t have happened and you’d be dead?” Chris pointed out.
Mark huffed and Chris laughed.
“So, on Friday, when you helped me it wasn’t just because I was about to slip into a comma and die from lack of feeding?”
“Well, not only,” Chris teased.
Mark flushed. “I, I’m glad.”
They grinned stupidly at each other.
“So, I mean, this means we’re together right?” Mark asked, hesitant.
“If you want to be,” Chris laughed. “Do you?”
Mark nodded quickly. “Yes, more than anything,” he breathed.
“Me too.”
Chris pushed back from the table and moved to stand in front of Mark, and before he knew what was happening Chris had hauled him into his arms and pressed a hard kiss to his lips.
“Now,” Chris drew back, and Mark saw the way his eyes raked over his form with hunger. “Why don’t we go make this official?”
Mark felt another pair of hands on him from behind and turned to see Chris’s copy standing behind him, a filthy smirk on his lips.
Hunger surged through him when faced with two Chris Beck’s, and Mark knew his eyes had started to glow. The two Chris’s were grinning at him and Mark knew it was only the first of many unforgettable nights.
“Yeah,” Mark breathed, a sudden wash of confidence filling him as one hand curled in the original Chris’s hair while the other reached out to draw the second Mark closer by his belt loops.
“Bedroom, now.”
-
Mark was wonderfully sore the next morning and the grin he’d woken up with hadn’t gone away. Chris had woken him up with his mouth on Mark’s very interested dick, two fingers buried inside himself. Once Mark had been fully awake he’d shifted and moved to straddle Mark before slowly sinking down on him.
Chris had ridden him, hard and fast, and then Mark had returned the blowjob in the shower after when they were getting clean up.
Mark had barely made it in on time that morning and had only been thankful that Beth hadn’t made it in yet. She would take on look at him and know what had happened.
He took a sip of the coffee Chris made for him that morning and tried not to think about the gorgeous man he’d left at his apartment, waiting for him to get home.
“What’s up with you not answering your phone these days?” Beth complained as he collapsed in the chair next to Mark’s desk.
Mark shrugged and took another sip of the delicious coffee. Beth sighed. “I wanted to invite you out last night, met some twins at a bar and the guy’d have been perfect for yo- why are you smiling like that?” Beth eyed him suspiciously.
“Like what?” Mark smiled innocently back.
Beth studied him a moment longer before her eyes widened. “Oh my god you totally got laid!” she whisper yelled.
Mark’s grin just widened in response and Beth pumped her fist in the air.
“Way to go Mark!” she cheered. Mark laughed and high-fived her.
“Wait, so what happened? I thought-” Beth trailed off, not wanting to bring up Chris in case it was a sore spot, but Mark just smirked.
“No way, Chris? Mark!” Beth’s eyes widened in delight.
Mark just shrugged and took another sip of coffee before Beth smirked. “I told you I’d get you laid,” she smirked.
“Yeah, yeah,” Mark shook his head.
“No, seriously,” Beth insisted. “Who introduced you? Didn’t I say he’d be perfect for you?”
“You said no such thing.”
“If you’ll remember back to when we first got partnered together, I think you’ll realize I did.”
“Nope.”
Beth just shook her head at Mark’s denial. “Anyway, the point is I totally got you laid! Virgin no more, and with a Gemini! That’s what I’m talking about!”
Mark’s phone chose that moment to buzz, signaling a text message.
He opened it as Beth stared at him. The text was from Chris, and Mark read it immediately.
From: Adonis
what d’you want for dinner? was thinking I could grill up some steak
Mark felt his heart flutter as he typed out a response.
don’t think I have any steak
The response was almost immediate.
which is why I’m at the store now to get some. what do you want with it?
Mark was so in love with him.
whatever you think is best. pick up some beer while you’re there?
naturally. i’ll see you at home, so don’t get my cop hurt, got it?
promise. i’ll see you later
“You’re grinning like a love-sick fool. You’re texting him aren’t you?”
“Shut up,” Mark grinned as he put his phone away.
Beth scoffed and started talking about something, but Mark tuned her out.
Mark was happier than he’d ever been. He had a great partner (who doubled as his best friend), a good job, and an amazing man that wanted to be with him. It didn’t matter that it took him 31 years to finally lose his virginity, that he’d been a disgrace to his species since he hit puberty. Mark was finally happy and living for himself, not anyone else.
He wasn’t such a failure after all.
(one thing to note is that the smut scene was written when I was comfortable writing smut (which I no longer am) and I did change it to take out as much as I could (cuz it's an important scene) so don't expect smut in future stories I'm still not gonna write it)
