Page 34 of Darkness and Duress

“Kill them. I'll kill them all,” he mumbled more to himself than me, but I offered quiet platitudes and my agreement as I gently navigated him onto the mattress. Lucy yowled and hissed, his tail whipping as he glared from his throne, also known as my pillow.

“Shut it, bitch.” I reached out and affectionately tousled the cat’s fluffy head. He swiped at me with another hiss before slinking away to cause more mayhem elsewhere. Kingwhimpered in the distance. Despite the heightened tension, I huffed in amusement and dug into the satchel Jer had tossed at us. That's when my chuckle became a full-blown, barking laugh. Fucking Jericho. That ass had given me his fucking aftercare kit.

Marco was lost to his demons as I rifled through the contents of the bag. Chocolate bars, bottled water and juice, a velvety throw blanket, a fluffy robe, and an honest to God stuffed bear. A stuffed bear that started playing a soundtrack of a beating heart when I squeezed it too hard. He was fucking nuts, but I loved him all the more for it. I pulled the robe on and carefully shifted onto the mattress, knee-walking closer as I whispered Marc’s name. His eyes snapped toward me, confusion and distress clear on his features.

“Hey, Sad Panda.” I pushed the bear against his chest with a grin. “Have a cuddle.”

“The fuck…?” He glanced at the bear, his hands dwarfing the toy as he instinctively clutched it.

“Yeah, don't ask. It's easier not to ask.” I took advantage of his distraction and pulled the blanket out before draping it over his shoulders. “When did you last eat?”

He shrugged, still staring at the bear with a crinkle in his nose. Despite his disdain, as soon as the beating heart stopped playing, he squeezed it again. The queen-sized mattress felt impossibly small with our combined bulk on it, but I managed to wedge myself beside him with our backs to the wall. An eerie stillness fell over the room, the heartbeat bear and Marco’s labored breathing the only sounds audible over the muffled animal antics in the other room. We sat like that for eons, shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh, as my adrenaline continued to subside and Marco remained motionless except to squeeze the bear when the soundtrack stopped.

“Here, drink.” I moved too fast in reaching for the bag, causing Marco to tense and draw in a sharp gasp. He worked hard toprevent it, but I was so in tune with his body, I felt it just as profoundly as he did. I cracked the twist top off a bottle of apple juice and held it out toward him, murmuring quiet praise as he took the drink in a shaky hand. I suspected he hadn't consumed a damn thing since I left him to his own devices twenty-four hours earlier.

“Gimme something to work with here,” I muttered, leaning my shoulder into his again. “Talk me through it.”

“Did they hurt you?” His raspy voice sounded breathless as he lowered the bottle to rest on his knee, half of it gone in two large gulps.

“Who? Moretti’s men? Nah.”

“What about… what about in… in the…?”

“Lock up? Baby, we never even made it out of holding. They sprung us at first light. Your dad sent a car and everything. Free and clear.”

His body sagged with visible relief, his eyelids quickly following as his head dropped to the wall with a loud thunk. “Thank fuck.”

“Marco?” I turned toward him a fraction, tucking myself close and coiling my hands around his arm to maintain contact. “What happened?”

The only answer I received was a soft grunt. A wince flickered over his expression before it hardened again. My imagination didn't need much more to run with the horror story it was concocting. The impenetrable walls he’d built around himself. His insistence that he wasn't gay despite claiming to have slept with men for ‘convenience’ in the past. The panicked response and rage that he tried to cover it up with whenever he would beg me not to touch him. Marco was a traumatized man hidden behind a fortress of anger.

Homicide was sounding more and more appealing the longer I sat with him. Heaven help the fuckers if I ever found outwho they were. I'd laugh as I tore them limb from limb. There wouldn't be enough of them left to make a positive ID if the bodies were found. My dark rumination kept me company long after Marco stopped squeezing the bear, so long I thought he'd fallen asleep. His gruff voice startled me from my maniacal murder plot when he broke the silence.

“What are you doing to me?”

“Clarify the question, baby.” I shifted my cheek from his shoulder, perching my chin on top of the broad, muscled expanse as I turned to examine his features.

“Why do you put up with me? Why are you making me feel things? Why can't I stop… stop thinking about you? What are you doing to me?”

“Aww, Sad Panda,” I scooted up higher and pressed my lips to his stubbled cheek. “I'm just helping you put the pieces back together.”

He huffed, a quiet sound that slipped around the room and coiled around my chest. With the weight of the world bearing down on his broad shoulders, he sank further against the wall, his eyes never opening. It took an inordinate amount of determination and effort to compel him to lay down, but once he was horizontal, it was game over—for both of us. The bear was abandoned as he replaced it with my body, and his breathing evened out in a matter of seconds. All in all, it wasn't a bad way to end a marathon day of fuckery. Hell, there were times where I had daydreamed of this exact scenario in the past. I dozed off with a smile on my face, finally living out those hopeless dreams in real life. I'd take advantage of it as long as possible.

If I'd thought my daydreams were impossible, I knew for sure my actual dreams were fucking nuts, but that didn't stop my mind from running wild with the possibilities. Strong hands, a tight grip, and a taunting of rolling hips flooded my vivid imagination until the ache in my dick was too intense to remain asleep. My eyes fluttered open and I sighed in disappointment as the dream disappeared—

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I wasn't dreaming. I wasn't dreaming at all. I really was being held in place by the punishing grip of Marco's broad hands. And sure as shit, the fucker really was grinding himself up against my ass. He was grinding his very large, very hard dick right along the crack of my very interested ass. The only salvation was that he was still wearing jeans. I froze in place and held my breath, motionless against his subtle, sultry swaying.

Was he awake? Was he fucking with me? Was this some freaky alternate universe? What the actual fuck was my life?! My cock pulsed with need as he shifted his body, his hand sliding lower to wrap around my hip and hold me in place as he continued to move, each undulating thrust becoming pure, unadulterated torture.

“M-Marc,” I stuttered, trying to stifle a moan as he pulled me tight against him.

“Mn?”

“Marc, please tell me your awake and this isn't some fucked up mind game.” I kept my voice quiet—the sky was dark. The room was dark. Everything was dark and quiet and serene and so very intensely sensual.

“Fuck you.” The gruff response took on a double-meaning as he shifted again, one thigh slipping between mine as his hand drifted from my hip toward my knee before pulling it back to drape over his leg.

“Marco, fuck…” I arched my back with the new position and met his hip roll with one of my own. “I swear to Christ, if you're fucking with me right now, I will feed your balls to my cat.”

---