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You shifted your legs slightly as the movie ended, trying to wiggle enough to grab the remote without disrupting Marc.
He was dead asleep, breathing softly. His head resting comfortably against your shoulder. It was the first time you’d ever seen him resting so soundly.
You shuffled again, your movements bolder this time in a vain effort to reach the remote.
It was the first time in ages that you’d actually watched a film on live TV, and you knew it would be only a matter of seconds before an advert that was five hundred decibels louder than an aeroplane taking off started.
It was nearly in your reach, nearly close enough for you to grasp and-
“COMING UP NEXT!”
Marc jolted awake, springing into a sitting position. His right arm flew to the side and across your body, it made you think of a driver protecting a passenger when they had to break suddenly.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” it was difficult to keep the smile out of your voice. “It’s just the TV.” You rubbed his back, trying to ease the tense muscles.
Marc swallowed and looked around to you. He nodded once, still half asleep. A large tuff of his hair was sticking upwards from where he had rested.
Quickly you grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. A vague silence filled the flat, punctuated by the faint buzzing of the fish tank and other electronics.
You grinned at him, dipping your head to the side as you reached out and patted his hair, trying to smooth it back down.
Marc hummed and closed his eyes leaning into your touch. “Feels nice.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He looked so serene, angelic in the weak light.
Slowly, you sank your fingers further into his hair and applied a light, but firm, pressure to his scalp.
He groaned, pushing further into your touch. The persistent force of his movement forced you further back into the settee.
You giggled as he urged you further, guiding you to laying down on your back with him between your legs. He tried to keep most of his weight off you, caging you in with his arms, but you could feel him steadily slipping as you continued to massage his head.
Small moans and shudders escaped his lips until he was completely in your lap, his head resting against your chest and left arm hanging limply off the side.
“I fell asleep didn’t I?” He mumbled into your top.
You grinned, continuing the massage, “You did.”
“Was I snoring?”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Steven says I snore.” He spoke into your stomach, unintentionally shifting forwards into your touch.
“You were sort of,” you pause for a second, thinking, before you do your best to mimic his soft breathing from before.
“That’s snoring.”
“No, snoring is this:” you do your very best over the top impression.
Marc laughs. “Okay.”
You continue in silence for a while, staring at the ceiling and not thinking about anything in particular.
There is even a moment you think that maybe Marc has fallen back to sleep. His breathing is heavier than it was before, but you slowly begin to notice a slight rocking motion.
It’s almost ignorable at first, subtle enough for you to think that you are imagining it. But as you continue to massage Marc’s scalp the movements become more and more prominent.
You wait, counting the seconds in your head.
His breath hitches as he tries to bite back a moan.
“Marc?” You ask, faking an impressive level of innocence, and slow your hand movements.
He lifts his head a few centimetres from you. “Please don’t stop.” His voice is low and needy, his eyes lidded.
You push his face up a little more so that you can get a better look at him as you scrap your fingers along his skin. The sensation sparks like lightning down to his stomach.
He can’t help it as his hips rock against the settee, the inner seam of his sweatpants rubbing against his hard cock.
He groans, the sound rumbling deep within his chest as he bites hard on his bottom lip and closes his eyes.
The sight of him is glorious as he is wrapped up in the sensations of his own pleasure. You can’t help but run your fingers over his scalp again, firmer this time and his answering moan is instantaneous.
WIthout really thinking you shift slightly, bringing your legs up to wrap around him and lightly dig your heels into his plump ass. You apply a little pressure in time with his thrusts, encouraging him to rut harder.
“Baby,” he chokes back a little half sob as heat flares along his skin, pleasure coiling tightly in his lower abdomen.
Oh this is all going too fast. If he doesn’t get a grip on himself soon he’s going to come in his (Steven’s) sweat pants.
He moves quickly, trying to not completely lose himself and give into the sweet sensations, and sits up a little.
You go to take your hands away from his head, and move your legs. Already starting to form an apology on your tongue, believing that you stepped over a boundary.
“No, no, no,” he mutters quickly, grabbing hold of your hands and pressing them firmly against his hair. “Continue, continue please .” His voice cracks with ache and want, his eyes half lidded and pupils blown wide. His skin is so warm, burning as if he had drunk just a little too much.
You nod quickly, in awe of how wrecked he looks.
Marc shifted his hands down to your waistband. “Wanna make you feel good please?”
How can you relist when he asks you so nicely?
You nod again, barely finishing the movement before he is ripping your trousers and underwear off you and throwing them somewhere to the side. It’s a miracle that he doesn’t send them flying into the TV and knocking it over.
Throughout you try your best to continue the massage, rubbing your thumbs and fingers along his skin in a now ingrained pattern you know he likes.
Marc lifts both of your thighs over his shoulders and settles down, causing you to have to curl up a little to keep your hands in his hair.
He puts his right hand just underneath your lower back, positioning it ever so slightly so that your hips cant upwards, and wraps his left around your leg so that he can rub your clit.
You let out a small shaky sigh as he touches you, so light and barely there.
“ Fuck .” His hisses, his hot breath hitting your outer thighs as he leans into you. “Ugh, you’re so wet .”
He runs his nose up and down through your folds, groaning as your slick coats his skin.
“Marc-” You cut yourself off with a string of expletives as he lightly grazes your clit with his teeth before plunging his tongue into your cunt.
You pull tightly on his hair, the action involuntary and Marc lets out a beautiful high pinched wine as he grinds himself harder against the settee.
His cock is throbbing, burning for attention as he laps at you, rocking you back and forward with his right hand as he encourages you to fuck his face in time with the rock of his hips.
You’re achingly close already, pleasure sparking up and flooding your veins under his skilled actions. He continues to roll your clit between his left thumb and forefinger, pinching ever so slightly at seemingly random intervals.
You let out a gasped yelp, struggling to think, so overwhelmed with sensations and the need to continue to rub your hands through his hair.
“Marc, fuck , shit ,” you can feel it building quickly, a crescendo threatening to pull you down with it.
Marc groans into you in response, fucking his tongue harder against you as he picks up the pace of his hips.
Your legs begin to shake, your stomach muscles clenching. Just a little more and-
He pulls away quickly, kneeling with your wetness shining all over the bottom of his face. He grabs his cock, barely pulling his sweatpants down.
“Can-I?” His words are so rushed that they come out all together.
“Yes, yes, pleas-”
You cry out as he surges forward and pushes into you in one swift movement. His left hand guiding the base of his cock and then pushing your leg to the side, spreading you wide so that it’s half dangling off the settee.
You grab at his biceps, screwing up your eyes as he fills you so perfectly.
He lets out a long moan, his eyebrows pinched together as he feels you squeeze down on him.
“Hands, hands,” he mutters, so mumbled and slurred that it takes your brain a second to catch up. “Please, baby, please .” He moans again as you rock against him, his own hips still.
You sink your fingers back into his hair, whimpering as you buck again.
“Stay still for me, just for a second, just for a second…”
You wine, but do what he asks. Your orgasm is so close, you taste it. Feel the edges of it running along your skin.
“Marc, please .”
He opens his eyes and nods. But he still doesn’t move his hips. Instead he reaches down and circles your clit with his fingers, rubbing soft small circles that match the speed and pressure of your own hands in his hair.
You gasp and change direction and so does he. You scrap your nails against his skin and he lightly pinches.
He can’t help but rock ever so slightly, barely moving out of you, needing to feel every single flutter against the length of his cock.
“Need to feel you squeeze me, need you to- shit ,” he gasps as you come, your orgasm hitting you like a surge of electricity.
You moan out his name. Your back aching and grabbing hold of fistfuls of his hair, dragging him on top of you.
He sobs as you pulse around him, milking him for everything he could give as he comes, following you down into that mind shattering ecstasy as you pull on his hair.
Sweat begins to cool on your skin as you come back to yourself, breathing heavily. It’s only then that you realise both of you are still mostly dressed, and that you still have a death grip on Marc’s hair.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” You release him quickly. But he just murmurs sleepily into your neck.
“It’s fine. Feels nice.”