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You had been a thorn in Mark’s side all. Fucking. Day.
Well, it wasn’t just you. It was some petty cat burglar who had been breaking into jewelry stores around the area, leaving “funny clues” that were just stupid puns he took too long to carve into the glass displays so he got caught at his fourth store. It was Cecil who kept sending him off on stupid missions that were better suited to low-level heroes, not In-fucking-vincible. It was Oliver who he loved so much, but that kid was freakishly strong and nearly tore Mark’s favorite limited-edition comic clean in half.
And then it was you.
He had come over seeking some sort of peace; play a few video games, attempt to bake a few things, just fucking relax. He was desperate for some sort of reprieve from the literal hell of being a superhero, and what did you do? Technically nothing out of the ordinary.
… You cheated during Mario Kart.
It wasn’t something you’d never done before! You were actually getting back at him for stealing your attention the last time you two played Wii Tennis.
You had been sitting on the couch and he was sitting on the floor between your legs, the match heated and dangerously close. He was laser-focused on the screen, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he steered Tanooki Mario towards the last star boost he needed to propel himself across the finish line. You weren’t far behind, but the distance was greater than you would’ve liked.
An idea (that seemed great at the time but not so awesome now) blinked above your head like the blue shell you’d just picked up.
That violent turtle’s shell-turned-weapon wouldn’t have hit him fast enough for you to surpass his car, so you moved your foot against his thigh. He jolted slightly and you could’ve sworn you heard him mutter a warning beneath his breath. Oh well. The grind never stops. Your sock-covered toes inched higher, higher, higher, until they pressed against the target concealed by his pajama pants. His body went rigid and he nearly dropped the controller.
What you considered a small step to victory would soon be your downfall.
Grinning, you rubbed along his rapidly hardening cock with the ball of your foot and slammed on your in-game gas pedal. The finish line was coming into view and you two were still neck and neck, Mark’s determination to win momentarily beating out his teenage desires. It was a straight shot to victory now, a drive that you didn’t need both hands for. You kept your right hand on the controller and slid your left into his hair, curling your fingers enough to drag your nails against his scalp in a way that had goosebumps rising on his skin and a groan tumbling from his lips. He steered off the road and basically handed the trophy to you, resulting in your loud cheers as you jumped off the couch.
You hopped around and boasted your success, so caught up in your own party that it took you a moment too long to realize that Mark wasn’t doing his exaggerated sighs or demanding a rematch with no footsies involved.
By the time you’d finally taken notice, it was already too late.
“You enjoyed yourself?” Mark mocked from behind you, one hand between your shoulder blades and the other squeezing bruises into your hip. “Still having fun?”
You knew he could get a little competitive and passionate, but this seemed a bit excessive.
He had wrangled you into about six different positions by now, downward dog being the latest and the one you prayed to be the last. Bent over on the hallway table right outside your bedroom, upstanding citizen against the wall when you barely got through the door, reverse cowgirl when you two practically fell onto the edge of your bed, missionary when he felt courteous enough to get your head on the pillows, prone bone when he figured you needed something to hide your face in and soak up your tears, and finally… finally collapsed doggy style because you couldn’t find the strength in your arms— or any part of your body— to hold yourself up.
He scoffed, fingers pinching the pudge of your thigh. “C’mon, I asked you a question.”
“f-fuck, mn-mn! i’m not, i’m s-so… hn-g..! sorry!” You sounded like an absolute mess. And you were one. But to your credit, you were a pretty mess. Eyelashes clumped in damp, delicate spikes, the warm light of the sunset shining through your blinds catching beautifully on your tear-filled eyes, cheeks flushed and slick with the salty tracks, lips glossy with spit and bitten a rosy red by Mark’s aggressive kisses.
He thought you were the most stunning girl he’d ever seen.
He leaned down and pressed his lips along the side of your neck, the skin covered in blooming hickeys and messy imprints of his teeth that stretched all the way down to your faintly sore nipples and started up again around the apex of your trembling thighs until they tapered off towards the middle.
Oh right. He did eat you out on the couch before dragging you all the way up to your bedroom, the stage selection music of Mario Kart the soundtrack to his feast.
You didn’t even remember telling him you were gonna cum. You didn’t remember a lot of things actually, even though your eyes were rolled so far back into your head that you could probably see your hippocampus.
“You’re gonna cum again?” he mumbled against your flesh, tongue peeking through his swollen lips to lap up a tear on your chin. “I can- mhn.. s-shit… I can feel it, the w-way you’re squeezin’ me fuck..!” Mark whimpered as his hips slammed against your ass, the feeling of the fat jiggling with each pump shoving him closer and closer to oblivion. He moaned your name into your ear and slid his hand around to flatten his palm between your boobs. He slowly brought it down your body, fingers feeling and fondling as they moved, until he reached your achy clit.
Your hips jerked as his middle and ring fingers gave it an experimental tap, and he chuckled, the sound reverberating through your frayed nerves when he started to rub it with differing speeds and pressures. He toyed with you until the very end, only keeping his motions consistent when you clenched around him and sobbed into the soaked pillow, gushing without warning and further ruining the sheets beneath you.
“Thaaat’s it, h..holy shit you feel… you f-feel so good…” he whined, voice cracking as the pleasure started to overwhelm him. Every extra thrust he gave you in the process of chasing his orgasm fucked you deeper into a haze of overstimulation. Even if you could get the proper neurons to fire and generate the emotion, you wouldn’t be surprised if you passed out when he finally came.
Mark’s pace was starting to get erratic, his hips shuddering every time they came into contact with your body. “Almost there, baby, almost almost a-almost.. haa, f-fuck fuck i’m cumming..! i’m- mngh-!” He nearly choked on his own spit as he reached his peak, flooding you with yet another load while he thrust shallowly in an attempt to squeeze in every last drop.
Not like it would fit with the other five stuffed in there.
His chest heaved against your back, your sweat-slicked skin stuck to his as you both recovered from the marathon he’d just put you through. He snaked his arms around your stomach and didn’t bother with pulling out, taking you down with him as he toppled onto his side. The pads of his fingers worked soothing circles into your burning skin and he peppered kisses along the back of your neck, listening to your heartbeat gradually start to settle the longer he held you.
It was quiet for a long time, the silence filled only by the noisy crickets and cicadas chirping to each other outside. Mark lifted his head off the pillow and tapped your cheek lightly, accepting the grumble you let out as a sign that he had your attention.
“So… rematch in five minutes?”