#deuceix fic

“It’s the full moon tonight.”

That was probably only the third time Marco had said something to Marc since they arrived in the paddock. It was Thursday, and they had finished both of their respective media duties. The sun was setting, but Marc hadn’t paid any attention to the moon when they were walking together to the Aprilia rider’s motorhome. He never thought Marco was the type who cares about such things too, leaving him in confusion with the sudden statement.

“So?”

They’re cuddling on the couch, with Marco’s head tucked under Marc’s chin, his hair and furry wolf ears tickling Marc’s face. The TV was playing a replay of a race as Marc spent the last few minutes petting Marco’s curls, his nails scratching his scalp. It’s one of the habits they loved doing together.

“You know, the transformation thing–” Marco mumbled against Marc’s chest.

The gentle strokes on his hair had stopped. Marc couldn’t help but let out a snicker, finding the image in his mind ridiculous. “What? Like you’re gonna turn into a werewolf and eat me or something?”

He was expecting Marco to return the banter, to wake up from his position to yell ‘No!’ at him because it definitely wasn’t Marc’s first case of teasing Marco about his hybrid nature. He’s always been an expressive person. Instead, he’s met with silence.

Then he heard it, with a tiny voice. “...Kind of.” Marc could hear the hesitation in his voice. “Well, maybe not that bad— I’m usually alone through the previous ones so I don’t really know, I was just thinking if you can make sure I won’t do anything stupid while I’m…not really me later.”

“Anything I should take into account for?” Marco had handed him the trust that he could accompany him at his vulnerable and private time, it reminded him of how much their relationship had developed for the past months. He didn’t want to mess this one up. If anything, he hoped that he could always be there for the ones incoming.

“Just don’t let me get out the door or destroy anything around us, maybe if you can get me to sleep it’ll be easier,” Marco ended his explanation.

“And until then?”

“We can only wait.”

So they waited.

After some minutes, they decided that it’s probably better for them to move to the bedroom if Marco somewhat was able to fall asleep. The door was also locked for precautions. It shouldn’t be so bad judging from how Marco explained it before, all Marc needed to do was to be alert. He had a good track record with big dogs, he could entertain one for one night.

What Marc wasn’t ready for, was to actually witness the sheer size of a fully transformed Marco. He wasn’t much taller than him in human form, but right now, he almost knocked his head against the motorhome’s low ceiling. He wouldn’t lie to himself that it didn’t intimidate him for a second. Marco slowly approached him, his brown eyes fixated on the familiar human in front of him. He started sniffing around the corner of Marc’s body with his snout, Marc found it rather silly—he knew that Marco realized it was him.

As time went on, Marc had felt comfortable enough to pet Marco’s thick fur as he rubbed his body against Marc’s. His tail was thumping on the floor, showing that he liked the attention Marc was giving him.

“You liked that, eh? Do you want me to rub your belly too, hm?” He knew he wouldn’t get a reply since Marco couldn’t talk, but he already had his big paws on Marc, forcing him to sit on the bed as he offered his fluffy stomach to Marc’s hands.

“Okay okay I get it, come here you impatient boy.” His vision was covered with Marco’s fur, and he could hear his breathy panting on the side of his neck. His tail kept on wagging enthusiastically as Marc caressed the soft lighter fur on his stomach, scratching the skin under it.

Something wet touched his neck, and without even looking Marc knew that it’s his tongue, which was five times wider and longer than usual, licking all over his neck and ears. The sensation made him ticklish, making him fully fall onto the bed. He tried to push Marco off, laughing as he scolded him, ‘Stop, stop, you’re gross!’ Still, Marco didn’t budge, finding that it’s much more interesting to lap over Marc’s skin as if he’s marking him.

Marc had figured out that Marco wasn’t going to run out of energy soon, since he’s now resorted to playfully hump against Marc. The licking hadn’t stopped either. Marc himself however, had overestimated himself, he couldn’t keep up with the energy Marco still had. He couldn’t even push the creature off his body, Marco’s paws were keeping him on the bed. Trying to wiggle his way out, he could only flip himself over which didn’t improve the situation in any bit.

“L-let me go, you bastard.” It came off too weak. It’s like he wasn’t even trying.

Marc got his reply when Marco whimpered to him, he never liked it when they’re separated. Thinking that he wouldn’t want to make Marco lonely, he tried to do his best to stay still even when Marco kept on rubbing himself on Marc, his tongue lapping Marc’s face. His muscle felt too tense under the hold, so he stretched his body as much as he could under Marco’s hold. The act was another bad idea from him, as he noticed something he hadn’t before by raising his hips—right on his ass. There could only be one answer and Marc wasn’t ready to face it. It should be expected—he’s much larger, why would his dick out of everything else stay the same as it was?

He wanted to take a look.

It wasn’t possible with their current position, he could only push his ass back again if he wanted to figure out the actual shape and size—fuck, his heart started beating faster. Nobody in their right mind would consider about getting fucked in this type of situation—nobody except Marc. He knew it’s large, he wouldn’t be able to take him without any preparation.

Marc had always been a hard worker.

With another push, he raised his hips again—this time to nicely take off the sweatpants he had on. It seemed like it interested Marco, as his eyes went back and forth between Marc’s face and his now naked thighs. His tail was making a loud smacking noise against the bed as his excitement grew.

“C’mere,” Marc told him, his hand reaching to Marco’s lower back, guiding him.

It’s almost embarrassing how clumsy Marco’s movements were due to his body size, even with Marc’s guidance he just couldn’t get what Marc actually wanted from him. For the past minutes, he had been only rutting impatiently against Marc’s unclothed ass. He would’ve found the situation comedic if he wasn’t desperate to feel Marco’s cock on him, in him. After some pitiful tries, Marco finally managed to get it between Marc’s thighs, making him clench them at the same second. A makeshift hole.

Marc’s face was already turning red alongside his labored breath. “That’s more like it.” He should be rewarded for his patience.

He still couldn’t see what’s going on between his legs completely, but it was definitely rubbing deliciously on his own dick—it probably made Marc’s look small over it—he bit down on his lips as his thoughts overwhelmed him. They weren’t fucking yet, and he didn’t want to start to think about it when he could feel the veins of the werewolf’s cock on his thighs, making a moan escape from his lips. Oh how he wished to be able to lubricate naturally so he could feel it inside him instead right now.

It took him another minute of having his thighs fucked to realize—

Marco wasn’t fully hard yet.

The heat, the scent, and the sensation were making him light-headed; zero words were exchanged but he couldn’t mistake it—Marco was growing bigger between him. To be precise, only his dick was growing bigger. Marc had truly underestimated the whole transformation thing, he didn’t even consider sex when he agreed to ‘babysit’ him. However, he was never the type to back out from a challenge.

No matter how hard it was going to be, he’d get this creature in him by midnight.

He crawled higher to give some space between them, taking whatever liquid was mixing on his thighs—sweat, spit, precum—with his fingers before reaching between his ass, trying to loosen himself up. Marco keenly watched his movements, tilting his head left and right before he decided that he’d help Marc. Though, the definition of ‘help’ according to werewolf Marco was, to drool directly above Marc’s hole as Marc was fingering himself open.

Yet it was effective. Even when some ended up dripping to the sheet under them, the amount of it was enough to make him wetter and relaxed inside. It’s easier to take his own fingers now—but he didn’t think they can compare to what’s going to happen next.

Marco was very eager when Marc finally moved himself back against him, spreading his already slick hole right under his cock. Half of his face was on the pillow, but he had his vision fixated on Marco so he wouldn’t miss their new experience. With the perfect sight presented before him, it took him zero hesitation to actually start pushing inside Marc. Although Marc had always taken him perfectly before, right now, he felt himself being stretched beyond his limits.

He would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt, not when tears started forming at the corner of his eyes as Marco went deeper, his hole clenching desperately—trying to accommodate the size of the werewolf’s cock. It perfectly hit every sensitive spot that he had inside, making strings of curses leave his mouth. If it weren’t for Marco’s massive arm holding him down, he’d already reach for his own dick. However with the current circumstances, it’s trapped between his body and the bed, leaking shamelessly, and that thought had been long gone already, like the last bit of sanity that he had left. All he could do now is to accept that Marco’s goal for tonight is to fuck a baby into him.

It didn’t get much easier even when Marco almost pulled out sometimes, giving him some time to breathe—it’s still very much overwhelming. He weakly grasped onto the sheet nearest to his hands, his tears and sweat dirtying the spot below him. With every thrust inside, he felt himself getting closer to the edge—so he tried to look behind if it could be over anytime soon.

Instead of getting his answer, catching that Marc was looking at him, Marco lowered his head so that he could get his tongue slipping between Marc’s lips—kissing him deeply. It felt more forceful on Marc’s end, not expecting it, especially that it felt much different than kissing human Marco. Of course, it’s wider and bigger—and he produced more spit too, making him feel completely full. It’s more like he’s also being fucked in his mouth rather than being kissed, but he wouldn’t say it didn’t feel good. His moans were muffled as a result, as the organ inside his mouth went on licking every possible corner inside—and he’s still being fucked to the sheets.

He noticed that it might be close to over since Marco had slowed down, only pulling out a little of himself—and a pair of fuzzy arms were circling below his stomach, raising him to make them even closer. He couldn’t see clearly with his vision hazed with tears and his head dizzy, his tongue and lips felt numb from the never ending attention given. Now, Marco was already content with burying himself deep inside Marc. It definitely lowered his guard down, because in the next second, he was nearly screaming—something was swelling right at the mouth of his hole. His instincts were telling him there’s no way, it’s not possible, right? It’s just red, red, red—he might bleed.

Marco seemed to notice his panic, whimpering as he rubbed his head against Marc’s, as if he’s telling him that he’s going to be okay. Marc’s crying, he didn’t know that his body could take everything that’s happening to him right now—it shouldn’t be possible for a human to take that—

He’s knotting him. And it wouldn’t be over anytime soon, not until Marco is done with him. The realization hit as strong as his orgasm, his muscle turning all tense while his dick spurted cum all over his stomach, making his eyes roll to the back of his skull. It took all the energy left he had, with it left he placed his hand on his stomach, right above where Marco’s nestled deep inside. Maybe it’s his fucked-out mind telling him that it’s creating a bulge, but he swore that he could feel his skin expanding the next second Marco started emptying himself inside. He could only whine, it felt like it’s going to last forever. He just kept on filling Marc again and again and none were spilling, since the knot was blocking the entrance.

It created an illusion as if he’s pregnant. Marco looked particularly happy with his work done, he’s back on licking Marc’s hair and hugging him closer, thinking that he had successfully bred his mate. He wouldn’t want to let him go so early, he'd have to make sure it actually sticks. They stayed like that, with Marc nuzzling closer to the thick fur, tired out.

No one counted how long it was, but it certainly took a long time for the knot to actually start deflating. By then, some of the cum was dribbling down between Marc’s thighs, there was too much inside to be kept—and pulling out only left his hole gaping obscenely. He couldn’t see it himself of course, still he unconsciously tried to keep them in, but it’s impossible. It only left a lot of mess on both his thighs and Marco’s fur.

Seeing it, Marco lapped his tongue all over Marc’s thighs, cleaning up his mess. A whimper escaped Marc’s lips when he got to his hole, the long tongue eating him out, scooping everything that’s left inside out. He’s still feeling overly sensitive. He’s glad that he didn’t have to wake up and go to clean himself—Marco’s doing all the job. And he’s very dedicated to it too.

Staying at each other’s place has been a routine for them since they started dating. They've exchanged keys at some point, so to see Marco sitting in Marc’s super large living room is a normal circumstance for Alex (and he definitely has seen enough of things he didn’t sign up for.) It also goes the same for Marc, except Marco’s place is much tinier and he lives alone; Rubik is also there sometimes but Marco usually has someone to look after him.

That’s also what’s happening this weekend, Marc had to attend a sponsor thing with Ducati, so he thought it’ll be nice to also stay over at his boyfriend’s place. Plus the next race is still a few weeks away, meaning that they’ll have a lot of time to spend together. It’s early though, when Marc left to drive to Bologna, and Marco was still asleep. He might’ve not heard what Marc’s business really is, but he sure did feel a peck on his forehead while he’s still wrapped warmly under his blanket.

He woke up hours after that because of Rubik’s barking, starting his morning slow. Eating his breakfast alone feels weird when he has gotten used to someone else’s presence across from him. The longing sets in deeper when he looks at the pair of their toothbrushes inside of his bathroom, and Marc’s expensive collection of skincare is lined up on the mirror’s table. It hasn’t even been hours but he has missed Marc again. Talk about being stupidly in love.

Another bark from Rubik awakens him from his daydream, reminding him that he needs to walk the dog outside. In the end, he spent another good hour playing fetch in the nearest park and talking to some neighbors he met along the way.

Finishing his morning routine, he realized that he pretty much has a free schedule—he could spend it lazing around until Marc comes back. That though, until he remembers he has picked up some good books he wanted to read: most are borrowed by his friends and some are from his sisters too. He puts the pile of them on the table as he makes himself comfortable on his sofa. A glasses case is also placed near them, he has taken out the inside to help him read.

He hasn’t been looking at the time since he started reading, but he quickly turns around when he hears the noise of a car parking then a key clicking. It means that Marc’s home. He doesn’t move, because Marc hurries to him as soon as he steps inside.

Marc kisses him softly on the lips, but his reading glasses are somewhat in the way, he wants to take them off, but Marc pins his hand to the armchair, stopping from doing so.

“I’ve missed you,” he says as they break off, his hand has traveled to the lower part of Marc’s back.

Marc chuckles, “It’s only been hours.” He’s still standing in front of Marco who’s sitting, their hands touching, his is cold while Marco’s warm. Then he notices it, his boyfriend is holding a book open on his other hand—that explains the glasses.

“What are you reading?”

Marco glances at the book. “Eh, some fantasy novel a friend lent me. Thought it’ll fill the time as I wait for you.”

Looking at it, he hums. Then his attention is back on Marco. “That looks good on you.”

“This?” Marco points at the glasses. He himself didn’t look in the mirror the whole time he has it on, so he can’t be the judge of himself.

“Mhm, I like it. You should wear them more often.”

He blushes at the compliment. It’s not like Marc never does it, but every time he does it always leaves him stunned. He still can’t believe the man returned his feelings sometimes.

Looking at Marco’s dumbfounded face, Marc feels like he wants to tease him even more, the situation is just too good to move on from. Also, he really meant it when he said he liked the glasses look on his boyfriend. He settles to sit on his lap, his hands both placed on Marco’s shoulders.

“Kiss me again, please?” He asks, tilting his head.

And does the view make an impression on Marco’s brain. Marc on his lap, his curls dangling prettily over his forehead, asking him sweetly. He won’t let him wait much longer—he closes the gap between them right after, discarding the book aside to let himself hold onto Marc’s waist, their chests brushing. He can taste Marc’s lip balm on his tongue when he deepens the kiss, a whimper coming out from the man above him. Their tongues keep on brushing, to the point where the only sounds that can be heard are their lips smacking and their heavy breaths.

Too deep in a haze, Marco didn’t realize when Marc stole his glasses and put it on himself. It’s already on Marc when he opened his eyes, leaving him confused. He intensely looks at Marc, going back and forth between his eyes and wet lips (him being the culprit), as if he’s inspecting Marc. And of course it isn’t left unnoticed.

“Hm? Does it look good on me too?”

Marco chokes on his spit, triggering Marc’s laugh. “Y-yeah,” he answers weakly. He isn’t lying, he likes the look, too much even. Marc wearing any of his things might be his weakness. Last time he wore Marco’s oversized fanclub t-shirt, they had to extend their stay at the hotel because he just couldn’t get enough of it. Now, the glasses. It’s already something that’s Marco’s, and it really fits Marc—aside from him always looking good. It makes him look hotter and Marco himself hot.

However, the response left Marc unsatisfied, a yes isn’t enough for him. He gets his face closer, until there’s only a few centimeters between their noses. “Just that? Do you like it though?” He asks, teasing. Marco’s hold on him tightens after that, his eyes going unfocused between Marc’s right and left eye, unable to speak.

The truth is, Marc already knows the answer—judging from the thing that’s poking between his ass now. He didn’t know that it’ll have this much effect on Marco, after all it’s only a pair of glasses. He was only thinking of teasing the man he turns red but now—he has a brand new objective. Still not getting any reactions, he gives one trial grind on Marco’s still clothed dick.

“Fuck,” he cusses, his hands gripping on Marc’s waist—it might bruise at this point.

He can see that Marc looks satisfied by his reaction, judging from how he’s smiling, It feels sinister. The next second, Marc’s lips are basically on his ear, whispering “Say…I’ll let you fuck my throat right now,” Marco whines. “You just have to ask nicely. Remember, you haven’t answered me.” His voice’s low and tempting. Once he said it, he straightened his posture again to get a good look on Marco. As expected, his face has turned fully red and sweaty.

“I-,” Marco’s voice comes out shaky. “I like it!” Admitting it feels like he needs to bury himself and his stupidly hard dick. “So please, I need—,” he cuts himself off, wincing because Marc’s spreading his legs and lowers himself to the ground, looking pretty and perfect. His eyes fully fixated on Marco.

“Go on.”

“I need you,” he sounds like he’s sobbing now. Marc always enjoys making him beg and cry, it’s the best version of Marco only he can see.

He runs his fingers from Marco’s lower stomach to his crotch, rubbing his cock over the clothing. “Where do you need me though?”

Marco whimpers at the sensation. “On-on my cock,” his voice is getting smaller as he goes on, “please….”

Marc smiles. “Good boy. There you go.” Pulling off Marco’s sweatpants, he leaves off some kisses on the way. Marco’s dick bobs out of it when it finally comes off, pooling at his feet. It’s standing completely still under Marc’s observation, twitching lightly when Marc blows his hot breath on it. Unconsciously, Marco’s hands went to grab on Marc’s hair, but Marc had stopped him from doing so.

“Keep your hands to yourself, got it?”

He nods. Marc has trained him enough to always be obedient. He grabs on the hem of his t-shirt instead, holding his breath, his eyes focusing on Marc gently stroking him, before taking the tip inside of his mouth. He gasps when he feels Marc’s tongue licking on the urethral opening, as if he’s trying to intrude. He barely started but Marco’s already trying hard not to force himself all the way down Marc’s warm throat.

Marc lets his spit run down the tip, making the whole shaft wetter. Once he feels like it’s wet enough, he slowly starts taking everything in, until it hits the back of his throat. Tears start forming in the corner of his eye, but his years of experience has left him with little to no gag reflex. Marco can feel his tongue rubbing on the underside of his cock, making him sensitive. It isn’t fully in yet, but without realization he has thrusted his hip, causing Marc to choke on it. He makes a weird sound, and his nose is inhaling at the faint hair near the base—the scent musky and addicting, his own cock twitching in interest.

“S-sorry,” he rushes to apologize, “I didn’t mean to-” his hands try to push Marc off instead, but Marc bobs his head instead, lips sucking vigorously. He lets out a loud moan, one hand grabbing on Marc’s hair, the other trying to cover his voice.

Pleased with the reaction, he does it again, picking up his pace—letting the tip keep hitting the back of his throat. A tear ran down his eye, and his forehead started sweating more, his curls sticking on it. Marco is all spread out on the sofa, hair messy and lips red—already parted, heavy breaths keep coming out of them. Marc’s very much enjoying the view from where he’s kneeling.

He keeps on sucking, his other hand palming at his own erection—until Marco pulls on his hair harder, whimpering louder. “Marc—marc,” he’s probably close. Marc only hums around his dick, with zero intention of stopping his action. He already feels a salty tang inside his mouth, trying not to wince on it.

“Ah–close close, may I-” Marc sucks on harder, using his hand as a support to stroke the spit-wet base. “-’m gonna come.” His voice is now a pitch higher. Must be desperate, then.

He takes Marco’s hand that’s on his hair, moving it to gesture to Marco so he’ll just do whatever he likes—to use him for his pleasure. Marco is left confused when Marc just falls soft on his dick, yet his eyes are still staring deep into his. And he’s already so so close, why would Marc stop? So he thrusts deeper, and all he hears is Marc’s muffled whimpers, all compliant. Like he’s giving Marco a taste of freedom—

That’s when he gets it. He settles into a more comfortable position, both hands holding on the sides of Marc’s head, pulling out almost completely—leaving the tip in—slamming it fully in after. Marc takes it all up like the champion he is, letting himself be used like a toy. Marco’s thighs are practically crushing his skull at this point, he feels lightheaded, maybe he’ll reach his orgasm by only this. There’s almost no oxygen he breathes in, by the pace Marco is going, like a fucking wild dog. Unlike the poor puppy Marc picked up to pamper a year ago.

His eyes roll back when Marco finally gives a final thrust, his throat fully accommodating the intrusion. He can feel the thick white fluid pouring inside and he can only give in to the pleasure and cry. His tears are falling on the lenses then Marco’s pubis, adding the wetness of his spit on the hair there. Strings of whimpers are heard from above him, along with his name chanted again and again.

He can die like this. Willing and pliant—choking on his lover’s cock.

Marco pulls out slowly, and as if that wasn’t enough—Marc grabs his cock again to jerk it off on top of his face, milking everything Marco possibly still has left. Oversensitive, he can only succumb to the act, ropes of come paints Marc’s red lips, pretty nose, and the black frame glasses white. With that, they’re now both left out of energy, heavily panting. Marc lets his head fall on Marco’s thigh, beside his already softening dick. He kisses it, smiling at his exhausted lover. The whole scene’s just filthy and obscene.

Another shared podium into the records.

They had celebrated (in their own ways). At the end of the day their energy is closer to zero than ever, we were pushing more than usual, Marc had said. Hell, they left the rest of the grid behind.

The sun has set, people are going home, garages’ doors are closed. It is going quiet in the paddock, Marc has Marco’s hand softly brushing his as they walk to his motorhome. The atmosphere feels nice, he is tired of course, but to share more private and intimate moments with his lover feels rewarding after a weekend full of chaos.

They don’t really talk on the way, had done it plenty; back in the parc ferme, in the cooldown room, on the podium, and in the press conference, yeah, as if the world wasn’t watching and listening to them on live TV. He had teased Marco a lot here and there, then he remembers about him trying to answer a question while Marco butted in too, italian stuff, he chuckles at the thought.

His lover looks at him, giving him another fond smile, as if he can read what is going on in his mind. Sometimes he hopes so, maybe that way he will realize how much he loves this man.

Marc quickly hits the shower when Marco opens his Aprilia motorhome, as the other goes to the kitchen. Rinsing all the dirt and sweat, he smells something being made as he steps out from the shower. He finds an old Bez merch with a big “72” plastered on it (which he had gotten sneakily from the VR46 store) and puts it on, hairs still wet as he makes his way to the source of the smell.

“Ah just in time, my mom had left us some homemade food she cooked back at home. I was just reheating it,” Marco glanced at Marc as he took two plates out, telling Marc to sit on the kitchen’s stool. Obviously have not noticed the attire he had.

Until he turned around again, “Wait is that?” Marc’s grin grows wider, satisfied at his boyfriend’s shocked reaction. The dinner is served now, he does not waste any time before taking a spoonful of it into his mouth. The younger is clearly happy with Marc’s enthusiasm, he takes the other stool to sit in front of him, making them face each other.

“It was hard getting this you know,” he said after he gulped down the first bite.

The Italian scanned Marc from his face to the t-shirt before replying, “Y’know you could have asked me, there is a whole pile in my room.”

“But it is not funn,” he simply said, “and I want to be your true fan too.” Marco shakes his head, unbelieving but he remembers that it is Marc, it is normal for him to do things his way.

He brought their now empty plates to the sink, the sound of water flowing started filling the room. Not so long after, Marc appears on his side, “Let me do it.” Marco was not convinced at first but he let him anyway. He sits on the counter, watching. It feels domestic somehow, a complete opposite of what they are doing for a living.

Then he realized a familiar scent on Marc, “Did you use my shampoo?” He asked.

Marc put the last plate in its place, then stepped closer. “Mhm, do you like it?” he replied innocently, eyelashes batting at his lover. The next second he had Marco’s hands around his waist, his nose sniffing onto the crook of Marc’s neck.

“Smells good,” he mumbled against the older’s skin. Marc tugged on his hair lightly, the hot breath on his skin made him shudder a bit. He can see Marco’s brown eyes staring at him now, upset at his stopped inhaling Marc session, Marc just chuckled. His boyfriend resembles a sad puppy now.

“Yeah yeah but you still stink, go take a shower,” he messed on Marco’s curls.

“Don’t want to, I’m tired,” then Marc felt a pair of hands sneaking up under his shirt, hot against his cold skin.

He yelped, bringing one of his hand to smack Marco’s, “That doesn’t seem like someone who’s tired to me.” The man took his hands out after, putting them back on Marc’s waist now. He gave his best pouty face, hoping it would work on the man. Usually it works, but Marc had learned to refuse his lover’s begging puppy eyes, so it is not working this time.

He broke their contact, pulling at Marco’s right arm, “C’mon.”

Giving up, the younger went into the shower. However, just before Marc closed the door, Marco pulled him inside, making the water also fall onto him. He wanted to protest, but Marco beats him to it, crashing their lips together. He bit on Marc’s lower lip, making him moan, his tongue slipping in right after. He pushed on Marco’s shoulder, wanting to break free because his lungs are begging for oxygen.

“You bastard,” he shot his best annoyed look at his lover, gaining him a grin from the man.

He moved to kiss Marc’s jaw then neck instead, “Sorry but I’ve waited, those people were looking at my boyfriend’s body earlier, they don’t deserve that.” His hands wandered behind, squeezing lightly at Marc’s ass.

“So that is what this is about, hm?” He knew that Marco is a big possessive man, he likes it really, but it can’t not make him laugh. The man slowly nods, “They are staring at what’s mine, I don’t like it.”

“But they are your fans, no?” It is true, Marc saw it himself.

“Yeah that’s why they should stay away from you, only I can see this,” he replied again as he gets Marc out of his t-shirt merch, leaving the man only in his boxers, a tent forming visible to his eyes.

He goes back on his previous action, kissing every part of Marc’s body, appreciating it like he is some sort of a precious and fragile statue. Marc whimpered at every contact, Marco had touched everywhere except for the area he wanted the most, he could already feel the pre cum dribbling out from the tip.

“Amor, please, I need it,” he begged. On one side he wants Marco to go quicker, but on the other he does not want it to end yet.

“Where do you need it? Be specific,” he pulled down Marc’s boxers, and started kissing and biting at his inner thigh instead. Holding his embarrassment, he pulled on Marco’s hair, guiding him to his hard and leaking cock, “Here.” Oh how pretty is Marc like this, desire and desperation blending into one, and Marco has the front row seat to witness it.

Not wanting to wait longer, Marco took him inside his mouth, licking around the head, pressing into the slit. Marc moaned at the warm sensation sucking him in, his hand still holding on Marco’s head. It took a while for Marco to adjust into Marc’s size, and he had to hold his hip, stopping Marc from fucking it himself.

Marc’s voice became louder, echoing in the room when Marco started bobbing his head. He tried to push the stimulation by pulling at his hair but it only made Marco go faster, making him even more sensitive. His legs were about to give up, and he could feel his orgasm incoming, it seemed like Marco noticed it too because the man was doubling down on his attempt. His hand already roamed to massage around his balls, joining his mouth in action.

“Marco wait—,” he could not even finish his sentence before he was coming down Marco’s throat, the man had taken him into the base. Technically Marc was screaming, he hoped the neighbors had fallen into deep sleep already or he would not be able to leave the motorhome tomorrow morning without any shame.

His chest rises and falls as he tries to control his breath. Marco had stood up from his knee, Marc can see the sight between his legs, he has not come yet after Marc—he would like to take him right now. He will be delighted to. However, “Ah, I haven't prepared before,” he was not expecting any action because he thought both of them would be too tired. Seems like he is wrong.

“It’s fine, turn around,” Marc does not know the direction Marco is going, but he complies anyway. Then he could feel it, something proding between his thighs, hard and rubbing under his balls. “Close your legs,” he heard from behind, now he knew where they are going. It felt unusual—the feeling to have it outside, near but not inside, his thighs were already previously wet from the water, causing them to make a very loud noise on contact.

He felt Marco grunting on his ear, his arm slipping in front of Marc, closing in on his neck, making their bodies even closer. He felt lightheaded at the lack of oxygen but does that turn him on even more, he went to grab his own erection but again was stopped by Marco. He ended up just whimpering as Marco kept on fucking his thighs and jerking him off. One final thrust and Marco’s cum was dirtying his thighs, some got on the bathroom’s wall, and himself on Marco’s hand.

Marco kept on kissing his neck and his back before he turned him around, “You’re amazing,” he pressed a light kiss into his lips. Marc had just nodded as he let himself be washed and carried back to their bedroom. He got a more comfier Bez merch now—a hoodie, that smells like his boyfriend himself. They cuddled together under the sheet, with Marco stroking his back up and down.

Marc was about to fall asleep on his chest before Marco called him again, “Marc,” he opened his eyes again.

“Sorry to wake you up, but I almost forgot that my mom also invited you over to our house tomorrow,” and Marc’s eyes could not be more open than right now.

“You are telling me this now after I lost the ability to walk?” It is exaggerated, he can still be presentable if he is going to meet his boyfriend’s parents but God Marco needs to learn his timing better. It will be embarrassing if they notice Marc is walking weirdly.

The music was blasting loud on the stage and around the hall when Bez decided that he should take a trip to the restroom, being unable to do it since he was literally glued to his seat and going up and down the stage didn’t exactly help with his nervousness. It had been a while, really. Maybe the thrill of winning had become unfamiliar to him in just the span of a year. He even dressed nicely for the first time, another improvement to add to this year’s accomplishment.

He wasn’t the type to eavesdrop on people's conversation, but he stopped on his tracks when he heard someone’s distinctive voice—no, two people—a couple, maybe.

“They’re really giving it to you? What are we even gonna do with it?” A woman’s voice.

“Say… you can have one of those things of yours later.”

The answer gave it away, these two people were definitely Marc and Gemma, and that means he shouldn’t be here. He wondered what Marc meant by ‘those things’ that Gemma owns though.

An audible gasp. “Really?”

“Not like I’ll have to return the bike, might as well have some fun with it, no?”

“Alright then, no backing out.”

“Wasn’t planning to.”

He felt like he could see their toothy grins under the room’s dim light.

Great. Now he was listening in to the newly crowned champion sex life. If he didn’t hear it wrong. There was no other way to interpret it, and as someone who's much likely to do things with the bike that was gifted himself—he was in no place to judge.

Feeling that he had heard too much already, he left the area, finally pushing the restroom’s door.

What he wasn’t prepared for, was to have the person he was listening to earlier as soon as he turned to leave. He didn’t say anything, thinking there’s no way Marc knew. He stood there awkwardly when Marc walked to the stall beside him, unzipping his pants.

Marc cleared his throat. “It isn’t nice to stare you know.”

Bez was literally one step from going outside—yet.

“Unless you saw something u like—” Was it always this hot in the room? Because he could feel a trail of sweat running through his back. “ —or heard.”

“I-I’ll leave. Congrats to you, and—s-see you around, yeah.” He couldn’t be stuttering right now, what a way to ruin Marc’s already existing impression of him.

His plan to escape was ruined by Marc himself, the man charged towards him, immediately getting him cornered. It’s dark, but Bez can feel Marc studying his face expression under the shitty LED light. And maybe he’s holding his breath.

“Hmm, so you don’t like it then?” He could feel his dress pants getting tight—Marc was just too close for his liking and he could definitely smell his rich spicy cologne from this distance (that didn’t exist.) If Marc’s hand or thigh get anywhere close his crotch, he might be fucked.

“W-what are you talking about?”

Marc rolled his eyes, “don’t play dumb on me right now, Marco.” The sudden first name use caught him off. The way the a was accentuated, the r rolling in his tongue—no one said his name like that, and maybe a whimper escaped his lips—he wasn’t sure, hope Marc didn’t catch it too.

“I know you were there, listening. Did it pique your interest?”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out.

Marc pulled an overdramatic offended face.

“I didn’t mean to intrude on your business with your girlfriend—Gemma, I mean. I-I swear I just happened to be passing.” Bez tried to scramble all his apologies together.

Finally getting Bez’s nervousness, Marc replied, “So you’re not interested then? Hmm, what a shame. We were thinking that we could take a new dog home tonight.” His finger traced a pattern on Bez’s suit, eyes looking with hunger—ready to devour.

Fuck, a dog? And he said “we” too. They both planned this? 

Marc stepped backwards, patting his suit. “Fine then. I must apologize for wasting your t—”

“No! Wait,” Marc shifted his gaze towards him again, go on unsaid.

Bez knew that he was going to create a decision that’s going to change his life—not completely, but it’s exactly like however that one saying goes—that this’ll open a door that he wasn’t even aware of.

“I’ll go with you.” and Marc’s smile had never been wider before.

The way back to Marc’s place was a quiet one, besides for the sound of his heart thumping and the car engine purring. Marc’s hand going higher and higher on his thigh didn’t exactly help with his uneasiness, if anything, it’s making everything worse.

He was straightaway met with the view of a shining red bike—the Desmosedici GP25, marked with a bright, red “93” in front. Under the dim light there’s literally nothing more radiant than the machine itself in the room—except for the fact that someone else had been waiting right beside it, back facing them, still dressed in her gorgeous black dress that she wore for the party.

Hearing their arrival, Gemma turned around, greeting them. “You’re back,” she kissed Marc closemouthed before looking at their guest that followed behind, her eyes trailed up and down as if she was scanning him. Bez awkwardly shifted on his feet, not knowing what to do. This moment was literally the first time he had gotten so close with the couple—not even those times in parc ferme could count. This was a completely different, uncharted territory.

After feeling enough of inspecting Bez, she looked at Marc again, “How’d you know that I’ve always wanted to get us a dog, love?”

“You like him?” Marc asked.

They’re both discussing about him without actually involving him in the conversation—like he’s some sort of a pet that they just adopted from the vet—a fucking dog, for god sake. Like he’s not human at all. It shouldn’t make him feel whatever he’s feeling right now—turned on, needy, excited—yet here he is. His stomach felt weird too.

“He’s perfect. Just one more thing to get us settled, I’ll be back soon,” then Gemma is gone.

Even with only Marc in the room with him, it doesn’t lift off his anxiousness. What thing could she be getting? His eyes wandered back to the Ducati—standing still near the curtain-covered window.

Marc seemed to notice his interest, “You like the bike, pup?” His eyes widened at the nickname—but he didn’t argue against it, since it made him feel warm in his gut, under his belly—he wanted Marc to say it again. He didn’t even bother to verbally answer—he felt unable to, somehow, so he just nodded. Marc looked content enough with his answer, then he said, “As long as I remember, dogs aren’t supposed to walk on two legs.”

Once again he got startled over Marc’s words, this time he knew that he wanted him to do something, and that thing includes him lowering his hands to the ground—to be on all fours, like a dog. He stayed still, unmoving, before he heard Marc clearing his throat.

“Go on. Don’t you want to be a good dog?”

His breath hitches.

He wants to. He wants to be a good dog for Marc and Gemma.

He finally lowers himself to the ground, following the instruction, as his vision catches Gemma entering the room again with something in her hand.

A collar.

“People won’t know he’s ours if he’s not collared, right?” She said, and Marc crouched down to his level, taking off his bowtie before Gemma loosened the collar to put around his neck—with Marc petting his head softly. They’re really treating him like a house pet. He felt it tightens around his neck just right, and his head might be empty now, eager to be good for them.

Looking at him with adoration, “Perfect pup, do you want treats?” Gemma asked him, and he felt like his ears just perked up at the word—treats? What could it possibly be? He tilted his eyes to the side, unable to speak, already falling too deep into subspace. He nudged into Marc’s knee, hoping the couple would understand, yes, yes he’ll accept whatever they give him.

“Aww he likes you,” she said, “I’ll take that as a yes. You can get on the bike, Marc. I’ll reward you too, for getting us the perfect pet.” Marc left the two of them, walking towards the Ducati. Then he saw Gemma pulling out another thing—God knows from where—a leash. It made a “click” sound when she connected it to his collar, then she gave it a trial tug, forcing him to move forward a bit.

She looked satisfied seeing his reaction. Then the next second he’s being walked towards the bike, where Marc’s sitting on—his suit jacket already gone, pants undone.

He was close enough to the tires now, technically able to touch them, but not doing so. It was like the bike was too sacred for him to touch it. He looked up at Gemma instead, who’s currently tying his leash to the handle of the bike—limiting his distance, he didn’t plan to run at all though, nothing could ever make him.

She looked at Marc in the eye, purring “You’ve been so patient. I’m so proud,” taking his chin between her fingers—making their lips meet. Her hand traveled to his lower back, making Marc’s back arch, as her other hand palmed him through the boxers, before taking his cock out. It might’ve slapped the bike’s tank a bit, Marc’s needy whines slipping through his lips due to the contact. When Gemma deepened the kiss—Bez never really realized how much of a hot combination they were, and that he was practically humping the floor and the side of the front tire, too hypnotized at the sight above him.

Noticing Bez’s desperate attempt at getting himself off through the corner of her eye, she placed her pointy heel on top of his clothed erection, earning her a moan. “Poor puppy, I’ll help you, but you’re only getting this okay? Be good,” and he listened. The pressure she put sent an electrifying sensation to his brain, it was unknown to him, yet he couldn’t help but to desire more.

“You too, think you can come like this?” She pressed a kiss into Marc’s temple.

His breath was heavy, his hand had gripped at Gemma’s dress as she went on jerking him off, with the exact pace that he always likes. “I-I’ll try,” he croaked out.

“That’s my boy. I’ll promise to give you what you want after.”

The praise went straight to his head, making him grow needier, pushing desperately against her hand. He looked into her eye, his own maybe watering—”Will you, ah, fuck me later?”

The question wasn’t left unnoticed by Bez, he’ll get to see that too? He might’ve dirtied his pants just over the picture of it—he knew Marc would take it perfectly, and he’s dying to see it now.

“Of course, baby. You deserve it after winning the championship, making me—” she put her hand on the empty fuel tank, “—making us so proud.” Marc moaned again, immediately being suppressed by Gemma pulling him into another kiss, only wet noises and whimpers are heard from below, from Bez’s point of view. He continued to grind against her heel over the scene.

Her thumb nail digged at his tip a bit, and he nearly screamed, precum had started smearing all over his dick, Gemma’s hand, and the bike.

“Already?” She asked, gripping at the base of his cock harshly, and he jerked in her touch, nodding vigorously. “Yes, yes, so please can I come?”

“Hm, you’ve been good. Let go for me, love,” his eyes rolled back to his skull when he came with a shout, dirtying Gemma’s palm and the Ducati’s fuel tank. Her hand was still wrapping around his length, helping him ride out his high. His head fell on Gemma’s shoulder as soon as he was done, catching his breath.

Now they had both of their attention on their previously half-ignored puppy, which was still squirming under Gemma’s heel. “You want to come too, puppy?” He responded with a hip roll, and he heard Marc’s low giggle after, amused.

“Maybe you should bark, that way we’ll understand what you want,” he said.

“Right. You’re a dog after all.”

Shame flooded all over his body, he can’t believe it—they’ll only let him come if he…barked? The task seemed easy enough, but it took him a lot of internal battle to finally voice it out—barking it is.

It was low at first, not loud enough to be heard.

“Come on, you can do better,” Gemma said, “or should we leave you here to train you?” 

The thought of him being abandoned alone—leashed to the bike, he didn’t want it, he’ll do better. He wasn’t going to disappoint his new owners.

Finally after another few tries, it was loud enough and it had satisfied both Marc and Gemma.

“Good boy. I know you can do it, now, go on.” She pressed her heel down harder, and it was enough to send him to a toe-curling orgasm, a broken bark leaving his mouth.

He was still calming himself when Marc got off the bike to release his leash from the bike, taking it in his hand instead, pulling him as the couple headed to the bed. He followed obediently of course, even though it was quite hard with his knees scrapping the floor.

He was then helped to get on the bed, Marc’s hand still on his leash when Gemma went rummaging through the drawers.

What she came back with, did really surprise him. She already took off her dress, and a harness was nicely fitting around her lower hip—and of course, a personally molded cock to complete the strap. Now Bez got it, this was probably what Marc meant with one of her things. He wondered what the other things were, but that story is for another day.

“Like what you see, pup?” He nodded, and Gemma had just to laugh at his reaction. Well, he had never seen any of those before, so it was only natural to admire it.

“Well then, you better take lessons, because I’ll teach you how to use yours.”

He wasn’t exactly sure with what she meant by that, but when she finally pushed Marc’s head down to the bed, ass in the air—he understands, she’s the only one who knows how to treat the impatient and whorish man Marc is. She hadn’t even got her dick in—and he was already whining, grinding back and forth over it being in between his ass, hoping that it’ll slip in that way. He failed though, and that act only earned him a slap on his ass from Gemma.

“Be patient.”

Marc whined, “I can’t—I need you, please.”

“God, you’re lucky I’m rewarding you tonight,” she finally pushed in, slowly though, teasing. Somewhere along the way Bez had joined Marc in holding his breath in solidarity. Marc breathed out when she bottomed out, nudging at his exact favorite spot.

She held his hips, before she started pulling out, and snapping in right back after. Moans after moans were heard, and the sound of skin-slapping had filled the room. Marc’s hand went to grab at his leaking cock, but she stopped him right before he even got to touch—slapping his hand away.

“None of that, you’ll come on my cock alone.”

Bez whined. Loud at that. Of course it wasn’t left unnoticed, Gemma glanced at him and chuckled, liking the enthusiasm that’s beaming from their pet.

She picked up her pace, a ruthless one, but Bez knew that it was how Marc liked it, from the way he kept moaning endlessly, gripping harshly at the bedsheet. He saw how the older man’s body flushed all over, and he had never wanted to take a bite down so bad before. Not when Marc’s shameless big dick kept bobbing when Gemma thrusted, intertwining their tongues once again. He technically drooled at the sight.

Marc’s mouth fell open, back-arching when he came—it would be imprinted in his head forever because—“fuck,” God have mercy. He couldn’t stop staring, and he might’ve come in his pants. Like a stupid untrained dog. Who knows.

Gemma leaned forwards, murmuring “Good job, baby. You’ve done well,” and gave him a peck on his cheek. When she slowly pulled out, it had made Bez nervous again—he’s gonna get a turn? That’s what she promised…right? His questions were immediately answered by Marc tugging his leash, pulling their heads closer.

Unlike with Gemma, Marc had taken the initiative—licking on Bez’s lips until he opened up, intruding the place—making his head dizzy. He really is a good kisser—and Bez tries to keep up but again, it makes him look like an overly-affectionate puppy that kept lapping his tongue on his owner.

A fake-cough from Gemma had stopped them in the middle though.

Marc pulled apart like he had been caught red-handed stealing something—“can I play with the puppy?” was all he said for her to approve their previous act.

“Just be careful, we wouldn’t want him to break.”

Bez whimpered.

Then Marc pulled on his leash again, making him trap the man under him. His painfully hard dick was finally getting some proper attention when Gemma helped him get out from his pants. Directly slapping his stomach, Marc was more than happy to grind his own against it. Being way too turned on, somehow his ability just had given up, unmoving—yet he still wanted. He glanced at Gemma over his shoulders.

“Oh poor puppy, are you still confused? Want me to help you?” She offered.

He nodded enthusiastically—anything, anything.

She moved to be behind him, holding his hip and chest, whispering “Take it slow. You see how his hole is leaking? You just need to fill that up—” he took in her instructions, tip pushing in and Marc gasped—clearly liking the new sensation.

She smiled when he eventually sunk deep within Marc, “That’s it, atta boy.” She pinched his pierced nipple playfully—but it gave her an interesting reaction instead, that it made him pull out almost completely, Marc moaning at the loss. He tried to fuck himself back on Bez’s cock, impatient.

“Put it back in, come on.”

He complied, giving in to pleasure. Marc clenched so tight around him—his head is going to explode. At that point he doesn’t know who’s louder between the two of them. Sweat running down his back, he kept on pounding into Marc, hip stuttering when he clenched again—as if he was trying to milk every single drop from Bez.

Clouded by haze, somewhere in the middle, Gemma had found a way between his ass—her lube-coated fingers pushed in one by one—he gasped when he felt them opening him up.

Gemma’s forehead was sticking to his nape, breathing in. “Relax,” she said, it didn’t really calm him down, especially with her dick getting so close to his hole. But he tries, so he’ll be good. Swears left his mouth when she actually started putting it in, his previous rhythm was broken—Marc whines again, this time he held Bez’s head between his hands, not wanting his attention shifting.

The feeling of Gemma in him was strange—and she’s so much better than him in this, he thinks—because it hadn’t even been that long since she opened him up, but heat had started pooling on his lower belly. Her praises weren’t helping either, a simple, “Good boy, you’re making Marc feel good, hm?” and his knees felt more weak than ever. She brought him knowledge of places he didn’t know would make him that good—his mouth fell open over her nudging it. Seeing the chance, Marc put his two digits inside Bez’s mouth, “Suck,” he told him.

He lapped Marc’s fingers around his fingers—then from behind, Gemma had her thumb joining in too—wetting his cheeks. They forced his mouth to stay open, drools dropping below onto Marc’s skin.

“He’s such a good pet, isn’t he?”

“Mmh- yes, yes he is. Does puppy want to come?”

He listened to both of their praises, nodding dumbly at the question, and then he felt Gemma pushing down harder, making him unable to move—all he sees is Marc’s tanned shoulder—so he bites down, then it’s all white. He heard Marc’s yelp, maybe over his bite, and a spurt of cum dirtied both of them. They stayed like that until it all went down, with Marc being under him—Gemma had pulled out—putting the toy aside.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” Marc broke the silence.

Bez moved his head to look at the man, then quickly sat up—worries showing on his face. He was afraid that he had hurt Marc when he fell down on him—but Marc hushed him, “It’s fine puppy, I’m okay.” Bez exhaled happily.

Gemma was the one who stood up first, walking to a closet near the bed—Bez paid attention as she did. Then she took something big and fluffy out from it—is that a dog’s bed? There’s no other possible answer. It’s blue and white colored with paw prints decorating its sides. She put it down beside the bike, then approached the two again.

Looking at Bez who’s having his hair caressed by Marc, she said, “I’ve prepared your bed for you, but let’s get us cleaned up first.” He didn’t even protest—he was aching from the sex, and there’s nothing more tempting than a shower and sleep.

Marc guided him to step down the bed—finally using his feet only after a while. It felt weird, somehow. He took off his collar too, Bez didn’t even realize how accustomed he is already to it. He felt naked—aside from the fact that he is.

Then the water was turned on, with Gemma setting it to the perfect temperature. He was being sat inside the tub, not allowed to help anything—by Marc’s order. They both worked together to wash him out—Marc’s hands scrubbing his hair and body with a fragrant soap, it felt nice. He was able to relax, then Gemma cleaned the soap out with the shower head. Later on he was wrapped in a new dry towel before being brought to his bed.

He looked over Marc’s shoulder, at the collar on the bed. That was when Gemma realized, “Oh we almost forgot, I’m sorry puppy. I’ll put it on again for you, yeah?” He only smiled, and sat down on his bed. Then Gemma came back with his collar in her hands, letting Marc put it on Bez.

“Perfect,” she said.

Bez agreed, but he couldn’t really show it, so he just nudged onto Marc’s legs. That earned him a ruffle on his hair, “Thank you,” he said, “you’ve done so well. Rest now, okay?”

With the drowsiness getting him, he curled up on his bed to make himself comfortable. Not long after, only his faint breathing was heard in the room. Gemma looked at Marc, then pulled him into her side.

He and Marc shared a look on the podium, an easy one to miss if you're only someone in the crowd, it's the one where he basically said 'I know you're rushing to your brother later, so please let me follow since he's my partner too' and Marc understands. After all the celebration ends, he packed his essentials and met the older Marquez’ near his personal jet. It’s pitch black already.

The flight back to Madrid was a quiet one, he glanced at his left, Marc is awake, doesn’t say anything though, he’s looking at the midnight’s sky, staring sounds more fitting actually. Pecco decided to check on his phone, maybe he’ll find news about the surgery, or even better, a text from the man himself.

Nothing from Alex, all his notifications are all still flooded by congratulatory messages, some asking about his plans for the one week break. Thinking he will respond to them later, he opened his social media, finding gresini account had posted about the result of Alex’s surgery. At the same time, the jet landed and Marc rushed to get their stuff, he stuffed his phone back after reading the news, feeling grateful the surgery had been successful.

“We have to go home first to get the car, if that’s okay with you,” Marc had said. Pecco nods.

So they arrived at the Marquez’s big white concrete block house, Pecco still hasn’t get used to the sight of it, but he’ll learn, for the sake of Alex. (He still thinks Marc’s taste is weird though, however he wouldn’t say it out loud).

He stepped inside’s Alex’s bedroom, occasionally theirs on some weekends, finding it in it’s clean state, untouched, signalling the emptiness that has been occupying it before. The room hasn’t changed much since his last visit, one thing that caught Pecco’s attention was the new framed photo on the bedstand. He walked towards it to get a better view of the photo, Alex must have placed it when left.

It’s a picture of them, from the clothes it must have been from Marc’s birthday, they took a big family picture that day but he doesn’t remember having an exclusive one with only them two. They weren’t looking at the camera, so it made sense why Pecco doesn’t remember the moment. Even so, he remembers the awful joke Alex made when this photo got taken, that was why his smile is very visible in this one. The fact that Alex had thought of putting this beside his bed, among of the other family pictures, it warms his heart. He placed the photo back to it’s original position.

He heard Marc’s knock on the door, “Let’s go.”

Pecco slept on the way to the hospital, it wasn’t far but the Marc had decided to let the night air in, and that somehow put his eyes into rest.

He woke up right when they arrived, Marc had parked the car near to the entry, considering there were almost no one at these hours.

They entered the hospital, the white walls and cold air surrounded them instantly. Pecco looked down the hall while Marc talked to the receptionist. He heard a door opening at the end of the hall, someone left the room, a doctor he assume, no there’s someone else behind.

His eyes immediately lit up, it’s Alex. They’ve been only apart for some hours but it did feel like a lifetime.

“Missed me?” Alex and his stupid grin, how he had missed that.

“I was worried, how was it?” He looked at the stitch on Alex’s left hand.

The doctor looked at the three of them, “It had been successful, you can come back tomorrow’s afternoon for the first check up,”

“Speedy recovery, Alex.” He nodded at the man, before leaving them three.

Pecco switched the driver role on the way home, beside Marc needing a rest, he will share the front seats with Alex.

“So, who won?” Alex asked, he glanced at his boyfriend, whose eyes are focused on the road ahead.

He chuckled, “Why do you even bother to ask, you know who,”

Alex smiled, “That bastard.”

It’s another three minutes of silence until they arrived, Pecco parked the car in the garage as Alex tries to wake Marc up. The man quickly said good night to them as soon as they stepped inside, clearly not wanting his sleep disturbed again. Now it’s only them both in the comically large house, Pecco took a quick look on his phone, it’s almost 3 AM.

Alex yawned beside him and he decided that it’s time for them to rest too, the weekend had been exhausting, add the injury to the list too.

“Marc? What are you doing?” Alex asks as he enters the kitchen. He walks over to the counter where Marc is standing behind, “Wait, since when do we have all these baking tools? I don’t remember packing them here.”

“Hey! Put that down, you’ll make the pan dirty,” Marc slaps his brother’s hand lightly, snatching the pan in question.

As what Alex has said, there’s a lot of kitchen equipment on the table right now: cake pan, a mixer, whisk, you name it. There’s also a bowl of already mixed flour and eggs—some of it has dirtied the surface. He watches Marc walking back and forth to—whatever he is doing right now. Has he decided to change careers because of the injury? That can’t be right.

“What’s the occasion? Can you even bake?”

Marc glares, giving him an insulted look. “It’s Marco’s birthday, he’ll arrive this afternoon and I want this to be perfect. If you’re here just to mock me, I suggest you get something better to do,” then there’s a bark, followed by another under Alex’s feet, as if his sausage dogs understand what Marc has just said.

Alex rolls his eyes and leaves, followed by the two excited dogs. Marc turns to look at the tutorial he has playing on his phone, continuing what he has been doing. The whole ‘baking a cake for his boyfriend’ idea is new to him—he never really cooks dishes beside the main ones—also it might have something to do with their strict diets, athletes.

However, since they got together he has wanted to do something special, something he makes himself. Usually it’s more of a Bez thing, giving gifts. One time he had gotten Marc a customized ring—despite him not wearing jewelry, said he crafted it at his Italian friend’s studio—and it has an ant carved into the inside part of it. He has brought it everywhere since then.

There were more of course, they aren’t always stuff too, sometimes it’s also a reservation in restaurants every time they visit Italy. So that’s why Marc thinks Marco’s birthday will be the perfect day to give the man what he deserves. He means, he isn’t a party-person for nothing! He’ll get this celebration preparation done in no time! Nothing could go wrong, right?

Turns out Marc was wrong.

Everything can go wrong, to be exact.

It was already 2 p.m. and when he thought it was the perfect time to get the cake out of the oven—it had somehow not risen enough, well he tried to brush it off with ‘what’s important is the taste’ well, apparently, the taste couldn’t also save him. He wondered which step he missed or went wrong with. But he couldn’t just stand still beating himself up over a mistake, he should at least prepare everything else, so he put the failed cake aside, thinking he’ll finish it alone later instead.

The bell rang right at the time Marc finished cleaning up the mess in the kitchen and setting stuff in the living room—and his bedroom, just incase. He might’ve bounced on his way to the front door, he had been missing his boyfriend. They hadn’t met again since Marc’s injury, and even if Marc did watch the races, he wished he could be on the track too—celebrating Marco’s win together—yet he had to endure another resentment towards those old aprilia crews that kept touching his lover, while Marc settled with only an hour video call.

Those didn’t matter now though, as he finally had Marco in his arms, inhaling his familiar scent.

“Happy birthday, cariño,” he pressed a light kiss into Marco’s lips. “I’m glad you made it here safely. Let’s go inside, we have so many things to catch up to, no?”

Marco smiled fondly, and they went together inside.

“Just leave your stuff there, we’ll bring it upstairs later. I want to talk to my boyfriend first,”

Marc’s head easily fell on Marco’s shoulder right after they sat side by side on the sofa. They were entertaining fingers as Marco went on telling Marc everything that had happened while he was gone.

“I watched you win this time.”

Marco looked at him, “I know. Were you rooting for me, hm?”

“Yeah of course,” he replied, “Alex wasn’t happy about it though.” The Italian giggled.

They continued talking, and Marc had gotten his most expensive wine out of the cabinet—special occasion, he said. It’s true though, he had missed the warmth, both from Marco’s body and the atmosphere when it’s only them two.

“I need to use your bathroom,” he stands up.

“Oh yeah, to the left then just go straight. I think you still remember it.”

But what Marc realized too late when Marco excused himself was, it being exactly beside the kitchen. He rushed, thinking there was still time to hide the cake, he found the man standing right behind the counter, drinking a glass of water, and looking at the cake.

“Didn’t know you can bake,” Marc laughed awkwardly, thank God his boyfriend is one of the most oblivious people in the world.

He tries to brush it off, “Yeah I can’t. That’s a failed one, just ignore it.”

“Don’t be like that! I’m sure it’s fine, here let me taste it.”

The offer got him startled, “No, no, actually–Marco, I have to tell you something.” He couldn’t hide it—it’s better to tell him the truth than have his boyfriend getting food-poisoning. No, it isn’t a good birthday celebration.

The younger raised his eyebrow. “The truth is, the cake was meant to be your gift—from me, for your birthday,” he admitted, fidgeting his fingers—nervous.

Marco’s arms around him is the only thing he feels in the next second, “Thank you Marc, wait, please look at me—are you crying?” Marc shook his head onto Marco’s clothing, definitely lying because Marco does feel his shirt getting wet.

“I wanted to give you something—” he muttered, “—like how you always do for me,” a sniffle left his lips, “but I ruined it, sorry.” Marco caressed the older’s hair softly, “Don’t apologize, you already made me the happiest man in the universe! Oh Marc.”

Marc finally looked him in the eye, the tears were drying up. “Really?” 

Wiping the wetness on Marc’s cheek with his thumb, he answers, “Yes, I mean it. Thank you for the lovely surprise, I love the idea—maybe next we should try it together. What do you think?”

“I think it’ll be a disaster, with both of us,” Marc joked, feeling better than before. Their laughter filled the room, while still in each other's arms.

“Marc.”

“Mhm?”

“I love you.”

Marc whispered “I know,” softly into his ear, teasing, before kissing him on the lips.

“Ew gross,” the sudden voice surprised them both, they quickly parted, standing apart from each other. It was no one other than Alex, with Stich and Shira surrounding his feet.

“Please don’t fuck in the kitchen, bye,” he said before leaving, murmuring always come at the worst time under his breath.

When Bez had his third crash of the day, in a sprint that almost everyone was expecting him to win, he didn’t think Marc would do anything about it.

Turns out he’s wrong, completely wrong.

He was already disappointed enough in himself, but to have Marc coaxing him with sweet words in the lift to his room?

“You just need to let out that stress, don’t you, puppy?” Marc’s voice is thick, and his finger has found itself to play with Bez’s hair that tangles on his neck. It makes him shudder. Both the nickname and the touch.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of you.”

It took him zero resistance to nod slowly and follow the older man to his own room—correction—his and Gemma’s room. But the woman is nowhere to be seen, only her stuff put neatly on the table.

The place is too neat to Bez’s liking.

That’s when he notices it.

A dog crate, with a soft bed in it fitting just nicely.

At first he wants to brush it off as maybe they brought their new dog here! But it makes zero sense, Thailand is way too far and—it’s his dog bed. The one they used for him at that night after the 2025 championship party. The encounter never leaves his mind, he just manages to bury it deep enough and only take it out when he needs to get off quick. Plus it’s way too big to be Turco’s.

There’s a sticky note on the top bars. Marc takes it to read the note Gemma has left behind.

Have fun with the pup ♡

A smile forms on Marc’s face. He will.

Turning his head around, “Well, what are you waiting for?”

That’s his cue. Bez knows what he should do, but that doesn’t mean the embarrassment on his body has completely left him. He’s still not used to it: being treated like a dog. Yet it only takes Marc raising his eyebrow to make him give up his whole resistance. His knees feel weak and his eyes are hazy.

Bending his knees, he positions his hands in front to touch the ground.

His heart rate is already increasing, contemplating if this was a bad idea. Well, it’s too late to turn back now. He wants to know what Marc has prepared for him. Speaking of Marc— “Wait, clothes off first.” Bez looks up at him, confused.

“Puppies don’t wear clothes, you know that, right?”

If being told to go on all fours were embarrassing, being told to strip off before it is even more embarrassing. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he likes it. Enjoys it too much, even.

His face flushed.

He strips his sweatshirt first before going for his jeans, with Marc watching every of his moves attentively. He shudders when he feels the cold air blowing on his back from the hotel room’s AC. He’s almost naked. Everything except for his underwear. And it doesn’t seem like Marc is liking that, he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

“Can’t you understand? Nothing on, puppy. Come on, I don’t have all night.”

His dick twitches from Marc’s display of disappointment. They haven’t even started anything yet. It’s barely over.

He complies, stripping off the last piece of clothing that he has on his body.

Marc smiles, “Good boy.” He pets Bez’s head before scratching under his chin. Bez almost trips off his knees chasing Marc’s hand, hoping to get even more scratches, but his hands are quick enough to save himself from falling. Now he’s back on all fours, looking dumbly at Marc.

“You can get some more later, but now you’ve to follow what I say, okay?”

Marc takes something from the bedside, Bez’s collar—the one that’s only used once before. Bez immediately raises his chin, showing his neck, eager. It’s like Marc has trained a pavlovian response on him (maybe.)

“Thaat’s it, now you’re perfect.”

The praise goes straight to Bez’s brain, making him feel warm. He’ll do anything to hear more of them.

“But you haven’t been so good today, pup. Why is that? Hm?” Marc tilted his head, acting confused.

He knows that it isn’t really a question, Marc knows the answer. It happens. So he keeps himself quiet.

“Well, unfortunately I’ll have to punish that poor performance. In you go,” he signals Bez to the cage.

Without any hesitation, he follows, dragging his hands and feet to get inside of the crate. The bed under feels soft on his knees, and they smell good. Once he’s fully inside, Marc closes the door, while he can only see him through the bars, towering over him. He whimpers softly.

“Aw don’t be like that, I’m doing this to teach you a lesson okay? Be good.”

Not even his sad eyes are doing it for Marc, he can only nod as he paws at the bars.

Then, he hears a knock at the door.

Marc glances at it, “Just in time, wait here yeah?” He’s expecting company.

Bez starts to panic, it can't be Gemma because she’s out—that means—someone else will see him in this state. All he can do is to cover his half hard dick behind his hands.

He hears some noises from Marc speaking with the other guy at the doorway, definitely Spanish, and loud. The same voice he heard from the live television too, when he had nothing to do after his crash and debrief.

There’s no way—

It’s Pedro.

His eyes widened when the Buriram sprint winner entered the room. Marc closes the door behind, and it isn’t long until Pedro realizes his presence in the room. It’s quite hard to miss though, when he’s naked (except for the collar) and inside a dog cage.

Marc notices Pedro’s confusion, he quickly diverts his attention away. “Don’t worry about him, he’s only here to watch.”

Pedro doesn’t look convinced enough but he shrugs his shoulders and redirects his eyes at Marc instead. “If you said so.”

That’s when Bez realizes what Marc meant by his punishment—why the cage is set up for him too. He has no plans to give Bez any pleasure, not when a deserving winner is in front of him.

Marc plops down on the bed, as he takes off his top, while Pedro helps with his pants before doing the same to himself. He glances at Bez at some point, to make sure his attention is still on him. His tanned skin looks ethereal under the dim light, Bez’s mouth waters—it should be him with Marc. And he’s not happy with his dick stirring in interest when Marc kisses Pedro messily, letting the younger graze against his body.

Grabbing Pedro’s neck harshly, he moans out, “Fuck me already.” His legs find their way behind Pedro’s back to pull him in closer, making the man groan in response.

“But—” Pedro tries to say, but Marc has shut him up by circling his hands around Pedro’s cock, trying to get it inside.

Impatient, he urges him, “Come on, I’ve already prepared—ah, just stick it in.”

“Fine, fine.” He quickly puts on a condom from a box that’s placed on the nightstand, probably from the hotel, seeing the amount of variations.

He takes one of Marc’s legs up to his shoulder as he guides his cock inside of him, the man’s eyebrows furrowing, feeling it stretch him apart. He’s also not shy to let out his voice, it’s technically echoing in the room, along with the sounds of skin slapping. He looks at Bez in the cage again, who’s practically been humping the bed under him at the sight.

“If only you’ve won, pup–ah,” his sentence got cut off as Pedro completely buried himself in Marc, nudging the right spot. “You could’ve had this,” Marc reminds him again. Bez can only whine in his place, wishing Marc will take some pity on him. (He knows it’s not going to happen.)

“Faster, come on.” Pedro doesn’t need to be told twice. Picking up his pace, Marc’s back arches, his nails digging into Pedro’s arm. He never really seems to mind Bez’s presence, which Marc has told him in advance. He’s glad for it because he worries it’ll freak him out and words will get out. But it seems like the only thing in mind the boy has after winning that sprint is to get his dick wet, and Marc happens to be there. He had said something along the lines of needing a distraction of a certain someone’s absence or whatever, Marc wasn’t really listening.

He hasn’t been giving any attention to his own dick though, too busy moaning and teasing at Bez—it keeps on leaking precum every time Pedro slams his cock inside. He wants to grab at it, but Gemma has conditioned him to never touch it while they’re fucking and he ended up being used to cum without it. Instead, he uses his free hand to brush his curls that are getting in his eye. He has thought of getting them cut but—he loves having them pulled, and Gemma loves to pull them too.

He misses her now. He should’ve put on a camera so he’ll be able to send this to her.

Maybe next time.

His mind is back in the room when he hears Bez making more sounds, probably wanting to cum now. He can see from the flush on his body and the sweat glistening on it. He wants to lick it, if only he had behaved nicely.

“Marc.” He hears Bez say. He’s giving him his best puppy eyes ever, his cock heavy on his hand. Marc can see the tip had turned angry red, just begging for another touch. “Please.”

“You cum when I tell you to,” he replies, being mean because he knows Bez will be good enough and listen to him, no matter what. He’s a good dog.

Seeing Bez’s dejected face and another thrust inside are enough to get him off the edge, he whines loudly as his dick spurts out cum, dirtying his stomach and the bed’s sheet. His insides tightens along with it, making Pedro groan as he empties himself inside the condom. His hands are still gripping Marc’s hips as he pulls out slowly from the tight velvety heat.

Bez calls him out again when Pedro trashes the plastic in the trash bin, “Marc.”

“May I use your bathroom?” Pedro asks, his voice hoarse. Marc nods.

When Pedro enters the bathroom, Marc’s attention turns to Bez again. His eyes might be still hazy from the orgasm but he’s focused enough to notice the dark spot under Bez’s leaking dick. He’s still listening to him.

“Oh poor puppy, sorry I’ve been neglecting you. Do you want to cum?” He moves closer to the cage, lowering himself to look Bez in the eyes.

Meanwhile, Bez’s eyes have started watering, hair messy. “Yes, please, please.” His mind is already too dumb and broken to mutter another word.

“Hmm I’m not sure, have you learnt your lesson?”

A tear runs down from the corner of Bez’s eye. He nods eagerly, fingers clawing at the bars. “Yes, I have—”

“And will you make me proud tomorrow?” Marc asks again as he unlocks the cage.

“I will, just please.” He’s so close to it, but Marc enjoys torturing him way too much.

And it seems like his torture session gets longer as Bez sees Pedro picking up his clothes and somehow Marc wants to wait until the man leaves. He’s actually going to cry. His dick hurts and his legs itch.

“See you,” Marc says to the younger, and the door is closed again. It’s only them in the room now. Bez doesn’t even realize that he was holding his breath the whole time he watches Pedro preparing to leave. Anything to not make him cum before Marc allows him to. Like a well trained dog.

He bites his lower lip, it should be any second from now— “You may cum now, you’ve been a good boy.” And that’s all it takes for Bez to stain his own bed and cage bars white. Some even get on the floor, but they’ll worry about it later. His toes curl under him, and his teeth can’t hold his lip anymore, making him let out a breathy moan. He rides out his orgasm as Marc keeps his eyes on him through the bars.

“There, there. Feel better now?”

Bez looks at Marc, his vision blurry from his tears. “Yeah,” he manages to croak out.

“Let’s get you outta there, hm?” Marc opens the door.

Bez immediately nuzzles himself to Marc, demanding more touch after being locked alone inside the crate. He can’t stand being mean anymore, he loves his puppy, so he pets his hair and kisses his wet cheeks, left then right. “I’ll help you stand up, let's get us both a bath,” he says as he holds both of Bez’s hands in his. His knees are definitely too sore and weak by now.

The weakness I will keep for me

That was what Marc had said in front of the press, answering the journalist’s question; For Marc, what’s Marco’s weakness? Bez had heard it clearly, sitting quietly on his chair, trying to distract his mind not to overthink about what just happened. It was just another shitty press’ question for fucksake, he shouldn’t let his mind wander more, plus Marc had praised his corner speed, he smiled, but deep down he thought, what if his strong points were never enough to make up for all his weaknesses? That Marc has just been waiting for the perfect opportunity to break them? He tried to shrug the thoughts off, focusing on answering his part after.

No matter how much he reassures himself, there will always be sometime where he doubted himself of being good enough, to be, to stand beside the Marc Marquez. Marc had chosen him, but that does not mean he could not regret it, what if Marc regretted everything after knowing him more? He has never been a closeted person regarding his emotions, he shares his thoughts freely, shows affection to everyone he is close with, which means at this point Marc has known him very well already, including his weaknesses. Especially them.

Back on their way to the press conference, they were pushed tight into the backseat of the car, not the first time. Bez in the middle, with Marc on his right, then Fermin on his left. The rookie immediately livened up the scene, beginning the conversation that slowly turns into jokes and laughs, definitely caught Bez off when he decided to shove his foot— his shoe having a hole, on his and Marc’s— their faces. He had seen how Marc’s eyes lit up with curiosity, had seen how his lips curved into a smile, had seen him replying enthusiastically with rapid Spanish— one Marco couldn’t keep up with no matter how many courses he had taken this far. Probably had praised the kid too, Marco could understand though.

Younger, talented, a lot of potentials. A bright future waiting.

What he was, maybe, years ago. Now it had been his 4th year on the MotoGP grid, certainly not a rookie full of surprises anymore. A factory rider. He had no choice but to keep moving, to keep improving, even when there wasn’t much left to offer. He slammed his motorhome’s door right behind him, getting rid of every piece of clothing he had on his body. Letting the cold showers fall on his back, hoping it’ll stop his thoughts.

And the truth is, he had done tons of things. As in the ones where he tried to make up for what he is lacking in to be the ideal partner. He knew, he had to do this to be seen worthy enough, especially with Marc’s dating history (that he couldn’t even believe himself)

Why did Marc pick him in the first place?

When he could literally have anyone. Like, anyone.

Yet he had chosen him, even after the comments Marco had left back in the past. He was there on his bad weekends even when he should be out there celebrating his podiums, wins.

And what did he give back in return?

He tossed right and left on his bed, unable to put his mind into rest. Didn’t notice the click on his door and a figure standing right near his bed.

“Still awake?” Marc approached him.

He hummed, moved more to his left, making a space for the other man. Marc had him wrapped around his arms by the next minute, making him inhale the smell of the shampoo from his curls. Marco returned the favor, putting his arm on Marc’s back, caressing it. He snuggled closer in response, “You’re warm.”

“Marc,” That was it, Marco had started it.

“Hm? Do you need something?” He looked up, locking eyes with his lover.

“Do you ever regret it?”

It took Marc a total of 8 seconds of confusion, “What do you mean? Regret what?”

“Us, getting with m—”

Marc put his finger in front of Marco’s lips, stopping him from finishing his sentence, “First of all, no. I do know what I am doing and that I love you okay? Second, what is this about? Are you okay?” He looked at him with worry.

With that, Marco broke their hug, he quickly moved to sit on the bed instead, facing away. The act startled Marc, worriness filling him even more.

“It’s just that, I’m confused sometimes, you wanted me— despite how I used to act towards you, and you’re a whole figure in our sport, while I don’t have any titles. You know you can choose anybody else, what’s so interesting about me?” There it was, he said it, he couldn’t bear imagining what would happen next.

He heard Marc’s movement on the bed, now he was sitting beside him, trying to look him in the eye. Marc’s palm felt a little bit rough on the back of his hand, as it should be, he took his hand in his, as the man replied, “We couldn’t change the past, what’s important is right now, you with me,” Marco finally gathered some bravery to look back at the older man, “besides, who set that rule up? ‘You have to win at least 1 MotoGP title to date Marc Marquez’?” He ended it with a little laugh, and it seemed that it had brightened his boyfriend up, a little.

“Also, I could spend days talking about you. I think Alex has had enough of me, think there wasn’t a single interesting thing about you? Ah well maybe for starters I like seeing you think, you probably don’t notice but–” Marc tried his best to recreate the expression he meant, “you usually look like this.”

Marco giggled, “What? I didn’t even notice,” the view of his smile made Marc feel less worried now. So he continued, “And I love how you pamper Rubik, and your stupid cubes collection, your questionable fits— do you want me to go on?” They’re both grinning now.

What Marc had said eased him a lot, now he can feel like resting, “I’m– I don’t know, thank you so much, I’m so glad that I have you, sorry that I made you worry too.”

“You don’t have to thank me, or even feel sorry, it’s the least I can do–” he kissed the inside of Marco’s hand, “If you have more concerns, please don’t hesitate.”

Marco nodded, “Mhm,” then he rested his forehead on Marc’s, “I love you.”