ϟleep tomorrow but tonight go crazy ❤

“I…” Marsh rubs at the space between his eyes with a resigned sigh. “It’ll pass. Eventually.”

“Will it? Without intervention? Without you wasting away first?”

“I’ll survive, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Marsh, for fuck’s sake,” you say, a touch exasperated, a touch desperate. “We both know you can’t go on like this. Look, if you won’t let me help, then fine – but at least let me help you find someone else who can.”

“No.” Marsh’s voice is sharp, but it falters as he continues, “I don’t want…anyone else.”

A rush of golden electricity blooms in your stomach. “Just me,” you say, halfway between a question and a statement.

The way Marsh’s tongue sweeps between his lips as his eyes drag over you is answer enough. “You don’t need to do this,” he mutters. “You don’t need to take care of me.”

“I want to, though,” you say, stepping closer to him. “You’d do the same for me.”

Marsh goes rigid at your proximity. His breath comes steady and deep, but you can hear the tremor it carries. “I could hurt you.”

You take another step closer, brushing your fingers against his. “I know you won’t,” you say softly.

This time, the shudder in Marsh’s exhale is unmistakable. His pupils are dark and wide, that fever-heat blown into a barely contained wildfire. “Tell me you’re sure,” he says.

You wrap your fingers around his wrist, holding his gaze. “I’m sure.”

Slowly, Marsh lifts his free hand; it trembles as it rests on your face. He leans in, and as his eyes lock onto your mouth, you can see the moment the blaze within them breaks free. A fraction of a second later, his lips are crashing into yours.

You make a keening little noise into his mouth, stumbling as he presses you backwards. His kisses are tempestuous, consuming, all tongue and teeth, and yet you know he’s still working to hold himself back, can feel it in the tension wracking his body. You gasp as you hit the edge of his kitchen table, breaking off the kiss, but you don’t have time to think before Marsh has spun you around, pressing your front into it instead. His breath is heavy in your ear as he kisses your neck, and as his hands work your shorts down, he sinks to his knees, pressing more kisses into your back as he goes. His hands grope at your hips, your thighs, as he nuzzles his face into your ass, searching for the center of your heat. 

You cling shakily to the table as he uses his hands to spread you open, pressing his face to your clothed cunt. His frantic movement eases as he breathes in deep, inhaling your scent like it’s oxygen he’s been suffocating without. The groan he lets out with his exhale is a blend of pure relief and desperation. You feel the warmth of his tongue a moment later, feel him sucking a deep kiss into you through your damp underwear, and it pulls a soft moan from your throat. His tongue roves over you again, and you can’t help but breathe a laugh, glancing back over your shoulder at him. “You could take them off, you know.”

“Give me a moment,” Marsh mumbles. His hands squeeze your hips, making you inhale sharply, as he continues his exploratory little kisses and licks. When he reaches the curve of your ass, he sinks his teeth into your soft skin, prompting an involuntary jump from you – and another breathless laugh.

Marsh rises from his knees, pulling you close as he nudges his face into your neck. “Sorry,” he says, and a thrill swoops through your stomach at the way he already sounds a bit drunken – all because of you. “I won’t do that again, I swear…”

You laugh again, reaching back to tangle your fingers in his hair. “Don’t apologize. You can bite me as much as you want.”

Marsh makes a noise deep in his throat, wrapping an arm tightly around you. His other hand slides down your stomach, fingers disappearing under your waistband, slipping into your wetness. You suck in a sharp breath, securing a deathgrip on his hair and arm.

“You’re sure?” he says, the low roll of his voice reverberating down to your core.

“Yes,” you quietly assure him. With a lopsided smile, you add, “You can feel that much.”

You can feel Marsh too, hard and heavy where he’s pressed against your lower back. As he draws his fingers through your soaked folds, you cant your hips back, tilting your head up, offering all of yourself to him. “Please, Marsh,” you whisper.

“Fuck…” The word leaves Marsh’s mouth in a rush of breath, like something’s snapped loose inside him. It’s all the warning you get before he’s lifting you into the air, your surroundings blurring with the swiftness of movement before your back abruptly hits something soft – his bed, you realize a moment later. A flare of adrenaline lights up your stomach at the predatory hunger in Marsh’s eyes as he clambers atop you, tugging off his shirt – and yet you feel no urge to run, only to have him closer. 

You get your wish as he kisses you, tongue sweeping into your mouth, his hands working under your shirt to take grasping handfuls of your breasts. You whimper against his lips, squirming underneath him, and he makes a low noise in response as he sucks a burning kiss into your collarbones. His hands find the waistband of your underwear as he sits back, yanking them off in one smooth motion. Within a second, he’s back on you, pressing your thighs open and lowering himself between them. For one long moment, he’s still, staring transfixed at your cunt, soaked and pulsing for him, and your breath catches in your chest. Then he leans in and licks a slow stripe over you – and a million sparks of electricity shoot down your nerves, forcing the air from your lungs in a trembling whine.

There’s no other way to describe the noise Marsh makes in answer than a growl. He wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you towards him, sucking down hard on your clit as if it’s the only thing keeping him alive. You moan desperately, writhing in his grasp – for all the good it does you. Marsh’s grip is bruisingly tight, keeping you firmly pressed to his mouth. His attention drifts to your entrance, the tip of his tongue dipping inside as he laps at you. Every taste seems to leave him starving for more; he groans, pressing impossibly closer, working his mouth against you, his tongue into you, voracious, insatiable.

This is what it means to be devoured, you think blearily, pleading cries and whimpers dropping from your lips, your fingers scrabbling ineffectually at his hair, his shoulders. You’re already close – so close, and Marsh must sense it, because he surges up to flip you onto your stomach, another growl issuing from deep in his throat as he presses his face to your neck, his arm snaking underneath you to angle your hips up. When he rocks into you, you feel his cock slip between your folds, over your clit, making you gasp at the sensation – and the realization of just how big he is. He does it again, and again, until you feel you might explode like a dying star if he doesn’t take you right now.

“Marsh,” you beg, and he makes a sound through gritted teeth in response, blessedly pulling back to line himself up. You let out a little “oh” as he breaches you; there’s a noticeable stretch, but to your surprise, there’s no protest of pain from your body. All you feel is sweet fire, searing straight through you, building further and further as he seats himself inside you with a groan that shakes the foundations of your consciousness.

“Lord,” Marsh breathes, and when he says your name, it’s with a desperation that surpasses even your own, one you can only now understand the depths of. He begins to move, hips rocking into you in short thrusts that have him sinking deeper than anything you’ve ever felt before, and it’s better, so much better than anything you could’ve dreamed. How you had lived without it – how you ever will again – you can’t imagine.

Marsh’s pace is already increasing, his hips slamming against your ass, the sound of skin on skin becoming louder and louder. You can’t hold back the desperate noises that are pouring from your mouth, can barely manage to form them into a semblance of his name. Your legs try to kick up as you convulse beneath him, and he growls in his throat again, sinking his teeth into the back of your neck. His arm tightens around you, pinning you firmly against him, and his other hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together as he presses it over your head.

“You feel so fucking good,” he pants. “You have no idea…”

His words dissolve into another groan, and he fucks harder, faster into you. He feels so good to you, his body enveloping yours, his weight pressing you down, his cock so deep inside you, and all you can do is take it, tears trickling down your cheeks, the wave of fire building and building until –

Everything cuts loose inside you, and with a wavering cry you come, clenching hard around him, everything beyond the two of you washed from your mind by the flames consuming you. Distantly, you hear Marsh’s answering groan, feel his sharp teeth on your neck once more, and then he’s pulsing within you, his own heat erupting through you. 

With the release, all Marsh’s tension finally begins to dissolve. He sighs deeply into your shoulder as his body grows limp. You feel it, then – the swell of his knot taking shape inside you. You brace yourself, trying to ensure you’re relaxed, just like you prepared for…but once again, you’re taken aback. There’s a stretch – a dramatic one – but rather than being painful, it’s comfortable. Thick, snug, and so filling, it seems to restore wholeness to a void you hadn’t even known existed within you.

Above you, Marsh’s breathing is evening out, and his weight is growing – somehow – even heavier. This pliant and relaxed, he goes easy when you shift him mostly off you, simply curling around your back, letting out another sigh as he wraps you more securely in his arms. An ache seizes your heart at the unexpected sweetness, and you fold your own arms over his, keeping him close. It’s only a few minutes before the sound of his slow breath, his steady warmth against you, inside you, coaxes you to follow him into sleep.

---

The room’s shadows have shifted and lengthened when you wake. Marsh is still there, still tucked against you, though he’s gone soft inside you. Carefully, you work your way free enough to roll over and face him. His eyes blink open as you rest your hand on his face, and you can’t help but smile at the way his usually taught features have relaxed.

“Did you get what you needed?” you ask softly.

Marsh exhales slowly. There’s a gravel to his voice you’ve never heard before when he speaks, one that stirs the warmth within you to life again. “Yes,” he says. “I…”

You can all but hear the apologies and admonitions dancing on the tip of his tongue. When he opens his mouth, though, it all fades into a simple, “Thank you.”

Unable to resist, you lean in and kiss him. “Of course,” you whisper. “Anytime.”