The Moon and The Sun (MoonKnightxReader)

Rejuvenation

[🌙This chapter contains slight swearing, mentions of alcohol, and of course, sexual tension and insinuation.🌙]

[A/N: Here's the last installment before the next episode releases! You have no idea how excited I am.  Anyways, I'll leave you guys alone to read now. Enjoy! 🖤]
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With every intention to enter the room quietly, I purposefully turned the knob slowly and held my breath. I swiftly turned and gently returned the door to its closed position, making sure it silently locked.

I'd hate to wake up Marc by walking in and being inconsiderate.

But I was ecstatic to be back with him.

I turned toward the bed and immediately, a wave of worry washed over me. Clothes had been strewn everywhere, broken glass littered the floor, and even the full length mirror had been brutally shattered. My stomach tensed and I felt my heart sink to the floor.

Marc wasn't here.

The bed's sheets had been been torn from the corners, leaving the majority of the blankets on the floor. Even the pillows had been stolen from their place on the mattress and thrown aside.

I took a step forward, not knowing if an assailant had taken my place in my absence. My chest combusted in a flame of anxiety, fearing for the love of my very long life.

"Marc?" My whisper echoed through the otherwise tranquil room, and the lack of an immediate answer stabbed directly into my soul.

A clank caught my attention, the sound emitting from the far end of the bed, the part concealed from me. I approached the noise and saw Marc leaning against the bed, slumping backwards in the undisclosed section of the mattress. He was gripping the neck of an intricately designed glass bottle that contained liquor of a honey colored nature.

"Marc..." I leaned down to his level, my face squinting in concern of his current state. And his state in the middle of the dismantled room. "What happened?"

With no answer, he returned the liquor to his mouth, gulping in an obscene fashion. He was going to be absolutely debilitated at this rate. Then, he wiped the back of his mouth and harshly clanked the bottle on the floor once more.

"Steven and I...had a conversation." He finally admitted, now peering at me with somber and dull eyes. He broke our connected gaze and considered the rug he was sitting on to be more interesting, tugging at the fibers that had come loose and frayed.

I reached for him, placing a hand in the center of his defined chest, softly caressing his bare skin. "What did you and Steven talk about?" I proposed, observing as he uncomfortably shifted due to his awkward position against the bed.

He chewed his bottom lip as he considered how much to reveal to me.

That moment of silence hurt a little, because I felt like he didn't trust me.

"Nothing important." He scoffed and lifted the bottle from the ground. I halted his hand midair, seizing his wrist with my hand. His eyes stared into my own, almost if he was challenging me.

Instead of removing the bottle from his tightened grasp, I guided my face to it, securing the open spout with my parted lips.

Marc stiffened, his dejected expression transforming into a devious smirk as he watched me. Leisurely, he tilted the glass upwards, causing the alcohol to fluidly migrate towards my open mouth. It burned and warmed my throat in an ironically comfortable fashion.

I felt rogue drops of liquid dripping down my chin, so I began to remove myself from the glass, wiping at the trailing streams of alcohol.

Marc captured my uncovered throat, trapping me in place, and resumed to pour the alcohol into my now more-than-willing mouth.