(SMUT! MINORS DNI!! Also backstory: You and Marc has been best friends until you tell him no guy has ever made you finish...)
Your self proclaimed celibacy had been going great for about three months. It's not like you were missing out on much, the sex you tended to have was mediocre at best. Now that there wasn't any pressure on finding pleasure in a partner, you were more than happy with your drawer full of toys. Then, Marc Spector derailed your entire fucking life. Three months without sex didn't seem so bad when you were living alone and working so often you barely had time to think about sex. Moving in with Marc made that damn near impossible. You quickly learned that he seldom wore a shirt, strolled around after his showers with a towel hanging low on his hips, and loved to call you both sweetheart and sweet girl. It both melted your heart and made your pussy throb.
That's how you also got yourself into this situation, several months later, sitting with Marc on the couch. Neither of you are paying attention to the movie that's playing, too focused on each other. "A...do-over?" You ask, tone indicating confusion as Marc nods and take a sip of his beer. "Yeah, exactly." He confirms, but you're still confused. You've grown close to Marc over the months, becoming each other's confidants and pseudo-therapists. The one thing that Marc doesn't know is your vow to be celibate, although you're pretty fucking close to breaking it right about now. Marc's sitting on the couch, one arm resting along the length of the back of the couch while his thick thighs are slightly splayed. He's not wearing anything particular, just a tight shirt and some jeans that's show off his muscular legs EXTREMELY well.But he is wearing a backwards hat that's sending you into a frenzy.
His dark brown hair was curling out of the sides of his cap, practically begging to be tugged at. "You're offering to give me a do-over?" You ask, furrowing your eyebrows together as Marc leans forward to place his empty beer bottle on the cheap and stained coffee table. "I mean, if you want," he shrugs his shoulders, entirely unfazed by the subject matter. He's practically offering to be your first everything in an effort to make it good. And you wanted it, needed it, from the way your core throbbed. Lately, your fingers and toys just haven't been able to satisfy yourself. "Listen, sweetheart." Marc says, turning his body so he's facing you. "Sex is so supposed to be so fucking good , yet you keep going with assholes who never get you to finish." You're thankful for the lowlight in the apartment so he can't tell just how embarrassed you are. Or how much of an effect his words have on you. By this point, your panties are slick and you can't sit still.
"You deserve to get an orgasm or two out of sex." He smirks, his perfect teeth on display as you roll your eyes playfully. "That's so easy for you to say, you're a guy after all." You grumble, letting him move closer to you until his knees bumped yours. His fingers brush your leg, forcing you to look at how big his hands look compared to yours. He's also close enough where you can smell his body wash and cologne; it smells of earthy tones. "Look at me, sweet girl." He whispers, your eyes meeting his and they're much darker and hungrier. "If you let me get my hands on you, I promise you won't leave until you're so fucked out you don't remember your own name." A soft gasp leaves your mouth at his words. You bit your lip softly and you swear you heard him let out a quiet groan. You have to actively fight the urge to wiggle your hips in hopes of finding some friction to dull the ache. Your stomach is coiling and you feel more on edge than you ever have been.
"Marc..," he's leaning in closer now. "You deserve a do-over, baby. Let me give it to you." He's nearly pleading, nose bumping yours and you swallow thickly before you speak again. Seeing him so close made your heart beat twice as fast. "There's something you should know first." You find the courage to speak, watching him nod as his posture turns more serious. "I've uh, I haven't had sex in a really long time. I kinda made a pact with myself." You say, chuckling dryly as you watch Marc's throat bob as he swallows. "How, uh, how long?" His voice is cracked and raspy, both of your breathing becoming slightly uneven. You bite your lip, thinking back trying to get a rough estimate. For a moment, you want to lie to him, but then you realize how stupid that is because Marc would never judge you for anything. "About seven months." You admitted quietly. Marc turns his head, drops it and then bites down on his fist as he lets out a low, "fuck." When he looks back at you, he's a totally different man. This man looks like he wants to break you, have you completely at his mercy as he claims you.
