Light -Marcel Fanfiction-

Chapter Twenty-One

"There goes that girl boxer!" Jason shouts. I grit my teeth.

"This girl boxer's gonna punch your teeth out," I grumble, spinning to face him. Jason grins at me, hopping down off my counter. I've heard that so many times, 'that girl boxer', but mainly back in Liverpool. I literally did punch a guy's tooth out last year, walking home from the library. He was talking shit and I gave him a chance, but he wouldn't shut up. So I punched him in the face.

"That was a good punch, though, right? None of that illegal street shit?" Jason asks. I've told him that story plenty of times.

"'Course," I growl.

"You've got tons of advantages. You're short and fast, but your arms are long and your punches are fucking powerful," he says. I frown.

"I'm taller than the average woman," I say.

"And," he continues, ignoring my interruption. "Your anger can fuel you but not in a harmful way. Plus, you're too pretty for guys to throw the first punch at," Jason winks. We're at my house, because I wanted to call my fucking tits about Uni and work and shit. I'm so stressed out all the damn time, but Jason helps.

I roll my eyes. "That bitch Mackenzie is a different story," I mutter.

He strokes his jaw, nodding thoughtfully. "What if I got you a fight with her?"

My heart leaps. "What?"

"A legal fight, with refs and points and-"

"Yeah, yeah. But... what?"

"You'll get your card back in a month. I personally want to see a good clean fight between the two of you." I don't mention that I beat her and her whore up a few weeks ago. Broke the poor ginger's nose. Stupid Gretchen.

"Without her friend Gretchen?" I ask. Jason laughs.

"Gwen. She won't shut up about the girl. You broke her nose?" I nod. "Damn. If you weren't so damn talented, I'd get cops to follow you around and make sure you don't start shit," he says.

"I don't start shit," I say, grabbing my beer from off the counter. "I finish it."

That night at the library, I swear to god there were two guys having sex in one bathroom. I told Matt to check it out, then he told me to, so we just let them have their fun. The manager-boss-lady-in-charge gives me a huge box of books, tells me to label and file them, and then goes home.

I have to stay an extra hour to get it done.

So after I walk home from the library at the ungodly hour of one A.M., I get in my car and drive down to Marcel's building. The number of his flat is already etched into my brain and I have no difficulty finding it.

I knock gently on the door, since he's probably sleeping. But to my surprise, he opens the door a few seconds later. His tie hangs from his neck and his shirt is half untucked, feet bare and slacks unbuttoned. "Hi," he mumbles.

Instead of responding with words, I grab his collar and pull his lips down to mine. Marcel is shocked but he kisses me back immediately, pulling me inside and shutting the door without breaking the kiss. The minute my lips are on his, I feel relieved. They've become the most pleasant kind of familiar one can feel. My fingers snake through his hair and keep him down to me, his hands on my back and hip.

This is the hungriest, hardest, sloppiest kiss I've ever shared with him. Might even be my favourite so far. I feel my fingers run along his shirt buttons, snapping them all open. He helps me get the shirt off, but I leave the tie on him and pull him down to kiss me again. "I want you, I want you so, so bad," I moan into his mouth. I just feel him nod as he tries to keep up with my fast, hungry kisses.

"God, Jocelyn," he murmurs after a minute, his hands now under my shirt on my back.

"Mm?" I say, not even opening my eyes. I kiss his cheek and jaw and his bare neck, loving the feel of his skin on my lips. My eyes open and I reach up to slide my hand into his hair, my thumb in front of his ear and my fingers behind it. He watches me intently as I position the other behind his neck.

I'm about eye-level with his collar bone, where I've marked him before. All my marks on him have faded. "This friends thing really isn't working, baby boy," I mumble.

"No," he agrees. "It isn't. You're too..." Marcel doesn't finish.

"You too," I smile, and press my lips to his neck again. "You're mine, right?"

"Never stopped being yours, Joc," he mumbles, pulling my hair from the tight red braid. I smile and nod against his skin.

"That's right," I tell him, and suck gently on his skin. Marcel has this spot on his neck, between it and his shoulder, where if you kiss it just right, he emits the sexiest moans you'll ever hear. It takes me a minute to find it, but he lets me know the second I do.

"Jocelyn," he groans and tilts his head back. I work at the spot until I'm certain it will mark him, then move away and look at my pink splotch on his creamy skin. He reaches up to touch it, but doesn't say anything.

Both of his hands make their way into my hair, at the back, tilting my chin up to his face. He studies my face for a minute, then sighs. "God, you're gorgeous," he mumbles. I smile at him and stroke his cheek. I already feel better, after my shit day and all the stress. His hands clasp around my shoulders, gently kneading with his fingertips.

"Marcel," I moan, and rest my head on his shoulder. He puts his chin on my head.

"You okay, darling?" I shake my head.

"I'm just all stressed out," I tell him. Then I continue to rant about class and work and boxing and the library. Marcel listens and rubs my shoulders and strokes my back all the while, soothing me. Not once does he interrupt or call me whiny, he's probably still up working now.

When I'm done, I exhales softly and raise my eyebrows at him. He nods, then gently cups my cheeks, fingers in my hair. Marcel leans down and presses his lips to mine softly, sweetly. I don't try to turn it around and make it sloppy and heated, this is just what we both needed. Our kiss remains slow and soft and sweet, then he presses his forehead to mine.

"You'll be fine, I know it," he mumbles. I nod.

"Thank you, baby boy," I reply, stroking his cheek. "Were you working?" I ask.

He nods. "Gotta read though another manuscript before tomorrow," he says.

"Can I help?" I grin. "I'm great at editing." He hesitates, but then nods. I suppose he's dying to get to bed.

So I take half of the huge stack and he takes the other, and we read and mark and read and mark until he falls asleep. I smile and let him sleep for about half an hour, finishing the manuscript and organizing it into a pile. Then I wake him up by pressing my forehead to his and mumbling into his lips, "wake up, baby boy, you have to get in bed." He nods until he opens his eyes, slowly waking up again.

Marcel grabs my wrist. "Stay with me, darling," he mumbles, "please." How could I even think about denying him that? So I nod, and I pull him with me to his room and nestle into his chest, pulling him close to me. He wraps his arms around me and then kisses the top of my forehead, just before he falls asleep again.