Drabbles + Oneshots | Got7

sorry i missed dinner | mark

angst, explicit

There were nights Mark Tuan took you on dates that your wildest dreams couldn't compete with.

But this was not one of those nights.

Standing before the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the hallway, you took off your heavy earrings and recited the ass-chewing you were going to give your lover when he finally arrived. You looked positively scathing in the reflection and a smirk crossed your lips. You couldn't wait to give Mark Tuan a piece of your mind.

That was until he walked through the door.

You turned abruptly and your scowl was temporarily interrupted at the sight of your boyfriend. The tailored suit fit him like a glove, but your mouth watered all the more at the top buttons undone and his tie slung loosely around his neck. Mark could pull off disheveled and messy like no one else.

Reminded of your anger, the glare returned to your eyes and you said nothing to greet him.

"Hello?" Mark called, his hair falling into his eyes as he closed the door behind him.

Angling back to the mirror, you stripped off your necklace and placed it with your earrings on the adjacent table.

Mark studied you, exhaling loudly. You were pissed and he couldn't exactly blame you. Still, his family and their business affairs often came first.

"Baby," Mark crooned, sliding out of his shoes and slipping his hands into his pockets as he approached you carefully, like you were some wild animal out of your cage.

Squaring off with the mirror, you snarled, "Don't 'baby' me, Mark."

Mark shuddered at your challenge, moving within arm's reach of you. He leaned against the wall beside the mirror, never taking his eyes off of you, and crossed his ankles. He looked positively nonchalant over your boiling rage.

"I assume the family business is doing better than ever," you sang with disdain, smoothing down a few loose strands of your hair.

Mark fought a smirk and hummed, "Mm-hm."

"I'm going out with the girls," you told him sharply. "That new club opened on Fifth Avenue."

Mark's eyes traveled down your body, lingering on your supple curves in the little black dress, before coming back to your face. "But tonight is date night with me," he playfully whined.

"Date night was three hours ago, Mark," you snapped, unflinching. "I'm improvising."

"Baby, don't be mad," he coaxed, reaching forward to travel his hand across your waist.

You shoved his arm away and finally met his eyes, chastising, "I'm way past mad." Brushing against him in your hurry, you moved to the dinner table on the other side of the room and grabbed your clutch, double-checking that your phone was already inside.

Mark came up behind you, spinning you around to face him and holding you close, whispering, "But I want my dinner."

Glaring, you shot back, "Well, then you should have been here like you said you would."

Mark gripped your hips tightly, suddenly moving you with him to the end of the table. Your brow furrowed in confusion, but the expression he was sporting was very familiar. His teeth were set to his lip and his eyes were roaming your chest in the low-cut dress.

When you felt the edge of the table against your ass, you reached back to grip the cold surface.

"I said," Mark spoke darkly. "I want my dinner."

You gasped in surprise when he reached down and grabbed your thighs, lifting you into the air and setting you down on the table. Instinctively, you grabbed his arms and stared at him in shock.

"Mark, I'm mad," you reminded, but your voice faltered. God, you wanted to stay vindictive, but this boy was where you had hidden your heart. And the two of you shared an undeniable, insatiable attraction to the other from day one that he never failed to tap into.

Mark tilted his head as he slid your dress up to your hips, exposing your red panties. "Be mad then," he teased, placing his hand between your breasts and shoving you back.

The house Mark Tuan called home was a lavish mansion with a ridiculous amount of useless rooms. It was one of the many perks of coming from such a powerful, dangerous family. For as long as he could remember, he hated the damn place, but since you moved in, he was starting to develop some affection for it.

With you splayed on the dining table, your thighs clamped on his head as he worked his tongue between your legs drawing a symphony of whimpers and moans from your mouth, this was easily becoming his favorite room in the house.

Your manicured nails raked over his scalp, fingers tangled in his hair, and your hips shuddered after another suckle of his lips on your most sensitive spot. Taking in a sharp breath, your words were insincere as you moaned, "I still don't forgive you."

Mark parted from your folds with a quiet smack, his hand moving to keep you teased in the absence of his mouth. He quickly slipped out of his jacket and pulled the chair he sat on closer to the table, murmuring sinfully, "Oh, you will."

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