Two Can Keep a Secret || Mark Tuan (Got7)

2

[ smut warning ]

Smoke filled the room. Mark's bedroom, of course. There was no way in hell you would let him smoke that shit in your room.

Leaning back against the headboard, you scrolled through his phone with disinterest. Mark was on his belly positioned comfortably between your legs. He occasionally rested his head on your lower stomach, just above the waistband of your panties. Which was all you were wearing aside from his undershirt, soaked in his scent of sweat and faded cologne.

Mark puffed on the joint again before discarding what was left. The trip from your bed to his bed had resulted in yet another round of sex, this time with you on your hands and knees. As long as he made you come, you didn't really give a shit about the position.

Wrenching your fists in the dark material of his comforter, your mouth hung open in a silent cry of mercy as his hips smacked into your ass with every violent thrust. Mark grunted with the effort, his grip on your waist hard and punishing. You could feel the bruises forming, like bold handprint-shaped reminders of your sins.

After a fast, deep thrust that kissed your cervix, you let out a strangled moan and snapped, "Hngh, fuck you, Mark!"

For fucking me too damn good, was what you wanted to say, but you didn't dare inflate his pride even further. No boy had indulged your desires for rough sex, though if they had, you had a sneaking suspicion they wouldn't have done it as well as Mark did. Again, that was also something you wouldn't dare admit to him. His ego was big enough as it was.

Mark chuckled darkly at your words and the sound only tightened the coil in the pit of your stomach. Setting his hand to the back of your neck, Mark pushed you face down into the mattress and held you there, pounding the living shit out of you as his bed squeaked and threatened to give out.

By the time you and your future stepbrother had finished the romp, you spent a good five minutes splayed limply on his sheets. The two of you panted for breath in perfect sync, chests heaving up and down. As energy had slowly returned, you donned his shirt and made yourself comfortable, far too exhausted to make the short trek back to your own bedroom.

"Jackson is having a party on Friday if you wanna go," you told him, after reading the invite on his phone.

Mark scoffed. "Why? We can get drunk and high and fuck right here."

"Very funny," you deadpanned, pursing your lips.

On some level Mark was fully aware of his destructive behaviors, but his anger overruled them. You had given up talking him out of getting high or wasted on the regular fairly quickly. He was stubborn and set in his ways and you knew it was downright hypocritical of you to chide him.

"Are you going or not?" you asked impatiently.

"Yeah, I'll go," Mark said with a noncommittal shrug. "Free booze."

You rolled your eyes.

Mark turned his head, eyes flickering with desire. His hands were suddenly on your hips, smoothing up your body underneath his shirt you wore. Once his broad hands landed on your bare breasts and proceeded to squeeze, you lowered the phone and gave him a look.

"No more, Mark."

He pouted. "Why not?"

You reminded, "They'll be home any minute and I'm really sore."

"Tapping out so soon?" he teased, kissing hotly beneath your navel.

"Yes," you replied bluntly.

Mark let his head fall on your tummy in defeat. "Fine."

You reached down and raked your nails through his disheveled hair, teasing under your breath, "Such a horny motherfucker."