Pretty Peach 2/3
Fandom: The Eagle
Paring: Marcus/Esca
Genre: Modern day AU
Rating: R
Warnings: cross-dressing, bondage, mild D/S, feminization
Length: 3,000 words
Summary: Marcus is stranded by a storm and all the hotels are booked. His extremely helpful assistant manages to contact an old teammate of his that’s living in the area who he can stay with. Esca has changed a lot since college. For one thing, he’s wearing a skirt.
a/n: this is hands down the kinkest thing I've ever written
part one
Steered into the bedroom, Marcus stops with his legs against the edge of the bed, and Esca lowers himself down onto his knees on the mattress. Marcus does not even hear the crack of the lightning that illuminates the apartment because Esca’s pushing down the gym pants and pulling off the undershirt and running his hands over all of Marcus’ skin. “So big and strong…” He looks up, penetrating eyes half in shadow half sparkling from the candle light, “you’ll let me fuck you?”
Marcus nods as a thrill rushes through him and weighs down his cock. He sits on the bed next to Esca, who hooks his hands at the back of his neck and swings a thigh across his lap, skirt fanning beautifully as the lithe man settles against Marcus’ hardness, reclaiming his mouth as the wind howls and more pebbles clang against the glass behind the bedrooms’ drawn shades.
Lightning and thunder grabble for dominance, screaming in fury. Something big-Marcus guesses a plastic sign by the hollow thud-strikes the wall just beneath the window with a force that knocks him entirely out of the moment.
He jumps and looks wildly at the covered windows. As much as he hates seeing the black clouds outside, he thinks not knowing exactly what’s happening out there might be worse. His entire body is shaking again, and the heat in his lap has reduced significantly, and even a few experimental ruts from Esca can’t revive it.
Marcus is mortified. “I...I’m sorry, it’s not you really-“
“Shh, it’s okay,” Esca whispers; one hand combs into his hair and the other slips under an arm for another squeeze to the ribs, his lips press into the tender junction of neck and shoulder. “’S just a storm...”
“It’s a hurricane,” Marcus corrects, and his voice is not as strong as he would like.
“It’s just passing by. It won’t come any closer,” Esca assures with the same kind of lilting humor of a person just trying not to smile. Marcus appreciates the effort even if it does nothing to sooth him.
He gulps and nods, wishing he could believe Esca’s promise, but the forecasters have said it wouldn’t be this close and it is, so what if they are wrong again? What if it is turning inland?
His heart is racing away with his breath and he’s one more big-pebble against the glass from leaping up and hiding in the bathtub with the weather radio or something. He feels pathetic and says so, “I mean I know I’m over reacting. That’s the stupid part. But look-look at me!” he holds out his shaking hand again. “I can’t stop it.”
Esca catches the hand and presses it to his mouth. “Do you want to play a game with me, Marcus?”
“Hmm, wha...?”
“I’ve an idea for a game that might make this easier,” Esca ruts his still hard cock into Marcus’ solid abdominals and gasps lightly. The soft sound, so close to Marcus’ ear, shocks his skin into goose-pimples, and his shakes adopt a new frequency that makes Esca chuckle, “there we go, mate, a game-you like games, don’t you?” he asks, thrilled.
He is, in fact, rising very quickly to the idea. As Esca wiggles in delight over the renewed arousal, Marcus smooths the skirt against his perfect little ass and the fabric is as soft as he thought it would be. “What kind of game, Esca?” he asks hoarsely. He can no longer hear the grit slapping the glass, because there is a roar of blood in his ears.
Esca hums as he kisses Marcus, and then asks with hot breath brushing over Marcus’s face with its own thunder, “Dress up? Do you want to play dress up with me, Marcus?”
“Dress up,” Marcus breathes back. He’s never played that. Actually, he’s never really played a full-out game before; just little role-playing things, once or twice, nothing dramatic, definitely no costumes.
Marcus wants to put on a costume this time; boy does he want to.
“Yeah,” he chokes. A tremble rocks through him. “God, Esca. Like that corset in there?”
Esca’s head snaps up, and then his face smooths out into the widest smile yet. His fingers comb over his ears. “You saw my pretty corset? I forgot I left it drying in there.”
“It is pretty,” Marcus agrees. He knows Esca will be sexy in it, but his mind takes a turn that is quite a different approach and his blood spikes at the thought. What if I look sexy in it, too? And he swallows, asks, “Would it fit me?”
Esca freezes and then snorts lightly, kissing gently, “My, who is the unexpected one now?”
Heat fills Marcus’ face but his wish is out there now so he doesn’t take it back (the benefit of alcohol) but he won’t push it either. “Would that mess you up?”
“Oh, no, no, duckie, I didn’t mean to make fun,” he leaves a quick series of kisses to glue the apology in place. “You’re just a bundle of kicks, ‘soll.”
“So are you,” Marcus grunts.
He giggles. “You are sweet, aren’t you? Here--it says one-size all. Let’s find out.”
Marcus is left on the bed quite suddenly as Esca flies across the room on light feet, some kind of majestic bird with trailing tail feathers. In just his shorts, he is cold without the skirt covering his legs and Esca’s delicious breath washing over him, but it is only a minute, even less, before Esca is back with the lingerie and a wicked smile.
“I think you were lying to me when you said you haven’t thought about lace knickers.”
“I guess I was lying to myself,” Marcus says with a lazy shrug, “Or it honestly never crossed my mind until now, but when I saw that thing...”
“What a night,” Esca muses almost to himself again. As he begins to help Marcus into the contraption-who is thrilled to find it has a skeleton of wood--he says kindly, “now it’s all in good fun, Marcus. We can stop whenever you like, or you can wear it home. I won’t tell a soul.”
The thought of doing that-of walking into his big house in LA and greeting his maid or Cottia with this thing hidden under his suit, them none the wiser-sets a deep ache in him; an ache to have that kind of secret. Victoria’s secret, hey, ha! He gulps and trembles as the modest cups on the front line up with his nipples and Esca starts straightening the laces.
Marcus runs a palm down the red velvet hugging his side. Lightning flickers unnoticed through the cracks in the shade and thunder rolls, but Marcus is too transfixed with the texture under his hand, the play of light on the fabric and the shadows of the lace.
“You’d let me keep this?” he asks. He can’t imagine surrendering such a treasure to a stranger from in out of the rain; even a friend from ten years ago. It seems all-together too private a thing to do. “I can just buy my own.”
His hands keep traveling from hip to nipple and back. It feels so lovely against his body that he can’t stop. His favorite parts are where the velvet turns into lace on the edges, where loose floppy ribbons bleed out of the top between the frilly cups.
Then with a smile, Esca twists his fingers into those ribbons in the middle and jerks, hard.
Marcus gasps as the corset tightens like a python around him, squeezing his ribs closer and flattening his lungs. It’s tight, but it isn’t until Esca does it again (this time at the bottom) that Marcus realizes just what tight means. He feels like he can’t move an inch. Breathing is suddenly a job to remember.
With one more tug that yields no more movement, Esca grunts happily and ties the laces in a double knot. Marcus looks down at his capture body. The black ribbon laces are brutally stretched in a long uniform line of X’s down his stomach. The black lace frill on either side does not meet at the bottom or even come close to it, as Marcus has seen it do on women in movies, with their hour glass figures allowing the corset to close around them like a trap-and he’s sure that’s how it fits Esca-but it does not deter him or make him feel fat. In fact, it makes him feel sexier in a weird way. It’s his strength on display-just like Esca’s legs under that skirt.
“Do you feel pretty Marcus?”
He nods.
“Do you feel stronger?”
“Yes,” he breathes, showing his wonder that Esca could be on this page with him. Esca runs his fingers through Marcus’ hair. “So you get it now.”
The last hour of conversation-of word choice and definitions-sharpens into clear focus. He nods, breathless, and pulls Esca closer to mouth at the glittering chain resting against that smooth, strong chest. He lips the warm fabric of the shirt until he can feel a hardened nipple beneath. Then softens the cloth with hot breath as he speaks, pleads, “Esca...”
“Hmm,” Esca responds, running his hands deliciously down the amazing swoops of Marcus’ sides and lower, stripping him of his boxers. Freed, Marcus’ heavy cock bounces against the frilly edge of the corset, and leaks heavily at the play of lace against the head, as he wiggles out of the men’s underwear entirely. Marcus steels his breath against the delightful sensation, least he finish too soon like a teenager.
There is a small smile of deepest satisfaction on Esca’s sharp face as he watches, ignoring the tent in his skirt. Marcus reaches down for the hem of the skirt and slides one hand up the inside of one smooth, hard leg, right to the knee, where he grips.
“Blimey,” Esca chokes, clutching his shoulders, but he makes no advancement on Marcus. He seems to be trying to think. Marcus doesn’t want to think right now, he wants to feel. He allows his hand to travel further, until he feels radiating heat and realizes Esca is commando under there. Softly, he brushes the length and imagines it filling him. He trembles again.
“Esca please...”
At last, Esca pushes him back on the bed until he is fully reclined and Esca is between his knees. When the next crash of thunder shakes the bed and rolls away in every direction, Marcus is able for the first time in his life to hear the beauty in the terrifying sound of the sky falling. He fists the covers beneath him as he cowers from such an almighty force, but then Esca is there to chase it all away with another feral kiss.
As he fucks Marcus’ mouth with his tongue, Esca fetches the hands from under his skirt and pins both arms above his head. Marcus squirms and the frilly cups brush his nipples, so he squirms some more. Above him, Esca is thinking again.
“Come on,” Marcus says. “What are you waiting for?”
“There’s something I’d like to do...”
“Then do it,” Marcus says with a light laugh, drawing his knees closer, trying to work them under the hem of the skirt to feel hot skin again--or maybe to feel the skirt resting on his own legs. He doesn’t know anymore.
“I need your permission first.”
“What is it?”
Esca reaches under the bed and comes up with furry handcuffs. Marcus blinks at them and then remembers that his hands are above his head, and how he generally loves it when his lovers pin him thusly. But this is different. Handcuffs won’t forget and let go when things get intense.
He knows, logically, that Esca can’t keep him pinned like this and have free hands to properly pleasure him-but that’s just it. Marcus has never submitted like that before, so entirely; he’s never surrendered his duty to return each caress. He feels if he does that then this won’t be an act between two people, but rather one person playing with another. He’ll become a toy like the handcuffs and the corset, to be used to Esca’s end.
“No?” Esca asks, clearly crestfallen.
Marcus licks his lips. “I don’t know-I mean, I don’t even know you,” Marcus laughs as he says it, aware that such an excuse hardly counts when you’ve shared a drink like a date and are now naked and kissing the guy in his bed. Kind of an all-stops-out situation as it is. But, “why?” he needs to know.
“Why?” Esca’s eyes crinkle with a smile and he brushes Marcus’ jaw with the furry cuffs. “...that’s difficult to explain, dove. I can show you. Do you trust me?”
Thunder cascades again with lightning and Marcus considers, “I...”
“Oh, please,” Esca breathes and kisses him lightly. “Please trust me, Marcus. This can be so good if you’ll just trust me.”
“But I’ve never...”
“That’s okay. I’ll take care of you, I promise,” He kisses Marcus deeply, with a tenderness not yet seen in him tonight. He trembles, “Oh, Marcus, I’ll be so good to you if you’ll let me. You’re so beautiful; let me have you like this, right now on a night like this. Oh, Please.”
Ten years is a long time, and the mean little goalie called Frankie that Marcus knew has changed so much that he even has a completely different name-but Marcus can see that the metamorphosis happened around the central core of an intensely loyal, honorable, player of fair games. So long as they establish some rules...
“Okay,” Marcus breaths and it’s like the breath puts electricity into Esca. He looks so bright and ecstatic, lit up with Marcus’ trust. He’s amazing--and definitely not a serial killer, Marcus bats that paranoid thought right out of his head. As Esca kisses him all over in a hundred little unmistakable thank you’s, Marcus nods, repeats, “Okay...just don’t hurt me.”
“Oh, never! Never, Marcus; I would never hurt you.” He sits up and opens the cuffs, slips them around Marcus’ wrists, kissing his palms and fingers tenderly as he does so. The cuffs are padded and snug to his wrists with a very short chain of just two or three links so he has no slack for any movement beyond a few inches up and down the pole of the bedframe.
Turning his hands in the cuffs is interesting as the fur slides against the tender skin of his wrists.
His heart is pounding, and his uncertainty shows in his cock. Esca moves down his body and bends to ghost his lips over Marcus’ length. “You’re okay,” he promises and kisses the cock sweetly, “You’re safe, baby. I’ve got you, and I’m going to take care of you.”
“I trust you,” Marcus whispers and then he gasps when Esca suddenly takes him into his mouth. His toes curl, his arms strain against the cuffs. Esca holds his hips down so that Marcus can’t lift them, but his back bows off the bed as Esca sucks.
Then his mouth is off him and the tip of Esca’s tongue runs up the underside of Marcus’ cock and then up the laces of the corset to his chest, his neck, to his ear. “Good, you’re doing well. Do you like it so far?”
“Please,” Marcus squirms, “You’re mouth. Please.”
“First say you’re my pretty girl,” Esca whispers. Marcus’s breathing hitches in surprise and Esca’s smile is slow and wide. He strokes Marcus’s cheek, then his eyebrow, and ruts against him lightly as he waits.
They’re just words, and if it’s want Esca wants--or even what he needs--Marcus knows he won’t deny him that; not when Esca has been so giving. “I’m... I’m your pretty girl.”
“Yes,” Esca kisses him, “Yes, and such a sweet girl.” His fingers run through Marcus’ hair, blunt nails across his scalp, and it feels good. Esca holds to his promise and returns his mouth to Marcus’s leaking cock, lapping up the drops and teasing the flushed sensitive skin. The tip of his tongue follows the thick veins and Marcus shivers.
He watches, head raised, as Esca takes him in again, bobbing his head up and down as he holds the base and plays with his balls. The cock pops from his lips like a lollypop and Esca grins at him and strokes up and down his thighs with flat hands. “Relax,” he urges quietly. “Lay back and close your eyes. There’s a good girl.”
With his eyes closed, he can’t tell what Esca will do next and it spikes his blood as Esca teases him about it a little, first kissing his inner thigh, then ghosting his fingers over his cock, then finally gives his whole mouth again. Marcus pants and squeezes his eyes shut. A crack of thunder makes him jump and then he is shaking. Esca is suddenly over him, as comforting as a blanket. The fabric of his skirt covers Marcus’s legs reassuringly and the press of Esca’s erection to his stomach is enticing.
“I’ve got you,” he promises. “Just focus on me, on what I’m doing... Do you like it?” He’s reached down and is jacking Marcus with a firm grip and Marcus groans out an affirmative noise, arms bulging as he pulls against the cuffs. The bedframe gives a jolt and Marcus has the distinct impression that if he pulls hard enough, he can get free.
“Oh, you’re so strong, such a strong, sweet, girl,” Esca whispers in clear awe and nibbles his ear.
“Esca...” Marcus pants.
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to fuck me.”
“I will,” he promises as he moves down Marcus’ body once again. “But first I want to get you ready, nice and open and wet because I don’t want to hurt my pretty girl.”
Marcus makes a noise of want and Esca chuckles, “You like it when I call you that.”
“Yes,” he confesses and he’ll panic over what it all means later but right now he just doesn’t care; he wants more.
“Oh, you’re so good, Marcus.”
A splattering noise makes Marcus open his eyes and he sees that Esca is emptying the very last squirts of lube from a bottle into his hand. He tosses the empty tube carelessly over his shoulder and Marcus digs his head into the pillows as he is finally spread open and touched where he’s been begging for it.
“You’re going to open right up for me aren’t you?” Esca asks. Marcus draws his knees up obediently and spreads his knees as far as he can. Esca is suddenly over him like a blanket again, hooking knees over his shoulders and folding Marcus in half; usually not a difficult position for him, but the edges of the corset bite into him in interesting ways and his breathing shallows even more than it had been.
“Alright?” Esca asks, running three fingers through Marcus’ hair as his other three fingers work slowly into him, one by one. Marcus focuses on breathing through his nose and nods as something shakes through him-be it thunder or desire there is no telling.
“It’s good, Esca, so good,” he pants.
Esca makes a low noise of delight and his pace quickens, forcing light little gasps of pleasure out of Marcus as that sweet spot is hit again and again. In the middle of this glorious torture, Marcus laughs deliriously. It brings a surprised snicker out of Esca with a smile that moves his ears back. “My, my, Marcus, look at you.”
“Hmm,” Marcus says. He can just imagine what this looks like; him in a corset like this, the man preparing to top him into next week fully clothed and in a spring time skirt, no less. And to think he’d been expecting an old soccer teammate barely interested in reconnecting, maybe a few good laughs over the old days, probably just a couch with not enough leg room and a cup of coffee in the morning as they talked about storm damage before Marcus’s cab showed up.
Esca’s breath roars out of him. “Finger you all night, can't I? Would you like that, big girl?”
Marcus whimpers and tries his best to thrust up. He is bent in half and hindered by a corset and handcuffs (both of which tease his skin fantastically with their sensual textures when he writhes just right) so core muscle is all he has to work with, but it’s enough to make his point, and to prompt another reverent,
“Ah, strong. So gorgeous and strong,” a few warm kisses are dropped on his left knee where Esca is resting his head on the hairy leg flung over his shoulder. “It wouldn’t hurt you if I went right now,” he says, scissoring the two fingers he has deep inside. Marcus arches and nods, but Esca drops another kiss to his leg and he works the third in. “Best, just to be sure. I said I wouldn’t hurt you, and I won’t, Marcus.”
Marcus laughs again. “I think all that would end up hurt is the bed.”
“Ha! Too right, dove. I need a stronger bed for my strong girl.”
Marcus shivers, and suddenly Esca sits taller. Marcus’ legs are allowed to fall to the bed on either side of Esca as the front of the skirt fans out over Marcus’s cock and stomach, concealing half the corset.
Esca’s heat and hardness slowly replace his fingers and for a minute Marcus can’t remember how to breathe with these reshaped lungs. His eye lashes flutter and he rolls his head on the pillow, “Oh, yes, Esca!” he moans.
That savagery is back as Esca kisses him, but in direct opposition to that is the gentle roll of his hips and the fluid pump by which he fucks Marcus at a nice and steady rhythm. The candlelight in here is a warm glow over Esca’s skin that is washed away by each scourging flash of lightning bleeding through the thin shades.
Marcus doesn’t see it so much as feel each time, like the ghost of a hiccup in that space where he should flinch. He is too busy just now writhing in pleasure to properly panic. The thunder he mistakes for his own shouts and cries, or maybe it is the other way around, but again, with Esca over him, inside him, he is still afraid, but it feels good. It feels safe to panic, because he knows Esca will take care of him.
And just like that, the handcuffs make all the sense in the world. By holding him still, they set him free. He turns his wrists in them just to feel the fur as Esca’s hips roll into his with a friction just like the lace against his skin under Esca’s soothing hands.
“Yes,” Esca rasps when he feels Marcus surrender to everything-to him, to the pleasure, to the storm. His pace falters and then speeds up, fingers tightening in Marcus’ short hair. “Yes, Marcus, that’s it.”
Marcus cries out as he lets go of everything. The bed frame groans, and something in the corset pops, and Esca gasps and hitches up his skirt as Marcus comes. Just like that, he comes without Esca’s hand on his cock at all.
“Holy crap,” Marcus pants with a smile. “That’s...that’s a first-hahmmph,” he says when Esca’s next push grates over very sensitive nerves. Esca takes his face in both hands. His lips roll between his teeth and his brow furrows as he pumps a few more times.
“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” Marcus says tightly, stroking his face. “Come on. Come on.”
With a shudder that racks his body, Esca pulls out quickly and comes all over the tender junction of leg and groin. Marcus arches into the sensation, spreading the come further up his hip, but he’s mindful not to let it get on the corset. He’s already noticed Esca’s care with these clothes, with the way he moved the skirt before Marcus branded it.
Esca snickers as he softens over him, and lowers to rest on an exhausted Marcus. “Holy crap,” he says in his best imitation of Marcus’ accent. It’s still as poor as it was in college, but possibly even more hilarious. Marcus laughs and knocks his knee into Esca’s little frame, rocking him sideways. He opens his mouth, but is cut off by the sudden wail of a siren outside.
A storm siren.
Esca’s eyes fly round, and Marcus’ body seizes up.
“SHIT!”
They scramble. Marcus can’t sit up. The fucking handcuffs! The bed groans and cracks, the legs at the top literally leaving the floor twice before Esca manages to scramble up Marcus’ body and undo them, apologizing, but laughing because Marcus is laughing-he’s laughing in the middle of a hurricane warning!
But you have to admit, the timing. Come on.
Cub is outside the bedroom door, barking like mad. Marcus scoops up his pants and stumbles into them-walking, not easy; his knees are weak--as Esca throws open the door and scoops up the animal, saying something about a basement.
“Basement,” Marcus repeats as he focuses on getting one leg in at a time. At last, he is dressed. “Good-yeah--God, listen to that!” Marcus slides to a stop on a rug in the living room and cocks his ear toward the window. The wind is atrocious, screaming against the building in a fury he’s never heard before. It doesn’t just sound like loose trashcans and fly-away plastic signs whipping around out there anymore, either. It sounds like ghosts.
Holy hell, how did Marcus not hear this a second ago?
He looks at Esca as the man runs all over his apartment with his skirt kicking up around his knees, spitting and pinching the candles out with Cub writhing and barking under his arm. He doesn’t really look like he can overpower a hurricane, but boy can he.
Marcus suddenly has the bizarre urge to grab the little man in a bear hug and never let go, to suck on that sweeping neck until his mark is there for the world to see, so they’ll know that Esca is just for him, his person to trust so completely he can go out of his head even as a hurricane rips through town. His person, no one else’s.
An alarming and sobering thought, to be sure. And that doesn’t stop the hurricane from happening.
So instead, Marcus joins the fire-prevention effort, and kills all the flames on his side of the room. As they work, the siren winds high and then drops low, building and tumbling as the wind only builds and builds and builds. Sand and pebbles and the occasional branch or other such thing pelt the outer walls and windows. Without the candlelight it is dark and cold and he feels like the storm can get in now.
His hands are shaking so much he can’t catch the wick of the last candle and burns himself. His raincoat falls over his arm and then Esca is there with a flashlight, short breath extinguishing the flame between Marcus’ fingers and then Esca’s firm frame ushers Marcus out the door.
“Coat, there’s a peach,” Esca says as he locks the door behind them. Marcus realizes he is still in the corset, and quickly shrugs the still damp coat on and closes it around his secret. Other tenets are already crowding the stairwell; they had been less occupied and more prepared to bunk off at the first note of the siren.
Catching Esca’s eye in the dim light of Esca’s flashlight, Marcus snickers and his whole body shakes--with fear or mirth, he just doesn’t know anymore. Esca’s eyes crinkle and glitter, but then the building shakes with thunder, and the scales tilt a little more toward fear. Marcus balks. Esca takes his hand, “Run, darling.”
...completed in part three
Paring: Marcus/Esca
Genre: Modern day AU
Rating: R
Warnings: cross-dressing, bondage, mild D/S, feminization
Length: 3,000 words
Summary: Marcus is stranded by a storm and all the hotels are booked. His extremely helpful assistant manages to contact an old teammate of his that’s living in the area who he can stay with. Esca has changed a lot since college. For one thing, he’s wearing a skirt.
a/n: this is hands down the kinkest thing I've ever written
part one
Steered into the bedroom, Marcus stops with his legs against the edge of the bed, and Esca lowers himself down onto his knees on the mattress. Marcus does not even hear the crack of the lightning that illuminates the apartment because Esca’s pushing down the gym pants and pulling off the undershirt and running his hands over all of Marcus’ skin. “So big and strong…” He looks up, penetrating eyes half in shadow half sparkling from the candle light, “you’ll let me fuck you?”
Marcus nods as a thrill rushes through him and weighs down his cock. He sits on the bed next to Esca, who hooks his hands at the back of his neck and swings a thigh across his lap, skirt fanning beautifully as the lithe man settles against Marcus’ hardness, reclaiming his mouth as the wind howls and more pebbles clang against the glass behind the bedrooms’ drawn shades.
Lightning and thunder grabble for dominance, screaming in fury. Something big-Marcus guesses a plastic sign by the hollow thud-strikes the wall just beneath the window with a force that knocks him entirely out of the moment.
He jumps and looks wildly at the covered windows. As much as he hates seeing the black clouds outside, he thinks not knowing exactly what’s happening out there might be worse. His entire body is shaking again, and the heat in his lap has reduced significantly, and even a few experimental ruts from Esca can’t revive it.
Marcus is mortified. “I...I’m sorry, it’s not you really-“
“Shh, it’s okay,” Esca whispers; one hand combs into his hair and the other slips under an arm for another squeeze to the ribs, his lips press into the tender junction of neck and shoulder. “’S just a storm...”
“It’s a hurricane,” Marcus corrects, and his voice is not as strong as he would like.
“It’s just passing by. It won’t come any closer,” Esca assures with the same kind of lilting humor of a person just trying not to smile. Marcus appreciates the effort even if it does nothing to sooth him.
He gulps and nods, wishing he could believe Esca’s promise, but the forecasters have said it wouldn’t be this close and it is, so what if they are wrong again? What if it is turning inland?
His heart is racing away with his breath and he’s one more big-pebble against the glass from leaping up and hiding in the bathtub with the weather radio or something. He feels pathetic and says so, “I mean I know I’m over reacting. That’s the stupid part. But look-look at me!” he holds out his shaking hand again. “I can’t stop it.”
Esca catches the hand and presses it to his mouth. “Do you want to play a game with me, Marcus?”
“Hmm, wha...?”
“I’ve an idea for a game that might make this easier,” Esca ruts his still hard cock into Marcus’ solid abdominals and gasps lightly. The soft sound, so close to Marcus’ ear, shocks his skin into goose-pimples, and his shakes adopt a new frequency that makes Esca chuckle, “there we go, mate, a game-you like games, don’t you?” he asks, thrilled.
He is, in fact, rising very quickly to the idea. As Esca wiggles in delight over the renewed arousal, Marcus smooths the skirt against his perfect little ass and the fabric is as soft as he thought it would be. “What kind of game, Esca?” he asks hoarsely. He can no longer hear the grit slapping the glass, because there is a roar of blood in his ears.
Esca hums as he kisses Marcus, and then asks with hot breath brushing over Marcus’s face with its own thunder, “Dress up? Do you want to play dress up with me, Marcus?”
“Dress up,” Marcus breathes back. He’s never played that. Actually, he’s never really played a full-out game before; just little role-playing things, once or twice, nothing dramatic, definitely no costumes.
Marcus wants to put on a costume this time; boy does he want to.
“Yeah,” he chokes. A tremble rocks through him. “God, Esca. Like that corset in there?”
Esca’s head snaps up, and then his face smooths out into the widest smile yet. His fingers comb over his ears. “You saw my pretty corset? I forgot I left it drying in there.”
“It is pretty,” Marcus agrees. He knows Esca will be sexy in it, but his mind takes a turn that is quite a different approach and his blood spikes at the thought. What if I look sexy in it, too? And he swallows, asks, “Would it fit me?”
Esca freezes and then snorts lightly, kissing gently, “My, who is the unexpected one now?”
Heat fills Marcus’ face but his wish is out there now so he doesn’t take it back (the benefit of alcohol) but he won’t push it either. “Would that mess you up?”
“Oh, no, no, duckie, I didn’t mean to make fun,” he leaves a quick series of kisses to glue the apology in place. “You’re just a bundle of kicks, ‘soll.”
“So are you,” Marcus grunts.
He giggles. “You are sweet, aren’t you? Here--it says one-size all. Let’s find out.”
Marcus is left on the bed quite suddenly as Esca flies across the room on light feet, some kind of majestic bird with trailing tail feathers. In just his shorts, he is cold without the skirt covering his legs and Esca’s delicious breath washing over him, but it is only a minute, even less, before Esca is back with the lingerie and a wicked smile.
“I think you were lying to me when you said you haven’t thought about lace knickers.”
“I guess I was lying to myself,” Marcus says with a lazy shrug, “Or it honestly never crossed my mind until now, but when I saw that thing...”
“What a night,” Esca muses almost to himself again. As he begins to help Marcus into the contraption-who is thrilled to find it has a skeleton of wood--he says kindly, “now it’s all in good fun, Marcus. We can stop whenever you like, or you can wear it home. I won’t tell a soul.”
The thought of doing that-of walking into his big house in LA and greeting his maid or Cottia with this thing hidden under his suit, them none the wiser-sets a deep ache in him; an ache to have that kind of secret. Victoria’s secret, hey, ha! He gulps and trembles as the modest cups on the front line up with his nipples and Esca starts straightening the laces.
Marcus runs a palm down the red velvet hugging his side. Lightning flickers unnoticed through the cracks in the shade and thunder rolls, but Marcus is too transfixed with the texture under his hand, the play of light on the fabric and the shadows of the lace.
“You’d let me keep this?” he asks. He can’t imagine surrendering such a treasure to a stranger from in out of the rain; even a friend from ten years ago. It seems all-together too private a thing to do. “I can just buy my own.”
His hands keep traveling from hip to nipple and back. It feels so lovely against his body that he can’t stop. His favorite parts are where the velvet turns into lace on the edges, where loose floppy ribbons bleed out of the top between the frilly cups.
Then with a smile, Esca twists his fingers into those ribbons in the middle and jerks, hard.
Marcus gasps as the corset tightens like a python around him, squeezing his ribs closer and flattening his lungs. It’s tight, but it isn’t until Esca does it again (this time at the bottom) that Marcus realizes just what tight means. He feels like he can’t move an inch. Breathing is suddenly a job to remember.
With one more tug that yields no more movement, Esca grunts happily and ties the laces in a double knot. Marcus looks down at his capture body. The black ribbon laces are brutally stretched in a long uniform line of X’s down his stomach. The black lace frill on either side does not meet at the bottom or even come close to it, as Marcus has seen it do on women in movies, with their hour glass figures allowing the corset to close around them like a trap-and he’s sure that’s how it fits Esca-but it does not deter him or make him feel fat. In fact, it makes him feel sexier in a weird way. It’s his strength on display-just like Esca’s legs under that skirt.
“Do you feel pretty Marcus?”
He nods.
“Do you feel stronger?”
“Yes,” he breathes, showing his wonder that Esca could be on this page with him. Esca runs his fingers through Marcus’ hair. “So you get it now.”
The last hour of conversation-of word choice and definitions-sharpens into clear focus. He nods, breathless, and pulls Esca closer to mouth at the glittering chain resting against that smooth, strong chest. He lips the warm fabric of the shirt until he can feel a hardened nipple beneath. Then softens the cloth with hot breath as he speaks, pleads, “Esca...”
“Hmm,” Esca responds, running his hands deliciously down the amazing swoops of Marcus’ sides and lower, stripping him of his boxers. Freed, Marcus’ heavy cock bounces against the frilly edge of the corset, and leaks heavily at the play of lace against the head, as he wiggles out of the men’s underwear entirely. Marcus steels his breath against the delightful sensation, least he finish too soon like a teenager.
There is a small smile of deepest satisfaction on Esca’s sharp face as he watches, ignoring the tent in his skirt. Marcus reaches down for the hem of the skirt and slides one hand up the inside of one smooth, hard leg, right to the knee, where he grips.
“Blimey,” Esca chokes, clutching his shoulders, but he makes no advancement on Marcus. He seems to be trying to think. Marcus doesn’t want to think right now, he wants to feel. He allows his hand to travel further, until he feels radiating heat and realizes Esca is commando under there. Softly, he brushes the length and imagines it filling him. He trembles again.
“Esca please...”
At last, Esca pushes him back on the bed until he is fully reclined and Esca is between his knees. When the next crash of thunder shakes the bed and rolls away in every direction, Marcus is able for the first time in his life to hear the beauty in the terrifying sound of the sky falling. He fists the covers beneath him as he cowers from such an almighty force, but then Esca is there to chase it all away with another feral kiss.
As he fucks Marcus’ mouth with his tongue, Esca fetches the hands from under his skirt and pins both arms above his head. Marcus squirms and the frilly cups brush his nipples, so he squirms some more. Above him, Esca is thinking again.
“Come on,” Marcus says. “What are you waiting for?”
“There’s something I’d like to do...”
“Then do it,” Marcus says with a light laugh, drawing his knees closer, trying to work them under the hem of the skirt to feel hot skin again--or maybe to feel the skirt resting on his own legs. He doesn’t know anymore.
“I need your permission first.”
“What is it?”
Esca reaches under the bed and comes up with furry handcuffs. Marcus blinks at them and then remembers that his hands are above his head, and how he generally loves it when his lovers pin him thusly. But this is different. Handcuffs won’t forget and let go when things get intense.
He knows, logically, that Esca can’t keep him pinned like this and have free hands to properly pleasure him-but that’s just it. Marcus has never submitted like that before, so entirely; he’s never surrendered his duty to return each caress. He feels if he does that then this won’t be an act between two people, but rather one person playing with another. He’ll become a toy like the handcuffs and the corset, to be used to Esca’s end.
“No?” Esca asks, clearly crestfallen.
Marcus licks his lips. “I don’t know-I mean, I don’t even know you,” Marcus laughs as he says it, aware that such an excuse hardly counts when you’ve shared a drink like a date and are now naked and kissing the guy in his bed. Kind of an all-stops-out situation as it is. But, “why?” he needs to know.
“Why?” Esca’s eyes crinkle with a smile and he brushes Marcus’ jaw with the furry cuffs. “...that’s difficult to explain, dove. I can show you. Do you trust me?”
Thunder cascades again with lightning and Marcus considers, “I...”
“Oh, please,” Esca breathes and kisses him lightly. “Please trust me, Marcus. This can be so good if you’ll just trust me.”
“But I’ve never...”
“That’s okay. I’ll take care of you, I promise,” He kisses Marcus deeply, with a tenderness not yet seen in him tonight. He trembles, “Oh, Marcus, I’ll be so good to you if you’ll let me. You’re so beautiful; let me have you like this, right now on a night like this. Oh, Please.”
Ten years is a long time, and the mean little goalie called Frankie that Marcus knew has changed so much that he even has a completely different name-but Marcus can see that the metamorphosis happened around the central core of an intensely loyal, honorable, player of fair games. So long as they establish some rules...
“Okay,” Marcus breaths and it’s like the breath puts electricity into Esca. He looks so bright and ecstatic, lit up with Marcus’ trust. He’s amazing--and definitely not a serial killer, Marcus bats that paranoid thought right out of his head. As Esca kisses him all over in a hundred little unmistakable thank you’s, Marcus nods, repeats, “Okay...just don’t hurt me.”
“Oh, never! Never, Marcus; I would never hurt you.” He sits up and opens the cuffs, slips them around Marcus’ wrists, kissing his palms and fingers tenderly as he does so. The cuffs are padded and snug to his wrists with a very short chain of just two or three links so he has no slack for any movement beyond a few inches up and down the pole of the bedframe.
Turning his hands in the cuffs is interesting as the fur slides against the tender skin of his wrists.
His heart is pounding, and his uncertainty shows in his cock. Esca moves down his body and bends to ghost his lips over Marcus’ length. “You’re okay,” he promises and kisses the cock sweetly, “You’re safe, baby. I’ve got you, and I’m going to take care of you.”
“I trust you,” Marcus whispers and then he gasps when Esca suddenly takes him into his mouth. His toes curl, his arms strain against the cuffs. Esca holds his hips down so that Marcus can’t lift them, but his back bows off the bed as Esca sucks.
Then his mouth is off him and the tip of Esca’s tongue runs up the underside of Marcus’ cock and then up the laces of the corset to his chest, his neck, to his ear. “Good, you’re doing well. Do you like it so far?”
“Please,” Marcus squirms, “You’re mouth. Please.”
“First say you’re my pretty girl,” Esca whispers. Marcus’s breathing hitches in surprise and Esca’s smile is slow and wide. He strokes Marcus’s cheek, then his eyebrow, and ruts against him lightly as he waits.
They’re just words, and if it’s want Esca wants--or even what he needs--Marcus knows he won’t deny him that; not when Esca has been so giving. “I’m... I’m your pretty girl.”
“Yes,” Esca kisses him, “Yes, and such a sweet girl.” His fingers run through Marcus’ hair, blunt nails across his scalp, and it feels good. Esca holds to his promise and returns his mouth to Marcus’s leaking cock, lapping up the drops and teasing the flushed sensitive skin. The tip of his tongue follows the thick veins and Marcus shivers.
He watches, head raised, as Esca takes him in again, bobbing his head up and down as he holds the base and plays with his balls. The cock pops from his lips like a lollypop and Esca grins at him and strokes up and down his thighs with flat hands. “Relax,” he urges quietly. “Lay back and close your eyes. There’s a good girl.”
With his eyes closed, he can’t tell what Esca will do next and it spikes his blood as Esca teases him about it a little, first kissing his inner thigh, then ghosting his fingers over his cock, then finally gives his whole mouth again. Marcus pants and squeezes his eyes shut. A crack of thunder makes him jump and then he is shaking. Esca is suddenly over him, as comforting as a blanket. The fabric of his skirt covers Marcus’s legs reassuringly and the press of Esca’s erection to his stomach is enticing.
“I’ve got you,” he promises. “Just focus on me, on what I’m doing... Do you like it?” He’s reached down and is jacking Marcus with a firm grip and Marcus groans out an affirmative noise, arms bulging as he pulls against the cuffs. The bedframe gives a jolt and Marcus has the distinct impression that if he pulls hard enough, he can get free.
“Oh, you’re so strong, such a strong, sweet, girl,” Esca whispers in clear awe and nibbles his ear.
“Esca...” Marcus pants.
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to fuck me.”
“I will,” he promises as he moves down Marcus’ body once again. “But first I want to get you ready, nice and open and wet because I don’t want to hurt my pretty girl.”
Marcus makes a noise of want and Esca chuckles, “You like it when I call you that.”
“Yes,” he confesses and he’ll panic over what it all means later but right now he just doesn’t care; he wants more.
“Oh, you’re so good, Marcus.”
A splattering noise makes Marcus open his eyes and he sees that Esca is emptying the very last squirts of lube from a bottle into his hand. He tosses the empty tube carelessly over his shoulder and Marcus digs his head into the pillows as he is finally spread open and touched where he’s been begging for it.
“You’re going to open right up for me aren’t you?” Esca asks. Marcus draws his knees up obediently and spreads his knees as far as he can. Esca is suddenly over him like a blanket again, hooking knees over his shoulders and folding Marcus in half; usually not a difficult position for him, but the edges of the corset bite into him in interesting ways and his breathing shallows even more than it had been.
“Alright?” Esca asks, running three fingers through Marcus’ hair as his other three fingers work slowly into him, one by one. Marcus focuses on breathing through his nose and nods as something shakes through him-be it thunder or desire there is no telling.
“It’s good, Esca, so good,” he pants.
Esca makes a low noise of delight and his pace quickens, forcing light little gasps of pleasure out of Marcus as that sweet spot is hit again and again. In the middle of this glorious torture, Marcus laughs deliriously. It brings a surprised snicker out of Esca with a smile that moves his ears back. “My, my, Marcus, look at you.”
“Hmm,” Marcus says. He can just imagine what this looks like; him in a corset like this, the man preparing to top him into next week fully clothed and in a spring time skirt, no less. And to think he’d been expecting an old soccer teammate barely interested in reconnecting, maybe a few good laughs over the old days, probably just a couch with not enough leg room and a cup of coffee in the morning as they talked about storm damage before Marcus’s cab showed up.
Esca’s breath roars out of him. “Finger you all night, can't I? Would you like that, big girl?”
Marcus whimpers and tries his best to thrust up. He is bent in half and hindered by a corset and handcuffs (both of which tease his skin fantastically with their sensual textures when he writhes just right) so core muscle is all he has to work with, but it’s enough to make his point, and to prompt another reverent,
“Ah, strong. So gorgeous and strong,” a few warm kisses are dropped on his left knee where Esca is resting his head on the hairy leg flung over his shoulder. “It wouldn’t hurt you if I went right now,” he says, scissoring the two fingers he has deep inside. Marcus arches and nods, but Esca drops another kiss to his leg and he works the third in. “Best, just to be sure. I said I wouldn’t hurt you, and I won’t, Marcus.”
Marcus laughs again. “I think all that would end up hurt is the bed.”
“Ha! Too right, dove. I need a stronger bed for my strong girl.”
Marcus shivers, and suddenly Esca sits taller. Marcus’ legs are allowed to fall to the bed on either side of Esca as the front of the skirt fans out over Marcus’s cock and stomach, concealing half the corset.
Esca’s heat and hardness slowly replace his fingers and for a minute Marcus can’t remember how to breathe with these reshaped lungs. His eye lashes flutter and he rolls his head on the pillow, “Oh, yes, Esca!” he moans.
That savagery is back as Esca kisses him, but in direct opposition to that is the gentle roll of his hips and the fluid pump by which he fucks Marcus at a nice and steady rhythm. The candlelight in here is a warm glow over Esca’s skin that is washed away by each scourging flash of lightning bleeding through the thin shades.
Marcus doesn’t see it so much as feel each time, like the ghost of a hiccup in that space where he should flinch. He is too busy just now writhing in pleasure to properly panic. The thunder he mistakes for his own shouts and cries, or maybe it is the other way around, but again, with Esca over him, inside him, he is still afraid, but it feels good. It feels safe to panic, because he knows Esca will take care of him.
And just like that, the handcuffs make all the sense in the world. By holding him still, they set him free. He turns his wrists in them just to feel the fur as Esca’s hips roll into his with a friction just like the lace against his skin under Esca’s soothing hands.
“Yes,” Esca rasps when he feels Marcus surrender to everything-to him, to the pleasure, to the storm. His pace falters and then speeds up, fingers tightening in Marcus’ short hair. “Yes, Marcus, that’s it.”
Marcus cries out as he lets go of everything. The bed frame groans, and something in the corset pops, and Esca gasps and hitches up his skirt as Marcus comes. Just like that, he comes without Esca’s hand on his cock at all.
“Holy crap,” Marcus pants with a smile. “That’s...that’s a first-hahmmph,” he says when Esca’s next push grates over very sensitive nerves. Esca takes his face in both hands. His lips roll between his teeth and his brow furrows as he pumps a few more times.
“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” Marcus says tightly, stroking his face. “Come on. Come on.”
With a shudder that racks his body, Esca pulls out quickly and comes all over the tender junction of leg and groin. Marcus arches into the sensation, spreading the come further up his hip, but he’s mindful not to let it get on the corset. He’s already noticed Esca’s care with these clothes, with the way he moved the skirt before Marcus branded it.
Esca snickers as he softens over him, and lowers to rest on an exhausted Marcus. “Holy crap,” he says in his best imitation of Marcus’ accent. It’s still as poor as it was in college, but possibly even more hilarious. Marcus laughs and knocks his knee into Esca’s little frame, rocking him sideways. He opens his mouth, but is cut off by the sudden wail of a siren outside.
A storm siren.
Esca’s eyes fly round, and Marcus’ body seizes up.
“SHIT!”
They scramble. Marcus can’t sit up. The fucking handcuffs! The bed groans and cracks, the legs at the top literally leaving the floor twice before Esca manages to scramble up Marcus’ body and undo them, apologizing, but laughing because Marcus is laughing-he’s laughing in the middle of a hurricane warning!
But you have to admit, the timing. Come on.
Cub is outside the bedroom door, barking like mad. Marcus scoops up his pants and stumbles into them-walking, not easy; his knees are weak--as Esca throws open the door and scoops up the animal, saying something about a basement.
“Basement,” Marcus repeats as he focuses on getting one leg in at a time. At last, he is dressed. “Good-yeah--God, listen to that!” Marcus slides to a stop on a rug in the living room and cocks his ear toward the window. The wind is atrocious, screaming against the building in a fury he’s never heard before. It doesn’t just sound like loose trashcans and fly-away plastic signs whipping around out there anymore, either. It sounds like ghosts.
Holy hell, how did Marcus not hear this a second ago?
He looks at Esca as the man runs all over his apartment with his skirt kicking up around his knees, spitting and pinching the candles out with Cub writhing and barking under his arm. He doesn’t really look like he can overpower a hurricane, but boy can he.
Marcus suddenly has the bizarre urge to grab the little man in a bear hug and never let go, to suck on that sweeping neck until his mark is there for the world to see, so they’ll know that Esca is just for him, his person to trust so completely he can go out of his head even as a hurricane rips through town. His person, no one else’s.
An alarming and sobering thought, to be sure. And that doesn’t stop the hurricane from happening.
So instead, Marcus joins the fire-prevention effort, and kills all the flames on his side of the room. As they work, the siren winds high and then drops low, building and tumbling as the wind only builds and builds and builds. Sand and pebbles and the occasional branch or other such thing pelt the outer walls and windows. Without the candlelight it is dark and cold and he feels like the storm can get in now.
His hands are shaking so much he can’t catch the wick of the last candle and burns himself. His raincoat falls over his arm and then Esca is there with a flashlight, short breath extinguishing the flame between Marcus’ fingers and then Esca’s firm frame ushers Marcus out the door.
“Coat, there’s a peach,” Esca says as he locks the door behind them. Marcus realizes he is still in the corset, and quickly shrugs the still damp coat on and closes it around his secret. Other tenets are already crowding the stairwell; they had been less occupied and more prepared to bunk off at the first note of the siren.
Catching Esca’s eye in the dim light of Esca’s flashlight, Marcus snickers and his whole body shakes--with fear or mirth, he just doesn’t know anymore. Esca’s eyes crinkle and glitter, but then the building shakes with thunder, and the scales tilt a little more toward fear. Marcus balks. Esca takes his hand, “Run, darling.”
...completed in part three