pushbackthedarkness | (no subject)

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Day by day and bit by bit, Marcus begins to return to normal.

It had been surprisingly easy to find a therapist in Darrow with experience in possessions and exorcisms, or perhaps not that surprising, given the way this city is put together, and for the first time in his life, Marcus has something he wants to get better for. Another world, another life, another location and he would have just set this all aside in some locked box deep inside his mind and never properly dealt with it.

But he has someone who loves him. A chosen family made up of people he never would have expected. A best friend who is so much more than those two words can ever possibly begin to encompass. He owes them all better than pretending none of this had hurt him and so he goes to the therapist and he tells his story and she listens like he doesn't think anyone has ever listened to him before.

After a few sessions, she asks how he feels about meditation. She tells him it might help him to feel more in control of his mind and his body again, to focus on his breathing and to clear his mind of anything else. When Marcus admits he wouldn't have the slightest idea where to begin with someone like that, she suggests yoga.

It turns out he rather loves it.

And now, on a late winter afternoon, Marcus has a mat spread out on the living room floor. The light is already beginning to fade from the day, leaving the room mostly lit by the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree he had insisted on putting up. No demon is going to ruin his first holiday season with both Dan and Sabrina living with him. He absolutely intends on having Neil, Kat, Sam, Molly and others over for a dinner, if they're willing.

For now, though, he breathes slowly, pushes up through upward dog and into downward dog, taking the time to stretch out his calves, his hamstrings. Each movement follows an inhale or an exhale. He moves in time with his breath, slow and controlled, through a sun salutation, then down again, lowering himself through chaturanga and then back to downward dog.

His therapist is right, as it turns out. All this makes him feel remarkably better.

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A thrum of arousal goes through Marcus when he sees Dan tuck his hand into his sweatpants; it travels down his spine and straight into his cock, which has hardened in response to watching Dan. He's wearing a pair of loose, breathable pants to move easily in, so they hide some manner of sins, but he doesn't particularly want them to. In every way, he wants Dan to see what he does to him.

"I might have," he answers thoughtfully and casually, as if his voice hasn't roughened with desire. "There really is only one way for us to be sure, though, isn't there?"

He stretches out each leg slowly, pedaling his heels back and forth. He feels warm throughout his entire body, pleased and relaxed and somehow walking the edge of some tension all at the same time.

"You might want to come over here and check."

Dan groans a little when he realizes that touching himself has an effect on Marcus, and taking the risk-- especially as the actual yoga has ended-- he eases his cock free of his sweats and strokes slowly. "And how," he questions, a bit surprised at how easily his voice comes out, "much more flexible do you think you've gotten? Think you could get your knees high and wide? Over my shoulders, maybe?"

But then he's invited closer, and he's not even sure how he gets there, only aware of gripping Marcus's hips in his hands as he rubs against his ass.

mine

It's good, and he slips his fingers into Marcus's waistband, easing it a little lower. "There's so many things I want to do to you," he murmurs, half-reaching with the shine to see if anything occurs to Marcus as particularly desired.

He could watch that all day, he realizes, when he sees Dan freeing his cock from his sweatpants, the circle of his fist moving up and down slowly. It's a beautiful sight and he can feel his own cock hardening further, aching already, wanting desperately for Dan's hands to be on him.

And then they suddenly are, Dan is right there behind Marcus, pressed deliciously close, and he can't help but rock his hips back into the touch.

"Like what?" he asks in a low voice, even though he's already picturing all kinds of things. He would never be able to sustain this position, but he can see the two of them on the couch, Marcus braced against the back with Dan behind him, and he wants it so badly, wants that connection, that love.

Dan thrusts against him gently, letting the wet and leaking head of his cock make for a slicker slide. One hand slides around front, palming Marcus's erection through his pants, squeezing a bit.

"Bending you over nearly any piece of furniture in this place and fucking you hard," he murmurs, bolstered in confidence by what he feels and what he feels. "Sitting with you between my legs, sucking me off. Kneeling and doing the same for you. Seeing how far apart you can hold your knees, for how long. Anything you want to do to me, any which way."

Groaning, not wanting to let Marcus stay like this too much longer, he hauls him up and drags him back to the couch.

"My God, you do know how to make a man feel wanted," Marcus says, laughing as he's all but dragged to his feet and toward the couch. He's still thinking about himself braced and bent against the back of the couch, the image refusing to leave -- not that he's trying particularly hard to chase it off -- but right now, he wants his hands on Dan. He wants his mouth on Dan. He wants to touch and taste and kiss this man who had helped save him.

Marcus will never forget it. Across time, across worlds, the people here, the ones who saved him, he will never forget it.

He turns, wrapping an arm around Dan and pulling him close. And then he kisses him, deeply and hungrily, trying to pour all of those thoughts directly into him, knowing with Dan, it's actually possible. That he might be able to feel how deeply grateful Marcus is, how much he loves him, and just how much he wants to be pinned to the back of the couch.

"I hope so," Dan breathes, kissing him back and taking in such an avalanche of feelings that he's sure his heart will burst at any moment. "I want you so fucking much, I swear I'd find you anywhere, I would, I--"

Thankfully, his hands have learned to undress them both on autopilot, and they're making quick work of their clothes, which are simple enough.

"I'm getting the lube," he says, an important enough message to break his litany, "get yourself positioned like that for me, okay? I'll come back and open you up." He presses his mouth to Marcus's bare shoulder.

For a second, Marcus can't even hear the words, he isn't sure where Dan is going, he's so caught up in the feeling of being wanted and being loved, the thing that had saved him from the darkness of that demon. But then he realizes what Dan has said, where he's disappearing to, and he gives a little groan when they part.

He's coming back, though, and he's given Marcus instructions, so he turns back to the couch and shoves aside the few casual throw pillows they have tossed on the cushions. Then he gets on his knees on the couch, facing the back, his arms braced against it for the moment.

He feels terribly exposed like this, his cock rubbing against the couch, but he shivers pleasantly as he waits.

"Sweet Jesus fuck," Dan groans when he gets back, and he has to squeeze the base of his cock. "Look at you. You're perfect, you know? Still hard to believe sometimes, that you're mine, but you are."

He plasters himself against the line of Marcus's back, wrapping his arms around his lean torso and holds on, breathes the warm scent of him. "I want to--" Dan shifts, so he can press his open mouth to the back of Marcus's neck, intent on leaving a mark. "Can I mark you up," he breathes, wanting more, to leave more signs of exactly who it is loving Marcus this way.

Marcus laughs, low and rough, twisting a little so he can look at Dan. The words roll over him and he knows he's never felt as good or as wanted as he does with Dan, but even still, he can't explain the depth of his disbelief at times. That Dan can't believe Marcus is his seems impossible when Dan is so beautiful and so kind and deserving of every good possible thing the world could ever give him.

"Yes," he breathes in return. "God, yes, please, just..."

He isn't sure how to say it, but he presses back against Dan, rubbing himself slowly against him, and all he wants is something left behind to remind him. When he takes his shift off in the bathroom for a shower, he wants to be able to see something in the mirror.

Dan kisses his mouth first, with the kind of passion he'd have never given himself credit for having, not until Marcus had found him. It's not as if he wants Marcus to know how deeply buried he'd kept so many parts of himself for so long, but not for the first time does Dan think he should know, if only to understand the absolute amazement Dan feels about him.

"I will," he promises, wanting that same thing, that reminder for both of them.

He latches his mouth onto Marcus's throat, letting himself make the blood bloom under the skin, even as he rolls his hips in a steady rhythm against Marcus's ass. When he feels his work there is done, he starts a slow line of it down Marcus's spine, little signposts to make sure anyone who sees knows that Dan has been here-- that Dan belongs here.

It's impossible to focus on anything but the way Dan feels against him and Marcus knows he's lucky his body seems to take over and just know what to do, because he can't think. Can't make sense of everything he feels, not with Dan, and he groans, shuddering softly at the feel of Dan's mouth on his throat. Sex was always just out of reach, although he'd never tried particularly hard to reach for it, but love had felt even more so, and yet here he is. Here they both are.

He's so damn lucky.

With one hand, Marcus reaches back and behind, smoothing his hand over Dan's thigh, over the curve of his ass, holding on and pressing back all at once. He doesn't want to rush this at all, has been enjoying every second of how they've gotten here, how it's all built to this moment, and he knows they can hold onto that for longer yet. They're in no rush. They have as long as they want.

It's a good feeling. To know he's safe at last.

"You've got me," Dan murmurs, currently biting and sucking a mark between Marcus's shoulders. "I'm gonna take my time here. I like it when I can make you fall apart."

His mouth drifts lower, and one hand curves around Marcus's waist, sliding down so Dan can get a hand on his cock, wrapping it in his fingers and giving a slow, gliding stroke. He breathes in deeply. "God, the way you-- you trust me. Such a sweet thing shouldn't get me so hard."

He's spent his life keeping quiet, Dan's realized, and he thinks he might like to talk.

"You don't have to work very hard for it," Marcus points out with a rough laugh, already feeling a little bit like he's falling apart under Dan's hands and his mouth. He moans when he feels Dan's hand around his cock and he can't help but push into the circle of his fist, then back again, rubbing his ass slowly against Dan. Feeling the hard length of his cock right there. Close, so close, but not quite.

He does trust Dan. More than nearly anyone. Trust has been a difficult thing for Marcus, he's never been quite able to give it to most people, but he trusts Dan with everything. His life, his body, his faith.

"You feel so good," he murmurs. "And your voice..." He'd never known he would love hearing someone's voice so much.

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