pushbackthedarkness | [march 16]

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[march 16]

Bit by bit and session by session, Marcus's days since the exorcism are getting easier. Without question there are still bad days, ones where he wants to sink into himself and into his drawing, dirtying his hands with charcoal until he feels as if he's managed to get some of the demon out of his soul, and his therapist has suggested he let himself. As long as he doesn't get lost in it, which Marcus suspects would be impossible between Dan and Sabrina, between knowing Kat and Neil will come check on him if they don't hear from him in a few days.

They all keep him honest. It's more than he's ever had before.

What still hurts him the most is knowing he not only failed Tomas to the point where he had become utterly cavalier with his own safety, but knowing, too, that he failed Andy. The kids are safe, he takes heart in that, but he's still killed a man. Nothing will ever change that, and on a Sunday night in March, he finds himself awake long after everyone else has fallen asleep.

With the light turned low in the living room and Trass quiet near his feet, Marcus draws late into the night, and when it finally feels like he can't keep his eyes open any longer, he stumbles to bed with Trass padding along silently by his side. The big wolf settles into the oversized dog bed Marcus had purchased for him and Marcus settles in next to Dan, pressing close to the warmth of him and finally falling asleep with ease.

It's still early when he wakes again, the morning light coming in through the big bedroom windows is still weak and cool, but it isn't the sun that wakes Marcus. It's Trass, nudging his head up onto the bed, whining as he presses his nose against the side of Marcus's face. He grunts and nudges Trass away and the wolf huffs out an annoyed breath even as his tail wags like an excited dog.

"Too early," Marcus mumbles into his pillow, then turns to sling his arm across Dan's waist.

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Dan goes to bed that night only a little uneasy, knowing that Marcus will be up late. He knows that these nights need to happen, and that they will happen less and less; he still doesn't really fall into a deep sleep until he can feel the warm line of his body against his own.

His dreams meander through strange places, the city streets becoming a hedge maze, but without the snow. Abra keeps the hedge animals at bay, though he can't see her. His front shirt pocket is heavy with the weight of a ring. None of it is frightening, even if it's strange.

He wakes up first to noises, snuffling he can recognize as Trass, a murmuring voice.

A weight across his torso-- the wrong weight, and then he's awake, a cold panic seizing him at the realization of a woman's arm across him, no--

Dan falls right out of bed, sprawling and scrambling a bit, gasping right up to the moment where his mind catches up and all he feels is Marcus in the room. "What," he says, a bit thickly.

Dan is there and then he's gone in a flurry of sheets and duvet, falling straight out of the bed and onto the floor, which brings Marcus's head up off his pillow. He rubs the back of his knuckles against his eyes, trying to work out what's just happened, still half asleep, and that's when Trass jumps right up onto the bed and sprawls his weight on Marcus's back.

He grunts, the breath rushing out of him, because Trass isn't a small animal, and then tries to shove him off, all while edging toward the other side of the bed so he can see if Dan's hurt himself in the fall.

"Alright, love?" he asks.

Then he freezes. A hand goes to his throat. His fingers look different, though he can still see charcoal pushed deep into his cuticles and the creases of his knuckles. His throat feels different, long and slim and elegant, and without the slightest hint of the stubble that ought to be there. As Trass grumbles and tries to get comfortable in the bed, Marcus continues a slow, confused exploration, his fingers crawling up a strong jaw, still without stubble, and then over a pair of lips that decidedly do not feel like his own.

The reason Dan hasn't fled the room is that it doesn't feel wrong, not matter how it looks, how it sounds. The monsters he knew could use the voices of people he loved if they wanted, of anyone, but he knows the woman in the bed isn't a monster because she's Marcus.

He squints at the bed and the woman that is Marcus for a few long seconds.

"What the fuck," he says shakily, but he's getting up, he's crawling back into bed. His own fingers reach out, following much the same lines of exploration, until he's letting out a slow breath. It's alright.

Maybe not alright, but he knows who's inside this admittedly lovely woman.

"Am I a woman?" Marcus asks, even though he already knows the answer to the question, even without having to investigate any further. Without having to look in a mirror. He can feel it in the smoothness of his skin and hear it in the pitch of his voice. His accent hasn't changed at all, but he also doesn't quite sound like himself.

"Am I a bloody woman?"

Beside him, Trass huffs out an irritated breath, as if his anxiety at having discovered himself in a different body is disruptive to the wolf's sleep, and a moment later he's sliding off the bed and returning to the dog bed in the corner. Given how little he's reacting to the change, Marcus has to think he must smell the same, too. Rather, at least similar enough that Trass doesn't think he's a stranger, because Trass really isn't fond of strangers at all.

"I'm not sure I feel qualified to answer that on more than a physical level," Dan says, his own discomfort unraveling surprisingly easy. This is Marcus on every level, and somehow even though the person in his bed is now a woman, the woman herself seems less an oddity and more of an unknown facet of the man he loves.

He'd like to pull Marcus down and hold him tight, in part because he just likes to, but for now he gives Marcus space to move around if he'd like.

Not that it keeps Dan from gently tracing the slender shoulders and soft arms, touching in bemused wonderment. "...this place."

"It's happened to others," he says, still shocked by the sound of his voice. His accent is still clearly West Midlands, but the pitch has changed, luckily not to the extent where it reminds him of his mother. Instead it brings to mind a young nun who had worked in the first group home he had been sent to, one of the few who had been kind to him, who had tried her best to keep him from the abuse of the other boys.

He'd gone to bed wearing nothing at all and when he lifts the covers to look at himself, Marcus can't help but stare. The body is still strong, with wiry muscles, but there's a softness there, too. His hips are narrow, but rounder, and that's to say nothing of the breasts.

He has breasts. Dan is touching him and the feeling is nice, but distant, because all Marcus can focus on is the change.

"I would blame You," he says, looking up toward the ceiling, speaking to God rather than Dan for a moment. "But You've never had much of a sense of humour."

Oh, god, Dan doesn't know if it's appropriate to be ogling Marcus like this, but he's not entirely certain he can keep from doing it. Not when they're in bed together, and Marcus is staring down at... oh, fuck. Breasts.

Since Darrow, Dan has re-examined some of the aspects of his sexuality that would and wouldn't have fit where he is now-- with no great success. There are women he'd been attracted to, and he's pretty certain that was real, but it all pales, no fucking competition to Marcus. To the sharp lines of him, the lean muscle and sinew, the thrust of his cock toward his stomach when he's hard.

But fuck, look at that too.

"Well, maybe the one here feels differently," he says, trying not to stare down under the covers. "You seem to be, uh, okay about this?"

Marcus lies back on the pillows and then rolls his head over to the side so he can look at Dan. He shrugs, slim shoulders lifting, then smiles a little.

"I've been a thirteen year old version of myself with no memories of being in Darrow, I've hallucinated a demonic version of a woman I loved, I've watched my best friend as a child, I've fought some form of the devil inside my daughter's boyfriend, and my own boyfriend has been kidnapped by goblins," he answers. "Honestly, waking up as a woman seems almost like a break from the insanity."

He'd like to see himself, look at this new face in the mirror, but then he'd have to get up and cross the room, and he remembers from having been in Dan's body how difficult it had been to adjust to a new centre of gravity. He can give it a few more minutes before he goes.

Everything Dan feels suggests this to be true-- not that he doesn't believe the words themselves, because he does. But there's nothing in the room that's more than an easy curiosity, almost amusement.

And Dan has to admit he's curious too.

He leans in, kissing Marcus slowly, a good morning sort of kiss, and lets one of his hands find the far more pronounced curve of his waist, the softness there. When he lets himself meet Marcus's eyes, he tries to temper what he's thinking, but he can't help thinking it.

Could show you a thing or two about that body.

The kiss is certainly welcome, even though it does feel a bit different, and Marcus is surprised by the rasp of stubble against the skin around his mouth. Usually he has his own and it isn't something he notices, but now everything feels just the slightest bit softer and Dan, as a result, is just the slightest bit harder.

It's really rather enjoyable.

He gets a little shimmer of what Dan is thinking and it makes him laugh, the sound of which is entirely new, too. His mouth lifts, higher at one corner than the other, and his eyes light up with amusement.

"Could you now?" he asks, one hand laying on Dan's shoulder.

Dan can't help the slight flush-- he hadn't actually meant to project it, but God knows that it's what he wants.

"I could," he says, trying to sound something besides dumb and horny. "I've been with women, though not anyone nearly this beautiful, and of course, no one I ever loved." The hand on Marcus's side creeps up until his knuckles graze the soft underside of a breast. "I'm going to love you in whatever form you take, and I'm not gonna just... jump you, unless you'd like that."

He leans in for another kiss, still restraining himself a bit, until he's told differently.

They haven't spoken much of Dan's past relationships, nor Marcus's, and it isn't for any particular reason that Marcus can think of. If he were to put a name to it, he thinks it might be a desire to live in the present, to be everything they can right now, together, but he'd also assumed Dan had been with women. Plenty of them. A man that looks like he does wouldn't have ever been hard pressed to find someone to share his bed.

He also doesn't doubt Dan will know exactly what to do with this body and the very idea excites him. As does that brush of Dan's knuckles under a breast, though it's a different sort of excitement than he's used to. Rather than feeling like a rush of blood to his cock, a dizzying sensation, there's a low, aching heat that seems to be pooling inside of him.

When Dan kisses him, Marcus responds with a soft moan, pressing into the kiss and then throwing all caution to the wind. He loops one -- long, God, so much longer than he would have thought -- leg over Dan's hip and pulls their bodies close.

Dan catches some of this and while it's a talk for later, because he'd like Marcus to understand how truly extraordinary his presence in Dan's life is, he lets it pass them by. He does know what to do here, and even if it's been awhile, he remembers. Somehow, too, that this is still Marcus makes for a feeling of familiarity, even as Dan strokes along curves and lines he's never touched before.

He's already getting hard-- not because the female body excites him more, but because it's only minutes after this change and Marcus wants this from him.

With a groan, he rolls Marcus onto his back, mouth opening to deepen the kiss, to taste the new shape of a mouth he's so intimately familiar with, easing those amazingly, gorgeously long legs apart so he can rest between them. He moves his mouth to the slim column of Marcus's throat, tasting the pulse point, and without further hesitation, catches one pink, peaked nipple in his mouth.

Idly, Marcus wonders if this might be more unsettling for him if the past few months hadn't happened. If he hadn't already first felt displaced in his own body, then spent an hour in Dan's trying to help Sam and Kat make sense of how to get the demon out. Without those things, maybe he would need longer to adjust, but he's honestly not sure. So many other things have happened to him and those around him that this isn't even the strangest of it.

In fact, he'd meant what he said. This almost seems like a break.

Dan's mouth feels good, which is no surprise, not when it always feels good, but it's different, too. It's as if Marcus's skin is more sensitive and he doesn't realize it's likely the lack of stubble on his own jaw and throat, not until Dan's mouth is suddenly on his nipple. That in itself isn't terribly unusual either, but it feels so vastly different. He gasps, shocked by it, and his entire body arches up, pressing closer to Dan, to the hardening line of his cock, to the warmth of his body.

Dan decides he enjoys the challenge of seeing how much he can knock Marcus out of thinking about it all, especially given how much that this is fine comes through to him.

They're beautiful breasts, of course, and Dan strokes the hard nub of skin against his tongue again and again, his hands coming up to cup and explore even as he sets his teeth against the tender flesh and moves to mouthing the other nipple. Marcus feels amazing against him, arching up in a soft line, and Dan rolls his hips, realizing that he'd gone to bed without anything on, which has turned out to be an amazing idea.

It had been less amazing when his bare ass had hit the cold floor, but as he lets his cock nudge at the apex of Marcus's thighs, it seems like a brilliant move.

There's never been a time when being with Dan hasn't felt incredible. Even before any of this had happened, even during those first few months of friendship and nothing more, Marcus had loved being around him. He's never quite been able to explain it and after learning all Dan can do, he's stopped trying. Whatever it is that exists between them, it doesn't need to be put into words.

And it doesn't surprise him at all now that Dan still knows how to touch him. Marcus has been with women, too, he would know where to begin, but he thinks this is more than just that. It's just Dan. It's the two of them.

"Where shall we start?" he asks, teasing, his voice breathless. The sound of it still shocks him, but only a little. "I certainly would like for you to fuck me, but I've never been on this end of going down on a woman either."

Dan grins, an easy, delighted expression.

He shouldn't be surprised, that somehow Marcus will make this alright too, that any lingering worries he'd had about women and his strings of one night stands would get to be laid to rest in the only person Dan needs.

Which is good, in a deep and nourishing way, but his cock also jolts with interest, and he's already making his way down Marcus's smooth belly, spreading his thighs. "Yeah," he says, a bit hoarse. "We'll do that. Think I still remember how this goes?"

And without much else said or done, he's got his mouth on the pink wetness of Marcus's cunt-- what a thing to think, if he's thinking at all-- lapping eagerly.

Any smart response Marcus might have had is gone the very second Dan's mouth is on him and he gasps, feeling something the likes of which he's never felt before. Marcus has certainly known pleasure, he thinks he's incredibly lucky with just how much he's known, given the way his life had begun, but there's been nothing at all like this.

There's a surge of heat that floods through him, rushes through his entire body and he arches up against Dan's mouth, completely unashamed. He's felt pleasure, certainly, but he's never felt freedom with anyone like this before. Marcus doesn't even think, he just does, he lets his body do whatever it wants.

And it wants more of Dan. His fingers card through Dan's hair and holds tight, pressing himself to Dan's lips, to his tongue, silently begging for more.

Maybe it's the magic part of it all, or maybe they're just this good together-- Dan's pretty sure it's mostly the second and partly the first-- but not for a moment does this feel weird. Marcus tastes amazing, and Dan's more than a little blown away by the sensation of going down on a woman who's more than a one night stand or even a set of casual dates. It's like maybe he's never really done this sober, only no.

He's never done this when he's happy, and God, is he happy to apply himself, his lips and his tongue. His hands move to hold Marcus's hips, not enough to keep him still, but enough to do this how he wants to, shockingly noisy in the quiet bedroom between their breathing and moaning-- his own, too-- and the wet slide of his mouth.

They ought to at least try to be quiet, Marcus thinks briefly. He doesn't sound like himself and the last thing he wants is for Sabrina to furiously barge in, thinking Dan is in here with someone else, so he lifts one hand from Dan's hair and slaps it over his mouth, trying to dampen the desperate moans that are bubbling up from somewhere deep inside.

He has no idea what it's going to feel like to come in this body. At this point, he isn't even considering that, still half-floored by the very change and entirely lost in the new sensations he's experiencing. On a regular day he would warn Dan, give him a chance to pull back or prepare, but now he doesn't realize it's happening until it's happening.

Something inside of him seems to pull tight, but just as quickly it releases, all his muscles going slack, heat and some sort of indescribably good feelings rolling out from his cunt in a way he could have never expected. And it doesn't stop either. It just keeps coming, still washing over him, again and again.

Dan will be sure to tell him later that he knows that if Sabrina hasn't already sussed something out and crawled out her window, it's a matter of time. too big of a chance i caused it is the thought at the back of his mind.

Except he's not really thinking about any of that.

Not when he can feel Marcus coming, the tremble of his thighs and the throb of all that pink, sensitive flesh. Dan's sure to keep up, sucking gently on his clit and getting his face absolutely a mess, until the muscle contractions slow to a stop; then, he strokes very gently along Marcus's folds with the tip of his finger, trying to gauge whether he'll be too sensitive for more right away.

There is a long, long time when Marcus can't speak. He can't do much of anything, really, but hold onto Dan and ride it all out and when his body finally relaxes back onto the bed and he can feel Dan's fingers sliding along parts of a body he never imagined he would ever have, he shivers in a deep, pleased way.

"How," he finally manages, "do women ever get anything done if it feels like that?"

The grip he has in Dan's hair has relaxed and he finds himself combing his fingers through it gently, then he tilts his head on the pillow to look down at Dan from under his lashes. He's terribly beautiful, he always is, and Marcus finds the sight of him now simultaneously arousing and deeply strange. He doesn't recognize the body Dan is touching, but he can feel it and he know it's his, at least for now.

Dan has some idea of the picture he'll make, his cheek resting against Marcus's thigh, lips pink and shining, desire darkening his eyes. People have been sure to tell him he's attractive, but he's never wanted to make someone feel it until his time here.

"More self-control than us, I guess," he says, and then makes his way back up the warm, soft body beneath him, pressing his face between the swells of Marcus's breasts. "Though at this point, I'm not sure I'll get anything done if I don't fuck you soon."

He's hard and leaking between them, trying not to just rub himself off like a fucking teenager.

The very words send a thrill through him. They always have with Dan, the knowledge that he's about to be terribly intimate with a beautiful man who loves him, but there's something else in that thrill today. It burns in a different way, in a deeper part of him, some physical aspect he must not usually have and is terribly pleased he's getting to experience now.

"Then come here and fuck me," he says in a rough voice, his fingers combing through Dan's hair again.

Another time, he would have had to wait a little longer than this, but already he can feel that sense of arousal building. He wants this, this body he's in now wants it, is responding to Dan all over again within mere moments.

He'd been worried for the barest of moments that something about this would feel like he's not being-- faithful, but this woman, this is Marcus. That certainty, along with the certainty that he'd like to continue making Marcus feel that good, doesn't waver.

Dan nods, letting his mouth wander the smooth line of Marcus's jaw, down to his neck. He slides his hand between them, curling a finger, then two, into the amazing grasp of the slick heat there. "Oh, Jesus," he whispers, caught off guard. "You're so-- so wet. Think maybe I was doing this wrong before?"

But he's grinning a little, slowly pumping his fingers, as much to enjoy the situation as to figure out how much time Marcus will need to be ready.

Everything about this morning would suggest if Dan has been doing things just like this, there hadn't been a thing wrong in the world. Marcus doesn't want to think about other times, though, other women, not because he's jealous, but because this is their time now. Whatever they've had in both their pasts, it doesn't matter. Not when they're together.

But he can't say any of this. His mouth falls open, a groan slipping out of him at the feel of Dan's fingers pressing inside of him. He's had Dan inside him before, but not like this, not anything like this. Both are amazing, but in very different ways, and Marcus can feel this body making room for Dan, adjusting for him. Wanting him.

"God," he breathes, his back arching, thighs spreading. Inviting Dan in further. "Yes, Dan, I- please."

It's not something he'd go around announcing, but Dan does catch some of his clearest flashes of shine when he's got his fingers surrounding by Marcus's tight, cling heat, and this is no exception. "You're right," he whispers, thumb smudging along to find the tight bud of his clit. "There's no one else. That was another world, another life, another me."

He leans into to catch amazingly soft lips against his.

"Only you, forever and ever," he breathes, adding another finger, just enough to feel the way Marcus catches at him, and then he's pulling his hand free to like himself up. Just because he can, he takes the time to rub the head of his cock against Marcus's clit, watching his face intently.

In his state, Marcus can't work out if sex is just better for women -- when it's done right -- or if he feels like this because it's all so strange and new, but whatever the case, he knows he's in good hands. The best hands. The only ones that matter.

He still can't seem to make words. The only sounds that come from him are soft moans of pleasure that don't manage to turn into anything coherent. Not that it matters either. Marcus knows even without his talents, Dan would be able to figure exactly what he wants and how good it all feels.

A part of him thinks he ought to wait, figure out when this body is ready, but he feels ready. He feels impatient, really, especially with Dan's cock rubbing against him like this now and Marcus's fingers curl under, holding tightly to his shoulders.

Dan could listen to those little sounds all day, he thinks, dropping his face down to the curve of Marcus's neck to gently suck a mark there. Something about this, about the change and yet the familiarity, at how easy and good it is between then, because it's them, Dan nearly trembles with the force of restraining himself.

He has to make sure they can go slow, before they can go fast.

Dan groans low in his chest when he finally eases his cock inside all of that tight heat, so much wetter than he's used to, braces his arms on either side of Marcus before reaching down to steady his hips, urge his thighs further apart. "You feel so good," he gasps. "So wet."

It's such a strange thing to hear directed at him, a phrase he would have never imagined, and Marcus laughs, though the sound turns into a long, pleased moan before it really goes anywhere. This entire experience is surreal and it makes him tremble, being filled in such a way, something he knows he can't explain because it's just so different.

His thighs relax, which in turn relaxes something else inside of him, and he can feel Dan sliding deeper inside of him. It doesn't hurt exactly, but it burns pleasurably, something that's just hovering on the edge of pain. It could go either way, he knows, but not with Dan. With Dan it's only going to get better and better, because this man would never hurt him.

"Holy shit," he breathes, not knowing what else to say.

Dan's thankful for the shine in a new way, all over again, as he keeps his attention on making sure that Marcus feels good, that there's as little pain as possible. One of his hands shifts to cup Marcus's face, fingers sliding to the back of his head, thumb smoothing along the soft skin of his cheek.

He shifts, encourages Marcus to hold tighter, and then slides his other hand down between them, seeking out the swollen, pink bundle of nerves that should make this a whole lot better. Stroking the pad of his thumb just above the clit, he keeps the motion of his hips rolling and steady.

It's crazy and hot and crazy hot, but he's not going to lose himself, not before he should.

There are days when Marcus is aware of just how much he'd given up for God. How much time he'd lost in service to the Church, all the things in life he'd let himself overlook, knowing if he experienced them at all he might miss them too much to really give them up. How foolish he had been, thinking God and the Church were the same, when the God Marcus knows has only ever wanted to protect His children.

He may be a bastard sometimes, but He isn't cruel. And He wouldn't want Marcus to have gone without.

Without love, most specifically. And Marcus feels that every single day with Dan, but he feels it again here. It's different. Not stronger, but different. Dan is taking care of him, taking care with him, and all Marcus can do is hold on and gasp at the feel of Dan's fingers and his cock.

Dan would still have a pretty strong conversation with God, on Marcus's behalf. He understands that the hardness of that life had formed the man he loves, but it doesn't mean Dan approves of it, in practice. The more gratuitous nature of some of that suffering, like the memories given to Marcus so recently.

He's not really thinking about that right now, thankfully. The moment holds his attention, and he's just trying not to shoot off like a teenager.

Dan applies himself to looking for just the right angle, the right fit of his fingers against the softest, slickest skin he's ever felt. "You're so-- so perfect," he breathes, "in any form."

Most of the time, Marcus feels anything but perfect. Chosen by God, but so very far from perfect, and yet here with Dan, he feels like maybe he could be. If not in the eyes of the world, then at least in Dan's, and isn't that the only thing that matters now? That he's loved and he loves and he can feel things he'd never allowed himself before. It had been so easy to keep a distance and so much more difficult to let himself go, but now that he has, he can't imagine any other way.

"Yes," he breathes. "God, Dan, you... you feel like... I don't..."

Then he laughs, because he has no idea what he's trying to say, and all he can really do is hold onto Dan, curl his fingers under, and really hold onto him. He's going to come again, he can feel it building already.

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[march 16]

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