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Ben is taking the subway home, gripping a pole in the middle of a crowded train car, when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket twice in quick succession. Pulling it out to check it, he sees a message from Marcus and an image.
Opening up the conversation, he’s immediately greeted by a photo of Marcus’ ass.
Marcus : look what i got in the mail today
The image attachment was a selfie taken in a full length mirror, Marcus with his back mostly turned, showing off the curve of his toned ass. His shoulders are partially turned to face the mirror, but the phone obscured his face. He’s wearing fishnet stockings, no underwear, and at the end of his long, pale legs he has on a pair of dagger-sharp black stilettos, the angle of incline on the heels almost seeming painful in its severity. His feet are shoulder-width apart, a power stance.
Ben immediately feels his cheeks burning, suddenly embarrassed that someone may be looking over his shoulder. But before he can shut his phone off again, he’s greeted by another incoming photo.
In the same mirror as before, Marcus photographs himself now sitting on the floor, but his legs open and knees pulled up. His hand not holding the phone, which is again obscuring his face, is slyly yet daintily placed between his legs, cupping himself. The stilettos again at the forefront of the image. Ben knows that those are what were received in the mail.
Ben locks his phone, shoves it back in his pocket before he can look too flustered.
Him and Marcus had recently been experimenting with more feminine clothing in their sex life, but especially Marcus, who had suddenly become obsessed with buying women’s lingerie and stockings and now heels too. And it all drove Ben wild. Something about Marcus’ pale, svelte physique adorned in delicate lace and sheer stockings immediately got him worked up. And Marcus was clearly enthused about their new experimenting too.
He pulls his phone back out of his pocket, taps out a quick response.
Ben : cant wait to feel that heel pressed into my chest
He knew Marcus would read that message with that big, maniacal grin on his face; he liked it when Ben played up the submissiveness.
Their relationship had recently gone from casual sex to more serious, Ben might even dare to call Marcus his boyfriend now. And with their new exclusivity came also a new open door to have the comfort to try out any weird kink or fetish or scene or paraphilia either of them wanted, which they had always done, but it was certainly going to a new level as of late. Marcus had always been the one bringing up more experimental things for them to try, and he suggested a lot of things that became new unexpected favorites of Ben’s. This new thing with the lingerie was certainly at the top of his list. Mostly, Marcus was doing the wearing, as Ben was finding it hard to feel comfortable in anything that was originally intended for women who were much more petite and over a foot shorter than him. Marcus on the other hand was having almost too easy of a time buying an exorbitant amount of new panties and stockings and garter belts and even a few bras. But Ben did have one pair of sheer pink panties that he put on a couple times for Marcus, who was always enthusiastic when Ben wanted to join him in the whole sissification thing they had going. More than anything though, it was a lot of fun for both of them to totally throw masculinity to the wind when they were together: it was a nice experiment for Ben, and seemingly a second nature for Marcus.
Ben’s phone vibrates again.
Marcus : that mean ur coming over tonight?
Ben : if thats an invite then yes
Marcus : ok see u tonight baby <3
Ben couldn’t help but smile at the heart.
Ben : be there at 7
A few moments later, adding:
Ben : <3
He smiled to himself at the cutesiness of it all.
A few hours later, Ben is letting himself into Marcus’ apartment. He’s almost giddy, half expecting to see Marcus, still stiletto and stocking-clad, already splayed out for him on the couch. But of course, when he finally gets through the door, Marcus is just curled up on the couch in a t-shirt and sweatpants, glasses on, reading.
He looks up at Ben when he enters, face turning into a beaming smile. “Hey, babe,” he says, setting down his book and straightening up on the couch.
“Hey, Marcus,” Ben replies, walking over to take a seat next to him on the couch. But Marcus puts a hand up to stop him before he sits and instead pats his own lap. Ben half rolls his eyes, “You know I’m always afraid I’ll squish you if I sit on you.”
Marcus giggles a little, “No you won’t. C’mere, big guy.” He takes Ben’s hand and Ben gives in, carefully moving to straddle Marcus’ thighs.
“Aw, see you’re not squishing me,” Marcus says, tucking his head into Ben’s chest, adding, “You haven’t even given me a hello kiss yet.”
“Well you haven’t let me,” Ben says, a little bossy. But then he leans down and catches Marcus lips with his own. Marcus makes a little satisfied humming sound into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Ben’s shoulders.
“I liked those pictures you sent me today,” Ben says when they pull apart.
“Yeah? I knew you would.”
“I almost thought I would walk in here to see you still prancing around in those shoes.”
Marcus giggles, “Well I’ll put ‘em back on for you later, darlin’.”
“Mmmm, can’t wait,” Ben dips his head down to kiss Marcus’ jaw.
“Well slow down, let’s eat first. I’m starved,” Marcus laughs, pulling away from Ben’s advances, “I’m going to make us dinner.”
Ben cocks his head like a puppy, “Really?”
“Just because you just eat take-out everyday doesn’t mean we all have to. But, if it makes you feel any better, I’m making one of your favorites.” Marcus pats Ben’s thigh to signal for him to stand up. Ben obeys.
“It’s not that I don’t want you to, I’m just surprised is all,” Ben says, following Marcus into the kitchen.
“Well,” Marcus goes to open a cabinet, “it’s not anything crazy.” He retrieves a box of penne pasta, gives it a little shake in Ben’s direction for emphasis.
“Oh, you know me so well.”
“Of course, of course. Anything for my baby boy.”
“Gross, Marcus. Don’t call me your baby boy.”
“Hmmm... I think you were singing a different tune a few nights ago,” Marcus says with a smirk, “Now be a good boy and put some water on the stove to boil for me. I need to go do something real quick.” Marcus walks past Ben, and gives one of his ruddy cheeks a condescending little pat as he brushes by down the hall to his bedroom.
Ben is a little dumbfounded, just standing in the kitchen for a second. Even if all of the kink talk from Marcus does turn him on, it’s undeniably also a little cringey sometimes. But what is even more undeniable is how Ben is getting close to being half-mast right now even though Marcus has done nothing but call him a “good boy.” Gross , he thinks to himself, mostly about himself; Marcus always brings out sides to Ben that he never knew where there, or at least didn’t want to admit.
Despite himself though, Ben puts a pot of water on the stove, salts it, and waits for it to come to a boil. Just as he’s pouring the pasta into the water, he hears Marcus step back into the kitchen with a distinct clicking sound on the tile. Ben whips around to see Marcus back in the stilettos. But not just the stilettos, he has a whole outfit on: a pink dress, definitely made for someone much shorter than him, that comes down to his mid thighs, which is short enough to reveal the tops of a pair of white thigh-high stockings.
“Holy shit…”
“Do you like?” Marcus asks, swiveling his hips to get the dress to twirl a bit, “I thought I could do a little housewife roleplay thing for you tonight. I know we’ve talked about it before…”
Ben is nearly speechless. They had talked about it before, weirdly a lot. In his mind, Ben blamed his conservative nuclear family upbringing for his deep desire to see the convention perverted like this. But at the same time, he had to admit to himself that there was something about the sweetness of commitment and being married that seemed nice to him, especially considering he secretly thought it would never happen for him. His fantasies of domesticity were embarrassing to say the least, but Marcus always seemed receptive to it, happy to finally get to try out one of Ben’s ideas.
Ben clears his throat, “Marcus… I love it.” He can feel his cheeks getting red-hot.
Marcus breaks into a big smile and practically bounces over to Ben, pulling him down into a heated kiss. Ben feels up and down Marcus’ back, over his exposed shoulders, taking in the softness of his skin as they kiss.
When they break apart, Ben takes a step back from Marcus, “Let me get another look at this outfit.” Marcus indulges him, stepping back, holding out the skirt, trying to be cute. It was a pretty dress: bubblegum pink, thin straps, and it had a scoop neckline, which definitely would have showed off Marcus’ cleavage if he had any to show. The white stockings definitely reminded Ben of wedding lingerie with the delicate lace trim. But the black patent leather stilettos made the whole thing even more perverted looking (which made Ben all the more excited about this new development).
“God, how are you walking in those things?” Ben asks.
“Been practicing all day for you, darlin’. And to be honest, I’m barely walking in them, really just carefully stumbling.”
Ben takes a step back towards Marcus again, ready to ravish him, when the pasta starts boiling over. Ben whips back around to pick it up off the burner, turns it down a bit.
As he places the pasta back on the stovetop, he feels Marcus come up behind him and wrap his arms around Ben’s middle. “Let me take over, okay, sweetheart? I would be a terrible wife if I didn’t cook for my man.”
Ben is doing a little mental gymnastics at the fact that this mid-century traditional gender roles thing is making him so turned on, but when it’s Marcus, well… it’s hot. Besides, it’s not misogynistic if it’s actually a man pretending to be your obedient housewife, right?
Ben lets Marcus take over the pasta-stirring, but doesn’t leave his side, instead opting to hug Marcus from behind, relentlessly kissing his neck and exposed shoulders.
Marcus giggles when Ben hits a ticklish spot on his neck. “Hey, cut it out,” he laughs, mostly feigning annoyance, “If you’re not going to leave me alone, at least be a doll and strain the pasta for me.” Ben lets go of Marcus just long enough to do as he’s told before putting the pasta back on the stove and resuming his petting.
Marcus finally leans back into Ben, breaking from his front of confident indifference. “Go sit down and I’ll bring you some,” Marcus says, but it comes out like a breathy sigh as his eyelids flutter shut. But Ben obliges, making Marcus sigh when they lose contact.
Ben watches Marcus intently as he dumps a jar of tomato sauce into the penne and then scoops out some for both of them into bowls. There’s something different about the way Marcus is moving, almost an elegance to it that isn’t normally there. He gently sets a bowl of pasta in front of Ben, lightly setting down a fork next to it. Ben’s surprised at the subtlety of his actions, he would almost say it was feminine.
When Marcus takes a seat across from him, he slides a hand over the tiny circular table to take one of Ben’s that’s idly sitting there, giving it a squeeze. “Eat up so we can get down to the real business,” Marcus says, a flirtatious edge in his tone. “Thanks, baby,” Ben replies, genuinely moved by a romantic gesture like this. Even if it’s only cooking an extremely simple meal, it’s more than Ben even normally does for himself, and the entire act of having someone cook for him is intimate and romantic in a way no one else has ever been with him.
“So, tell me about your day, honey,” Marcus says, cheery.
“ ‘Honey?’ ”
Marcus drops his posture for a second, “I’m doing the housewife thing,” he says flatly.
“Oh—oh yeah I know. I just didn’t expect new pet names too.”
“Ok, should I switch it up? Maybe be like sexy dominatrix wife instead?”
“Uhhhh no you’re fine. I just… I’m trying to get into the fantasy I guess.”
“Ben, you’re the one whose fantasy this is, I’ll do whatever you want,” Marcus replies sweetly.
Ben smiles softly. “Ok yeah… right, ok. Um, my day was good, honey.” His words come out goofy though, like a parody of a mid-century businessman.
Marcus just laughs, not getting back into character: “Ok, ok, maybe this isn’t working.”
Ben feels embarrassed, “Sorry my acting isn’t good enough.”
“I don’t even know why we’re doing this part. Eat your dinner so we can get to the fucking, goofball.”
Ben blushes, and does as he’s told, enthusiastically scooping pasta into his mouth.
From here, they talk normally, and Ben actually tells Marcus about his day in a normal relationship way and not under the guise of any roleplay. When they’re done, Ben offers to clear the table. Marcus is flattered by the gesture, but helps Ben clean up anyways.
When they’re standing at the sink together, Ben washing the dishes, Marcus drying, suddenly it’s like a glimpse of actual domesticity in a way that makes Ben’s heart feel full. With the exception of the sexy drag getup, Ben could imagine them like this every evening, doing mundane tasks together, like a married couple (ok, maybe the drag getup can be in the fantasy future too). It feels weird to look at someone who was his best friend for so long in this way, in a new romantic way where he almost sees a future with Marcus, like he wants to share a life with him.
With the heels, Marcus is almost the same height as Ben, and with each dish Ben hands to Marcus, he easily leans over and places a little kiss on his cheek. Marcus is fully blushing, a constant smile on his face as they exchange easy conversation, leaning in to present his cheek to accept every kiss as they go.
Once Marcus puts away the last dish, Ben turns to him and wraps his arms around Marcus’ little waist, pulling him into an impassioned kiss. Marcus practically melts into him, sloppily slinging his gangly arms around Ben’s neck. In Ben’s mind, he’s imagining Marcus kicking one foot up like a lovesick girl in a movie does when she kisses her crush for the first time. Maybe Ben is imagining himself doing it too, he at least feels like he could be that lovesick girl right now.
Marcus breaks the kiss, breathing out, “Let’s go to the bedroom, baby.” Ben nods, hums happily in response, “Should I carry you there?”
Marcus giggles, “Only if you’re strong enough.”
“Is that a challenge?”
Marcus shimmies a little in Ben’s arms. “Maybe,” he says in an exaggerated singsong voice.
Ben accepts, letting go of Marcus and opting instead to bend down and scoop Marcus into his arms, bridal style. Marcus yelps a little, quickly wraps his arms around Ben’s neck again to retain a little balance.
He carries Marcus into the bedroom, and rather gently lays him down on the bed. Ben stares down at Marcus, illuminated only by the warm glow of a desk lamp that was left on. Ben thinks that Marcus looks like an angel like this, like some sort of degenerate, sexy angel whose white skin is illuminated by golden light. Ben climbs on top of him to start peppering kisses across Marcus’ jaw and down his throat. Marcus lets out a little satisfied groan, moves to place his hands in Ben’s hair.
One of Ben’s big hands moves between their bodies and feels Marcus’ bulge over his dress, then easily slips a hand underneath the hem, grazing his fingers over the lacy panties Marcus has on. This stops Ben dead in his tracks; he should have expected the panties, but getting caught up in everything else, they’re almost an unexpected, yet welcome, treat.
Ben sits back on his haunches between Marcus’ legs, brushing his hands over the hem of the skirt and lifting it to reveal the white panties underneath that match the stockings he’s wearing. There’s something so deliciously perverse about the white: it’s innocent or pure like bridal lingerie, but Marcus’ heavy cock starting to strain against the fabric is making Ben’s head a little foggy with arousal. There’s a level of depravity that’s there just by Marcus wearing lingerie like that at all that Ben finds so bewitchingly sexy, and surprisingly subversive.
Ben starts to lean down to try and put his mouth on the panties, but Marcus quickly pulls back one of his legs and plants one of his stilettos in the middle of Ben’s chest, stopping him. “Wait, I have something else I want to bring into the mix,” Marcus says with a smirk on his face. He retracts his foot, and gets off of the bed, stepping out of the heels as he does so.
Marcus goes over to his dresser and pulls out a little pink bag with a silver zipper from the top drawer. Ben watches closely as Marcus opens the bag, and pulls out a tube of lipstick, gingerly applying it in the mirror that hangs on the wall above the dresser.
“Red is kind of your color,” Ben says dumbly, entranced by the sight of Marcus staring at himself in the mirror.
Marcus turns around to face Ben: “Mmmm, thanks, baby,” he responds warmly.
He places the lipstick back in the bag and walks over to the bed with it. “Take your shirt off and lay down for me, angel,” Marcus says in a surprisingly soft voice, grinning, but not in the menacing goblin-like way he normally does.
Ben obeys, throwing his shirt off the side of the bed and then laying down. Marcus then climbs on top of him, straddling his lower torso. He sets the makeup bag next to Ben’s head on the pillow. Then, with his freshly painted lips, Marcus solidly places a kiss on either of Ben’s rosy cheeks.
Ben’s face turns up in a smile, crinkling his eyes: “Are you marking me with lipstick?”
Marcus giggles a little, “Maybe,” then places more kisses on Ben’s neck and shoulders. After marking Ben thoroughly, he sits back up and takes the lipstick back out of the makeup bag with a compact mirror, and reapplies the red color in the little mirror in his hand.
Ben reaches up and runs his hands over Marcus’ waist and down his hips, watching Marcus keenly as he does this. He looks like a vision: towering above Ben in pink and white, dark hair in a messy halo around his face, carefully applying lipstick. He’s never been so womanly, and Ben has never wanted him more in his whole life than he does in this instant.
Ben really must have a dopey look on his face, because when Marcus finishes reapplication and turns his attention back to Ben, he laughs a little. “Oh, baby, look at you…” he says tenderly, setting the makeup bag down again.
This time, Marcus kisses Ben’s mouth, and he knows the lipstick is probably transferring to his own lips, and probably the surrounding area too by the way Marcus’ mouth is moving from Ben’s top lip to the bottom and back again, nipping him slightly.
When they break, Marcus’ lips don’t have much lipstick left on them, but pale remnants of the red color have created a pink halo around parts of his lips. Ben reaches a thumb up to try and wipe some of it off. Marcus leans his face into the touch.
“When did you get into makeup?”
Marcus shrugged lightly: “Always liked playing with it a little. Figured I could try it out with you too.”
Marcus then pulls out the tube of lipstick again from the makeup bag, showing it to Ben as though he was trying to sell it to him: “Wanna try?”
Ben just punches out a laugh: “You mean you’re going to put it on me?”
Marcus has a goofy grin on his face, “Yeah, just wanna make you a little more pretty. And, you could leave a little kiss print on me if you wanted.”
Ben just chuckles. He likes the idea of playing with femininity the way Marcus does, but he feels like such an oaf, and he thinks feminine things look stupid on him. But, fuck it, it’s just for fun. “Lay it on me.”
Marcus wiggles excitedly on Ben’s lap, “Ok, pucker up, big guy.”
Marcus hunches over and intently stares at Ben while he carefully applies the lipstick. “You look so cute,” Marcus says through a big smile. He pulls the compact mirror out of the bag again to hand to Ben, who flicks it open, trying to get a look at himself.
“I look like a clown,” he responds flatly.
“No, baby, you look so pretty.” Marcus places a gentle kiss on Ben’s cheekbone, then offers his cheek to Ben to place a red lip print on. Ben does so, even though the action of puckering his lips like that feels strangely unnatural.
“Wait, let me add something else,” Marcus says, rummaging through the makeup bag again. He pulls out a tube of lipgloss and shows it to Ben. The little clear tube is full of sparkly transparent pink gel, and makes a popping sound when Marcus unscrews the top and pulls out the applicator. “This part is the most fun, it’s like the cherry on top.”
While Marcus is brushing on the gloss, Ben can feel how viscous it is. It feels sticky and heavier than even the lipstick, and he wonders if this is how women who wear makeup feel all the time: sticky and gooey. It’s gross because of how foreign it feels, but it is cute to watch Marcus be so into this.
Recapping the tube, he instructs Ben to take another look at himself. Admittedly, the shininess of the new addition definitely does make him look more glamorous. “Ok, I do like this more.”
“Good. Now hold the mirror for me, I’m gonna put some on too.”
Ben turns the compact around so Marcus can apply a layer of the lipgloss to his own mouth. He hums in satisfaction at his own appearance, gently wiping excess from the corners of his mouth. Ben is impressed at the subtlety of Marcus’ technique.
After taking the mirror from Ben and putting it all back in the makeup bag, Marcus takes Ben’s chin in his hand and stares down at him as though he’s admiring his handiwork.
“You really like this, huh?” Ben asks.
“Yeah, I think it’s fun… especially with you.” Marcus says it almost like he’s poking fun at Ben, but before he can retort, Marcus leans down and kisses him, and the stickiness of the lipgloss creates an interesting drag as their mouths move against each other.
When he puts his tongue in Marcus’ mouth, he tastes like makeup, and there’s definitely remnants of the lipgloss on his own tongue too.
When Marcus pulls away to catch his breath, the shininess of the lipgloss has spread out beyond the barrier of his lips, and the kiss print that Ben has left is smudged. Ben raises his hand to cup Marcus’ face in his large palm, and guides him to lay down onto his chest, wrapping his arms around Marcus’ little body.
Marcus makes a satisfied sound, tucking his head under Ben’s chin, who nuzzles him back lovingly. They stay like this for a moment, breathing in sync with each other. Ben runs a hand up and down Marcus’ back comfortingly.
“Ben, this is nice, but I can feel your hard-on poking me,” Marcus laughs, disturbing the comfortable silence that they’re blanketed in. Ben chuckles back and Marcus sits back up to look Ben in the eyes.
“I was trying to be romantic first, be a good boyfriend, instead of immediately whipping my dick out.”
“Well, I’ll whip it out for you,” Marcus jokes, still laughing a bit. He gets off of Ben’s lap, and sits on his thighs next to him, mostly facing away from Ben. Marcus undoes the string on Ben’s sweatpants, and Ben lifts his hips to help Marcus pull down his pants with his boxers enough to free his cock. Marcus then leans over to lick a long stripe along the side of Ben’s dick, who groans loudly in response.
From Ben’s vantage point, Marcus kneeling over is giving him a great view of his panty-clad ass sticking up in the air. He runs his hand over the silky fabric, then between Marcus’ thighs to feel his cock through the material. Marcus, who is still licking at Ben, stops to let out a strangled moan in response to the touch.
Ben moves to slide his hand under the lacy waistband of the panties, and brushes two fingers over Marcus’ hole. “Can I, baby?” Ben asks, pressing one of his fingers slightly into Marcus. Marcus raises his head enough to try and look over his shoulder at Ben's face, biting his bottom lip and nodding enthusiastically to give Ben the go-ahead. He inhales sharply when Ben inserts one finger. “Let me grab the lube,” Ben says, straining to reach over to the bedside table where he knows the bottle of it lives. Lubing up his fingers, he tries again, this time causing Marcus less discomfort.
Ben fingers Marcus slowly while Marcus blows Ben lazily, just alternating between sucking on the tip and licking up and down his shaft while listlessly gripping the base with one of his hands. Mainly, he’s putting on a little show for Ben, moaning like he’s being paid every now and again in response to the movement of Ben’s fingers inside of him. And Ben knows this, watches Marcus with searing focus, taking in every detail of the way Marcus arches his back and spreads his knees so Ben can push his fingers deeper, the way his toes inside of the stockings curl in response to how Ben touches him, the way the dress bunches up at his hips as he rocks them back and forth on Ben’s fingers.
“God, you look so sexy in this dress,” Ben says through gritted teeth.
“Good…” Marcus responds in a breathy voice, “I’m glad… I got it just for you.” His voice is slightly strangled, like he’s trying to hold it together but is still about to fall apart. He’s almost completely abandoned trying to blow Ben to instead focus on moving his hips back and forth to fuck himself on Ben’s fingers.
“God, I wish I had made you put on those little panties for me too,” Marcus adds, using the hand he was gripping Ben’s cock with to run his finger pads over Ben’s balls as if wishing they were confined in a pair of lacy panties.
“Still can if you want me too,” Ben offers.
“Shit, really?” Marcus pants out, steadying his movements a bit.
“Yeah, you have them here, right?” Ben pulls his fingers out of Marcus, who whines at the loss of sensation, and gets up to completely kick off his pants and go over to Marcus’ dresser. He rummages through one of the drawers where much of Marcus’ lingerie collection is. And, bingo, he pulls out the pink mesh panties. They look huge, or at least bigger than the miniature little pairs that Marcus wears. But they’re a very cute baby pink, with a little heart motif in the netting that’s patterned all over and a tiny pink bow at the top of the waistband, right above where Ben’s dick will be. He steps into them, his hard cock really pushing against the fabric, but it’s creating some interesting friction. He catches a glimpse of himself in the full length mirror, and even though he feels goofy, he’s happy to do this for his boyfriend. It’s easy to push the embarrassment aside in his mind when the reception to this get-up is so positive.
Marcus has moved to sit on the edge of the bed and is giving Ben a “come hither” motion with his finger. “God, you know I love you in these things,” Marcus says as soon as he gets his hands on Ben. He stands in front of Marcus, towering over him and looking down at him as Marcus greedily places kisses on Ben’s panties with an enthusiasm that makes it seem like Marcus could just eat him up. Ben places a hand in Marcus' hair, mussing it up even more. Marcus paws Ben over the mesh fabric while placing kisses on his lower stomach, grabbing what he can of Ben’s cock through the fabric. Then Marcus takes Ben out the panties and takes his tip in his mouth again. Ben throws his head back in pleasure. “God, Marcus, I need to fuck you. Now.”
Marcus relinquishes. “Lay down, I wanna be on top,” Marcus says with enthusiasm. Ben does as he’s told, and Marcus moves out of the way so that he can take his panties off, tosses them somewhere to be lost in the bedding, but leaves on his dress and stockings. He then helps Ben pull off his own panties, giving them a sniff just for show to gross Ben out before tossing them somewhere near his own. Marcus then goes to straddle Ben, carefully taking Ben’s cock in his hand to line his entrance up while holding up his skirts with his other hand. Ben holds Marcus’ thighs, fingers gripping into the white mesh of his stockings, offering some support as Marcus lowers himself down until he bottoms out, which they both groan at in unison. Once fully seated, Marcus leans forward to firmly place both of his hands on Ben’s chest as he begins to move his hips to fuck himself on Ben’s cock. Marcus’ face is twisted in concentration, setting a rhythm for himself.
Ben let’s go of one Marcus’ thighs to instead lift up his skirt again and grab his cock to gently stroke it, trying to time his movements with Marcus’ motions. The sight of this is mesmerizing, and Ben tries to commit every detail to his memory: from the way a few strands of Marcus’ hair are sticking to his forehead to the way the skirt bunches up around Ben’s fist where he has Marcus in his hand.
“Fuck,” Marcus pants out, “Hold on a sec.” He steadies himself and sits back, and in one motion yanks off the dress over his head to reveal the expanse of his pale chest and stomach, both of his thighs still in the white stockings bracketing Ben’s hips. Ben moves both of his hands to feel as much of the freshly exposed flesh as he can, Marcus grazing his fingers over Ben’s as his hands move over his body. Ben desperately wants to kiss every bit of Marcus that he can.
“Baby, can we switch positions?” Ben groans out. Marcus, who was probably wearing himself out, lazily nods.
They both squirm around so that Marcus can lay on this back and Ben is on top of him, wasting no time to push Marcus’ legs back, stockinged feet in the air, so that Ben can start pounding into him again.
“This is why I like it when you’re underneath me,” Ben says as he dips his head down to kiss and lick and bite at Marcus’ neck and collarbones. Marcus tosses his head back to let Ben have easier access to more skin.
“You’re so pretty, Marcus,” Ben manages, “Everything about you…” Marcus whimpers in response, throws his arms around Ben’s neck, keeping him in a particularly sensitive spot, and keeping Ben close as he continues to thrust into him.
“Tell me more, baby,” Marcus mewls out.
“You looked so pretty in that dress tonight, I almost couldn’t stand it,” Ben continues gruffly between placing small kisses across Marcus’ shoulder, “You’re just so gorgeous, baby.” Marcus lets out little “mhmm”s in return.
“And the way you sound… god, I love it,” Ben adds, moving to kiss Marcus’ jaw and chin near his parted lips.
“Oh god, I love you so much, baby, I love you so much,” Marcus whimpers out softly. He moves to face Ben, who turns his head so that their lips can meet, kissing him with heated passion. “I love you too, Marcus, I love you so fucking much,” Ben pants out between kisses. Marcus whines in response, moving to twist his fingers in Ben’s hair. “My baby,” Marcus whimpers as Ben moves to again kiss back across Marcus’ jaw and behind his ear.
By the way Marcus’ face is screwed up and the way his thighs are so tightly gripping Ben’s waist, he can tell Marcus is close. “C’mon, Marcus, come for me,” Ben coaxes, breathing in Marcus’ ear. Marcus digs his nails into the flesh of Ben’s shoulders, tightly shutting his eyes. “Look at me,” Ben says, surprisingly demanding, and Marcus does as he’s told, staring right back at Ben. And then Marcus comes, dribbling cum across himself and some on Ben. Ben takes this opportunity to pull out of Marcus, who gasps at the sudden loss of sensation. And towering above him, never losing eye contact, Ben grabs his dick and jacks-off to completion over Marcus, streaking even more cum over his stomach. Marcus relishes in the filth of it.
“You should have done that on my face,” Marcus breathes out, the ghost of a laugh in his voice. Ben chuckles softly, collapsing next to Marcus on the bed, snuggling into him a bit, closing his eyes in satisfaction. “God, you’re so gross,” Ben teases softly. “Yeah and you love it,” Marcus pokes back cheekily. Ben nods mostly to himself, smiling like an idiot, because Marcus is right and he does, he really does love it.
“Ben, you know I love how sweet you are, and I DO want to cuddle with you all night,” Marcus says in just above a whisper, “but, would you be an angel and wipe me off?”
Ben lets out another chuckle, “Right. One second.” He gets up reluctantly to go down the hall to the bathroom. Flipping on the bright, overhead lights is like a shock to his system after being in the low light of Marcus’ bedroom. Catching himself in the mirror, he sees lipstick smeared in several streaks over the bottom half of his face, across his cheeks, as well as several other lip prints that are still clear on his chest and shoulders. He laughs to himself. Marcus really was something else , he thinks, turning his head to inspect the smears of makeup Marcus has left in little swatches across Ben’s chin and down his neck, an abstract map tracing where his lips had been. Based on the fact that there’s not much lipstick or lipgloss left on his own lips, he can imagine that Marcus’ neck and jaw are looking similar right now.
After getting a damp washcloth, Ben returns to Marcus’ room to find him peeling off his white thigh high stockings: “Sorry, these were getting annoying.”
Ben shakes his head to himself, and sitting on the edge of the bed, gently reaches over and wipes lipstick remnants off of Marcus' face with a corner of the washcloth, and then wipes cum off of his stomach. Marcus returns Ben the favor.
“Thanks, babe,” Ben says, taking the washcloth back, “for everything really.”
“For everything?”
“Yeah… I mean wiping me off and for you know… being a good partner.”
Marcus lets out a little satisfied hum, “Of course. You know I would do anything for you. I love you.”
Ben leans towards Marcus, brushing a small, stray strand of Marcus’ hair behind his ear, “I love you too,” then gives him a peck on the cheek.
By the time Ben has taken the washcloth back to the bathroom and returned, Marcus is curled up under the comforter, making himself small amongst the bedding. Ben crawls in beside him after flipping off the lamp, guiding Marcus to lay on his chest.
“Do you want pancakes in the morning?” Marcus murmurs out, his voice muffled due to his face being partially turned in towards Ben.
“What was that?”
“Pancakes. I’ll make you pancakes in the morning,” still just above a mumble.
“Oh… you know you don’t have to keep up the housewife thing. I know we didn’t really do it all tonight but—“
“No, it’s not about that. I’m just thinking I want to make you breakfast in the morning is all.” Marcus has picked up his head a bit, and Ben can see that he has a little smile on his face beneath his half-lidded, sleepy eyes. The devilish sexfiend that Marcus was not even 15 minutes ago has entirely faded into a much more tender, sensitive version of himself, entirely content to just snuggle. To be entirely honest with himself, this is the Marcus that Ben prefers, even if he loves every version of Marcus unwaveringly and unconditionally.
“Oh. Ok, yeah. That would be nice.” Ben replies lovingly, “Chocolate chip?” he adds, half kidding. Marcus lets out one small laugh through his nose, gently nodding a yes. Ben cranes his neck down to give Marcus one last kiss before he settles his head back on Ben’s chest, and shifts so that his body molds perfectly next to Ben’s. It’s always surprising to him how Marcus can do that, and how they fit together so well so effortlessly. Within minutes, Ben can tell that Marcus has drifted off to sleep, and he follows suit not long after.