Work Text:
Mario had never felt so viscerally loyal to anyone in his entire life before Peach. At least not in this way, where he would do anything to please her. He’d prostrate himself before her, devote his entire self to her, wring himself dry until there was nothing left, just to make her feel good. Which was how he found himself sitting at her feet, touching himself for her entertainment while she watched with a sharp, hungry stare.
It was weird at first, neither of them knowing quite what to do after Peach made the initial suggestion. She wanted to watch him pleasure himself—a simple enough request, until they actually tried it. They undressed and stared at one another, and what would, under normal circumstances, quickly become a heated encounter became quiet and uncomfortable as Mario awkwardly grabbed at himself. He was suddenly struck with a feeling of embarrassment. While both of them were unclothed, he somehow felt so much more exposed and vulnerable, and he wasn’t sure what to do next.
Peach had noticed, and he had seen the shift in her expression as she squared her shoulders and took charge, as she was known to do. A sly smile graced her lips as she sat in a nearby armchair and calmly crossed her legs. She gestured to the space on the floor before her.
“On your knees.”
Mario was fully committed after that, a pulse of heat going straight to his groin as he sat himself in front of her. He’d do anything for her; all she had to do was demand it.
He fisted his cock languidly, wrist twisting with every smooth glide up his length. He wanted to give her a good show, to make this as pleasing for her as it was for him, but it was hard to concentrate on much of anything when she was clearly trying to drive him insane. She sat with her legs crossed at the thighs, head tilted a bit like she was lost in thought. She looked so casual, as if they weren’t both currently naked and yearning for something feral. Peach ran her own hands gingerly across her body as she watched him, fingertips brushing up her stomach and grazing her nipples. She arched slightly under her own touch. Each time her eyes fell to his cock, she bit her lower lip.
“Slower,” Peach ordered lightly. Mario hadn’t even realized he’d sped up. He took a deep breath and forced his hand to loosen around himself, pumping slower as requested. His thumb brushed over his head, gathering a slick drop of precum to ease his strokes, and he saw her chest rise with a sharp intake of breath.
Peach uncrossed her legs, movements intentional when she saw his eyes snap down to her center. She parted her legs enough for him to see her pussy, and he was close enough that he could see the slick that had gathered and spread across the insides of her thighs. He was close enough that he could lean forward and taste her if we wanted, press his tongue inside of her and lap at the glistening folds. He swallowed thickly and glanced up at her.
“Hands to yourself,” she said, as if reading his mind. Her hand reached down in between her legs, and she smirked as her fingers spread herself open for him to see better.
“You’re not playing fair,” he groaned. His cock twitched under his palm, the memory of her taste coating his tongue and making him feel dizzy. He could spend hours between those legs—had spent hours there, many times.
“You want to see unfair?” Peach got a glint in her eye that made Mario both nervous and excited. She dipped a finger inside of herself, mouth falling open as she let out a soft breath. Mario found himself mirroring the action, his mouth agape as he watched her finger thrust deeper. “Faster,” she said.
“What?” Mario tore his eyes away from her fingers. Peach’s gaze bore into him with an eagerness that made his stomach flip.
“Stroke yourself faster,” she ordered.
He didn’t need to be told twice. Mario gripped himself more firmly and sped up. Peach quickly matched his pace, adding another finger and thrusting into herself along with his strokes while her other hand moved to rub small circles on her clit. The wet sound of her filled the space between them, and Mario couldn’t help but imagine himself in place of her fingers, cock buried in her wet heat. She was always perfect around him, walls gripping him tightly to pull him in closer while they fucked. Her legs would wrap around his hips when they came closer to finishing, so he’d have nowhere to go but deeper, nowhere to cum but directly inside of her.
Mario’s breath hitched, a tight feeling curling in his abdomen. His strokes became shallower, focused on the head of his cock, precum slicking up his hand. He grasped tighter, desperate for friction, desperate to chase the growing pressure in his gut, desperate for release. He looked at Peach’s face, seeing the tension in her pinched brow. She was close, too. They were going to cum together, without even touching each other.
“Stop.”
Peach’s order almost didn’t register. Mario blinked, hand stuttering clumsily through another few strokes.
“Stop,” Peach repeated, “now.”
Mario removed his hand, though not without a whine crawling up his throat at the loss. His orgasm, so close to peaking, bubbled for a moment at the base of his cock before fading, leaving a dense, disappointing pressure in its wake. He groaned in frustration, pouting at Peach, but she wasn’t paying attention.
She was still touching herself.
Her hands sped up again, fingers thrusting deeper into her pussy while her others pressed harder on her clit. She clipped out a breathy moan, sparing him one last self-satisfied look before throwing her head back and arching slightly from her seat as she reached her own orgasm. Her hands stilled, and Mario could see the muscles in her thighs twitching with pleasure, see the way her cunt pulsed rhythmically around her fingers, and he grunted at the thought of being buried inside of her so he could feel it. His cock throbbed between his legs, bouncing slightly as it tensed. He felt precum dripping freely onto his thigh.
Peach came down slowly, eventually relaxing back into her seat. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she caught her breath. She pulled her fingers free from herself with a wet sound, staring at the glistening digits for a moment before resting her eyes back on Mario. She beckoned him forward, patting her other hand gently on her thigh.
“Come here,” she ordered.
Mario nearly tripped over himself in his haste to crawl into her lap, settling his legs on either side of her thighs and resting his hands on her shoulders to keep himself steady. She brought her fingers to his lips, and he parted them instantly, eagerly sucking them into his mouth and lapping at the cum. The sharp taste on his tongue drew another moan from his chest.
When her fingers were clean, Peach withdrew them from his mouth. Her hands found his hips and pulled them flush against her own, his cock held between her and the fat of his own stomach. Her finger touched his chin lightly, tilting his head up to look him in the eye.
“Don’t move.”
Mario nodded, because that was all he could manage to do at this point.
Peach leaned in, lips ghosting over his own for just a moment before trailing down his jaw. She nosed his head to the side to display his neck, and Mario gasped as her mouth found purchase against his throat. Her lips closed in around the soft flesh, sucking gently. She focused on one area, sucking until he felt a tender bruise forming under her lips, then she would pull off with a soft pop and move on to another spot. This went on a few times, her lips traveling across the expanse of his neck, back and forth between each side, until she found a particularly sensitive spot just above the artery on his throat. She gently took the skin between her teeth and sucked hard, more intensely than with the others. Mario whimpered, the sensation catching him off guard, as heat pooled in between his legs. On instinct, he ground himself against her, relishing the friction against his needy cock.
It didn’t last long. Peach let go of his throat and her hands found his hips again, stilling his movement.
“What did I say?” she asked. Mario felt his cock twitch where it was held between them, more precum leaking out to coat their stomachs. When she didn’t continue, he realized she actually wanted a reply. He huffed quietly.
“Don’t move,” he repeated her order.
“Exactly,” she murmured. Her hand reached under his chin to lift him up again so he could look her in the eye. She tsked softly. “I can’t let you get away with disobeying a direct order now, can I?” A whimper crept up his throat without thinking, and he saw an amused look flash in Peach’s expression. He didn’t know what kind of punishment she had in mind, but his brain was growing fuzzy with need. His cock was throbbing, the pressure between his thighs becoming almost painful. Part of him worried she wouldn’t let him cum at all.
“Please,” he whined, resisting every urge he had in his body to grind against her again. He could be good. He could listen.
“Please, what?” Peach asked innocently. The amusement was clear as day on her face now. She loved this, when he got to the point of desperation, of begging her for something.
“I want to cum,” he said. “I need to cum, please.”
Peach hummed thoughtfully, and a spike of fear shot through him that she really might not let him. “Fine,” she settled, and sense of relief washed over him. “But,” she added, running her fingers through his hair. She played with the locks absently, a devious smile tilting her lips. “Since you weren’t patient enough to wait for permission, you don’t get to use your hands anymore.” Mario frowned, raising an eyebrow. “You were eager enough before to rub against me like a dog in heat. If you’re still so desperate to cum, then go ahead and do it again.”
Mario felt his cheeks heat at her words. The hand at his hip loosened, allowing him to move, and he realized with a start that she was completely serious. Embarrassed, he tucked his face away between her shoulder and neck. It was humiliating, even the idea of rubbing against her to get off, like he was a hormone-addled teenager humping against his sheets uncontrollably. She was beautiful and graceful and a princess, and here he was, trying to use her like a dirty rag. He felt the tips of his ears burning with the thought.
But he also really wanted to cum.
Tentatively, he thrust his hips up against her. The pleasure was intense, relief pulsing through his body.
“Good boy,” Peach praised.
That was all it took.
Mario groaned into her shoulder, rocking his hips against her. He had leaked enough precum to slick up their skin so that every slide of his cock between their stomachs was smooth. He didn’t care if it was dirty or desperate, the embarrassment fading away as he chased his climax. The friction was delicious, every stroke of his hips sending a wave of carnal pleasure through his body so intense that he couldn’t focus on anything else. Distantly, he was aware of Peach’s hands finding purchase on his hips again, pressing into the fatty flesh and urging him to grind harder, faster, against her.
“Please,” he begged. He wasn’t sure what he was asking for, or why. He felt a tightening in his abdomen, the pressure peaking. “I need to cum,” he whined. The movement in his hips became erratic and frantic, the sensations overwhelming him and removing all semblance of control he had left.
Peach leaned in beside his face, so close he could feel her warm breath tickle against the shell of his ear. “Then cum,” she ordered.
A moan ripped from Mario’s throat as his orgasm hit, her permission sending him over the edge. His hips gave halted, stuttering jolts as he chased the last bit of friction he could, his cock throbbing as he shot his load, the cum catching between their bodies. He grunted with each pulse, rubbing distractedly against her with every twitch of his cock. He stilled as it bordered on overstimulation, waiting for the sensation to stop and the pleasure to work its way through his body. He panted against her shoulder.
When he came down, he felt Peach’s hands running gently up and down his back. He sat up in her lap unsteadily and sighed in relief, his body buzzing pleasantly under his skin.
“You made a bigger mess than usual,” Peach mused, looking down. Mario’s eyes followed hers—she was right. They were both covered in a heavy coat of semen and precum, the thick mess dripping down their stomachs and onto the chair.
“Well, you were meaner than usual,” Mario shot back.
“Oh, I was not,” Peach argued.
They shared a smile, and it was Peach that gently pushed him off her so they could go clean up. In the bathroom, Mario wet a rag with warm water, gently wiping the front of Peach clean first, swiping against her skin delicately and cleaning the insides of her thighs of her own slick. She took the rag from him and returned the favor, careful of his still-sensitive cock.
When they finished cleaning, Peach turned them, so they faced the mirror. She stood behind him and rested her chin over his head. Her hands came up to his jaw, tilting his face to the side to reveal his throat, which was covered in deep, purple bruises. She looked at them proudly, fingers ghosting over the marks.
“I have a meeting with Toadsworth in the morning,” Mario said.
The look of horror that spread on Peach’s face was comical. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She gasped. “We can cover them. Do you have something with a high neckline? We can get makeup in your color, or—” She cut herself off when she realized Mario was laughing. “You don’t have a meeting with him, do you?”
“No,” Mario admitted, grinning proudly when she smacked him lightly in the arm. “Payback,” he explained, “for being mean.”
“Oh, I’m going to show you mean next time,” Peach threatened. “Mark my words.”
He knew she would, but he wasn’t sure he minded in the slightest. They wound their arms together and moved back into the bedroom to dress and settle in for the night. Maybe she’d be meaner next time—maybe he’d come to regret playfully egging her on—but for now, wrapped in each other’s arms, he was happy and relaxed.