Work Text:
Steven trembles slightly at the drag of his fist. He chews the soft flesh of his lower lip while watching the foggy figure of his reflection in the steamy bathroom mirror. Marc isn't in there looking right now, but Steven can't shake the nerves that there is someone with their eyes on him. It's not his fault he thought too hard about Layla touching him, and how good it felt to kiss her, or how she manhandled him with the harness straps-
" Fuck. "
His cock throbs against his palm. He tried so hard to ignore it during his shower, and he hoped it would fade if he didn't give it attention; however, every thought wandered to Layla, then to Marc, and to how badly Steven needed to touch himself. It's been a while, after all, and for the last weeks, he's been more focused on everything falling apart around him, saving the world and whatnot, far too busy to jack off.
The shower did good in clearing his body of the grime, but his mind is still filled with filth. He feels her fingers. They accidentally brushed against his bulge once or twice, and those brief touches felt like heaven. He eventually gave in to the perverted ideas in his mind, the images of Layla's beautifully sculpted body laid out before him, and hunched over the sink in defeat to get it over with.
Steven doesn't intend to draw it out, but the fast strokes he begins with bring pained whimpers up in his throat, and he can't take it. He accepts the fate of slow, gentle strokes as pleasure continues to build inside. It's agonizing in just the right way and his legs are getting weak. He continues to chew his lip raw, eyes fluttering closed, as moans slip past the crack and fall through the air.
"Steven?" Marc's voice startles Steven. He lets go of himself and stutters out sounds of surprise.
He makes eye contact with the man in the mirror, swallowing his panic to speak, "I'm just taking care of business."
Steven forces a laugh into his voice, and it comes off flat.
"'Business'?" Marc asks with a curious raise of his eyebrow.
Steven nods, reaching for the towel hung on the wall. He scrambles around the little hotel bathroom, trying to quickly cover himself with his bedclothes, but Marc's constant watching makes it very hard to focus. He trips over his dirty hoodie and drops his trousers four times before he can pull them halfway up his thighs.
“You don't need to pack up and go on my account,” Marc says softly.
Steven inhales a sharp breath, breathing in the remaining moisture floating around the little room. His thoughts spin wildly, bringing a tremble to his chin as he considers the meaning of his alter’s words.
“I can’t just ignore you looking at me like that now, can I?” Steven whines.
Marc’s lip twitches. Steven blinks, contorting his face as he desperately tries to read the room. He can’t, and he frowns with further confusion. Marc's tongue darts out, a teasing tip of pink moving for just a moment, causing Steven's cock to twitch with the thought of how that tongue would feel – or taste – dancing alongside his own.
"You could ignore me, yeah, or," Marc's eyes darken, "I could help you out."
Steven nods before he can think. His head bobs in time with the sway of his cock as it dribbles precum onto the cold tile floor and he steps right back out of his trousers. Without thinking, Steven wraps his fist around his length again and begins to stroke it, slowly, watching Marc as his eyes travel lower and lower down on Steven's body. He follows the little droplets of water that fell from his wet curls and trailed their way down to his navel.
"You're so good, so perfect, I could watch you forever," Marc whispers.
Steven shivers, aware of Marc's presence pressed against his body. He allows his eyes to fall shut again, and in his mind he sees Marc, just as naked as he is, pressed against his back. He sees Marc's hands wrapping around his waist. They graze over the damp expanse of his skin, and Steven moans at the feeling.
When Steven opens his eyes for a moment, the feeling is gone. He whimpers at the loss, so desperate to be touched. It is like a physical pain to have Marc's hands no longer ghosting along his skin, and Steven needs it back.
"Please, Marc," Steven begs, looking into the mirror, "Please, I need it back, I need–"
Marc soothes Steven, whispering again, "I will, I will, you just keep touching baby, and close your eyes again."
Steven shuts his eyes tight, raising his shoulders into a closed-off stance. His hand continues to slowly move along his length. It feels so far away, so underwhelming when Steven knows the pleasure of Marc's ghosting hands.
A familiar sensation sparks in the air while Steven is distracted, and he nearly opens his eyes, but there's fabric forming in front of them, and it wraps tightly around his head, leaving him blind. Steven frowns, removing his fist from his cock, and in a beat that hand is entrapped in the fabric, pulling it away from his body.
"What are you doing, Marc?" Steven says finally. His voice cracks embarrassingly with his anxiety. He refuses to open his eyes and break this delusion.
Marc remains silent as the fabric binds Steven's other hand at an equal distance from his body. He sways, but they keep him upright and spread down to his ankles. Steven startles with a squeak as he is lifted barely off the ground, stuck in place by the magical strands of sacred fabric.
"Just relax, Steven, I've got you," Marc purrs into Steven's ears, and once again, Steven can feel his breath, hot and wet, against his skin.
"It'd be a little easier if I wasn't stuck like this, wouldn't it?" Steven jokes, trying to sound less uncomfortable than he is.
"Little Steven says otherwise," Marc teases.
Steven blushes, blatantly ignoring the way his cock twitches.
"I know what you want, Steven, I know what you like." Marc runs his hands over Steven's chest, so gentle it tickles him, and Steven arches into it desperately.
"You've been peeking in– hhng –in on my thoughts, mate?" Steven asks, barely holding it together as Marc continues to touch and explore his front.
"You think so loud," Marc argues.
Steven considers defending himself, but it isn't worth it. He doesn't want to talk about how loud he thinks, he wants to think less – no, he needs to think less.
"I've got you," Marc repeats, and Steven feels himself relaxing in Marc’s arms, stronger than his even with the same body.
His hands run lower, tracing the sharp contours of Steven's body that Marc worked so hard for. He grazes through the neatly trimmed path of hair below Steven's navel and lowers on still until Steven is pushing for Marc's hand to touch him, but he doesn't. Marc's hands stay just centimeters away from Steven's leaking cock until Steven is writhing. He strains against the fabric keeping his hands in place, and he inevitably admits defeat, begging with a quivering lip for Marc to touch.
"You need it so bad, don't you Steven?" Marc says after he's satisfied with his silent torture.
His hands remain firmly on Steven's hips with both thumbs teasing so close to the base of his cock.
"I do," Steven confirms with another shudder.
Marc inches closer with one hand.
"I need it," Steven gasps, encouraged by the touch.
"You need me."
Steven whimpers, his cock giving another sad jump towards the graze of Marc's fingers.
"I need you," he whispers, but his voice cracks louder, "I need you to touch me, please Marc, please!"
Marc sighs and Steven swears it's against his ear again.
"Well done," Marc praises, taking his hand off Steven's hip.
Marc trails the pad of his finger along the underside of Steven's angry, red cock, before he can complain, drawing a half pleasure, half disappointment sound from Steven's throat. His thumb smears the slick precum over the head, running it around the sensitive bulb, before dragging along the same path his first finger took. Steven pulls at his restraints, digging it into the flesh of his wrists, but he can't care about anything other than the feeling of Marc touching him.
"You're so pretty, all tied up for me, like a present baby," Marc comments, wrapping his hand around Steven's cock.
It's warm and tight and just what Steven needs. He moans, open-mouthed and shameless, pushing into the feeling. Marc strokes slowly, using Steven's own precum to wet his cock. The more he strokes, the more it spills, running down to meet the edge of Marc's hand where he can slide through it again and again while listening to Steven.
"And you sound so good, god you sound good…" Marc trails off at the end, twisting his wrist just right as his strokes gain speed.
Steven bites his lip, and his body shakes as he continues to thrust into Marc's fist. Steven can feel his pleasure as it grows, bringing him quickly closer to his end.
"I can't imagine how good you would sound on my cock, baby," Marc growls, hot breath tickling against Steven’s ear again.
That does it. Steven cries out as his body tenses up and his cock pulses in Marc's hand, spurting thick streams of cum onto the bathroom mirror. He chokes out Marc's name just before he's done, eyes rolling back with the overwhelming pleasure.
Marc takes the body before it falls as the fabric flutters away. Meanwhile, Steven, dazed from pleasure, replaces him in the mirror. They both sway.
"You put on quite the show," Marc breathes into the glass as he finds balance on the sink. Steven had cum so hard it got onto their face.
"That was…" Steven trails off, unable to find anything to say for once.
"I know," Marc agrees, not needing Steven to voice a single thing.
His legs feel like jelly, and Steven looks so pretty in the mirror with cum running down his face. Marc doesn't know the words to say either, but he feels Steven's contentedness warm with his own, and that’s more than enough.