Work Text:
This was the last straw.
Marty had come home, or at least he had tried to come home, only to find his apartment completely barren. He gaped at the empty rooms, totally devoid of all of his belongings. For a moment he wondered if he had somehow entered the wrong apartment but in the next (somewhat hysterical) breath he took, he could scent Lausenschlange.
Mason.
His eyes narrowed and then he went storming up the stairs, bursting into Mason’s apartment like some sort of madman. Mason looked up from the couch, weatherman on the television going on about the rain. He seemed utterly surprised by Marty’s arrival, starting to stand while Marty looked wildly about. His stuff wasn’t here; Mason must have thrown it all out.
“What-?” Mason began and Marty slammed the door shut hard enough to make the door frame rattle. The loud noise cut Mason off and the man just eyed Marty warily as Marty stalked over to him.
“You-! You-!” he was shaking with rage, pointed one angry finger at him. “I’ve had enough!”
Mason blinked, held his hands up in a calming gesture but Marty ignored it.
“You keep telling me what to do and I do it. You tell me who to talk to, and I listen. You tell me when I can go out, what I should eat, what mechanic to go to! And I do it! Every single thing! I even stopped emailing Natalie because it bothered you so much!”
And that was true, Mason hadn’t come outright and forbidden him from contact with Natalie. He had simply sulked for hours every time Marty brought her up. Marty paced the living room, filled with so much angry energy he couldn’t keep still.
“It’s like you don’t trust me to take care of myself. I’ve taken care of myself up to now, you know. I’m capable of it. I own my own shop, I run my own business, I have for years. I am fully capable of making my own decisions!”
He ranted on.
“You keep making these decisions for me and it has to stop! I’m a grown man, Mason, not your pet. I am capable of living my own life. You can’t just sweep in and decide things for me without asking me a damn thing. It’s like you expect me to do whatever you say!”
When Mason began to protest, Marty cut him off.
“No! You listen! It’s your turn to listen! I’m going to speak and you’re going to do what I say for once!”
His rant abruptly lost steam as it suddenly hit him that he was screaming all these things at a Lausenschlange. A Lausenschlange. Mason was a killer, Marty knew this for a fact and here he was, screaming at the man like he was a harmless Mauzhertz.
He was cringing, torn between running for the door or curling himself into the tiniest ball possible. Those two conflicting instincts left him doing nothing at all, and he risked a glance at Mason’s face, to gauge his fury. Mason was staring at him, eyes dark and the look on his face was intense, if unreadable. Marty had seen his rage before, focused on other people, and this was not it.
It calmed him slightly and his shoulders that had hunched up to near around his ears, straightened. Mason’s eyes tracked the movement, gaze sweeping down Marty’s body. It caused a low feeling in Marty’s belly, one that was usually a prelude to sex. He cocked his head to one side, really took in Mason’s expression.
Mason’s eyes were dark, but with lust Marty realized with a jolt, his pheromones flooding the air. Marty tipped his head up, sniffed at the air with a quivering nose and Mason groaned low in his chest. He took a step towards Marty but when Marty held out a hand, immediately stopped.
Mason’s hands were curling and uncurling along his sides. Those hands had killed, yes, but they had killed for Marty.
That wild fear in his chest subsided, his fight or flight response dwindling to practically nothing. A little bit of the fear remained but that was normal, he was a Mauzhertz dealing with a Lausenschlange after all. Some things went bone deep. He was used to that frisson of fear, after months of being with Mason.
That might have been what attracted him in the first place, he thought ruefully. Out of all the timid mice in Portland, he had gone chasing after a Lausenschlange. It probably said something about his personality.
“No.” Marty managed to squeak out. “You do what I tell you.”
He half-expected Mason to laugh then, to smirk down at him but he didn’t. Merely waited patiently, body tense with anticipation. Marty swallowed past his dry throat and stuttered out,
“T-take off your shirt.”
Mason began to unbutton his cuffs, never taking his eyes off of Marty as he stripped his shirt off and dropped it on the floor. Emboldened, Marty went on.
“Now your pants.”
Same thing, Mason undoing his fly and kicking off his trousers, eyes trained intently on Mason.
“Underwear.”
His boxers went the same way as his pants and Marty licked his lips at the sight. Mason, naked in his living room, all muscle and skin, half-hard cock stirring to life in front of him. It made Marty want to go to him, touch him all over and press his body into his but snapped himself out of it. He was angry. Right.
He drew himself up, tried to keep himself from trembling and his voice steady.
“Touch yourself.” It didn’t come out quite like an order, voice too uneven but Mason still did as told, one hand reaching down to rub at the base of his cock. Mason liked things slow, liked to drag it out and Marty watched, rapt, as Mason trailed his fingers along his own length. Mason did that to Marty all the time, barely there touches that would have Marty sobbing and begging almost instantly.
He had always thought it was just another way for Mason to exert his control but apparently that was just the way he liked to do it, judging by the way he was touching himself. Images ran through Marty’s head, of Mason alone in bed, legs splayed as he kept himself on the edge for hours.
Oh.
He fumbled for his zipper, hissing softly as he eased his hard cock out from his fly. He fisted himself with little finesse, getting caught up in the pleasure before a low aching moan from Mason caught his attention. He looked up to find Mason still slowly pumping into his own fist, lips parted as he watched Marty do the same.
An idea bloomed in his mind and before he could catch himself he said,
“Kneel in front of me.”
Mason moved instantly, snake-fast, on his knees in front of Marty before Marty could even be dumbfounded by his own audacity. Marty’s breath was coming in quick, shallow pants as he stared down at Mason. He licked his lips, grabbed the base of his cock and pointed it at Mason’s mouth.
“Suck me.” he said, voice trembling only a little and Mason’s eyes flared hotly even as he leaned forward and wrapped his mouth around the head of Marty’s cock. Oh, his mouth. Warm and wet, sucking Marty without a hint of hesitation. Marty’s cock, half-hard, swelled even more in Mason’s mouth, sliding down his throat so easily.
It made Marty bite back a whimper, rocking up on his heels to work even deeper in Mason’s throat. He brought his hands to clench at Mason’s ears, tugging hard back and forth. Mason let him, followed Marty’s pace without complaint.
Marty could feel his orgasm closing in on him so he pulled back, stumbling away from Mason’s voracious mouth. Mason twitched, as if to catch him and Marty managed a glare, even as he fought to catch his breath.
“Don’t move.”
He shut his eyes for a few seconds, struggling to get himself under control. He didn’t want to come too soon, didn’t want this to end. Ordering Mason around was such an illicit pleasure, so different from what they usually did. He wanted to make this last.
He made another snap decision.
“Into the bedroom.”
Mason stood obediently and followed Marty into the bedroom. The bed was still unmade, smelling like the both of them. Their mingled scents comforted Marty, tapped into something deep inside him. An animal sort of pleasure that he didn’t have human words for. He turned to look at Mason over his shoulder, trailing one hand along the rucked up sheets of their bed.
Marty wanted Mason inside of him.
They had done that a few times, Marty on his back while Mason slid slowly and carefully into him. Marty loved it, taking Mason inside him but was always incredibly sore the next day; Mason was big and Marty was little, that was all. He didn’t mind the discomfort one bit. It was worth it.
But after watching Marty wince and walk gingerly about the day after, Mason had put a stop to it. Every time Marty had tried to coax him inside, Mason had simply distracted him with his mouth or hands and it was only in the aftermath, drowsy and satiated, that Marty had realized that Mason had made all the decisions again.
This time would be different.
Mason was tracking his movement with the eyes of a predator but Marty ignored it as he walked over to the nightstand where they kept the lube. He tossed the lube on the bed and began stripping, taking his clothes off quickly and efficiently, ignoring Mason’s audible breathing. Then he climbed on to the bed, settling back against the head board.
He brought his knees up and then spread them, canting his hips a little.
“Get me ready.” He tried to make his voice as imperious as possible and mostly succeeded. Mason climbed up on the bed, picked up the tube of slick and put some on his fingers. Marty sucked in a breath, spread his legs wider, watching as Mason’s hand moved towards him.
At the first brush of his fingers, Marty moaned, dropped his head back and shut his eyes. Mason pressed one finger in, rubbing at his opening and Marty moved one hand to hold his balls up and out of the way. It made Mason hiss, snake noise only turning Marty on more.
“Two fingers.” he said abruptly, desperate for more. Mason complied, two fingers working in and out. He scissored his fingers, made Marty whine and squirm. It wasn’t the best position for this but Marty wouldn’t move for the world. Mason kneeling between his spread legs, face serious and focused as he stretched Marty out.
The only sound was their heavy breathing, the slick wet noises of Mason getting Marty ready. Marty should feel vulnerable, pressed up against the headboard. Knees spread and exposed while Mason was not. But he didn’t. He felt powerful, watching Mason watch him, eyes avid and hot.
A pause for more lube and at Marty’s command a third finger for a few minutes more before Marty was pushing Mason’s hand impatiently away.
“I’m ready.” he said, getting off the bed and turning to look at Mason still crouched on the sheets. Sweat slicked his skin, made it gleam and he couldn’t help but run one palm over the curve of Mason’s spine and shoulder.
"On your back." he said, no hint of timidity in his voice. He was getting into the swing of things and Mason did as told, lying back on the bed. His cock, thick and angry looking, jutted out before him, bobbing slightly as he settled. Marty stared down at him for a few minutes, taking in the sight of his lover. Mason was stocky, muscular, hard where Marty was soft, big where he was small. At night, when they slept, the curve of Mason’s body was the perfect place to curl up and sleep.
“Don’t move.” he warned and waited until Mason nodded. Then he climbed carefully on top of Mason, reaching back with one hand to steady the other man’s cock. He slid down, inch by inch, not bothering to hide his high-pitched whimpers. Mason’s cheeks were ruddy and he was taking deep breaths as if desperate to control himself.
When Marty was finally seated, he sighed and rocked his hips slightly, just to remind himself of how wonderful it felt, to be filled with Mason. Then he leaned back, placing the palms of his hands on Mason’s knees and began to work himself up and down.
He started slow, lifting up only an inch or so before dropping back down, listening to the raw noises of their bodies moving together. He was cooing without meaning to, every time he moved downward made a soft noise of pure pleasure. Each little noise made Mason’s hips jerk up slightly, as if it were an uncontrolled movement.
Desperate for him, Marty thought through his haze of pleasure.
Suddenly, he wanted a different angle, pulling himself up to brace himself on Mason’s shoulders. He rolled his entire body, nearly pulling off of Mason’s cock before dropping down. He was moaning loudly now, uncaring if the neighbors could hear him, too blissed out to give a damn.
Mason's fingers were twitching.
"On my hips." Marty managed to gasp. "Hands on my hips."
Mason moved instantly, big strong hands grasping Marty, fingers digging into his skin. He made to lift Marty up, to move him faster and Marty shook his head.
"No." Mason's arms froze. "You can only touch. That's all."
Mason subsided and Marty went back to controlling the pace, Mason’s hands spanning across his waist. He was petting Marty, massaging his thumbs into his skin. Touching, stroking but following Marty’s orders.
“Can I talk?” Mason choked out, the first words he’d said since it all began. It honestly surprised Marty, who nodded. He hadn’t even realized Mason would want permission for that but the idea that he had stayed silent all this time without it, made him shove down harder.
“Yes.” he breathed and Mason’s hips jerked.
Mason instantly started up a steady stream of filthy words, telling Marty how tight he was, how perfect. How he could fuck Marty all day and never get tired of it. Mason had always been a talker, since the first time they made love. Marty wasn’t even sure how much of what Mason said he was actually aware of. In any other man, it could be considered babble, but in Mason’s low dark tones, it became something lascivious and raw.
It made Marty fuck himself faster on Mason’s cock, Mason’s body rocking with his until they found a frantic rhythm. Marty leaned down, kissed Mason’s moving mouth, swallowing his words down his throat. When he came he pulled his mouth away so he could bite Mason’s shoulder, muffling his cry into Mason’s skin, his come splashing between their bellies.
Mason groaned, hands on his waist tightening to the point of pain and it only made Marty’s pleasure hike higher. And then Mason was coming, grinding his body up into Marty’s as his own orgasm went through him. Marty collapsed on top of him, Mason’s arms going around his body to hug him close as his cock continued to jerk deep inside him.
Mason was always at his most tactile after sex, wrapping himself around Marty as if to keep him there forever. Marty would often wake with their legs tangled together and Mason’s arms firmly twined with his. Eventually, Mason’s hold relaxed and Marty slid off of him to tuck against his side.
“I have no idea what brought that on,” Mason said, voice throaty and awed. “But it needs to happen more often.”
His words were like a bucket of cold water and Marty pulled away from his arms. Mason frowned, reached out for him but Marty smacked at his hands, upset.
“My stuff.” his voice wavered and he stopped, flushing with shame. Mason was staring at him, face blank as if he had no idea what Marty was on about. “You got rid of my stuff.”
“I didn’t throw your stuff away.” Mason exclaimed, looking pissed. “I’m not an asshole.”
Marty sat up, agitated.
“Then where is it? It’s not here.”
Mason glared at him and then dropped his eyes, suddenly looking vaguely uneasy.
“It’s in our apartment.” he muttered, nearly under his breath and Marty blinked.
“No, it isn’t. My stuff isn’t here.”
Mason dragged his eyes to his face, attempting a glare but all he really looked was uncertain. Marty had never seen Mason uncertain.
“The three bedroom on the top floor was free. I rented it out so we could move in together. All your stuff is already up there.”
Marty gaped at him, watching as a flush spread slowly across Mason’s cheeks.
“You moved us in together?”
Mason shrugged.
“See? This is what I meant! You just make these decisions without asking me!”
Mason mumbled something.
“What?”
“I said, I was afraid you’d say no.”
“I-“ That brought Marty up short. Mason, worried about their relationship? Mason, afraid that Marty would leave? He shut his eyes as the knowledge crashed over him. Oh, it would be like Mason to just forge ahead like a bull in a china shop instead of risking being rejected.
The man had pursued Marty for months without ever actually coming on to him, after all. It had been up to Marty to kiss him first. His anger left him, made him reach out and cup Mason’s jaw.
“Of course I wouldn’t say no.” he told his lover softly. “But I still need you to ask me before you do this kind of stuff. This is our life we’re talking about. I get a say in it too, okay?”
Mason nuzzled his hand before rolling over to bury his face in Marty’s stomach.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it bothered you. I won’t do it again.”
Marty liked to think that after nearly a year together, he could tell when Mason was being sincere and when he was just lying to get his way. Everything, from the mournful tone in his voice to the slump of his shoulders said he meant his apology. Marty sighed, petting his fingers through Mason’s hair.
“And maybe I should have spoken up.” he conceded. “Next time, we both have to talk it out, okay?”
Mason nodded, pressing a sweet kiss to Mason’s skin. Marty wiggled down until they were face to face to press his own soft kiss to Mason’s mouth.
“We’ll go look at the apartment tomorrow.” he decided, giving Mason a little nip in warning. “If I like it, then we move in. If not, we go apartment hunting together.”
“Sounds good.” Mason murmured, eyes already closing in sleep. Marty snorted, nuzzled under his chin and settled in for a nap.
They had a busy day tomorrow.