Star's boot slammed into the heavy wooden door, bursting it open. She entered with her wand at the ready, aiming it at the built warrior and the horned scissor enforcer. “HEKAPOO! Where's Marco?” she yelled.
“Unhand me, beautiful stranger!” Star yelped. The ruggedly handsome man's muscular arms had pulled her into an enveloping hug, trapping her arms at her sides. She squirmed in his grasp, unable to break free. “How do you know my name?” She could feel the restrained power of his embrace, and despite not knowing who he was she stopped struggling. Her fingers loosened and let her wand clatter to the stone floor. Somehow she knew that whoever he was, he wouldn't hurt her.
“It's me, Star! Marco!” The gravelly voice was all wrong. Star looked up at him from where her cheek was pressed against his rock hard abs, taking in all the little details she had missed in his rush across the ruined forge to embrace her. His tousled mouse brown hair, roughly cut in the same style. The small beauty mark underneath his tearful hazel eyes, the tattered remains of a red hoodie draped over his broad shoulders. It was Marco. She didn't know how he had changed this much in only a few minutes, but it was Marco. She glanced at where Hekapoo had stood moments ago, intending to demand an explination, but she had vanished.
“I've missed you so much, Star. I thought I was never going to see you again.” His grip shifted, hands sliding under her armpits and lifting her up so that their faces were level. He'd gotten so strong, she could tell that it took him barely any effort to hold her up. She instinctively threw her arms around his neck, holding herself up as first one hand and then the other repositioned itself, grasping her thighs and guiding them around his waist. She hooked her ankles together, letting them take some of her weight, and his hands glided up her leggings and under her dress to cup her ass.
“Marco?” She drew out his name in a breathless whisper. She didn't care what had happened or how strange this all seemed. This new Marco was smoking hot, and his scent filled her mind. Sweat, smoke, and oil, the musky scents of a warrior overcoming the stench of burning iron wafting through the ruin. The way he was effortlessly manhandling her was intoxicating.
“I've waited sixteen years to say this, Star.” Sixteen years? Somehow it wasn't a surprise, like she already knew how much time had passed for him. His eyes never left hers, the joyful longing in them pulling her thoughts back to the moment. “I love you, Star Butterfly.”
“Whaa...” Her confused gasp was interrupted by his kiss. His tongue danced in her mouth, and his callused hands kneaded the soft globes of her buttocks, kindling a heat in her that had nothing to do with the streams of molten metal running throughout the room. She was squirming again, pushing back into his rough hands and grinding the center of her need against the skull shaped buckle. Little mewling gasps flowed from her mouth into his each time she felt the dangling ropes protuding from its eyes slip between her cloth covered cleft.
She felt the wall on her back, trapping her between him and the warm stone. She didn't know when, or even if Marco had moved, but she was past caring about the fine details. His hands were free of her weight now and they roamed over her, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. It wasn't until the callused pads of his thumbs had found their way between their bodies, tracing gentle crescents around the hard nubs of her nipples, that she realized her dress was gone. It didn't make sense. She didn't know how long it had been, she had lost all notion of time, but their lips had never parted. There was no way he could have taken it off, but the sensations flowing from her chest left her no doubt that she was naked.
Star turned her head, breaking free from their kiss, moaning and panting, suddenly desperate for air. She attempted to still the instinctive movements of her rebelious body, to give herself just a moment to think clearly. It was hard, Marco had begun pecking a trail of maddeningly soft kisses along her jaw and down her neck the instant their lips had parted. This isn't right, this isn't how it happened. Before she could try to understand her troubling thought, he reached the hollow of her neck, nuzzling in and nipping at her collarbone. The delicate pressure of his teeth and the warmth of his breath on her skin shattered her tenous control of her body.
Her hips resumed their rolling motion and it became clear that whatever magic that had stripped her had worked on him as well. The buckle was gone and she was grinding against him now, his flesh hot against hers, the hard yet yeilding underside of his shaft gliding smoothly between her engorged lips. “Oh corn, oh my corn yesss...” She hissed through clentched teeth. She could feel his hardness twitch in the embrace of her labia in time with his heartbeat, the subtle varaitions in the pressure rubbing against her clit sending waves of pleasure up her spine to break across her mind.
This wasn't how she'd imagined her first time. She had always pictured it as a thing of romance, with candles, silk sheets and whispered endearments, not being claimed against a wall in some ruined forge in a fit of primal passion. It didn't matter what she imagined, this felt too good to stop.
The world moved in time with her thoughts. There was no other way to describe it. She felt the warm stone against her back soften and shift to the cool carress of silk. The orange glow of molten metal lighting the ruin faded and was replaced with the flickering yellow light of dozens of candles. Marco's weight pressed her down into the embrace of her bed. “This isn't right...” She gasped out between moans, the disorienting change in her perspective forcing the words from her.
“Don't care if it's right.” Marco's gruff growl was muffled by her neck, and he gave one last nip. He dragged his lips along her skin, planting kisses all across her collarbone. “Want you.” He continued down her breastbone, his hands sliding down from her chest to caress the outside her thighs. He paused to look up at her. “Need you.” She moaned his name when he took her nipple in his lips and sucked, his tongue swiping across the tip of the stiff nub, his eyes locked on hers. Her hands tangled in his hair, pressing down as she arched her back. “Love you.” The soulful whisper slipped from his mouth at the same time as her nipple. His hands swept back up her sides to replace his lips, and he trailed his lips down her torso. His tongue dipped into her belly-button and her body curled inwards as the sensation drove the breath from her lungs. “Dreamed of you.”
Dreamed of you. She was dreaming. That's why everything kept changing, why nothing made sense. It felt so real. If this was a dream, she never wanted to
wake up... The groggy thought carried over as Star returned to conciousness. She was facedown on her bed, head angled to the side, laying in twin pools of wetness. Drool on her pillow, and her dew soaking her nightie. It took a moment for her to place herself, her dream had been so vivid she had almost expected Marco to be beside her. “Fuck.” Her quiet groan was equal parts disappointed and aroused, and completelty muffled by her pillow. Why do I always wake up when I realize I'm dreaming? She chuckled a bit at the thought despite her frustration. She'd never complained about waking from her dreams before 'rescueing' Marco from Hekapoo's dimension the week before last. Before she started dreaming about him every damn night. The same dream, over and over, and every time she woke up before he could make her climax.
Fortunately she could do something about that last bit. Star slid her arms between her body and the mattress, one hand cupping a breast through the satin of her nightie and the other creeping under the hem to tease her moist slit. The dream still strong in her mind, she closed her eyes and focused on the fading memory of Marco's lips on her skin, the contradictory rough softness of his hands stroking her. She bit down on her pillow to stifle any moans, slipping her middle finger inside herself. She planned to make this last, she knew from experience she would have the dream again if she didn't exhaust herself.
It only a few minutes for her first climax to wash over her, and she groaned his name into the pillow clenctched between her teeth. Her finger kept on plumbing her depths, the climax did nothing to fill the emptyness she felt in her center. A second wave pulsed through her in short order and she still needed more. She nearly screamed his name into the pillow, and for a moment she thought she heard him call her name, as her most powerful orgasm of the night crashed through her.
She still felt empty, but she was too sensitive to continue. At least she was exhuasted. Her breathing slowly eased from the shuddering gasps of pleasure to the steady rhythm of slumber.
"All Of Me" - John Legend & Lindsey Stirling, Youtube.
With a simple breath it was finally over. Sixteen fucking years in this wasteland, chasing down and snuffing out Hekapoo's clones. Sixteen fucking years of scrambling to survive, fighting, tracking and doing anything that would bring him closer to his goal. I can go home. A sad smile crossed his face at the thought. He could go home, but it wasn't really home anymore. Not after sixteen years. He could go anywhere but home.
“Not bad for a human. You truly earned these. I underestimated you.” Hekapoo sounded impressed, floating the dimensional scissors to his hands.
The door to the ruined forge burst open with a crash and a familiar voice, one he'd never thought he would hear again, cried out. “HEKAPOO! Where is Marco!”
Time itself seemed to slow as he turned his head. It was Star. His Star. He'd almost forgotten what she looked like. She hadn't changed a bit, and she looked so tiny now. “Star!” He cried joyfully, crossing the ruin at a run and sweeping her into his arms. He never wanted to let her go. How could he have forgotten? It was all for her, sixteen years of hell, all for her. He closed his eyes to dam the rising flood and let his chin rest on the crown of her head. The horns of her silly headband scratched his throat. He didn't mind, the pain meant it was real.
“Unhand me, beautiful stranger!” She yelped.
Stranger? Shock made him drop his scissors. Of course she didn't recognize him. He could feel her squirming in his arms, trying to break free. He wasn't going to let her go, but he didn't want to hurt her. He loosened his grasp just a bit and she stilled in his embrace. “How do you know my name?” She demanded.
“It's me, Star! I'm Marco!” Emotion made his voice rough, tears beginning to seep from his closed eyes. He opened them and looked down when her head shifted against his ribs to look up at him. The innocence and wonder in her eyes made him feel like that long lost boy again. “I've missed you so much, Star. I thought I was never going to see you again.”
He slid his hands along her back, over her shoulders and under her armpits. It was so easy to pick her up, and he lifted her so her face was level with his. She threw her arms around his neck, hanging off him as he quickly transferred his hands to her legs, caressing them and guiding them around his waist.
“Marco?” She stared into his eyes, voice trembling and low. Her cheek-marks glowed bright red, and he silently prayed she couldn't see the darkness the years had left behind lurking in his eyes. His hands roamed up her legs, sliding under her dress to cup the soft globes of her bottom.
“I've waited sixteen years to say this, Star.” This was so wrong, he was a man now and she was still almost a child. It didn't matter how wrong it was, he knew it was true. He gazed into her waiting eyes, drowning sixteen years of pain in their sapphire depths and took a deep breath. Her scent filled him, spring flowers from her hair and the vanilla of her perfume sending chills down his back. “I love you, Star Butterfly.”
“Whaa...” She was so beautiful when she was confused. Her jaw had dropped open in her confusion, and he tilted his head, leaning in to steal a kiss. He pushed his tongue through her open lips. She stiffened against him for a moment before melting into his kiss, her tongues swirling around his and following it when it retreated back to his mouth. No longer content with simply supporting her, his hand kneaded the soft cheeks in them. He could feel himself straining against the restraining tightness of his tattered jeans as she ground her eager young body into him, her hips rolling her butt in his grasp and her groin painfully mashing the imp's skull buckling his belt into him. Her fingertips traced the triple lines of the scars on his neck, the parting gift of a dying manticore. Delightful little trills of pleasure, more felt than heard, flowed into his mouth. He felt faint, lightheaded, breathing in when she exhaled, breathing her very essence. The heart shaped marks on her cheeks glowed gold in the corner of his eyes, a trick of the light.
He didn't remember moving, but he must have moved. Her back was against the wall of the ruin, his knees were bent to support her weight. There was bare flesh in his hands, the velvety softness of her sweaty skin rubbing across his roughened hands. She'd gone silent, and he wanted to hear her moan. His hands stroked up her hips, thumbs slipping between their bodies and up the rippling muscles of her torso to her developing breasts. He traced the signs of the goddess around the hard nubs of her nipples, a waning and a waxing moon.
Her head twisted to the side, breaking their kiss. There was the moan he wanted. Hungry for more his lips trailed along her jaw and down her neck, fluttering along her skin. His tongue darted out every forth or fifth kiss to sample the salty sweetness of her sweat. Reaching the junction of her neck and shoulder, he found the spot she'd dabbed her perfume on and breathed it in with deep gulping gasps. He nipped at her collarbone, gently grazing his teeth along her smooth skin. The golden glow on her cheeks returned, and suddenly he wasn't straining against the fabric of his pants. That was no trick of the light.
His erection was now sandwiched between their bodies, the hot wetness of her spread labia gliding up and down the underside of his cock. Sometimes he fucking loved magic. He wasn't even moving, she was grinding into him all on her own, coating him with her slick dew. “Oh corn, oh my corn yesss...” The lusty whisper was almost to quiet to hear over the pounding of his heart. She was ready, he was ready. His pelvis shifted, dragging his shaft down her mound, and she shuddered in his arms as it skittered over her clit.
This wasn't how he had imagined his first time with Star. It wasn't right, but it was so hard to force himself to stop. She wasn't some tavern wench or camp follower to be mounted like a bitch in heat up against a dirty wall. Star was his princess. He didn't want to fuck her, he wanted to make love to her. To drive her so wild with pleasure that she forgot everything but his name before he was even inside her, and to hear her scream it so loud his name would echo across every dimension when he took her.
The world shifted in time with his thoughts, blurring and twisting in a golden glow. The stench of molten metal faded and was replace with fragrance of roses, the golden glow faded to a flickering yellow light. He was kneeling between her legs now, his body pressing hers down on the silk sheets. “This isn't right...” Even lost in the haze of passion her confused voice was adorable. He was past caring about right and wrong, he could worry about that after.
“Don't care if it's right.” His possessive growl vibrated against her neck. He sucked the tender skin of her neck, nipping at it one last time before laying a trail of kisses to the dip of her collarbone. His tongue caressed the little hollow at the base of her throat. “Want you.” His knees glided over the silken sheets as he shifted downwards, his hands left her chest to stroke her sides and down to the outside of her spread legs. He wanted to touch her, to taste her, every last inch of her. His lips trailed down the valley between the soft swells of her breasts. He paused at the base of her breastbone, looking up at her. She was so beautiful. Her hair was spread over the bed, shining in the candlelight, and her cheek-hearts pulsed with a ruby glow in time with her heartbeat. “Need you.” He was a fool, full of childish pride, to have left her behind. All it would have taken was a single shout and she would have grown up beside him.
“Marco...” She moaned his name when he surrounded her rock hard nipple with his lips and sucked gently. Her hands climbed his neck to tangle in his hair, pressing him into her breast. His tongue flicked the tip of the little nub and her back arched, trying to force it deeper into his mouth.
“Love you.” He whispered around her nipple. He was never going to leave her side again. Her hands forced his head lower, and her resumed his trail of kisses. Down her breast, along her taut stomach to her cute little innie bellybutton. Her body curled away from him, exhaling hard, but her hands pushed his face in to follow it when he stuck his tongue in the shallow divot. “Dreamed of you.”
Dreamed of you. It wasn't magic. He was dreaming, he'd had this dream before. The realization made his heart pound, fear replacing lust. He didn't want to wake up, to go back to that empty life without her. If this was a dream, he'd rather die than
wake up. Marco started upright in his bed, heart pounding and adrenaline surging through him. He pawed the empty space on the bed, automatically reaching for a sword that wasn't there. It took a moment for his sleep addled mind to process the lack of threats. The dream had felt so real, realer than the distant memories of his time in Hekapoo's dimension. He swore he could still taste the lingering traces of her sweat on his lips.
It had been eleven days since he returned home. He hadn't expected to adjust so quickly, after a day or two it all felt like it had all happened to someone else. He shook his head, the tent in his pajama bottoms reminding him he had a more pressing concern. He'd had this dream every night since returning, and he knew that if he tried to go to sleep without dealing with his little friend first he'd just have it again. He'd even added a second round to his nighttime rituals in the hopes of a good night's sleep. It obviously hadn't worked.
Rummaging through his nightstand, he pulled out his bottle of lotion, some tissues and a washcloth he'd 'borrowed' from the bathroom. He shimmied out of his pj's, wincing a bit at the squeaks from his bed, and let little Marco bob free. Squirting a bit of lotion into his right hand, he toyed with himself with his left as it warmed in his palm. He drew in a shuddering breath when her wrapped the warm wetness of his right hand around his thin five inches. He wasn't embarrassed by his size anymore, he knew he still had a growth spurt coming on in a year or so.
His hand made slow, careful strokes up and down his cock. He had to go slow, otherwise his old mattress would play a bed-spring concerto for the whole house. He brought the washcloth to his face and inhaled. He'd sprayed a bit of her perfume on it a few nights ago, on the night he discovered he had to be thinking of her and not Jackie when he finished, at least if he wanted to sleep till morning.
He closed his eyes, letting her scent fill him for the second time that night. It was easy to recall her perfect form splayed across the bed, laying in the nest of her golden hair. She was a late bloomer, like him, her little breasts less than a handful and capped with heart shaped areola around her perky nipples. His hand sped up after a few minutes, the quiet squeaks of his bed turning into her squeaks of pleasure in his mind. He could feel the tightness in his stomach building, warning him of his approaching climax.
“Star..” He groaned her name when he came, his seed spurting up to land on his stomach and dribble down his hand. He almost thought he could hear her moaning his name in time with his orgasm. He panted in the aftermath of his little death, sated and exhausted. He barely had the energy to wipe himself clean with the tissues before drifting back to a dreamless sleep.
I hate trying to convey the passage of time during a sex scene.
"Take Me To Church" - Hozier
"Demons" - Imagine Dragons
I'm curious to see if people want me to write more of this. I've got a bit of an actual story planned out around these dreams, but adding any more will turn it into smut with plot. And it's not really worth the frustration of trying to translate my disjointed thoughts on it to a readable story if nobody wants to read it.
Slow burn, smut at the end.
I am not a native spanish speaker and have never taken a spanish class, so Mr.Diaz's spanish comments come from google translate. Let me know if they are incorrect. (in order, they should be: I'm sorry, son. My beautiful heart. & Light of my life)
I am aware that in canon his name is spelled Rafael, not Raphael, and I don't care. Rafael doesn't look right to me.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Star groaned, sleepily pulling a pillow over her head. The sun was shining onto her bed through her window, too bright. The birds were singing over the sounds of morning traffic, too loud. All she wanted to do was go back to sleep. It was taking all of her limited self control, plus the knowledge that it could irreparably damage the fabric of space-time itself, to resist the urge to freeze time again just so she could get some more sleep. Why did the sun in this dimension have to rise in the east, and why did she keep forgetting to move that damn window?
She could hear sounds of life from the kitchen downstairs. She wasn't sure who was down there, Raphael and Angie took turns cooking breakfast in the morning, but if they were already cooking that meant she'd slept in. Any moment now...
“Kids! Marco! Star! Time to get up!” Rafe's boisterous call echoed down the hallway. At least they had both slept in.
“Nuh.. Five more minutes, Dad..” The groggy yell came from Marco's room.
The stairs creaked under Rafe's weight, and she heard him walk down the hall to Marco's door. “That is what you said fifteen minutes ago, son.” He said, much quieter. “Now get up,” The hinges on Marco's door squealed quietly open.
“Dad!” Marco's panicked shout was almost drowned out by the door slamming shut. She could almost hear him blush.
“Lo siento, hijo.” She could hear it in Rafe's voice too, even if she couldn't understand what he was saying. The Diaz men really did wear their hearts on their sleeves. “Go get ready for school. You are lucky I need to go to town for new canvas today, I can drop you off on the way. There is no way you are making the bus today.”
She rolled to the edge of her bed, blushing a bit herself as she felt her nightie peel off the sticky remains of last night's pleasure on her skin. “I'm awake Mr.Diaz.” She called through her door, hearing him clomp towards, and then away from, her room. A quick wave of her wand replaced the bunched up fabric with a clean nightie, and another wave conjured a ghostly clock over the halved crystal. It was seven twenty, school started in forty minutes. She wasn't going to have time to wash her hair this morning, it would take to long to dry without magic and she hated the staticy frizziness magic left behind more that the slightly greasy feeling on her scalp. It was fine for styling, but not drying. Magic was weird that way.
The stairs creaked again and she rushed into the bathroom, beating Marco there by a few seconds. She spun around, sticking her tongue out at him teasingly before she closed the door. “I'll be quick, Marco. Promise.” She said, locking the door behind her.
Pointing her wand at herself, she dispelled her nightgown and conjured a rainbow showercap around her hair. She smirked at herself in the mirror, she looked like one of those... Pastafarians? Something like that. She could never keep all the strange beliefs humans had straight in her mind. She had a nagging feeling as she looked at herself in the mirror, there was something that wasn't right but she couldn't place it.
Whatever it was couldn't be that important. She hopped in the shower, cranking it almost as hot as it could go. She didn't have time to revel in the wonders of human plumbing today, so much better than the tepid baths back home. She giggled a bit as she hurried through the essentials of a shower; asshole, armpits, crotch and teeth, remembering the curmudgeonly old comedian Janna had shown her when she decided to teach Star to swear like an American. She could brush her teeth while Marco showered. Her favorite washcloth was still missing, the super soft one that matched Marco's towel, the purple one with pink flowers all over it. She had to make do with one of the others, all scratchy and white.
The essentials finished, she regretfully turned off the shower and dried herself off, dropping her towel on the floor by her sink. She felt like wearing her edgar dress today, and another wave made the colourfully striped sleeveless dress appear, the little teddybear face on the skirt grinning up at her. The floor outside the bathroom creaked rhythmically, reminding her that Marco was waiting.
He had a look of desperation on his face when she opened the door, and was shifting from one foot to the other impatiently. She stepped out into the hall, opening a path for him to enter the bathroom. She expected him to rush in, and turned her head to look at him when he didn't. His eyes were wide, locked on her collar, and he blushed when she cleared her throat before rushing in to the bathroom.
Her fingers prodded the spot he'd been staring at while she waited for the sound of the shower to start, and she winced when they found a tender spot in line with the outside of her neck. It felt like a bruise and no matter how she angled her head she couldn't see it. She debated heading back to her room to check it out in her magic mirror, but decided it would be faster to wait until Marco hopped in the shower and check it out in the bathroom mirror.
The shower started, and she heard the water change in tempo when Marco entered the spray. She would normally wait for him to finish showering before heading back in, but today they were pressed for time. She waited a minute before heading in, just in case. Marco had locked the door, but an unlocking cantrip solved that problem without any effort and she walked back in to the steam filled room.
“Star! A little privacy, please!” He yelped from the shower.
“Relax Marco. I'm not going to peek. I'll toss you your towels when you're done. It's not like I haven't seen you in that before.” She reassured him and walked to the sinks. Her Mom would freak if she ever found out that she had been in a room with a naked boy, only a thin pane of frosted glass separating them.
She picked up her soggy towel from the floor and wiped the fog from the mirror before dropping it, placing her wand on the counter and leaning in close to get a good look at her neck. There it was, right beside the strap of her dress, an oval discoloration on her collarbone. The pattern was unmistakably a bite-mark. She was filled with a sudden fury, sucking in a deep breath and spinning in place to shout at Marco through the shower door. The unbelievable jackass had almost let her go downstairs and face his parents with his love-bite clearly visible on her skin.
Her mind caught up with her anger just in time, and she let the breath out slowly, forcing her fury down to heel. It had been a dream, of course he hadn't said anything. He probably thought she'd snuck out last night to go make out with a boy and was to embarrassed to say anything about it. She flushed, realizing just how close she'd come to telling her best friend she'd been having wet dreams about him. Imagining that conversation made her shudder. One of them would have literally died from embarrassment before it was over, although she wasn't sure which one of them it would have been.
How the fuck did I get a real bite from a dream? She wondered, turning back to the mirror. She leaned in again, almost pressing her cheek to the glass this time. Up close it was a veritable riot of colour, the sickly yellows and greens of a week old bruise overlayed with the angry dark purple of a fresh one. That doesn't make sense. Maybe the dream is magic. I should ask Glossaryk about... Oh. Right. She frowned at her reflection the mirror. Glossaryk and the book were gone, stolen by Ludo. The only people she could ask about magic were her Mom or the other members of the magic high commission, and that was just... No. Not going to happen. She'd figure this out on her own. At least it would give her something to think about in history and english this morning aside from how tired and bored she was.
The squeal of the shower tap turning startled her, and her answering yelp echoed in the sudden silence. “Star? Towels, please?” Marco asked from behind the shower door. She could hear the blush in his voice again.
Without thinking she she grabbed her wand and levitated his towels over the glass door, still staring at the mark in the mirror. She couldn't go to school with it showing. She needed to wear something with a collar, maybe her green dress with the poofy shoulders. Casting another changing spell as the shower door opened, Marco emerging and blinking rapidly from the bright flash of magic. She fired off the rest of her morning spells, applying her makeup and brushing her hair in an instant before picking up her perfume bottle. Marco walked up to his sink as she sprayed a little on the inside of each wrist, rubbing them together and then dragging them along her neck.
He was looking at her weirdly again. “Star, I'm...” He trailed off, looking down at his sink.
“It's nothing. Never mind.” He mumbled.
“Come on, don't leave me hanging. What?” Star insisted.
“I.. I really like your perfume.” His words came out in a stammering rush, and his hands flew up to cover his mouth. He'd never said anything like that to her before.
“Well... If you like it so much,” she replied with a devious grin, “have some.” She turned to face him, bottle raised in her hand, and sprayed his chest with a generous dose of the fragrance.
“Star! What are you... Why did you do that?” His voice broke, the last bit an octave higher than the rest. “Great. Now I'm going to smell like a girl all day.” He grumped.
“Marco, if you think anyone is going to smell that over the boy-stank of your hoodie, you're dreaming.”
“Hey, my hoodies don't stink!” He protested.
“No, they don't stink, they have boy-stank. It's a very... distinct smell. Just because you have eleven of them left doesn't mean you never need to wash them.” She shook her head. “Silly boy.” She reached out for her Love Sentence toothbrush, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Ready?”
He nodded back at her, and they started the musical brushes together. They were both tired, their morning brush-dance a little out of sync with the music and the movements of the other. Near the end, his eyes closed as he mimed the words of the song, Marco's extended hand brushed over her forearm. Static snapped on skin and minty foam erupted from her mouth to spatter across the silvered glass in front of her.
Marco snickered, choking back a laugh. “Sorry, but not sorry. The universe has delivered justice for making me smell girly.”
She slugged him in the shoulder. “Jerk.” She muttered, rinsing her toothbrush and popping it back in the charger.
“Ow. Hey, it wasn't on purpose.” He complained after spitting down into his sink.
“You deserved it. You didn't have to laugh. Jerk.” Point made, she bent down to grab her towel one last time. He turned to the carefully organized shelves with his hair stuff and deodorant. Her eyes lingered on his bare back, comparing what she could see over his towel with her dreams. There was muscle visible under the softness, he'd been working out since he got back. She wiped her mirror clean and dropped her towel in the laundry bin on her way out.
Rafe and Angie were talking in the kitchen when she walked in. “I can't talk to him about that. You're his father, it's your... Good morning, Star.” Angie smiled and nodded at Star. “Breakfast is on the counter. Is Marco almost ready?”
“I think so, Mrs. Diaz. He just needs to get dressed.” Star replied, looking at the counter. Breakfast burritos. She grabbed the big bag of sugar from under the island. She carefully opened the tortillas and poured in about half a cup in each. Breakfast sugaritos. Just what she needed to kick-start her brain. Rafe was gone when she looked up, his footsteps.
She was halfway through her breakfast, and starting to wonder what was taking him so long. “DAD! No!” There was an audible mixture of embarrassment and outrage in his shout. Whatever Angie had asked her husband to talk to Marco about had to be juicy. She finished her breakfast before Marco and Raphael made it to the kitchen. They were definitely going to be late today.
Marco's tanned complexion was more flushed than usual and he was shaking his head when he walked in, as was his father's. He grabbed a mug and poured a cup of coffee, chugging it down. There was a grimace on his face when he finished. “God, that's awful. How can you guys drink that?” He asked, looking at his mom.
“Marco! You shouldn't be drinking coffee. It'll stunt your growth.” Angie admonished him, frowning at the empty mug in his hands.
“It's coffee or falling asleep in history class, mom. I chose coffee, I don't want detention on a Friday.” Marco glanced at the clock on the stove. “Holy...” He paused, biting back the expletive that would normally follow. “We're going to be late. Come on, Dad. Let's go.” He shouldered his backpack and grabbed a burrito in each hand, taking a bite when he paused in the door, looking at his father impatiently.
“He's right, honey. They're going to miss more than homeroom if you don't get moving.” Angie agreed.
Raphael sauntered over to his wife. “Never fear, mi hermosa corazón.” He said, leaning in to kiss her. “I shall get them there in time and rush back to your side, luz de mi vida.” Angie blushed, Marco groaned and buried his face in his hands, and Star regreted not taking spanish class.
She walked over to Marco and whispered to him. “What's he saying? It sounds sweet.”
Marco ingored her. “Dad, haven't you embarrassed me enough for one day? Can we please just go?” He pleaded.
“It's cute, why are you so embarrassed?” Star pressed Marco.
“How do you feel when your dad calls your mom Moon-Pie in front of me?” He countered, walking out of the kitchen towards the front door.
“Fair point.” She conceded, following him and shuddering at her mom's pet name.
The drive to school passed in silence, an unusual occurrence with the Diaz's. Marco and Raphael flushed whenever they looked at the other, and Marco kept sniffing under his hoodie whenever he thought she wasn't looking. They were late enough that Rafe had to come in and sign them in to school. Skullzy gave them both a dirty look when they arrived in the classroom just as the first period bell rang, but she accepted the slips from the office with her usual dour grunt. Marco sat in his normal seat right at the front of the class, and she decided to grab the empty seat at the back beside Janna. There was always an empty seat beside Janna unless Ingrid had one of her rare social moments outside of detention.
“You look like shit. Rough night?” Janna leaned over and asked quietly when she sat down.
“I wish. Rough nights, plural. Weird dreams, I haven't gotten a good night's sleep in over a week.” She whispered back. She regretted it immediately. Janna had a way of prying information out of her, and the magic obsessed girl loved trying to analyze her dreams.
“Spill, girl. Tell me everything.” Jana insisted, a predatory grin crossing her lips when Star couldn't meet her eyes. “I can tell it's gonna be a good...”
“Star! Janna! No talking!” Ms.Skullnick barked, her glare temporarily saving Star from her friend's inquisition. “Now, I hope everyone has read the assigned chapters of The Mayor of Casterbridge?”
Star's mind drifted after only a few minutes. English class was so boring. Dull stories, written by boring dead people, about other boring stupid people making bad decisions. Not a single bit of adventure in any of them, not even a single explosion. She wondered why anyone would pay for this crap. She knew she should be thinking about her dream problem, but she was so tired. About halfway through the class her sugar rush faded, and she crossed her arms on her desk, plonking her chin on them. She was just going to rest her eyes for a bit...
Her boot slammed into the heavy wooden door, bursting it open. She entered the ruin, wand first, and pointed it at the pair standing near the bubbling pool of molten metal. “HEKAPOO! Where's Marco?” she yelled at the horned woman.
“Star!” The stranger standing in front of the demon sorceress cried happily, rushing towards her and sweeping her into his arms with bone-rattling force. His chin pressed down on one of the horns on her hairband, pushing it out of place.
“Unhand me, beautiful stranger!” There was no fear in her cry. She was pissed, and worried about her Marco. “How do you know my name?” She demanded. The comforting weight of her wand faded from her hand.
“It's me, Star! Marco!” Her cheek glided along his sweaty dust streaked abdomen, looking up at him. The voice was deeper, stronger than Marco's, but hauntingly familiar nonetheless. She gazed up at him cautiously, the little details she had missed in his mad rush towards her sinking in. The gentle brown eyes gleaming with tears, so much like Marco's except the spark of innocence behind them was gone. She'd seen that lack in the eyes of her mother's soldiers when she used to sneak into the barracks and listen to their stories. Her gaze followed the trail of tears flowing down his face, over the little beauty-mark on his right cheek, over the stubble on his cheeks to where it dripped down onto the tattered remains of a sun-bleached red hoodie. It was Marco. She didn't know how, but it was her Marco.
“I've missed you so much, Star. I thought I would never see you again.” He blinked away his tears and smiled down at her. His hands caressed her back, wandering up over her shoulders and down beneath her arms. He lifted her up, holding her outstretched without so much as a tremble in his arms before moving her closer. Her arms wrapped around his neck without a thought, and she could feel the thin lines of scars running down it against her suddenly clammy palms. She could feel something poking her in the side, harder and harder, but there was nothing there when she glanced down.
“Marco...” Her voice caught halfway through the breathless whisper. For an instant she though he was the one poking her, but it couldn't be him. She could feel his hands cupping her ass, supporting her weight in the most inappropriate way possible. Not that she minded. He was fucking hot.
“I've waited sixteen years to say this, Star.” He didn't notice she was mouthing the words along with him. She didn't know how she knew what he was going to say, she just did. His gaze was locked on her eyes like a drowning man clinging to a piece of flotsam, and he whimpered when she glanced away again to try and see what was poking her.
“I love you, Star Butterfly.” Her head swung back up, mouth dropping open. He was going to kiss her. She knew it, and she wanted it.
There was a loud thump, followed by a yell. “Star Butterfly! Wake up!” The angry voice wasn't his, or Hekapoo's. Was she dreaming? She didn't want this to be a dream, she didn't want to
wake up... The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was a troll, its ham-sized fist on her desk mere inches from her face. Instinct kicked in and she tried to jump backwards, knocking over her chair in her haste to assume a fighting posture. The class was silent except for Janna, who was laughing so hard she was almost falling out of her own chair.
“Sleeping in class, Star? Detention.” Ms. Skullnick growled through clenched tusks, glaring at both of them. “And if you think it's so funny, miss Ordonia, you can join her and make sure she doesn't fall asleep again. Now march!” She jabbed a sausage-like finger at the door. “No one move until I get back!” Skullzy barked at the class.
Star glanced around at her classmates on her way out of the room. They all had poorly suppressed smirks on their faces, with the exception of Marco and Jackie. Marco's face was buried in his hands, and Jackie was... glaring at her? That was weird, Jackie never got angry.
“You're both lucky it's Friday, and I have a date tonight, or you'd be in here after school, too.” Mrs Skullnick shoved them into the empty room. “And god help you if you're sleeping when I come back to check on you.” The door slammed shut behind them.
Janna turned to her with an evil grin as soon as it was shut. “Hey Star?” Star could hear anticipation dripping from her voice. “Did you know you talk in your sleep?”
Star felt her heart drop, and a rising heat on her cheeks. “No, no, no, no. Who heard me, Janna?” That was why Jackie was glaring at her. Fuck. Fuckity-fuck-fuck-FUCK!
“Everyone, at least for the first bit. What was it again? Oh yeah, 'Unhand me, beautiful stranger'. You were a bit quieter when you moaned Marco's name, but I'm pretty sure Jackie heard you. Don't think he did, though.” Star was sorely tempted to wipe that grin off Janna's face with a fist. “Is that the weird dream you've been having? Sexy times with Marco?” Janna was making an obscene gesture, pumping the index finger of her right hand into the circle formed from her left thumb and index finger.
“Fuck off, Janna. It's none of your business.” Star snarled at her friend.
“Sure it is. You're my friend, Marco's been my friend for his whole life, and I need to know everything that could effect him.” Janna insisted. “And anyways, I've always thought you two would make such a cute couple. So give me details. Tell your deputy all about it. I've never though of Marco as the beautiful stranger type...”
“Fine.” Star sighed. Janna wasn't going to let this go, and the little imp-bitch would bring it up at the most inopportune times if she didn't tell her. “But if you tell him anything about this I will kill you. And then I'll find a spell to bring you back to life so I can kill you again.” She threatened.
“My lips are sealed, at least until you two start boinking.” Janna agreed. “Now tell me everything.”
“Has he told you about his dimensional scissors?”
“His scissors? I thought they were yours?” Janna looked confused.
“This is going to be a long story, so don't interrupt.” Star began. “It started about two weeks ago...”
“So that's it. And ever since he came back I've been having dreams about him, the other him. Really hot, really frustrating dreams.” Janna was staring at her.
“So that's why he asked me what his password was... I have so many questions... Marco, our Marco, scrawny little pot-bellied Marco turned into some sort of built, mystic road-warrior type? How did you find him without your scissors? Why aren't you guys spending more time there? Think about it, homework done in an instant. Need to sleep in? You could get a good night's sleep in less than a second. And how did you not die just from walking through that portal?”
“What do you mean, how did we not die? No one ever dies going through a portal.” Star latched on the the most innocuous question.
“Yeah, but... I've seen you go though them before, Star. Usually head first. If time runs so much faster in that dimension, your head should have been there for like..” Janna paused, quickly running though the math, “six or seven days before your heart arrived. You should both be dead.”
“It's magic, Janna. I told you, no one ever dies going through a portal. And I don't know if you've seen him shirtless recently, but he's not that scrawny anymore. You shouldn't skip PE, or you'd know that. I'll admit he does have a bit of a belly still, but he's been cutting back on snacks and working out more. I wouldn't be surprised if it was gone in a month or two.”
“I knew it! You have been checking him out! Ha!” Janna crowed triumphantly, dodging the slow punch Star sent at her arm. “Oh, you've got it bad, girl.” She snickered.
“Fuck off, Janna. He's with Jackie. He's happy. I'm not going to screw that up for him.” Star sighed. “As much as I might want to.”
“I don't know, Star. Haven't you noticed he's been avoiding her recently?” Janna said slyly. “They haven't been on a date since the night of the dance.”
Janna was right. She hadn't even seen them together outside of class since they returned from Hekapoo's dimension. The little jab of hope made her feel guilty, Jackie was her friend too and she didn't want to hurt her. They were both silent for a while.
Janna broke the uncomfortable silence after a few minutes. “You're still not telling me everything, Star. I can tell.” She said, looking at Star's guilty face.
“They're more than just dreams.” Star admitted.
Star peeled back the collar of her dress, baring the bite-mark on her clavicle. “I haven't made out with a boy since me and Tom split up last year. I noticed it this morning, or rather Marco noticed it. He didn't say anything. It's exactly where he was biting me in my dreams, I think it has something to do with my magic and I don't have anyone to ask about it now that Glossaryk is gone.” She ended sadly.
“Biting you, eh? You're kinkier than I expected.” Janna teased. She cocked her head, apparently deep in thought. “You might be right. Do your hearts usually change color when you sleep?” She asked, poking Star's cheek.
“How would I know? I can't see them without a mirror, especially not when I'm sleeping.”
“Good point. You should ask your mom. They were gold for a bit, that's why I was poking you.”
“That was you?”
“Yup.” Janna grinned. “You're going to have to make the first move, you know.”
“What?” Star squeaked, surprised by the seeming non sequitur.
“If you want him. You're going to need to make the first move. I know he likes you, but sixteen years in another dimension isn't enough to break him of being a giant pussy when it comes to girls. This is Marco we're talking about, after all.”
“Janna! I said no. He's with Jackie.”
“But for how much longer? She looked pretty pissed off, and it takes a lot to break her miss chill persona.”
“Fine. If they break up, and if I can't fix it, I'll make the first move.” Janna grinned and clapped at her statement. “But I'm not doing anything to cause it. And neither are you, understand?”
“Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies.” The dark haired girls said evasively.
“Janna... I will destroy you. Understand?”
“Alright, alright. I promise. Now tell me exactly what happens in these really frustrating dreams of yours. I want every filthy detail.”
By the end of the school day, Janna had wrung every detail from her, even the most embarrassing bits. Star had no idea how she managed it, there was literally no one else in existence that could pry such intimate information from her. Marco wasn't waiting for her when Mrs. Skullnick showed up to let them out of the detention hall, and he wasn't answering his phone when she called.
She parted ways with Janna and headed back to the Diaz house. Raphael and Angie were cuddled up on the couch when she got in, and she rushed up to her room before they could ask about her day. Another call to Marco went unanswered, and only the warning scribbled in her notebook of spells kept her from calling on the all seeing eye to find him. Spying leads to crying, she reminded herself, not wanting to torment herself by watching them together. Maybe filling in more of her new spellbook would distract her.
Dinner came and went without him. She made an excuse for him, telling them he was out with Jackie and would be back late. After dinner she checked his room for his scissors, hoping to head to the bounce lounge, but it looked like he'd brought them with him to school today. She missed having her own pair.
Night fell and despite her exhaustion she forced herself to stay awake. Rafe and Angie called it an early night, and she snuck downstairs when they went to bed.
It was almost two in the morning. Star was barely conscious, the eloquent tones of a British voice narrating the nature documentary she was watching to stay awake lulling her towards sleep. Marco still wasn't home. That worried her.
It came as a surprise when it happened. She felt her leg, tucked under her bum on the couch, vibrate painfully. It was like she'd just kicked something hard without moving. Invisible arms wrapped around her, and her hand flew through them to her headband as she felt it slip back on her hair and stay still at the same time. Her eyes widened when puffs of air blew down her hair, the ghostly breath of her insubstantial assailant.
I'm losing my mind. She thought when the ghostly hands rubbed her back, her shoulders. Fingers dug into her armpits, and despite being seated on the couch she could feel her weight hang off them. Warm flesh filled her hands, the thin tracery of scar tissue rubbing her empty palms. She could smell him, his musk lodging in the back of her throat.
I'm losing my mind, and I don't care. It feels too good. Warm and wet, something filled her mouth through her closed lips to dance around her still tongue. Heat flowed from her bottom, the confusing sensation of kneading conflicting with the reality of her heels pressed into her cheeks. She wiggled on the cushions, her knees spreading and her dress creeping up her thighs, the heat tingling up her spine and making her gasp.
Something hard pressed into her moistening mound, slipping up and down, the heat flaring up from a spark to a building flame. One of her hands slid up her legs, under her dress to trace the outline of her lips through the soft cloth, the twin sensations forcing another moan from her mouth when the intrusion left it. Rough, callused skin rubbed crescents around her nipples, wet dots of moisture trailed along her jaw to her neck.
She knew these feelings. She was dreaming, dreaming about him while she was still awake. The flickering light of the television still filled the room, tinged with a pulsing ruby glow. That empty feeling built, just below her belly-button, a desperate need to be filled. Her hand pushed the wet fabric of her panties aside, pausing only long enough to coat her finger with her slick lust before attempting to sate her need. She covered her mouth, biting down on her thumb to stifle her moans. One finger wasn't enough. It was joined by a second, a third, and despite the feeling of being stretched, still she felt empty. The feeling of his hardness rubbing against her, passing through her hand, to join the ball of her hand in teasing her clit was enough to drive her insane.
Invisible, insubstantial teeth dug into her collarbone. He was claiming her, marking her as his. Her fingers curled, pressing hard against that magic spot inside her. She bit down on her lip, pleasure and pain mingling in her mind as his unheard growl vibrated against her neck. She tasted blood. It was her last coherent thought. Her eyes rolled back, red and green spots filling the darkness behind her eyelids. Convulsing waves of ecstasy slammed through her, her legs twitched madly beneath her. Her head beat out a staccato rhythm on the carved wooden frame of the antique couch, driven backwards by her arching back with each wave. She couldn't even cry out his name, all that passed her bloody lips were frantic, primal grunts.
She had no idea how long it lasted. Every time she fell from her peak, ghostly lips, insubstantial hands and her own fingers lifted her back up to come crashing down again. Silver spots joined the red and green dancing in her eyes, her diaphragm seizing up, she couldn't breathe. It felt like an eternity before blessed darkness claimed her.
An irregular squeaking from upstairs roused her. She felt limp, spent, but it called to her from beyond the comforting darkness. Her hand, her legs, even the tops of her feet tucked beneath her were drenched with the sticky evidence of the most fantastic orgasm she had ever experienced. Her legs could barely hold her when she stood, the tingling pain of pins and needles fighting with the quivery unsteadiness the aftermath of her climax left behind. If this was the result, she welcomed her madness.
Ignoring the dull, throbbing pain from the back of her head, she made her way to the stairs and crept up them. The noise was coming from Marco's room, and she prayed that he had not come home while she was lost in the tempestuous climax or the darkness that had followed it. Slowly, carefully she opened his door a crack, grateful that he kept the hinges well oiled.
She could see him clearly in the dim moonlight. He'd thrown of the covers, and his pajama bottoms were pushed down to his knees, the top pulled up high enough she could she the dark circles of his nipples. One hand held her washcloth to his face and she flushed, remembering just where that had been. The other flashed up and down his modest manhood, nothing like the massive thing she had felt but never seen in her dreams. Her tongue swept around her lips. She'd never seen all of him before, all of any boy before, and he was perfect in the moonlight. He was just the right size for her.
She was about to push her way into his room when he groaned her name. His hand stopped, the squeaking stopped, and three spurts of a thick, cloudy liquid spattered across his chest to gleam in the faint light. Gripping tightly, he milked a few more drops from the purple head of his shaft. She groaned softly, she wanted to make him do that herself.
She'd made a little too much noise. She realized it when his head tilted towards the door, and she could see the panic on his face when he snatched up the blanket and pressed it to the mess on his chest. She was committed now, she stepped into his room and closed the door behind her.
He looked like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing but no sound emerging from his lips.
“We need to talk.” She whispered to him, walking over to his desk and picking up the dimensional scissors. “Not here. Get dressed and meet me on the other side.” The only sound in the room was the quiet rip of reality as she dragged the scissors through the air. She looked over her shoulder when she walked through. “Don't keep me waiting.”
Just a warning for the next chapter, it's going to be a repeat of this day from Marco's POV. Jarco shippers take note, it is gonna sting. not sure when it's gonna be ready.
I still hate trying to convey the passage of time in smut.
"Renegades" - X Ambassadors
"Fireflies" - Owl City
"Crystallize" - Lindsey Stirling
"Wolves" - Rag'N'Bone Man
"Skin" - Rag'N'Bone Man