Saint's seduction, III. part

Marshall turned the page of the magazine before him. He was lying on his belly on the soft, beige rug in Simon's study, it was around three o'clock. He lifted his head for a glance in Simon's direction before he was staring at the glossy pages of the magazine again. In Marshall's humble opinion, Simon looked so good in his white shirt with three buttons opened, his hair in a low ponytail, a few strands framing his face, and wearing narrow reading glasses. A little geeky, but oh, so good. And the way he was focused on the documents before him on the desk, comparing them with info on the computer screen, it was so sexy. So goddamn sexy that he wanted nothing more than to jump on the man and ravish him. He groaned as he rolled on his back and stretched his body.

"Marshall, if you are bored, go do something. You don't have to keep me company."

"Do what? You don't have a TV. You don't even have any interesting books." Marshall turned his head, Simon's legs and the lower part of the desk coming into his line of vision. There was nothing to do, well, that didn't involve both of them. If he had known when Simon called him and asked him to come over that Simon was going to be bothered by his employers to look at some papers, he would have brought over something to occupy himself. His laptop or the books he was managing for a local transvestite club pro bono (he had finished accounting school) or that dress he was sewing for his nice neighbour's drag queen début (he only needed to stitch on the fancy sparkles to finish it).

"You can order it."

"The books?"

"The TV."

"You don't have cable." Marshall rolled on his belly.

"I can get it." Simon signed the paper he was reading it and put it face down on the pile of papers on his right side.

"In fifteen minutes?"


"I thought so." Marshall lifted himself up onto his hands and knees. He crawled toward the desk, under the desk.

"Marshall, angel, what are you doing?" Simon moved his chair slightly backwards.

"I'm going to occupy myself and amuse you in the process." Marshall wiggled his way between Simon's legs. He kneeled down, opened the button on Simon's pants and unzipped the zipper. He raised his eyebrows "Do you mind?" He pulled the edges of Simon's shirt away.

"No, of course not." Simon gave Marshall a smile and caressed Marshall's hair, tied with bobby pins. He spread his legs wider then his eyes were on the documents again.

Marshall tugged down Simon's black underwear, releasing Simon's flesh from its confinement. He wrapped his fingers around Simon's cock and leaned over it. He gave the head a few licks, then tongued the slit, his fingers slowly sliding up and down the shaft that quickly hardened under his ministration. He embraced the head with his mouth; his tongue circling around it and his fingers moving on the wrinkled pouch, he started to knead it.

He heard Simon moan and Marshall's little friend, interested in some fondling even before Marshall had put his mouth on Simon, raised his head even higher in anticipation. Marshall took Simon deeper into his mouth; he started to suck on him, bobbing his head up and down, while he used his free hand on himself, slowly rubbing his erection over the cotton of Simon's overlarge sweat pants.


"Hmmm?" Marshall looked up. And Simon was looking down at him, his face slightly flushed, his emerald eyes little unfocused and a soft smile on his lips and he was so beautiful, so beautiful that Marshall couldn't tear his eyes away from him.

"You are precious." Simon caressed Marshall's face. "Like a little deviant angel." He hooked his arm under Marshall's armpits; he pushed Marshall backwards, his dick slipping out from Marshall's mouth, and then pulled Marshall up into his lap.

Marshall wrapped his arms around Simon's neck and steadied himself with his knees on the seat of the chair on either side of Simon's legs.

"So precious." Simon cupped Marshall's nape and pressed his lips against Marshall's, entangling him in a deep lustful kiss. With his free hand he pushed things away from the edge of the table and then put his hand under Marshall's ass. He stood up and sat Marshall on the edge of the table.

Marshall inched backwards. His arms still tightly around Simon's neck, he wrapped his legs around Simon's waist, pulling him closer.

Simon ground into Marshall; his hands slipping under Marshall's tight shirt, he tugged the shirt up and caressed Marshall's skin in the process.

The kiss ended, leaving Marshall breathless and a little dizzy, but he was always a little dizzy whenever Simon got his hands on him. "What…What about your work?" He tangled his fingers in Simon's hair, tugging on the tie until it snapped and a curtain of black, silken hair covered Simon's shoulders and back. He loved long hair on men, had this little thing about it. And he had plans for this one, if Simon would let him.

"I'm taking a break." Simon pressed a kiss on Marshall's neck, then scraped his teeth against the long muscles, a little nibble at the collarbone, then he slid lower, over the folds of fabric, lower, his tongue lapped at the nipple.

Marshall moaned and arched his body into the touch, his pelvis moving against Simon's groin, wanting some of that wonderful, wonderful friction. No, scratch that, he wanted Simon's wonderful dick thrusting deep inside him. "Simon, please."

"What is it, angel?" Simon caressed Marshall's sides and bit onto Marshall's nipple.

"Lube." Marshall tugged on Simon's hair.

Simon lifted his head, his face so close to Marshall's, that Marshall could see greenish diamond dots in Simon's eyes. "You want me to fuck you?"

"Yeah." Marshall shoved his hand between them, his fingers opening the buttons of Simon's shirt.

"How bad?" Simon pushed his hand under Marshall's ass, lifted it and pulled Marshall's sweat pants and boxers down to Marshall's thigh.

"Really bad." Marshall pushed the now-opened shirt over Simon's shoulders.

"Good." Simon pushed Marshall back down on the desk, then unwound Marshall's legs from his waist and pulled Marshall's pants and underwear down.

Marshall pulled himself a little higher on the desk and put his heels at the edge of the table.

Simon opened the drawer on his left and after a quick rumble through the contents, he pulled out a jar of lube and condoms and put them on the table. He opened the jar and dipped his fingers into it.

"Simon." Marshall reached out, coiled Simon's hair around his hand and tugged on it. "Kiss me."

"Of course, angel." Simon leaned over Marshall, put his left forearm above Marshall's head and pressed his lips on Marshall, a soft touch, then when Marshall opened his mouth and darted out with his tongue, he smiled, shifting away.

"Simon." Marshall narrowed his eyes at Simon, hooked his arm around his neck and pulled him down. He pressed his mouth against Simon's and before Simon could move away again, he trapped Simon's lower lip between his teeth and sucked on it.

Simon hummed into Marshall's mouth, his greased fingers reaching down between them, as he pressed his mouth fully on Marshall's, his tongue wiggling its way in between Marshall's teeth. He pushed one finger into Marshall.

Marshall moaned into Simon's mouth and spread his knees wider.

Simon pushed the second finger into Marshall, slicking him and stretching him, his mouth devouring Marshall, seducing him, dominating him. He shifted his fingers inside Marshall, pressed them against the spongy tissues, once, twice. Then he added the third finger and slid them in and out of Marshall's clenching hole, aiming for that special spot.

Marshall's back arched. He ended the kiss. "Simon." his breath was hot against Simon's cheek, drops of sweat at his temples. "If you don't get to the good part… right now… I will… I will…"

Simon lifted up and pulled his fingers out of Marshall, smirking. "You will what?" He pushed his pants lower, tore the condom's wrapper, put the condom on and greased himself. "You will do what?"

Marshall pulled Simon down by the edges of his shirt. "I'll scream."

"You'll scream anyway." Simon resumed his former position, with his left arm above Marshall's head, and in one slow thrust, he pushed into Marshall.

Marshall groaned, his eyes wide open and staring into Simon's. He liked the slight burn, loved the way Simon's face grimaced in sweet agony as he was sheltered to the root in him and waited for him to adjust. And the way Simon's lips hovered over his, not quite touching, like he was waiting for Marshall to tilt his head and close that little gap, was driving him crazy. Marshall squeezed his muscles around Simon's dick, his way of saying, it's time to move.

Simon started to rock his hips, pulling partly out and pushing back in, slowly building up the rhythm and the power of his thrusts. He closed that little gap between their lips, entangled them in a warm, sinful kiss.

Marshall wrapped his arms around Simon's shoulders, pressing their chests together. He would have preferred to reach down between them and fist his erection that just begged for touch, but Simon might then punish him by slowing down his lovely, wonderful, amazing hard thrusts.

Soft cries were swallowed by Simon's mouth as Simon changed the angle of his plunges, the head of his cock now slamming against Marshall's sweet spot every time he shoved into Marshall's tight hole.

And Marshall's toes curled, his nails digging into Simon's shoulder. He wanted, god, he wanted…"More," and "harder." He wanted for this feeling of hot delight to last forever.

An intercom rang.

"Don't… don't you dare…" Marshall wrapped his arms tightly around Simon's neck, gluing their torsos together.

Simon increased the power of his thrusts, fucking Marshall so hard that the heavy oak desk shook underneath them.

Just a little more, just a little more, the words ran around Marshall's mind like a hamster on speed. He arched his body and pushed up his pelvis, the heels of his feet digging into the desk. He needed to cum so badly, his body tensed like a bowstring, his muscles clenching around Simon's thrusting dick creating sizzling friction.

Simon reached between them, his fingers touched-- just touched -- Marshall's dick and Marshall came so hard that he thought he was going to faint. A few more thrusts and Simon joined him with a hushed cry.

The intercom still rang.

Simon pressed a sloppy kiss on Marshall's lips, his arm above Marshall's head carrying most of his weight, his chest still moving in quick succession. He took a couple of deep breaths, then put his forefinger over his lips and pressed the "on" button of the intercom. "Yeah?"

"Boss, the Germans called, they are not satisfied with the representative, they want you in person."

"Deal with them!"

"I did, boss. They are threatening to walk."

Simon rolled his eyes. "I'll be down in fifteen." He pressed the intercom's "off" button. Another sloppy kiss on Marshall's lips, then he pulled out of Marshall.

A soft moan escaped Marshall. He pushed himself higher on the desk.

Simon tied the condom and tossed it into a bin. He pulled his pants up. Then he slid his hand down Marshall's leg and caressed Marshall's feet. "How are your feet?"

"Fine. They were fine last week when you asked, and the week before that too." Marshall stretched.

"That's good." Simon leaned over the table, hooked one arm around Marshall's waist, pulled him up and hooked his other arm under Marshall's knees. "Let's take a quick shower." He carried Marshall into the bathroom where they really had a quick shower. Then he dressed and went into the study, where he gathered the papers, closed and unplugged his laptop, and put everything in to his very executive-looking laptop bag.

Marshall followed him, wrapped in a big towel.

"I'll try to be back as soon as possible." Simon straightened the knot of his tie, then leaned down and pressed a kiss on Marshall's lips, and groped Marshall's ass in passing, then he was off. Out of the study and out of the apartment.


The cell phone started to vibrate on the low table, then soft sounds of the song "Foolish Game" floated to Marshall.

Marshall closed The Secret Techniques of Bonsai that he was reading and jumped up. It was Simon. About time, it was already nine o'clock in the evening. He grabbed the phone from the table and opened it. "Hi. Where are you?"

"Still in the meeting."

"When are you coming back?

"We are going to dinner later and then out to celebrate. I won't be home until morning."

"Oh." Marshall's gaze travelled over the manuals, the only books Simon owned, scattered around the floor. "Can I stay here?"

"You do know that I'm not going to pay you if I'm not there."

"What?" Marshall wrinkled his forehead. What did money have to do with it?

"Unless- Do you need money, Marshall?"

"What? No."

"Why else would you stay?"

"To wait for you," you stupid ass.

"Why would you want to do that?"

"Why?" Marshall frowned.

"Yes, why if not for the money?"

"Because I care for you, you self-centred jerk."

"You care?"

Marshall narrowed his eyes. How dares he sound so doubtful? He clenched his hand into a fist. "Not that you care, I'm just an object to you, somebody for a quick fuck. You know what? Forget it, just forget it. I quit. Find somebody else to jump at your every beck and call."


"Fuck you." Marshall threw his phone against the wall. Bastard. Damn bastard. And he had thought how well it was going when Simon stopped popping up out of nowhere and tossing him into a car and taking him into the apartment, and instead started calling him and inviting him to come over. He stomped toward where the phone lay and thought about jumping once or twice on it, but the thing started to vibrate and "Foolish Games" again sounded through the speaker. "Damn bastard," he yelled into the phone, cancelled the call, set the phone on silent and pocketed it.

He went into Simon's closet. He kicked into the door, then grabbed his jeans and his light jacket he had stored inside. And on second thought, he also grabbed one of Simon's cashmere sweaters, the white one, because it was so soft and because ...because it was Simon's. He put it on, he rolled the long sleeves up, and smoothed his palm over the soft fabric. It was too big for him, but he wanted it, he deserved a souvenir to warm him on cold nights. Oh, god, he hadn't even left the apartment and he was already all pathetic and in need of ice cream.

He shook his head, exchanged Simon's sweat pants he was wearing for his jeans, put on his sneakers, threw his jeans and Simon's sweat pants -- another souvenir -- over his arm and went out of the apartment. As he came out of the building into the street, he only took a few steps before he found a taxi that drove him to the Geb and Robin's place.

And as Geb and Robin saw the heap of misfortune on their doorstep they took him in with open arms and sat him on the stool behind the counter in Geb's kitchen.

Marshall soon changed his stool for the comfort of Robin's lap while Geb pulled out the ice cream. He told them everything, gulping down ice cream like it was water.

"He paid you for sex? Marshall, of all the stupid things you've involved yourself in, this is one of the stupidest," was the first thing that came out of Geb's mouth.

"But, but..." Marshall's lower lip started to tremble. "If I'd said that that he shouldn't pay, he might have stopped kidnapping me and I wouldn't have seen him anymore. And I wanted to keep seeing him, I wanted to be with him."

Robin wrapped his arms tighter around Marshall, sending Geb an ugly look. "There, there. I know. I know."

"It's still stupid." Geb ran his fingers through his short, black hair.

"It's Marshall." Robin leaned Marshall's head on his shoulder and combed his fingers through Marshall's curls.

"Yeah," Geb nodded.

"What was that supposed to mean?" Marshall pouted and snuggled deeper into Robin's warmth. "And stop talking like I'm not here." He yawned.

"That means that we know about your weird logic." Robin ruffled Marshall's hair and pushed him out of his lap. "Now, let's get you into the bed. You are tired."

Marshall agreed and after he changed into Simon's sweat pants and that wonderfully soft sweater, even as Geb objected that it wasn't an item to be used as sleeping attire, he was set into Geb and Robin's bed, between the two of them. He soon dozed off, his face buried in Robin's chest and his legs entangled with Geb's, getting all the comfort that he needed. And so he didn't hear when, a hour or so later, Geb's doorbell started to ring. Its annoying sound forced Geb, swearing under his breath, to get up. Marshall also didn't hear the sounds of arguing in the hallway, or how it suddenly stopped, a few soft words and then Geb, with Simon on his heels, appeared in the bedroom.

Simon sat down on the bed and gently shook Marshall's shoulders.

Marshall's eyelids fluttered, he opened his eyes for a moment, then he closed them and nuzzled Robin's neck.

"Angel." Simon's voice didn't sounded too happy. He grabbed Marshall's shoulders, slightly turned him and pulled him up, away from Robin.

"You don't have to be jealous." Geb crossed his arms.

"I'm not, not of your boyfriend." Simon removed the sheet from Marshall and pulled Marshall sideways into his lap.

"What was that suppose to mean?"

"He's still loves you." Simon combed blonde curls away from Marshall's face.

"Of course, he does. And he is in love with you." Geb stepped closer to the bed. "That's the only reason why I let you into my apartment. Well, that and the fact that you are in love with him, too."

"I am? He is?"

"Why else would you have rushed here, threatening me and making a ruckus? I've heard a lot about you and I don't think you are a man who acts on impulses, but now you obviously did." Geb caressed Marshall's face, smirking at the way Simon looked like he would have liked to bite his fingers off. He pinched Marshall's nose. "Marshall, darling, wake up."

"Ummm" Marshall swatted Geb's hand away, his eyelids opened, then fluttered close. "Just five more minutes."

"You said that he is in love with me?" Simon hooked one arm under Marshall's armpits and the other one under Marshall's knees. He stood up.

"That what he said." Geb moved out of the way. "Where are you taking him?"


"What's happening?" Robin pulled himself up, he blinked a couple of times.

"Simon came to take Marshall home." Geb took the blanket off the bed. He wrapped it around Marshall. He escorted Simon to the entrance door, taking Marshall's phone and wallet from the cabinet in the anteroom and putting them into Simon's jacket pocket. "You better take good care of him or I will hunt you down and break every bone in your body."

"I will." Simon nodded. He carried Marshall out of the apartment to the street and into the car that was waiting on him. He sat down on the seat and cradled Marshall's sleeping form. He pressed a kiss on Marshall's lips.

Marshall opened his eyes. He blinked and, at the sight of Simon's face, his mouth spread into a big smile that lighted his face. "Hi." He reached out to wrap his arms around Simon's neck, but found the blanket in the way.

"Hey." Simon smiled back and pressed another quick, soft kiss on Marshall's lips. "I'm glad you are not angry anymore."

A smile disappeared from Marshall's face. "Angry?" He frowned and glanced around his surroundings -- what was he doing in Simon's car, when the last thing that he remembered was -- "You ass." He started to thrash in Simon's hold, trying to get his arms out of the blanket. "And those traitors. Let me go. Let me go. You good for nothing mother-"

Simon put his hand over Marshall's mouth. "Behave and listen to me."

Marshall bit into the hand. He managed to get his arms free.

"Marshall, damn it." Simon grabbed Marshall's hands. "Listen to me."

"I don't want to. Now let me go, you stupid... stupid… noodle. This time I'm turning you in to the police. And I'm going to press charges. And get a restraining order."

"I love you."

All the fight drained out of Marshall at those words. He stared up at Simon's face. "What?"

"I love you."

Marshall blinked, tilting his head. Simon loved him. He narrowed his eyes at him. Was this some kind of trick? "Liar. You are such a liar." He felt moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes. "How can you be so cruel and lie about a thing like that?"

"Angel." Simon cupped Marshall's face. "Have I ever lied to you?"

Marshall thought about it. "No, but-" His eyes searched Simon's face. "You do? Really? You really love me?"

"Yes." A soft, genuine smile decorated Simon's face.

"That's good." A smile split Marshall's lips. "Because I love you, too."

"I know." At Marshall's raised brows, Simon explained. "Geb told me."

"That bastard." Marshall wrapped his arms around Simon's neck, his fingers playing with the strands of black hair. "I'll thank him later." He leaned his cheeks against Simon's shoulder. "So where are we going?"


"In Canterbury?" Marshall frowned, from Google he knew that Simon had a big mansion on the outskirts of Canterbury, but wasn't that a little too far away?

"No, the apartment."

"Oh, but I thought... you said home."

"Since I met you, that apartment has became more of a home than that house will ever be."

"But didn't you spend your childhood there?"


"Oh." Marshall snuggled closer. "So, to the apartment then?"

"Yeah." Simon caressed Marshall's back. "And as a punishment for running away I'm going to love you all night long, so hard that you are not going to be able to sit tomorrow."

Marshall raised his brows. "I'm very resilient."

Simon smirked. "And I'm very determined."

Marshall flashed a naughty smile. "I'm counting on it." He tugged on Simon's hair and pressed his lips to Simon's, entangling them in a deep, very deep passionate kiss, dominating for a few seconds, until Simon took over. And as Marshall surrendered to him and to his touch, he though how Simon was what he always needed, but never believed he would find.

The end