Chapter Text
Carrying three bags of groceries, Peter juggled them in his arms as he managed to unlock the door and wedge it open with his foot. He had a rare day off, and he was planning on making dinner for his beloved Mark before he got home. It was an uneventful day and he wanted to keep it that way, but of course fate had a different course for him. As he started to unload food into cupboards and get the correct ingredients for their meal, he heard the landline buzzing with irritation in the hallway. Firstly, he’d never known their landline to ring unless it was an emergency, and his nerves weren’t eradicated when he picked up, either.
“Hello, Hoffman residence. Peter speaking.” Peter’s voice immediately turned formal, as he did when he was expecting bad news.
“Oh, may I please enquire if my son is there?” A very sharp female voice replied.
“Your son?”
“Yes, is Marcus there?” Peter held his hand over his mouth so that she couldn’t hear him hold back a laugh.
“Ummmm…..Mark’s at work…..”
“Oh. I see. Could you please tell him his mother called, and that I require him to call back as soon as he is able. Thank you.” The woman hung up, leaving Peter smirking as he put the phone back into the receiver.
Marcus? Seriously?
Peter found himself amused at the woman’s sudden phone call, not realizing a crucial fact until it hit him hard in the face. He was Mark’s husband now, had the fact slipped his mind to tell him that his parents were still alive? He’d been under the impression that Mark had no family, especially after he was so torn about Angelina’s death. But he knew that Mark wouldn’t lie to him, so he decided to tackle the subject after he’d prepared dinner.
A few hours later, Mark finished work as the sky began to darken. As he walked in the door, Peter was already plating up their fresh pasta dish, and he helped Mark shrug out of his coat as he entered.
“Hey, how was work?” Diving straight into their usual domestic chat, Peter felt as though he was giving an interrogation, starting with a neutral question.
“Bad.” The response was short and emotionless, and Mark simply walked over to the table to eat without another word. Even though Peter could see Mark was not up to talking tonight, there was no way he’d be able to swallow down his curiosity. Sitting opposite him, they both served themselves then ate silently. There was a tension in the air, Mark was oblivious to any strange activity, whereas Peter was struggling not to speak. Seeing Peter’s tight stance and stiffness at the table, Mark raised his eyebrows and flicked a piece of pasta in his direction as he gained his partner’s attention.
“What’s up with you tonight?” He immediately went straight for the kill, there was no hesitation as far he was concerned.
“N-Nothing….”
“There’s clearly something. You’re never this silent.”
“W-Well……” Peter sighed deeply, placing his fork down for a moment to try and breach the delicate subject.
“Mark…….your mom called. At least, she said she was your mom. You wanna explain that to me?”
Mark dropped his fork and looked straight through Peter, his eyes completely glazed over like he’d been jolted by electricity or frozen. To hear those words were shocking to say the least, and after he’d left home at 16 he’d never expected his parents to even attempt to contact him again. He vowed to keep them out of his life, but they’d crept back in. Finally blinking, he held his forehead and let out a sigh from the deepest recesses of his lungs.
“Peter……I’m sorry. I haven’t told you everything about me. My parents are alive, but to me, they’re dead.” Mark felt a little anger flaring up as he spoke.
“What happened?” Peter reached across the table to trace patterns on Mark’s hand, trying to soothe him but unsure if his gesture would be accepted. Mark gripped one of his fingers and stared at the outline of his fingernail as he started to explain the story.
“I was 16 when I left that…..place. My mom and dad were already angry with me, they wanted me to go to this school, and they wanted to send Angelina abroad to study. She was only a little girl, and they’d arranged all this…..this shit. We were going to be mom and dad’s little “works of art” and play piano and be the perfect little children. I hated it. I hated them for what they were doing to Angelina. You know, they didn’t even go to her funeral. Probably don’t even know she’s dead…”
“Mark…”
“Why did they think I’d go crawling back to them?! To their fucking mansion, to their fucked up way of life?!”
“Mark, come here.” Peter pushed the plates away and led him to the sofa. Initially he’d been angry that Mark hadn’t told him the complete truth, but now he was starting to piece together why he’d withheld information. His relationship with his own parents was good, but they’d died such a long time ago that he’d not given much thought as to whether Mark’s parents had a good relationship with him or not. Seeing Mark’s reaction, he forgot all of the anger and just held him tight against his chest as he rode out his rage.
“Hey. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
“I took her with me, when I left. I could only afford a crappy little apartment, and everyone assumed I was a single dad who’d fucked up. It was so hard…..but I loved her so much that I couldn’t let her turn into them….”
“I know, I know. You were a good dad to Angelina, and you gave her a better life. Don’t let them ruin your life again.” Peter took his hand and kissed it softly, still feeling Mark tremble lightly but he stared back at him with a smirk.
“I can only imagine what mom would say if she knew I’d married you.”
“Maybe you should tell her. Tell her that you didn’t marry a rich girl to bare their “perfect little grandchildren.” I’m assuming that’s what she planned for you?”
“Yeah….” Mark tilted his head slightly and stared at his husband, his anger suddenly melting into a somewhat satisfied state.
“We should see them. I want them to know that they’ll never change me. I live how I want, with who I want.” Folding his arms, Mark removed himself from Peter’s arm and stared at the wall, a hard stare like he meant business. Giggling a little, Peter smiled at his husband and draped his arms around his neck from behind.
“I love that you do what you want. Marcus.”
“What the fuck did you just call me?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you not like that?” Peter cooed innocently, landing on the sofa with a thud.
“If you call me that again, I’ll punish you.” Mark growled as he leaned down on Peter. Peter stared straight back up at him, his stare just as harsh.
“Marcus.” He purred, challenging his husband’s willpower. He would never give up an opportunity.
“Oh you’re in trouble now.” Before he had a chance to giggle again, Peter gasped softly as Mark pressed down against him, crushing his lips over his. Any of Peter’s comments were silenced immediately, and he gripped Mark’s shoulders as he stifled a moan. It was one of Peter’s favourite things, to experience the full force of Mark’s rage. As he was kept pinned down by his husband’s weight, he glided over his tongue and delved further into his mouth. Mark’s tongue was fierce and unyielding, paired with the rub of his coarse stubble, Peter felt himself growing hard in seconds. He instinctively wrapped his legs around Mark’s waist, but felt two firm hands restricting him. With the last whip of his tongue, Mark pulled away and smirked.
“Hmm. I guess you’re not interested.” Mark shrugged and started walking towards the kitchen. He only managed to put one foot on the ground before Peter pounced on him. Not content with playing his game, Peter gripped his collar and pressed him against the wall, kissing him with such force he almost tore his shirt. Even Mark’s light teasing had driven Peter to act fast, and their heated exchange had him panting under his grip.
“You always do what you want. But now I’m going to do what I want.” Peter hummed right into his ear, running his hands over the front of his shirt. Mark grinned a little and leaned up to whisper back.
“And what’s that?”
“You.” With that, Peter ripped Mark’s shirt open, dispersing buttons across the floor. The two of them clawed at each other, shredding pieces of fabric off the other until they were standing naked, kissing ferociously. Running his hands all over Mark’s body, Peter hooked his legs under his arms and attacked his neck, revelling in every light groan. Pressed tightly against the wall, Mark reached over to the table to pick up the lube, tossing it at Peter as they broke away for a second. Stroking the underside of Mark’s extremely tight, taught rear, Peter didn’t need telling twice as he wetted his fingers, still supporting him in his arms. When the first two fingers slid inside him, Mark held back a strangled cry and gripped Peter’s shoulders, never giving him the satisfaction of hearing him. Peter’s fingers only pumped fast inside him, and he captured his lip gently between his teeth.
“Let me hear you baby.”
“Never.”
“Maybe this will change your mind.” Peter hissed against his ear, replacing his fingers with a firm cock. Mark’s fingernails sunk into Peter’s shoulder blades as he withheld another moan, wanting to scream at Peter’s enormous length entering him. Bouncing against Peter’s hips, he felt his husband starting to thrust to meet him. His eyelashes fluttered desperately over his dilated pupils, and he picked the lube up again. Trailing his hand down Peter’s spine, he felt him cease his thrusting for a moment as he lingered over his entrance.
“Yeah?” Mark gently pushed his wet finger inside, feeling his husband grow inside him. Peter’s face was enough to make him betray himself and moan loudly. They stared at each other for a second, before kissing deeply. Thrusting weakly, Peter couldn’t focus properly with three fingers inside him. Groaning, he rested his forehead on Mark’s and felt him trembling lightly.
“Peter…..let me show you how it’s done.” He whined into his ear, gently sliding off his dick. He missed the feeling, but he wanted to fuck Peter so badly. Peter went down on all fours, arms shaking slightly as he felt Mark prowling behind him. Whilst they’d normally be in the bedroom, Peter was so desperate that he just knelt on the floor, uncaring of the strain on his knees. Mark used some more of the lube, then lingered over his expectant husband.
“You’re such a fucking tea-ahhhhh!” Peter scraped the floor a little with his nails as he felt Mark’s cock delve deep into him. Filling the apartment with loud moans, Peter pushed his hips back to meet Mark’s thrusts, hitting the floor every time he pounded harder. Gripping Peter’s thighs in an iron grip, Mark didn’t relent as he hammered Peter’s backside, biting his lip every time Peter made such an obscene noise. Reaching around to stroke Peter’s neglected penis, he felt his husband pulsing around his own cock.
“Jesus Peter….!”
“Come inside me…” Peter cried out, releasing fast in Mark’s hand. It didn’t take long for Mark to follow, fulfilling Peter’s request and filling him to the hilt, before pulling out and collapsing beside him. As they laid on the floor, Peter reached out and stroked his face, his mouth still agape as he panted hard.
“Yeah…..you really do do what you want…..” He murmured lightly, smiling.