FINALLY POSTING SOMETHING. And its smut of Marionette and Mike cuz why not. although it can be read on its own, in my mind it is Mike and Marionette from Can't Go Home Again by Mable. whatever, go on, read the cringey story
Marionette was used to control. He controlled if they went somewhere. Where they went, what they do. He was the one to veto plans. And Mike couldn't, he wasn't the one who could just teleport away. Not that Marionette abusers that power. And honestly, one would think Mike had the control in the relationship, he generally initiated planning, set up movie nights, drove Marionette everywhere, but never without Marionette's agreement. And that's how, on the surface, while it may seem otherwise, truly it was Marionette who had all the power in the relationship.
Which is why, pressed to a bed on his right side, it was always so exciting to have Mike pleasure him in the more adult sense. Because suddenly, he had no such control.
Originally they were both on their sides, kissing, with Mike stroking his mask with one hand and the other gently squeezing and rubbing a striped leg wrapped around him, earning him multiple trembles and chimes. While the touches were exciting, the thrill was not yet there.
Oh how badly he wanted to give in to Mike, holding the man close. At some point he felt his strings release, wrapping around Mike, tangling them together. To which Mike responded with even more fervent kisses. It was here he felt the power slip in a semi ironic sense.
Mike was trapped in his arms, his tight embrace, his web of strings. He could not escape if he wanted too. And yet, as with every intimate moment, it was also his way of telling Mike to continue, to not hold back.
Which means that Mike has him moaning, trilling and chiming in pleasure. Pudding under his fingertips, and unable to control himself.
By now Mike somehow managed to still shift himself to hover over Marionette, who was still on his right side, right arm holding onto Mike desperately as he cried out.
He could barely focus on the sensations, he just felt it, felt each jolt of pleasure when a string was pulled, when his mask was pressed into with loving fingers.
He craned his head back with a particularly loud loud chime, having a string be pulled out sharper than before.
He was rewarded with kisses to his exposed neck. He trembled again.
He couldn't stop Mike if he wanted to, much less teleport, not that he'd ever want to.
A group of strings were slowly coaxed out, a sharp contrast to the faster pace of previous and it showed. Marionette arched his back, legs stretching straight, a strained moan at the flow of pleasure.
Mike knew Marionette loved when he changed the pace, for it always kept him guessing, not sure what was next.
Eventually he squirmed again amidst his trembling, chimes letting through a faint wine.
Mike chuckled, knowing the signs all too well, and lightly ground against Marionette again as he had been occasionally doing. Yes, that whine was very telling.
And despite the thrill of losing his prideful sense of self control, of unpredictability because of so, deep down, he knew Mike wouldn't dream of denying him his finishing moment.
Because seeing Marionette trembling, arching his back with loud, uncontrolled chimes of love and pleasure, eyes rolled up, was always a sight Mike loved all too much and yet could barely handle himself.
But he always did, because he was the one in control.
Anyways, totally off topic, but Loki, god of Mischief, he's my new king. AKA, Loki/Tom Hiddleston are my new unrealistic/fictional crushes. Good night now.