(obligatory author's note, part deux. once upon a time an anonymous reviewer made a short and to the point demand for smut, and in this chapter i do not deliver. but i come pretty close, hurr durr.)
Marshall Lee has never really been in a teaching position.
Being the ruler of a kingdom isn't really the same as being a teacher, per say, and while he is in a position of authority over his race, the very nature of vampires themselves make him little more than a guide at best and a figurehead at worst. After all, vampires are an ancient and powerful race, terrible and great in their longevity, and very rarely need to be actively led. That's how Marshall Lee gets away with dicking around topside for decades at a time without needing to actually oversee his kingdom. Unless there's an emergency, he doesn't really have much of a reason to be there.
Marshall Lee is a very hands-off King.
Which isn't to say that if he did show up he'd be completely ignored. No, he might not be around all the time, but when he does make his presence known, he is serious about the respect that he deserves. He'd fought too hard and for too long to completely fade into the background. When he wears his crown, his word is law, and every subject under him knows that.
For the most part though, Marshall Lee just leaves the council to deal with things. The kingdom doesn't need another dictator like his wife was before him and thus far they seem to appreciate his rather loose brand of control. And if he has a card up his sleeve in the form of Amalie keeping an ear to the ground, well, what his people don't know in his absence won't hurt them.
But back to his original thought, Marshall Lee has never really had to teach anyone anything. Even as young as Fionna was when they'd first met, just entering the real formative years of her character, he hadn't contributed much to her knowledge or view of the world. That job was taken largely by Cake, and somewhat by Gumball. Which is probably a good thing, Marshall Lee has a very weird sense of humor and he probably would have ruined her prematurely if given the chance.
Sometimes he wonders if he's ruining her now.
It's not like he's trying to, not really, but the thing is that he's a guy and he sometimes has issues with verbal affection. He's just also a very affectionate person, so he tends to display that physically instead. And beyond hugging and snuggling, which she used to do with Cake and sometimes Cream when they were younger, Fionna is not very well versed in physical affection.
So Marshall Lee will just have to, you know, teach her. Which isn't exactly a chore because Fionna is a beautiful girl and he cares a lot about her, and in the two months that they've been together she's grown a bit more comfortable with all the touching and closeness.
But the problem is that Fionna is very much a virgin, still unused to what all she's feeling inside, what all he's making her feel, and the short and short of it is that she was raised by cats so she doesn't have any real basis for humanoid pleasure or humanoid relationships and at what pace they're supposed to progress, and cats are cuddly animals anyway. So most of the time Marshall Lee is the one to initiate physical contact and the one to end it before it goes too far, and it's wearing on his nerves because he's a guy and what do you expect from him, really?
And he knows that she knows what sex is (or maybe he just really, really hopes because he might be a thousand years old but that in no way means that he's going to be comfortable giving Fionna the talk), but she doesn't seem to know how fast is too fast or the emotional connotations behind it. And Marshall Lee wants this to mean something, he really, really does because he cares about this girl in a way that he wouldn't have thought possible if you'd asked him about it a year ago.
So if he has to be the one to set the pace, the one to say no, then he will do it with all the patience he can muster and a little bit more besides.
And that's how Marshall Lee ended up teaching his girlfriend about abstinence. Kind of. In a roundabout way. Okay, not really.
Marshall Lee will be the first to admit that he sort of has a thing for girls sitting in his lap.
If he really thought about it, he'd probably explain that it was because he has an underlying neck-and-collarbone fetish (but considering that he's a vampire that's probably a given), or because he likes the way Fionna's hair falls around them like a curtain, a golden shield of vanilla that can block out nearly everything, from the storm outside that rocks the higher branches of the tree house to the increasing paranoia he's been developing that something is inexplicably wrong.
But then again, Marshall Lee doesn't really like to rationalize his feelings, he'd rather just feel them, so he doesn't think much about it and just enjoys the way Fionna's knees brush his hips and her hair tickles his chin and throat. They're not really doing anything right now, just basking in the feeling of each other as the wind howls through the leaves and the tree groans around them.
This one of his favorite things to do because Marshall Lee and Fionna both are normally very active people, and sometimes it's nice to just sit and exist together for a while and not feel like they have to be doing something to stay interesting. No, he's quite content to huddle up on the couch with a blanket and his girl and listen to the thunder rumble outside.
Fionna herself is in a light doze and leaning against his chest sleepily, hands tucked around his back, and if he concentrates he can feel her heart beat through her skin and clothes, but if he concentrates too hard then his entire body starts to itch and sting so he doesn't think about that too much, either. He especially likes Fionna when she's in this drowsy, half-asleep daze because this is when she's less inhibited and just generally more affectionate, and she lets out a small sound of distaste as he shifts to wrap his arms and the blanket further around her.
"I dun like storms," she tells him in that matter-of-fact voice that she regresses to when she gets tired and less communicative, like a child who's talking just to say something. Marshall Lee has learned several interesting things about her this way, like how she likes candles but thinks that they're really girly (Marshall Lee was a bit defensive at that because he has like eighty candles all around his house and he's not girly at all, thank you very much), or how sometimes she likes to be the big spoon when they cuddle together, or that every now-and-then being the only human in Ooo is so incredibly lonely.
"Why?" he asks soothingly, running one hand up and down her back idly. She buries her face into his chest and mumbles something, and he shakes her annoyingly until she growls and unearths herself from the blanket to glare up at him. The effect is completely ruined by her mussed hair and generally adorable face, and he raises an unimpressed eyebrow at her.
Fionna turns her head to the side and says quietly, "Back when I was younger and still lived with mom and dad, we all lived in this little house in the grass kingdom. Have you ever been there?"
Marshall Lee nods, his chin bobbing up at down onto her scalp. "Mm-hmm," he hums, and Fionna seems to sink into the vibrations in his chest. "Big, wide, and grassy. Kinda flat."
"Yeah. Well every few months we'd get these super bad gale winds that would just rage around the plains for days because there weren't any mountains or hills for them to break against or to slow them down. And cats… well, cats don't really like storms."
At this Marshall Lee snorts and tries to imagine where a terrified Cake is right now, claws dug into an unfortunate Monochromicorn. It's probably a good thing that the cat isn't here right now anyway, because he'd lived in this tree for years and even he's a bit concerned at the way it's rocking at the top.
Fionna continues, her eyes glazed over slightly with nostalgia as she stares at the wall. "So I was just a little kid and there'd be a bunch of cats yowling and screaming, and it was kind of scary even though I knew they were family. So I never really liked storms."
"Understandable," he tells her simply, but can't help but follow up with, "I mean, for a wuss."
She pushes herself away from him to glare at him fully, her eyes narrowing and nose wrinkling in agitation. Marshall Lee tips his head back and laughs, long and deep, because she just has this ability to make him happy and he still hasn't really gotten used to that. Part of him hopes that he never will. He leans forward and kisses the tip of her nose, but she pouts and turns in his lap so that her back is against his front and slouches, putting all of her weight into him and knocking his breath out.
"Stop treating me like a kid," Fionna grumbles, crossing her arms, and Marshall Lee has to restrain himself from pointing out that him, she is a kid. She'll always be a kid, no matter how old she gets, because she's Fionna and that's just how the world works for them.
Instead he wraps his arms around her middle and pulls her back flush against her chest, and her breath hitches slightly and her muscles clench and then loosen when he dips his head to press an open-mouthed kiss against the skin above her jugular. This is a weak spot for them both; Marshall Lee flirts with temptation when his fangs drag across her flesh, and for Fionna it's a mix of apprehension and anticipation.
"I don't think you're a kid," Marshall Lee murmurs, even though part of him does, and she shivers when he pulls away and cool air hits the wet patch on her throat. His hand splays across her stomach through her shirt, feeling the skin twitch beneath the fabric, and he's equal parts alarmed and turned on when he realizes just how small she is compared to him.
It's something even baser than vampiric instinct to bite and mark that coils in his gut, something more heady and masculine that tells him to cover and protect and nurture this precious life that trusts him so completely.
Mostly, though, he just wants to know if he can get her to make those little noises that he likes so much.
"Good," Fionna says on a gasp as the lukewarm fingers of his other hand brush against the bottom of her shirt and then sneak in, trailing up the skin of her sides, up and down with his fingertips. It kind of tickles, but in a different way than normal, and she can barely finish with, "cause doing this with a kid would be really, really creepy."
His fingers still abruptly against her side, and his face pauses in the dip of her shoulder. Something in the way she says it strike a chord within him, bringing these feelings of guilt to the forefront of his mind. Because, really, Fionna is a child. And as young as he himself might look and act, the fact is that he hasn't truly been a teenager in a long time. He suddenly feels dirty and cruel, like it's a terrible thing to touch her the way he is, to care for her like he does.
Fionna lets out a questioning sound, leaning back into him to try and coax some movement once more. After a few seconds Marshall Lee gains enough control of himself to remember that, by mortal standards, Fionna is a consenting adult who feels very, very nice sitting in his lap. But it is a sobering thought to realize that no matter how warm she feels pressed up against him, she will never be able to truly heat him up too, and it's a thought that he's unable to fully stomp down.
But he tries, he tries so hard, and Fionna doesn't really notice his hesitation, so he decides that he will do what he's always done and just take what he can get.
Fionna mewls when his hand raises, long guitarist fingers drifting up between the swell of her breasts and over the part where her bra meets in the middle. Marshall Lee hasn't really let himself go this far yet, hasn't really trusted himself to stop when necessary, and Fionna herself doesn't really look sure how to treat his exploration.
"Is this okay?" he asks gently, lips ghosting across the rim of her ear. He's reminded of his dream several months ago, and in that dream she'd asked him the same question. He's not really sure if this is irony, but it kind of feels like it.
It takes a moment, but Fionna nods and swallows, her pulse jumping in her throat, and Marshall Lee has a moment of weakness where he presses his mouth to her jugular and scrapes his fangs across her flesh, and it's almost like a tease to them both. His voice is deeper, huskier when he tells her, "If you want, I'll stop. You just have to say it."
Fionna turns to glance at him over her shoulder, and the way her eyes have darkened from a bright ocean blue to a cool cobalt, like a midsummer's night sky, almost rips a groan from his throat. "Okay," she murmurs, and her trust in him is almost tangible as he very carefully lifts her shirt from her shoulders.
She hesitantly turns in his lap so she's facing him again, but her arms lift to cover her chest self-consciously. Marshall Lee tries very, very hard not to stare at her because she's still not entirely comfortable with this yet and open appreciation can come later, when she's better able to handle it without taking it the wrong way.
Instead he just presses his face against the warmth of her collarbone, just above where her cleavage starts, and says into her skin, "I had a dream like this once. Only I was the one without a shirt on."
Even as he says the words Marshall Lee can feel her skin heat with a blush, and there is a horrible, terrible moment where he can almost smell the blood pumping beneath her ripe flesh and he knows that right now is the perfect time to strike, if he so chooses to. The moment passes with a lingering feeling of horror, and he wonders if he can bury himself so far into Fionna that he can escape his own instinct.
Fionna doesn't notice his brief second of terror where he's not sure if he's actually in control of himself, and she lifts shaky, hesitant hands to rest in his hair, cradling him to her. "Was it a good dream?" she asks, trying to decide if she's more uncomfortable than she is turned on because her skin feels like it's on fire where he's touching her, but in a good way. She uses the question as a distraction while she attempts to figure herself out.
Marshall Lee thinks back to how his dream ended, with her happy and him not entirely satisfied and a confession that he's still not sure if he understands or not.
"It was excellent," he tells her. Fionna takes a deep breath and nods.
"Okay," she says again, and it's like permission so Marshall Lee drags his tongue across her skin as she shivers on top of him.
For all that Fionna is loud and exuberant during the day, she is surprisingly quiet and unresponsive to his touches. At least, vocally unresponsive. Her fingers grip and grab at him as he moves from her chest back to her neck, back to familiar territory and she's okay with this because she knows this, and if anything the fabric of his shirt rasping across her sensitive chest only adds to the sensations thrumming through her body, and she thinks that she could get used to this if given time.
At this point they are both unwilling to explore further than being shirtless, and he doesn't even try to remove her undergarments because they're making progress at a reasonable pace and he wants her to be comfortable.
The thing is, Marshall Lee hasn't been a virgin for a long, long time. But he knows that Fionna is, and he doesn't want to ruin this for her. He wants to give her options. He doesn't want her to look back on this and think that everything would have been better if only she hadn't let that vampire boy take away her innocence. Which, in a sense, is exactly what he's doing.
His cyclical thought process keeps bringing him back to him ruining her, and a fear that is quickly becoming familiar wells up inside of him again. He's corrupting her with every touch and every word, and it's not so much that he doesn't deserve her as that she doesn't deserve what he's doing to her.
Fionna whines when his fingers stop trailing up her side and her own hands clench, one in his shirt and one in his hair. Marshall Lee tries to shake himself from his stupor again, but reality (or maybe fantasy?) is slow in returning and it takes him a moment to return to his actions. She doesn't really notice, caught up as she is in the feelings racing through her body.
Marshall Lee thinks that maybe if he tries hard enough, he can save her from himself.
He drifts lower, or maybe she just arcs higher, and he mumbles against the skin of her chest, teeth raking lightly and tongue brushing gently. She lets out a soft keen as he dips into the sensitive skin of her stomach, and by now her knees are pushing her entire weight into his thighs and even if she realized it she probably wouldn't care. Which is good, because the slight pain keeps him grounded, keeps his head clear enough so that his hands don't wander any further down her back then they already are.
Even if he won't say it aloud, Marshall Lee knows that this is for her, not him. He just wants to make her feel good, wants to show her what her body can do, what his body can do for her.
Marshall Lee is very much a romantic at heart.
His tongue presses into the indention of her bellybutton, and her spine snaps straight before she bends almost completely over him, her mind focused only on what she's feeling and not what she's doing. She twists so far that her breasts sit heavily on his head, heaving with every breath, a comforting and sensuous weight, and some strands of hair fall into the gap between his bent neck and his shirt, tickling his back.
He pauses to take a shaky breath, unnecessary considering his current undead status, but it has the effect of blowing warm air out onto her skin and a long, loud whine tunnels up from Fionna's chest through her throat and out of her mouth, and heat races down his own chest to settle in his groin. All he can think is that it's a good thing that Fionna is putting her weight on his knees now, instead of his lap, because that would just be awkward.
After a moment of consideration, Marshall Lee plants a wet, open-mouthed kiss on the skin below her navel and above her crotch, right where the skin starts to dip into her pelvis, then pulls back and blows cold air onto the wet spot.
Fionna's eyes snap open and he looks up, trying to see her face as she stares at the ceiling, mouth opened slightly as she shakes and shivers and vibrates on top of him. He feels equal parts triumph and shame as he realizes that he's just brought her to what is probably her first orgasm.
After a couple seconds she returns to partial awareness and slouches against him, body falling back into the comfortable and familiar rise and fall of his chest, her gasping breath puffing against his throat. Marshall Lee can almost hear her blood singing through her veins and he thinks that he has to leave, to go, to get away before he does something that he regrets because she has this uncanny ability to make him forget his inhibitions.
He very gently removes her body from his, her muscles twitching and jumping beneath his touch, but her body is quickly wearing itself out with these new sensations and her grogginess from earlier is returning with a vengeance. She still finds the strength to sit up and place a hand on his arm as he makes to stand, and her eyes are confused and sad and scared all at the same time because he looks like he's leaving and he's supposed to be showing her what to do now.
"Where are…?" Fionna tries, but her throat is dry from gasping and her voice cracks and peters out. As if realizing how vulnerable she sounds, she snatches her hand from his skin and stares at it in her lap, her shoulders tense.
Marshall Lee turns to look at her, and she looks so completely sad that he can't help but tell her gently, "I'll be right back," even though right now he feels like he needs to be anywhere but here, as long as she's safe from him because he doesn't trust himself right now not to just take because Marshall Lee has never really been one to ask for something that he really wants.
Fionna hesitates, but she's trusting and naive so she just nods.
Marshall Lee moves for the bathroom as quickly as he can without feeling uncomfortable and as soon as the door shuts behind him he pulls down his pants and grips himself roughly, teeth clenching and grinding as he replays the way she'd shuddered and shook and keened on top of him, thinks about how it would feel to hold her hips down and thrust into her, the sounds she would make and how she would gasp his name. It doesn't take long for him to come undone, and he braces himself up with one hand against the wall as he rides the waves of pleasure.
It's been a long time since he'd indulged in this, since he'd even really thought about it, and it takes him a minute to regain his composure and clean himself up and destroy any evidence of his actions. He definitely doesn't need an enraged Cake breaking down his door for defiling Fionna.
That thought sends the ones from before spiraling back into his head, and Marshall Lee leans his head against the wall and sighs angrily. He feels guilty that he'd done it, but he especially feels ashamed for having done it despite that guilt.
Marshall Lee turns to look at himself in the mirror, but the reflection is empty on the glass. It's another reminder of just what, exactly, he is. And it's a slap in the face of what he cannot be.
But he imagines that if he could see himself in the glass, he would see a world-weary boy with the eyes of a demon.
A promise is a promise, and even though his head screams for him to leave and get out while there is still something left of Fionna that he hasn't ruined, his heart (dead and cold and still as it may be) says that he needs to go back to her and let her know that everything is okay. Even if right now it's really not.
Fionna isn't on the couch when he closes the door behind him, and he follows her scent up to the bedroom, where she's curled up half-asleep on the bed. After a moment of hesitation, because right now she's tired enough that she wouldn't notice if he didn't come back (but he can't stand the thought of her waking up alone and thinking that she did something wrong), he shucks his shirt and slides between the sheets to press up against her.
Right here, like this, feels more comfortable, feels more right than having her gasping above him, and even though he's the one curling up around her he feels more protected and cared for then he has in a while. Still, even though Fionna lets out a sleepy, questioning sound and he presses a kiss to her neck to show that it's just him, a long, lingering doubt still huddles in the back of his mind, wondering how long it'll be before he loses control himself and loses her forever.
He clutches close to her, like if he pulls himself in enough he can protect her from himself, and he whispers his fears into her hair, "I will destroy you one day."
He's not sure what he's expecting, but he gets a half-lucid, vaguely affirmative grunt in reply, and can't help but smile sadly.
Fionna is an adventuress and she's used to danger, and hopefully when that day comes she will be able to protect herself, because Marshall Lee isn't sure that he'll be able to do it for her.
(this chapter was not supposed to be this angsty, but apparently i am unable to write normal sex scenes (or i guess just vaguely graphic foreplay scenes, in this case...) without something being wrong. sorry about that. and looking back on it now, marshall lee turned out a lot more whiny than i was going for. herp derp when can i write happy again.
also, cream is the female version of jermaine, jake's brother, in my head.)