omg PLSSSS do a sequel to ‘under a false alter’ like PLSSS ANDDD i wanna know everything about them
how’s married life? how has she adjusted to marriage? what does he think about her? i need banter i need sexual tension I NEED EVERYTHING PLSSS oh and lots of smut THANK YOUU
ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪʟʟᴀ ᴡᴀʟʟs
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Marcus Acacius x Wife!reader | WC : 10k | Proof read : YES | Navigation | Notifications | asks : OPEN | Under a False Alter
Summary: No matter how hard you try, you can't seem to escape your new husband, not that your father makes it any easier for you.
Warnings: DUB-CON (Forced/Arranged marriage) SMUT, grinding, unprotected pinv (wrap it before you tap it), Implied age gap, Scars, Voyeurism, Spitting, both give switch vibes, the reader has a little angsty past, biting, misogyny, almost drowning
A/n: I've never been so grateful for the amount of love this has received. I hope I do it justice with this part two. Lots of love and joy. ALSO, WE GET A MARCUS POV AT ONE POINT hehe
It had been three days since your "marriage" to Marcus, and the silence between you two had been a welcome respite. The tension in the air was thick, each of you occupying your own space, minding your own business. You hoped it would stay that way. Mornings were spent in relative peace, with Marcus at one end of the breakfast table and you at the other.
Taking a bite of a grape, you glared across the table where your father sat with his mistress, Aurelia. The sight of her playing with your father's hair made your stomach churn. The woman who had tormented you for so long was now lounging comfortably in your home, smugly flaunting her relationship with your father. They exchanged whispered words and glances filled with a shared history that excluded you. Aurelia's laughter echoed off the walls, a sound that grated against your nerves.
You noticed Marcus watching them too, his expression unreadable as he observed the easy familiarity between your father and his lover. As if sensing your gaze, Aurelia's eyes flicked towards you, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. She raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge in her gaze as if daring you to disrupt their blissful morning routine. It was a calculated move, a reminder that despite your marriage to Marcus, some things remained unchanged.
"My love, we should go to the villa," Aurelia cooed, her eyes darting towards you with a malicious glint. She was clearly enjoying your discomfort. You could practically taste the bile rising in your throat at the sight and sound of her.
Your father chuckled, his voice warm and affectionate. "Ah, my dear Aurelia, always full of wonderful ideas," he replied, his hand finding hers across the table. His gaze met yours briefly, a hint of apology in his eyes before returning his attention to Aurelia. "Perhaps we should make a day of it. Just the two of us."
Aurelia leaned in closer to him, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Or we could make it a family affair," she suggested with a sly smile, her gaze flickering towards Marcus and then back to you, her implication clear.
Marcus tensed beside you, his jaw clenching subtly as he watched the exchange. His eyes briefly met yours, a silent question lingering between you. You shrugged imperceptibly, unsure of what to make of Aurelia's suggestion.
"We'll see," Marcus finally interjected, his tone neutral but his gaze fixed on Aurelia. "It might be a good idea to get some fresh air."
Aurelia chuckled softly, her gaze lingering on Marcus for a moment longer than necessary before turning back to your father. "Yes, fresh air could do us all some good," she agreed, her smile widening as if she had won some small victory.
The comment landed heavily, striking you with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "Father, that is not—" you began to protest, but Marcus cut you off.
"Parents don't come on a honeymoon," Marcus interjected firmly. "We'll go alone. It's tradition."
Your father looked to protest, but Marcus continued, a subtle urgency in his tone. "It’s important for us to have time alone to... solidify our bond," he explained, casting a meaningful glance at your father. "Besides, it would give her a break from the current... dynamics here."
Your father's brows furrowed as he considered Marcus's words, his gaze shifting between you and Aurelia. It was clear he was torn, wanting to spend time with his lover but also recognizing the benefit of giving you some space away from Aurelia's influence.
"Very well," your father conceded, though his expression remained stern. "But remember, you must be back by fall. And I expect you to return with news of an heir."
The ultimatum hung heavily in the air, weighing down your heart. Visiting your mother was a rare privilege, one you couldn't afford to pass up. But the thought of being with Marcus, of possibly bearing his child, filled you with dread.
"You can't be serious," you whispered, turning to face your father. "You can't make me do this."
His expression was unwavering, a stern reminder of the power he held over you. "It's for your own good," he said simply. "And for the good of our family."
Marcus's gaze remained locked onto yours, a blend of authority and challenge. "It's settled, then," he declared firmly. "We'll leave in the morning."
You bristled, your skin tingling with a mixture of anger and an unwelcome flicker of desire. "This isn't over," you warned, your voice quivering with emotion. "I won't be your pawn."
A dark chuckle escaped Marcus, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I never thought you were," he replied coolly. "But we are bound together now. Whether you like it or not."
The next morning, you found yourself in a lavish carriage, the countryside rolling by in a blur of green and gold. Marcus sat opposite you, his gaze unwavering as he watched you. The silence between you was heavy, fraught with unspoken words and simmering tension.
"I hate you," you said suddenly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "I hate everything about this."
He raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Do you?" he asked, his tone almost mocking. "Or do you hate that you can't control it?"
You glared at him, your fists clenching in your lap. "You think you're so clever," you muttered. "But you don't know me. You don't know anything about me."
"Maybe not," he conceded. "But I intend to find out."
You turned your gaze away from him, looking out the window as the scenery shifted. The villa was near the ocean, a place you knew well. It was where you had grown up, where you had spent countless days playing in the sand and swimming in the waves. The familiarity of the landscape brought a rush of memories, both comforting and bittersweet.
Despite the beauty of the place, the reality of your situation weighed heavily on you. The promise of seeing your mother again was the only thing that had convinced you to agree to this honeymoon, but the thought of returning pregnant filled you with dread. You knew your father’s ultimatum was a trap, a way to ensure your compliance and submission.
"I won't return pregnant," you said firmly, breaking the silence. "I'm only doing this to see my mother."
Marcus leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You think you can control that?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You think you can decide what happens between us?"
"I can try," you retorted, meeting his gaze with defiance. "I won't let you dictate my life."
He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "You’re stubborn, I'll give you that. But you underestimate the power of our bond. We are married now, and that means something."
"Not to me," you said, your voice trembling with anger. "This marriage is just a prison, a way to control me."
"It doesn't have to be," he said, his tone softening slightly. "We could make it something more, something real."
You scoffed, turning back to the window. "I doubt that," you muttered, your heart heavy with resentment and fear.
As the carriage continued its journey, you lost yourself in thoughts of the past and the uncertain future. The villa by the ocean, once a place of joy and freedom, now seemed like a gilded cage. The waves crashing against the shore were a stark reminder of the turbulent emotions within you, a mix of anger, sadness, and a glimmer of hope that you couldn't quite extinguish.
When the carriage finally arrived at the villa, you were both relieved and apprehensive. The grand entrance and the familiar scent of the sea filled you with a sense of nostalgia, but the presence of Marcus at your side was an ever-present reminder of the new reality you were forced to accept.
As you stepped out of the carriage, Marcus placed a hand on your back, guiding you forward. The touch was both possessive and surprisingly gentle, a contradiction that left you feeling even more conflicted.
"We'll make a fresh start here," he declared, his voice tinged with sincerity. "No more fighting. Let's give this a real chance."
He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "Then we keep trying," he said simply. "Until we do."
You studied him intently, trying to gauge the truth in his words. The weight of his gaze held yours, earnest and unwavering. After a moment of contemplation, you spoke, your voice tinged with skepticism. "What makes you so sure we can make this work?"
Marcus sighed softly, his hand falling to his side. "Because I'm not here to control you," he explained gently. "All I want is communication. That's all we need to make this work—open and honest communication."
His words resonated with a truth you hadn't expected. Despite your reservations, a flicker of hope stirred within you. "Communication," you echoed, testing the word on your tongue. It sounded simple, yet laden with potential.
You'd been at the villa for two days, and despite everything, you had managed to avoid Marcus and even sleep in separate bedrooms. Meal times were awkward, the silence between you both louder than any words could have been. You had resolved to stay like that for the entire three weeks your father had given you to "get pregnant." But your alcohol tolerance had other plans.
Each morning, you found yourself waking early to escape to the farthest corners of the villa, the sprawling gardens and the serene lake providing a much-needed sanctuary. You spent your days wandering through the lush greenery, finding solace in the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves. Marcus, it seemed, had taken a similar approach, retreating to his own activities and leaving you undisturbed. The villa was vast enough to make this evasion possible, yet each evening you couldn't help but feel the walls closing in, the loneliness amplifying your homesickness.
The memories of your mother haunted you. The villa, though beautiful, reminded you painfully of the home you'd left behind and the loving presence of your mother. You missed her gentle voice, her comforting embrace, and her wisdom. The separation weighed heavily on your heart, each passing hour a reminder of the emotional distance that now lay between you.
It was late afternoon when you asked one of the maids to bring you a drink. A mistake, you realized too late, not specifying how strong it should be. Without your father's supervision, you had indulged far too much. The room spun around you, and your vision blurred as you stumbled your way toward the dining room.
You pushed open the heavy door, the sudden light from the chandelier making you squint. Marcus was already there, a book in his hands, but his eyes snapped to you the moment you entered. You could feel his gaze like a weight on your skin, making the room feel even hotter than it already was.
"Well, if it isn't my estranged bride," he said, his tone laced with sarcasm. He put down his book, his posture straightening as he watched you struggle to find your footing.
You squinted at him, the light from the chandelier making your head throb. "Don't start," you warned, though your voice came out more slurred than stern.
Marcus raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Start what? Observing the obvious? You're drunk."
You staggered forward, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "I'm fine," you insisted, though you nearly tripped over your own feet.
"Fine?" he echoed, his voice dripping with skepticism. "You're a mess."
You shot him a glare, your temper flaring. "Like you care," you spat. "You're just loving this, aren't you? Seeing me like this."
He stepped closer, his expression darkening. "No, actually, I'm not. You're making a fool of yourself."
"Better a fool than a tyrant," you retorted, your fists clenching at your sides. "You think you can control me, just like my father."
Marcus's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. "I don't need to control you," he replied, his hands gripping your arms. "I just need you to stop acting like a child."
You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. "Don't touch me," you hissed, your anger boiling over. "You don't get to tell me what to do."
His eyes flashed with irritation. "Someone has to since you clearly can't handle yourself."
"You're such a pompous ass," you shot back, your voice rising. "Do you really think I wanted any of this? To be stuck with you?"
His grip tightened, but his voice remained dangerously calm. "You think I wanted this either? To be saddled with a spoiled, reckless girl who can't even hold her liquor?"
Your heart pounded in your chest, the alcohol fueling your reckless words. "I hate you," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "I hate everything about this, and I hate you."
Marcus's eyes darkened, his grip on your arms firm but not painful. "Good," he said, his voice low and intense. "Use that hate. Let it drive you. But don't you dare make a fool of yourself in front of everyone."
Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. "You don't get to tell me how to feel," you choked out. "Or what to do."
He sighed, his expression softening slightly. "I'm not trying to control you," he said quietly. "I'm trying to keep you from hurting yourself."
You glared at him, your vision blurring. "I don't need your help," you insisted, though even you knew how weak it sounded.
"Too bad," he said simply, lifting you into his arms with ease. "You're getting it anyway."
You struggled weakly, your head spinning. "Put me down," you demanded, though your voice lacked conviction.
"Not a chance," he replied, carrying you toward his room. "You're staying where I can keep an eye on you."
You hated the feeling of being so helpless, so dependent on him. "You're insufferable," you muttered, your voice barely more than a whisper.
"And you're stubborn," he retorted, his grip on you firm but gentle. "But I'm not leaving you like this."
He pushed open the door to his room and set you down on the large, plush bed, his hands lingering on your arms for a moment longer than necessary. You tried to sit up, but your body refused to cooperate.
"I'm sleeping in my room," you said, trying to push yourself up, but failing miserably.
"Not tonight," Marcus said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He knelt in front of you, removing your shoes with careful precision. "You're staying here where I can keep an eye on you."
You glared at him, though it lacked any real heat. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
He looked up, meeting your gaze with a small, knowing smile. "Maybe a little," he admitted. "But only because I finally get to take care of you, whether you like it or not."
Your heart fluttered at his words, a confusing mix of emotions swirling inside you. "I don't need your help," you repeated weakly.
He stood, his eyes never leaving yours. "Maybe not," he said softly. "But I'm here anyway."
You tried to maintain your defiance, but your vision was blurry and your body was betraying you. The alcohol had dulled your senses, leaving you vulnerable and exposed. You attempted to sit up straighter, to keep the conversation going, to keep your mind sharp. But the effort was in vain. Your head felt heavy, and your eyelids were drooping despite your best efforts.
"Don't fall asleep," you murmured to yourself, the words slurring together.
Marcus's expression softened, and he crouched down beside the bed, his face level with yours. "You need to rest," he said, his voice gentle.
"I can... stay awake," you insisted, but your body had other plans. Your limbs felt like lead, and the comfort of the bed was becoming impossible to resist.
Marcus reached out, his hand brushing a lock of hair from your face. "Just sleep," he urged. "I'll be right here."
You tried to fight it, tried to keep your eyes open, but the pull of sleep was too strong. As you stared into his eyes, the intensity of his gaze was the last thing you saw before everything went dark. His eyes held a depth that made your heart ache, a mixture of frustration, determination, and something else you couldn't quite name.
Your breathing slowed, and you felt yourself slipping away, the warmth of the bed enveloping you. Marcus's presence beside you was a strange comfort, a reminder that despite everything, you weren't alone. His hand lingered on your face for a moment longer, his touch surprisingly tender.
The last thing you saw before sleep claimed you was his face, the worry and care etched into his features. Your final thought was a confused jumble of emotions, a mixture of anger, defiance, and a reluctant sense of safety.
I watched her struggle to stay awake, her eyelids fluttering as the effects of the alcohol took hold. Her earlier defiance had melted into a fragile vulnerability that tightened my chest. Despite everything, there was something about her that stirred a protective instinct in me.
She hated me, and I couldn't blame her. This marriage wasn't her choice, just as it wasn't truly mine. But here we were, bound together by circumstances beyond our control. I had accepted the arrangement with a single, desperate hope – to escape the life of a gladiator. To live a life where survival wasn't measured by the swing of a sword.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I watched her sleep. She looked so peaceful now, a stark contrast to the fiery woman who had spat venom at me earlier. Her reputation had preceded her – wild, unladylike, with a rebellious streak that made her father's blood boil. Any other man would have turned her away, seen her as too much trouble. But not me.
I was no stranger to trouble. Hell, I lived in it every day in the arena. So when this opportunity arose, I took it. Perhaps, deep down, I saw a bit of myself in her – trapped, fighting against the current, desperate for a way out.
I leaned back in my chair, the wood creaking softly under my weight. The villa was quiet, save for the soft sounds of the ocean outside. It was beautiful here, far removed from the chaos of our everyday lives. Maybe, just maybe, it could be a place for new beginnings.
But that was wishful thinking, and I knew it. We were too different, too stubborn, and too caught up in our own struggles to see eye to eye. Still, I couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe over time, we could find common ground. Maybe I could help her see that not all men were out to control her, to use her.
As she slept, I couldn't help but reflect on our wedding night. I had been a little drunk, my senses dulled by the wine and the weight of what lay ahead. I hadn’t known what to expect, and the confusion of hate and passion made me feel odd, out of place in my own skin. She had initiated sex that night, surprising me with her boldness. Yet now she pretended I was nothing more than a rodent, something to be tolerated.
But I wasn’t blind. I saw the way she looked at me, the physical attraction she tried to mask with disdain. It was confusing, this mix of desire and loathing. I wanted her, but I wouldn’t force it. I refused to become the monster she seemed to believe I was.
My eyes wandered over her sleeping form, taking in the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way her hair splayed out over the pillow. She looked peaceful, and for a moment, I allowed myself to imagine a future where she looked at me with that same peace when awake.
I remembered the way she had clung to me on our wedding night, her body warm and pliant against mine. The way she had moaned my name, her defenses lowered, just for a moment. It felt like a betrayal that she could feel so passionately in bed yet treat me with such coldness during the day.
Watching her now, I felt a strange sense of accomplishment. She had fallen asleep in my presence, a small step forward in this tangled mess we found ourselves in. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A sign that maybe, just maybe, there was a way for us to find common ground.
The exhaustion from the day's events washed over me, and I settled into the chair, unable to tear my gaze away from her. She shifted slightly, a soft murmur escaping her lips. The urge to go to her, to hold her and comfort her, was strong, but I stayed put. Pushing her now would only drive her further away.
As my eyelids grew heavy, I thought about the road ahead. The days would be long and difficult, filled with arguments and misunderstandings. But for the first time, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe we could make this work. Maybe we could find a way to understand each other, to build something real from the ashes of our forced union.
With that thought, I let myself drift off, the rhythmic sound of her breathing a strange, comforting lullaby. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, we had this moment of fragile peace. And in the quiet of the night, it was enough.
You woke up with a slight headache, the overwhelming scent of a man filling your senses. It was a heady mix of sweat, leather, and something distinctly masculine. You sat up, and the room spun a little. A groan escaped your lips as you checked to make sure your clothes were still on. You didn't remember him taking off anything other than your shoes, but he was still a man, after all. Your eyes landed on Marcus, uncomfortably slouched in a chair facing the bed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The sight of him asleep, vulnerable, stirred something unfamiliar in you, but you quickly pushed it aside.
Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you stood up slowly, testing your balance. The headache pounded behind your eyes, a painful reminder of your overindulgence. You made your way to the washbasin, splashing cold water on your face, hoping it would help clear the fog in your head. After a moment, you straightened, took a deep breath, and left the room, eager to put some distance between yourself and Marcus.
The villa was quiet as you made your way to the dining room, the only sounds the distant call of seabirds and the gentle lap of waves against the shore. The familiarity of it all made you ache with a longing for simpler times. You remembered your childhood here, playing on the beach, carefree and happy before the world became so complicated.
As you entered the dining room, a maid appeared, carrying a tray with a bowl and a single, raw egg. She approached you with a polite smile, her eyes downcast.
"Good morning, my lady. I've brought you something to help with... pregnancy," she said, her voice hesitant.
Your eyes narrowed, and you snapped, "I'm not pregnant. The only remedy from an old wife I want is a hangover remedy."
The maid's eyes widened in surprise and fear. "I'm sorry, my lady. It's just that raw eggs are believed to help with getting pregnant. I meant no offense."
You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Just bring me something for this headache, please."
She nodded quickly and scurried away, leaving you with the bowl and the raw egg. You stared at it with a mixture of disdain and curiosity. The idea of swallowing a raw egg made your stomach churn, but you knew that in the world you lived in, old wives' tales often carried weight.
Moments later, the maid returned with a cup of herbal tea and a damp cloth. "Here, my lady. This should help."
You took the tea gratefully, sipping it slowly. The warm liquid soothed your throat, and the bitter herbs began to work their magic on your pounding head. You sat down at the table, placing the cloth over your eyes and leaning back in the chair.
The quiet was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. You peeked from under the cloth to see Marcus standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. He had changed into fresh clothes, but the scent of him from the night before still lingered in your nostrils.
"Feeling better?" he asked, his voice gruff.
"Not really," you replied, your tone sharp. "What do you want?"
He walked over, sitting across from you. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright."
You glared at him, the words from the previous night echoing in your mind. "I don't need your concern."
He leaned back, crossing his arms. "You were quite the handful last night."
"Well, if you hadn't dragged me off to bed like some helpless damsel, maybe I wouldn't have been," you shot back, the anger flaring up again.
"You're right," he said, surprising you. "But I didn't want you hurting yourself. Despite what you think, I don't want to control you."
You scoffed, lowering the cloth and meeting his gaze. "You keep saying that, but your actions say otherwise."
He sighed, rubbing his temples as if he, too, had a headache. "Look, I know you didn't want this marriage any more than I did. But we're in this together now. Fighting each other isn't going to make it any easier."
You stared at him, the sincerity in his eyes catching you off guard. You wanted to lash out, to keep up the walls you had built, but something in his demeanor made you pause.
"Why did you accept this marriage?" you asked quietly, the question that had been nagging at you since the wedding.
He looked away, his jaw tightening. "I hoped it would be a way out," he admitted. "A way to escape the life of a gladiator. And yes, I knew of your reputation. But I also knew that any other man wouldn't have accepted you, not with the rumors."
His honesty disarmed you, the anger slowly seeping out of you. You wanted to understand his motives further, but another question gnawed at you.
"So, you did this for your freedom?" you asked, trying to grasp his intentions.
"And maybe for yours too," he said softly, his eyes meeting yours again. "I know what it's like to be trapped in a life you didn't choose."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging between you. For the first time, you saw a glimpse of the man behind the mask, and it left you feeling more conflicted than ever. You didn't know if you could trust him, but you couldn't deny the small spark of hope his words ignited.
The sound of the waves outside grew louder in the silence, as if echoing the turmoil within you. You took another sip of the tea, letting the warmth spread through you, grounding you in the moment.
Marcus shifted in his seat, breaking the silence. "Do you want to visit the pier?" he asked, his voice tentative.
You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "The pier?" you echoed, memories flooding back. You remembered visiting the pier with your mother, the laughter, the carefree days. Since returning to the villa, you hadn't gone to see it. The thought of revisiting that place brought a mix of nostalgia and longing, but also a sense of trepidation.
"Yes, the pier," Marcus repeated, watching you closely. "I thought you might like to see it."
You felt a surge of conflicting emotions. Part of you wanted to reject his offer out of sheer stubbornness, to prove you didn't need anything from him. But another part of you, the part that missed the simpler times, yearned to go.
"Why do you care?" you snapped, crossing your arms defensively.
Marcus sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not about caring. I just thought it might be nice for you to see it again."
You glared at him, trying to keep your walls up. "You think taking me to the pier will make everything better? That I'll suddenly forget everything and be grateful?"
"No," he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. "I don't expect anything. I'm just offering."
The sincerity in his voice made you falter. You hated the way he could make you feel so uncertain, so conflicted. But the thought of the pier, of the memories it held, was too tempting to ignore.
"Fine," you said, your tone laced with defiance. "I'll go."
Marcus nodded, standing up. "Meet me at the front door when you're ready."
You finished your tea and stood up, taking a deep breath. You made your way to your room to change into something more suitable for the walk. As you dressed, your mind wandered back to the days with your mother, the laughter and the joy of simpler times. You hadn't realized how much you missed it until now.
When you stepped outside, Marcus was waiting by the villa's front door. He gave you a brief nod, his expression unreadable. You walked down the steps and joined him, the air thick with tension.
"Let's get this over with," you muttered, starting down the path that led to the pier.
The walk down the small hill was silent at first, the only sounds the distant calls of seabirds and the gentle rustling of the trees. You kept your eyes forward, determined not to let Marcus see the turmoil within you.
"Did you ever come here often?" Marcus asked, breaking the silence.
"Yes," you replied curtly. "With my mother."
He nodded, glancing around. "It's a beautiful place."
"It was," you said sharply, quickening your pace.
Marcus matched your stride easily. "You know, you don't have to be so hostile."
You shot him a glare. "I wouldn't have to be if you didn't keep treating me like some delicate flower."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Trust me, there's nothing delicate about you."
You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "And what exactly do you know about me, Marcus?"
"Enough to know you're stubborn as a mule," he retorted, a smirk playing at his lips.
You bristled, your temper flaring. "Well, at least I'm not a brute who thinks he can solve everything with his fists."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you think of me?"
You turned to face him, your eyes blazing. "That's exactly what I think of you."
He opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off, quickening your pace down the path to the pier. The sand and salt air grew stronger as you neared the shoreline, the familiar sights and sounds stirring a bittersweet nostalgia.
When you arrived at the pier, you paused, taking in the scene before you. The wooden structure stretched out over the water, the waves gently lapping against the posts. You could almost hear your mother's laughter, feel her hand in yours as you walked together.
Marcus stood beside you, his presence a steadying force despite your irritation. "Shall we?" he said, gesturing towards the pier.
With a sigh, you stepped onto the weathered planks, the wood creaking slightly underfoot. You walked in silence, the only sound the distant call of seabirds and the gentle lapping of the waves.
As you reached the end of the pier, you leaned against the railing, gazing out at the horizon. The sea stretched endlessly before you, a vast expanse of blue that seemed to hold all the secrets of the world.
Marcus joined you, his gaze also fixed on the horizon. "It's peaceful here," he said quietly.
You nodded, feeling a strange sense of calm. "It is."
For a moment, the tension between you seemed to fade, replaced by a shared appreciation for the beauty around you. But the peace was short-lived.
You turned to leave, but your foot caught on a loose board. The world tilted as you stumbled, losing your balance. With a yelp, you plunged into the water below. The icy shock of the sea stole your breath, and you struggled to stay afloat, panic surging through you. The water was a merciless force, dragging you under. Your limbs flailed wildly, but you couldn't seem to break the surface. The salty liquid filled your mouth, choking any attempt at calling for help. Your heart pounded, every beat a frantic plea for air as you fought against the pull of the sea.
In the midst of your panic, a shadow loomed above you. Through the haze of water and fear, you saw Marcus diving in. His strong arms encircled you, pulling you upwards with a force that felt both powerful and reassuring. "I can't swim!" you wanted to shout, but the words were swallowed by the water. Instead, you could only gasp, your chest burning as you fought to breathe. Marcus's grip was unyielding, his strength a lifeline. He hauled you to the surface, your head breaking through to the sweet relief of air. You coughed violently, expelling the seawater that had threatened to drown you. Your vision blurred, but you felt Marcus's steady hands guiding you to the shore.
The sand was a rough but welcome texture beneath you as Marcus laid you down, his grip loosening now that you were safe. You continued to cough, your lungs heaving as you expelled the last of the water. You were soaked to the bone, the chill of the sea clinging to your skin. Marcus stood over you, an amused glint in his eyes despite the concern etched into his features.
"I thought you said you grew up here," he remarked his tone light but edged with teasing.
You glared at him through your exhaustion, still catching your breath. "Just...shut up," you managed to rasp, feeling a fresh wave of embarrassment as you realized how helpless you'd been.
He crouched beside you, his expression softening slightly. "You should have told me you couldn't swim," he said, a hint of genuine concern breaking through his teasing demeanor.
You sat up slowly, brushing sand from your wet hair. "I didn't think it would matter," you muttered, annoyed more at yourself than at him. "And I didn't expect to fall in."
Marcus chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, it's a good thing I was here to save you."
You shot him a withering look. "Don't let it go to your head."
He grinned, clearly enjoying your irritation. "Too late."
You pushed yourself to your feet, shivering as the cool breeze hit your wet skin. "I need to get cleaned up," you said, more to yourself than to him.
"Do you need help with that too?" Marcus asked, his tone mischievous.
You glared at him again, but there was a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Not a chance."
As you made your way back to the villa, you couldn't shake the conflicting feelings that Marcus stirred in you. His arrogance was infuriating, but there was something about his confidence and the way he had jumped in to save you without hesitation that you couldn't ignore.
"Your father said you grew up here, and you can't swim?" he mocked, shaking his head. "What kind of life have you led?"
You glared at him, anger and humiliation warring within you. "Not that it's any of your business, but my mother didn't want me learning. She was afraid of the sea."
He raised an eyebrow, his expression softening slightly. "And you? Are you afraid of the sea?"
You looked away, the memories of your mother's fear mingling with your own. "Maybe," you admitted quietly.
Marcus sighed, helping you to your feet. "You could have told me."
"And you could stop assuming you know everything about me," you shot back, refusing to meet his gaze.
He paused briefly, then chuckled softly. "Fair enough."
Standing there, dripping wet and shivering, the earlier bickering had faded, leaving behind a tentative peace. The walk back to the villa had taken an unexpected turn, yet as you gazed out over the water, a curious sense of calm settled within you.
He remained quiet, and you welcomed the respite of silence as you reached the villa. You marched inside, heading straight for your room. The maids hurried over, their eyes wide with concern.
"Prepare a bath," you ordered, stripping off your wet clothes. "And make it quick."
The maids hurried to obey, filling the tub with steaming water and adding fragrant oils. You stepped in, sinking into the warmth with a sigh of relief. The water soothed your aching muscles and washed away the sand and salt.
As you soaked, the events of the day replayed in your mind. The bickering with Marcus, the fall into the water, his unexpected rescue. You couldn't deny the conflicting emotions he stirred in you, the blend of anger, frustration, and something else you couldn't quite identify. The bathwater's warmth wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, and you let out a long, slow breath, trying to relax.
Just as you were beginning to feel at ease, the door to your room creaked open. Your eyes snapped open, and you saw Marcus standing in the doorway, his eyes widening as he realized you were still in the bath.
"Gods above, Marcus!" you shrieked, sinking deeper into the water and grabbing a towel to cover yourself.
He quickly turned his back, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I didn't know you were still in here!"
"What part of the closed door didn't you understand?" you snapped, fumbling to wrap the towel around yourself.
"I just wanted to talk to you," he said, his voice slightly muffled as he faced away from you. "About what happened today."
"Can it wait until I'm dressed?" you asked, your voice dripping with sarcasm.
He sighed. "I suppose it could, but I thought we should clear the air sooner rather than later."
You finished securing the towel and stood up carefully, stepping out of the tub. "Fine, just... turn around and give me a moment."
Marcus nodded and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. You quickly dried off and pulled on a simple, comfortable dress. The fabric felt soft against your skin, and you let out a small sigh of relief.
"Okay, you can come back in," you called, tying your hair back with a ribbon.
The door opened again, and Marcus entered, looking slightly sheepish. "Sorry about that," he said, scratching the back of his neck.
You waved a hand dismissively. "Just don't make a habit of it."
He chuckled, then grew serious. "I wanted to talk to you about learning to swim."
You raised an eyebrow. "Learning to swim? Now?"
He nodded. "Yes. After what happened today, I think it's important. You grew up by the sea, but you can't swim. It's something you should know, for your own safety."
You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. "And you think you're the one to teach me?"
"Who else?" he replied with a shrug. "Besides, it might be a way for us to... not bicker so much."
You let out a huff of laughter, shaking your head. "You really think swimming lessons will solve our problems?"
Marcus gave you a small smile. "It couldn't hurt to try."
You thought about it for a moment, the memory of the cold water and the panic still fresh in your mind. As much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. Learning to swim would be useful, and maybe it would help ease the tension between you.
"Fine," you said at last. "I'll let you teach me. But if you mock me, even once, I'll throw you into the sea."
Marcus laughed, a genuine, warm sound that surprised you. "Deal."
You nodded, feeling a mix of apprehension and determination. "When do we start?"
"Tomorrow morning," he said. "We'll go down to the beach and start there."
You gave a reluctant nod. "Alright. Tomorrow morning."
As Marcus turned to leave, you couldn't help but feel a small glimmer of hope. Maybe this would be a step towards something better. Or at the very least, it would give you a chance to prove you weren't as helpless as he seemed to think.
You were dreaming so sweetly, the air from the balcony streaming into the room, bringing with it the scent of the sea. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant call of seabirds blended into a lullaby that cradled you in its arms. In your dream, you were walking along the beach with your mother, her laughter mingling with the sound of the waves.
Suddenly, a hand on your shoulder jolted you awake. "Get up!" Marcus's voice was a harsh whisper in the pre-dawn darkness.
You blinked, disoriented, your mind still clinging to the remnants of your dream. "What...?" you mumbled, sitting up and rubbing your eyes.
"It's time to start your training," he said, pulling the curtains open. The sky was still a deep indigo, with the faintest hint of light on the horizon.
With a groan, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood up, still half-asleep. "Alright, alright. I'm up."
"Good," he said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "Get dressed and meet me outside."
You quickly changed into a simple tunic and tied your hair back, the cool morning air nipping at your skin. As you stepped out onto the balcony, the first rays of dawn painted the sky in shades of pink and orange. You made your way to the front of the villa, where Marcus was waiting, looking annoyingly alert.
"Could you be any more enthusiastic?" you muttered, stifling another yawn.
He smirked. "I'm just trying to make the most of the day. Unlike some people who would rather sleep through it."
"Some people prefer not to be woken up at the crack of dawn," you retorted, crossing your arms.
"Maybe if some people had learned to swim earlier, we wouldn't be here now," he shot back, starting down the path towards the beach.
You followed him, the cool sand squishing between your toes. "Or maybe if some people weren't so insistent on dragging others out of bed, they could have a more peaceful morning."
He chuckled. "You know, you could just admit that you need the lessons."
"I don't need them," you grumbled, "I just don't want to drown."
"Same thing," he said, shrugging.
The beach stretched out before you, the waves gently lapping at the shore. As you walked, the sound of the sea grew louder, filling the air with its soothing rhythm. The familiar scent of saltwater brought back memories of playing on the sand as a child, carefree and happy.
"Alright," Marcus said, stopping at the edge of the water. "We'll start with the basics. Just try to relax and trust me."
"Trust you," you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "That's a lot to ask."
He gave you a patient look. "I know. But if you can't trust me, trust that I don't want to have to save you every time you fall into the water."
You rolled your eyes. "Fine. But if you mock me, even once, I swear I'll throw you in."
Marcus laughed, a genuine, warm sound that surprised you. "Deal."
As you waded into the water, you could feel your tunic growing heavier, clinging to your skin. You paused, looking down at the soaked fabric. "This tunic is going to get ruined," you muttered, more to yourself than to Marcus.
With a huff, you turned your back to him and carefully pulled your tunic over your head, tossing it onto the shore. The cool air brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as you stood bare before him. You waded back into the water, feeling exposed but determined not to let it show.
Marcus watched you with an appraising gaze, his eyes tracing the curve of your shoulders and the lines of your back. There was a moment of silence between you, the only sound the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. Then, without a word, Marcus reached for the hem of his own tunic and pulled it over his head.
The sight of his bare chest took you by surprise. His skin was bronzed from days under the sun, muscles defined and powerful. Droplets of water clung to his torso, catching the sunlight in a way that made you momentarily forget your irritation. His presence was commanding yet strangely comforting, like a force of nature you couldn't resist.
You tore your gaze away, feeling a rush of heat to your cheeks. "Alright, enough staring," you muttered, more to yourself than to him.
Marcus chuckled softly, stepping into the water beside you. "Just making sure you're not the only one feeling exposed," he remarked his tone light but tinged with something deeper.
You scowled at him, but there was a hint of a smile playing at your lips. "Don't get too comfortable," you warned, trying to regain your composure.
He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Who says I'm not comfortable already?"
You rolled your eyes, but there was no venom in the gesture. "Enough of your smugness. Let's just get this over with."
He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Who says I'm not comfortable already?"
You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the flutter in your chest. "Just focus on the lesson, Marcus."
He nodded, the teasing glint in his eyes softening. "Alright, let's get started then."
Marcus led you into the shallows, the cool water lapping at your ankles, then your knees. He moved with an easy confidence, his presence reassuring despite the lingering tension between you.
"First, we need to get you comfortable with the water," he said, his tone more serious now. "Can you float on your back?"
You hesitated, the memory of your earlier panic still fresh. "I can try."
"Good," he said. "I'll support you. Just relax and let the water hold you."
You lay back, feeling his hands under your shoulders and lower back. The sensation of the water buoying you up was strange, but Marcus's steady grip kept you grounded. You focused on the sky above, the blue expanse calming your racing heart.
"See?" he murmured. "You're doing fine."
You glanced at him, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "For now."
Marcus chuckled, his hands firm and reassuring. "Now, try to kick your legs gently."
You did as he instructed, the water resisting your movements. It felt awkward, but you persisted, trying to find a rhythm.
"That's it," Marcus encouraged. "Just like that. You're doing great."
You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, feeling a small sense of accomplishment. "Maybe this isn't so bad."
Marcus grinned. "I told you. Now, let's move a bit deeper."
He guided you further into the water, his grip never faltering. As the water reached your waist, you felt a flicker of unease but pushed it aside. You were determined to prove you could do this.
"Alright," he said, stopping when the water was up to your chest. "Let's try some basic strokes. I'll show you, then you copy me."
You watched as he demonstrated a simple stroke, his movements smooth and confident. His muscles rippled under the water, every action purposeful and efficient. You tried to mimic him, feeling clumsy in comparison.
"Good," he said, nodding. "But keep your elbows higher. Like this."
He corrected your form, his touch gentle yet precise. You adjusted, trying to follow his guidance.
"Better," he praised. "Now, let's keep practicing."
You continued the lesson, each new skill building your confidence. As you practiced, you couldn't help but feel a growing respect for Marcus. Despite his arrogance, he was a patient and effective teacher.
After a while, Marcus called for a break. You waded to shallower water, grateful for the reprieve. As you stood catching your breath, Marcus studied you thoughtfully.
"You're not afraid of the water, are you?" he asked suddenly.
You shook your head, surprised by the question. "No. I just... never learned to swim."
"Why not?" he pressed, curiosity lighting up his eyes.
You hesitated, the memories tugging at your heart. "My mother... she despised the sea," you began softly. "She preferred the safety and serenity of the countryside. My father, on the other hand, adored it. Most of our family's wealth came from his sea trade ventures. He built his entire empire on the waves."
Marcus's eyes narrowed slightly, clearly intrigued. "So your mother didn't share his love for the sea?"
You let out a bitter laugh. "No, quite the opposite. She was terrified of it. She hated the constant worry every time he left on a voyage, the endless nights spent alone. She never understood his obsession with the sea. Their marriage was arranged, just like ours. But unlike us, they never found common ground."
"And your father?" Marcus asked, his tone gentler now.
"My father loved the sea more than anything," you said, your voice tinged with sadness. "He saw it as a source of freedom and wealth. He would spend months at a time on his ships, overseeing his trade routes, and ensuring our fortune grew. The sea was his true mistress."
Marcus seemed to consider this, his expression thoughtful. "So your mother lives in the countryside now?"
You nodded. "Yes. She moved away a few years ago. Couldn't stand the sight of the sea anymore, or the memories it held. She wanted peace, a life without the constant fear and loneliness."
"Do you see her often?" he asked, his curiosity genuine.
"Not as much as I'd like," you admitted. "She visits sometimes, but my father keeps her at a distance. He's still bitter, even after all these years. He sees her as weak, unable to embrace the life he chose."
Marcus sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sounds like we're both products of difficult marriages."
"Indeed," you replied, meeting his intense gaze with equal fervor. "But I don't want to be trapped like my parents."
Marcus's eyes softened as he stepped closer, his hands finding your waist with a gentle certainty that sent a thrilling shiver through you. Without hesitation, you wrapped your legs around his torso, feeling the strength of his body supporting you effortlessly.
"We won't be trapped," Marcus assured you, his voice low and steady, filled with promise. "Not like them. We'll find our own way, together."
His words, spoken with such conviction, resonated deep within you. The vulnerability in his eyes mirrored your own, forging an unspoken bond between you.
As the first light of dawn painted the sky with hues of gold and pink, casting a serene glow over the water, Marcus leaned in closer. His warm breath mingled with yours, creating an intimate cocoon amidst the tranquil sounds of the sea.
With a tenderness that belied his usual stern demeanor, Marcus brushed his lips against yours in a feather-light kiss. It was a moment suspended in time, charged with unspoken desire and the promise of something more.
You responded eagerly, your heart racing as you deepened the kiss, surrendering to the intoxicating connection between you. The barriers that had once stood firm melted away with each tender caress of his lips, leaving only the raw, undeniable truth of your shared desire.
As the kiss grew more fervent, Marcus's hands roamed your body, their touch both possessive and tender. He guided you out of the water, each step a testament to his strength and control. The cool breeze hit your wet skin, but the heat between you and Marcus was undeniable, a fire that neither the sea nor the morning chill could extinguish.
He laid you down gently on the sand, the grains rough yet grounding beneath you. His eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. "Would it really be so bad to at least try for a baby?" he asked, his voice a mix of longing and challenge.
You bristled at his words, your defenses rising again. "I'm a child myself," you retorted, your voice trembling with both defiance and uncertainty. "How can I bring another life into this world when I'm still figuring out my own?”
Marcus's gaze softened, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. "No one said it had to work," he whispered, his lips grazing your ear. "But we can try. Together. We can make our own Path.
His words were a balm to your fears, a promise of partnership rather than domination. As he leaned in, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, you felt the last vestiges of resistance crumble. The passion between you was a living thing, a force that demanded to be acknowledged.
Marcus's hands moved with purpose, exploring every inch of you with a reverence that made you shiver. You arched into his touch, your body responding to his in ways that felt both foreign and achingly familiar. His lips trailed down your neck leaving a path of fire in their wake.
"Marcus," you breathed your voice a mix of need and wonder. He paused, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that took your breath away.
"We don`t have to do this if you're not ready," he said, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "But know that I want you. I want us to have a chance."
You searched his eyes, finding a sincerity that both scared and exhilarated you. "I want you too," you admitted the words a leap of faith. "But this... it changes everything.”
"Then let it change us," he murmured, his lips finding yours once more. The kiss deepened, a blend of urgency and tenderness that left you both breathless.
You felt the rough sand beneath you as Marcus pulled you closer, his hand gripping your cheek firmly as he kissed you passionately. His touch was both possessive and reverent as if he were handling a precious porcelain doll. His hand traveled down your body, caressing every curve with a tenderness that sent shivers down your spine.
He pulled away from the kiss, the sun reflecting off his body, making him glow with an almost ethereal light. His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. His hand traveled lower, caressing your upper thigh before spreading them, giving him a place to stabilize himself. You felt his length prod at your thigh, the heat of his desire palpable.
Unable to resist, you pulled him in for another kiss, feeling his hips move into your body, his erection grinding against your thigh. "God, you're hard," you murmured, pulling away from the kiss to take in his disheveled appearance.
"I've been hard as a rock since we started the lesson," he teased, his voice thick with lust. He captured your lips again, his hand wandering down to your clit, circling it in slow, teasing motions.
"Marcus," you gasped your voice a mix of need and frustration.
He smirked against your skin, his lips trailing down to your neck, where he bit softly, making you wince. "You dick," you muttered, but your protest was cut short by a moan as he rubbed his length up and down your slick wetness.
Leaning over you, Marcus positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes dark with desire. "I know you want my dick," he said with a smirk, pushing into you with a slow, deliberate thrust.
Your body arched at the sensation, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he began to move. He lifted your legs slightly, pushing your knees to your chest, the new angle allowing him to thrust deeper. The stretch was intense, the feeling of him filling you completely almost overwhelming.
You bit your lip, trying to stifle your whimpers, but they quickly turned into borderline screams as he brutally fucked into you. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making you arch your back and frantically grab at the sand for some stability. You could swear he was rearranging your insides, his cock hitting your G-spot with relentless precision.
Your vision blurred, and all you could feel was the intense pleasure he was giving you. You didn't think getting fucked like this was physically possible, didn't think you were capable of feeling such intense pleasure at the hands of a man.
Marcus's smirk widened as he leaned down, his eyes following the bulge on your lower belly. "Yeah, feel it," he mocked, resting his forehead against yours as he bottomed out again. "Got you stuffed all the way in, huh?"
You couldn't even argue, your eyes brimming with tears as he pressed his palm harder against the bulge. Your eyes clenched shut, but his relentless thrusts only edged you further. He gripped your jaw, forcing you to keep looking at him. "No, you keep looking. Taking me so good, gonna—fuck, gonna have to ruin you."
Tears welled at the corners of your eyes as the pressure within you built to an almost unbearable peak. You were so close, so desperately close to the edge. Sensing your state, Marcus's gaze flicked to your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and the tears that threatened to spill over.
"Ask nicely, goddess” he grunted, picking up the punishing pace once more. "Use your manners and I'll give you whatever you want." His hands moved to your thighs, forcing them against your stomach, letting him push into you deeper. The sensation made your head spin, the knot in your stomach tightening immediately.
"Please... for fuck's sake, let me cum or I'm gonna rip your stupid perfect cock off the second we're done," you managed to grunt through gritted teeth.
He chuckled breathlessly, his hand returning to your clit, pressing rough and rapid circles against it. "We'll work on that," he laughed softly, feeling you rapidly slipping towards the edge. He didn't let up on his ruthless motions, finally pushing you over the brink.
You were loud. Probably too loud. Your scream of release echoed along the shore, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. Marcus followed you over the edge, his thrusts becoming erratic as he spilled into you, the warmth of his release sending one last wave of pleasure through your already trembling body.
As the intensity of the moment faded, you both lay there, tangled together in the sand, breathing heavily. Marcus's forehead rested against yours, his eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and something deeper.
"Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to try," you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice surprising even you.
"Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to try," you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice surprising even you.
Marcus's smile widened a glint of mischief in his eyes. "If it feels that good every time," you added with a playful smirk, "I might not mind at all."
He chuckled, the sound rich and warm, and leaned in to brush his lips against yours once more. Just as you were beginning to lose yourself in the kiss again, a voice suddenly called out from behind you.
"Hey! What are you two doing here?" The voice was stern, and authoritative.
You and Marcus scrambled to cover yourselves, a mix of embarrassment and amusement bubbling up as you fumbled with your discarded clothes.
Realization dawned on the guard's face as he took in the sight of Marcus's distinctive, regal features and your own disheveled state. His expression quickly turned from stern to horrified as he realized who he was interrupting.
"I-I'm so sorry, my lord, my lady," he stammered, turning an alarming shade of red. "I didn't realize—"
Marcus, still half-naked and laughing, held up a hand to stop him. "It's alright," he said, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Just a little... misunderstanding."
The guard's eyes darted around, clearly trying to avoid looking directly at either of you. "I'll just... I'll just be going now," he mumbled, backing away quickly before turning and sprinting down the beach.
You couldn't help but burst into laughter, the absurdity of the situation breaking the tension that had been lingering. Marcus joined in, his laughter a deep, infectious rumble that made you forget all your worries, if only for a moment.
Once the laughter had subsided, Marcus turned to you, a mischievous look in his eyes. "You know," he said, his voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper, "there's always the sea. No guards to interrupt us there."
You raised an eyebrow, your own smile widening. "Is that so?" you asked, the idea sending a thrill through you.
"Absolutely," he replied, standing up and offering you his hand. "Shall we?"
You took his hand, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver of anticipation through you. Together, you made your way to the edge of the water, the cool waves lapping at your feet. Marcus's presence beside you felt grounding, his touch a comforting anchor in the midst of the playful breeze and the gentle rush of the sea.
As you reached the water's edge, Marcus pulled you into his arms. The sea welcomed you both with its refreshing embrace, its coolness a stark contrast to the heat that had built between you. You chuckled softly at Marcus's promise, spoken against your lips.
Marcus pulled you into his arms, the sea providing a refreshing contrast to the heat between you. "I promise," he murmured against your lips, "no interruptions this time."
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