Emersyn

I sit across from Fowler, the steam from our coffee cups mingling in the small space between us. I can't help the smile that's been permanently plastered on my face ever since Marx and I stepped over that invisible line from friends to something more. Something exciting. Something terrifyingly beautiful.

"I can't believe it myself," I admit, the words floating out on a sigh. "But Marx and I, we're... together now."

Fowler's eyes light up, and a triumphant grin spreads across his face. "I hate to say it, but I told you so!" he exclaims, his voice filled with the kind of joy that only a true friend can feel for another. "I saw it coming a mile away. You two have always had a spark. It was just a matter of time."

I chuckle, shaking my head slightly. "I know, I know. You and everyone else, apparently. But it took us a bit longer to see it. Or to admit it, maybe." I pause, thinking back to all the moments leading up to now.

"But now that it's out there..." I continue, my heart fluttering with a mix of nerves and excitement, "I don't know. It feels right. Like everything is falling into place."

Fowler reaches across the table, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. "Emmie, I'm so happy for you. Marx is a great guy, and you both deserve all the happiness in the world. Plus, I would really love to watch you two some time." He winks at me. "Watching you give him a blowjob that night in the living room has been playing on repeat in my head basically every day since."

My cheeks heat up. "Yeah, well, maybe now you can add a little more to the spank bank."

Fowler snorts. "I've already added a lot more," he jokes, "but yes, more is always good."

I blush at the thought of Fowler watching me and Marx having sex. But it wouldn't exactly be the first time. Fowler did fuck me while I had Marx's cock in my mouth. It wouldn't be too much different than that.

The thought sends a shiver of arousal down my spine.

I clear my throat and take a sip of coffee, trying to calm the desire growing inside me.

"So, have you talked about what's next for the two of you?" Fowler asks.

"Not yet. We haven't had a lot of time to talk." I wink at him. "We've been busy."

He laughs. "Yeah, I can imagine. But I'm sure you'll figure it out."

"We'll figure it out together," I echo, feeling a sense of solidity in those words. "It's not just about the physical stuff, though that's... incredible." I laugh, a bit self-consciously. "It's about understanding each other, being there for one another."

Fowler's smile is genuine, his eyes warm. "Just remember to keep communicating. That's key. Especially with... well, the dynamics we all have. And hey, if you ever need a third..." He winks playfully, lightening the mood.

I roll my eyes, but can't help grinning. "I'll keep that in mind."

We fall into a comfortable silence, sipping our coffees and enjoying the quiet morning. It's a welcome change from the past few days, which have been filled with a whirlwind of emotions.

After a while, Fowler glances at his watch and sighs. "As much as I would love to stay here all day, I have to get to work. Do you mind dropping me off?"

"Of course," I say, finishing the last of my coffee.

We clean up and head out to the car, the air outside cool and crisp. The drive to Fowler's work is a short one, and before long, I'm pulling up in front of the hospital.

"Thanks for the ride," Fowler says, leaning in to give me a kiss. "Don't let Marx wear you out too much."

I laugh, giving him a playful shove. "Don't worry, I can handle him."

With that, Fowler steps out of the car, waving goodbye before heading into the building. I watch him go, a smile still playing on my lips.

As Fowler disappears into the hospital, the morning sun casts a warm glow over the building. I sit in the car for a moment longer, letting the tranquility wash over me. The conversations with Fowler always leave me feeling grounded.

I start the car, pulling away from the curb, my thoughts drifting to Marx. The image of him, his smile, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, fills my mind. There's an excitement in my heart, a fluttering sensation that's both new and deeply familiar.

I can't wait to get home to him.

The drive back to the house seems to take no time at all. I pull into the driveway and step out of the car, breathing in the fresh air. It feels like it's going to snow.

I open the front door, slipping out of my shoes and jacket. Strong hands grab me by the waist as I slip my feet out of my shoes. I gasp in surprise, a smile blooming across my face.

Marx's breath is hot against my ear. "You're back," he says, his voice low.

"I am," I say, turning to face him. He looks handsome as ever, his hair slightly tousled, a sparkle in his eye.

"I missed you," he murmurs, pulling me closer.

I melt into him, my hands resting on his broad shoulders. "I missed you too," I whisper.

Our lips meet, and a fire ignites inside me. Marx's tongue slips into my mouth, teasing and exploring. I moan softly, pressing myself against him.

He pulls back, a wicked grin on his face. "Come with me," he says, his voice husky. He takes my hand, leading me upstairs. My heart pounds in my chest, anticipation coursing through me.

When we get to his bedroom, Marx shuts the door behind us, turning to face me. "Now, where were we?" he murmurs, drawing me close.

His lips find mine, and he kisses me deeply, passionately. His hands roam over my body, and I feel like I'm drowning in desire.

I can't get enough of him.

Marx's hands trail down my back, grabbing my ass and squeezing it. I moan into his mouth, my body aching for more. He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down my neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin.

I gasp, arching into him, my hands gripping his shirt.

"Take this off," I say, breathless, tugging at the fabric.

He pulls away long enough to pull the shirt over his head, tossing it aside. His body is a work of art, sculpted and defined. I can't help but run my hands over his bare skin, tracing the lines of his muscles.

Marx growls, pulling me flush against him. His hands slip under my shirt, his fingers skimming along my sides. The heat between us is palpable, electric.

I can feel his arousal pressing against me, hard and insistent.

"You're so fucking sexy," he breathes, his eyes dark with lust.

I reach down, cupping his erection through his pants. He groans, his hips bucking into my touch. I tease him for a moment, stroking his cock through the fabric.

Marx growls again, his hands tightening on my hips. "If you don't stop, I'm going to fuck you right here, against the wall."

His words send a thrill through me, and I squeeze his cock, earning a moan from him. But then he grabs my wrists, pulling my hands away.

"Nuh-uh," he says, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Not so fast."

He pulls me toward the bed, his grip firm but gentle. I go willingly, my heart racing.

Marx sits down on the edge of the bed, tugging me down onto his lap. His hands roam over my body, exploring, caressing. His fingers dip below the waistband of my pants, teasing me.

"Fuck, Emersyn, I want you," he growls, his eyes locked on mine.

I lean in, kissing him deeply, tasting his desire.

"Then take me," I breathe, my hands gripping his shoulders.

That's all the invitation he needs. Marx stands, lifting me with him. He sets me on the bed and quickly removes my pants and underwear, tossing them aside. His hands trail over my bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

I'm desperate for him, my body aching for his touch.

"Marx," I moan, arching into his hand.

"Yes, baby?" he murmurs, his fingers slipping between my thighs, teasing my entrance.

"I need you," I gasp, my body trembling with desire.

He smiles, his eyes full of hunger. "Patience," he says, his fingers stroking my clit.

I whimper, my hips bucking against his hand.

Marx leans down, capturing my mouth in a searing kiss. His fingers continue to tease me, bringing me to the brink of ecstasy. I cling to him, my nails digging into his skin.

When he finally pushes a finger inside me, I cry out, my body tensing.

"That's it," he murmurs, his thumb circling my clit as his finger slides in and out of me.

I'm lost in pleasure, the sensation overwhelming. When he adds another finger, stretching me, I feel myself falling apart.

"Oh god, Marx," I moan, my back arching.

"Fuck," he growls, his voice rough. "I could watch you come apart like this all day."

But I'm desperate for more, for his cock.

"Please," I gasp, my hands gripping his arms. "I need you."

Marx's eyes flash with desire. He withdraws his fingers, licking them clean.

"On your knees," he orders, his voice commanding.

I quickly obey, positioning myself on all fours.

Marx's hands grip my hips, his thumbs digging into my flesh.

"This is going to be rough," he warns, his voice low and full of promise.

I nod, a shudder of anticipation running through me.

Marx positions himself behind me, his cock pressing against my entrance.

"Beg for it," he growls, his grip tightening.

"Please, Marx," I moan, my voice raw with desire. "Please fuck me."

He doesn't hesitate, pushing into me in one swift thrust.

I cry out, my body quivering as he fills me completely. He gives me no time to adjust, setting a relentless pace.

The feeling is incredible, a mix of pleasure and pain that has me teetering on the edge.

"God, you're so fucking tight," Marx grunts, his hips slamming against me.

I can barely form words, his cock hitting just the right spot. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, along with my cries of pleasure.

Marx's fingers dig into my hips, holding me in place as he fucks me senseless. The intensity of the moment, the passion, it's like nothing I've ever experienced.

My orgasm hits me like a freight train, my body tensing and shaking. I cry out, my voice hoarse. Marx continues to thrust into me, his pace quickening.

"I'm not done with you yet."

He pulls out, flipping me onto my back. I'm breathless, my body still quaking with aftershocks.

Marx lifts my legs over his shoulders, sinking into me once again. His thrusts are deeper, harder, sending me spiraling into another orgasm.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, his eyes locked on mine.

Waves of pleasure roll over me, and I can't stop myself from coming again, my body trembling. Marx continues to pound into me.

"Say my name," he demands, his voice strained.

"Marx," I moan, the sensation nearly overwhelming.

"Again."

"Marx."

He grips my thighs, his rhythm becoming erratic.

"Again!"

"Marx!" I scream, the intensity building.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he grunts, his cock throbbing inside me.

"Come for me," I beg, my nails digging into his arms.

"Yes, fuck," he growls, his eyes wild.

The sight is too much, and I'm thrown into another climax, my body writhing with pleasure. Marx follows soon after, his release spilling into me.

I fall back onto the bed, completely spent, my heart racing. Marx collapses beside me, panting.

We lay there for a moment, catching our breath, a comfortable silence settling over us.

"Fuck," he says, his voice husky.

"Yeah," I agree, a small laugh escaping me.

"That is always so good," he states.

"So good," I reply.

Marx leans in, kissing me deeply.

"You're amazing," he says, his eyes filled with affection.

"So are you," I say, running my fingers through his hair.

We spend the rest of the afternoon in bed, lost in each other. And every moment is perfect.