Spoiler Alert (Spoiler Alert #1)(71)
Fandoms: Gods of the Gates – E. Wade, Gods of the Gates (TV) Relationships: Cupid/Original Character
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe – Modern, Porn without Plot, Smuttity Smut Smut, Half-Human Disaster Cupid, Bottoms Up, The Peg That Was Promised, Actor!Cupid
Stats: Words: 3027 Chapters: 1/1 Comments: 137 Kudos: 429 Bookmarks: 40
Taking Him Down a Peg
CupidUnleashed
Summary:
Cupid has a hard day on set. Off set, things get equally hard. By “things,” I mean his penis.
Notes:
Thanks to AeneasLovesLavinia for the beta. You’re the best, dude. Also, any resemblance to current worldwide television hits is entirely unintentional.
No, wait. The opposite of that last one.
* * *
Robin’s hands on his bare chest were small but hot and so very soft. “What happened today? You seem . . . tense.”
She was straddling him now, her solid, welcome weight keeping him in place. Maybe he could move if he tried, but he didn’t. No, he wanted that sense of helplessness right now, that sense of safety. More than that. He wanted to forget, to drown in pleasure until he couldn’t think.
“The usual,” he sighed. “As I’ve said before, the showrunners were incompetent from the very beginning. The only things that saved them were the talented crew, my fellow actors, and the books. But now that we’re past the books, everything’s gone wrong.”
She was frowning down at him, concentrating. Concerned. “How can I help?”
“Take me,” he said, and she got up on her knees and began to move over him, only to halt at his next words. “No. Take me.”
She bit her lip, even as her cheeks bloomed with heat. “Are you sure?”
“You bet your ass I’m sure.” He grinned up at her. “Or, more accurately, my ass.”
When they laughed together, he was certain of two things.
First: she was going to peg his brains out that night.
Second: by the time she was done, he would no longer care that his character’s entire arc had been torpedoed in the final season for no damn reason.
20
“WHAT DO YOU THINK?” APRIL GAZED UP AT MARCUS FROM her couch the next evening, nose crinkled in concern. “Is it terrible? I’ve only begun tackling book canon recently, and I’m not sure my writing voice is particularly suited to it.”
After Alex had left for the airport and April had disappeared into the bathroom for a shower, Marcus had retreated to her little office. He’d sat at her desk for a good half hour, listening as his text-to-speech app read the draft of her most recent fic aloud to him, once and then a second time. For those few minutes, he’d allowed himself to become Book!AeneasWouldNever again, beta-reading his friend Ulsie’s writing to check for character consistency and plot holes and any other tarnished spots he could help her buff to a gleam. As always, he’d jotted a few nearly indecipherable notes to himself as he listened.
The familiar routine had settled around him like the fur-lined cloak he’d worn in Gates’s wintry first season. Warm. Comforting. So heavy his shoulders hurt.
In one sense, her request was helping them reclaim parts of their relationship she’d never know they’d lost. But even in that welcome moment of reclamation, he couldn’t entirely be honest with her. If he gave her exactly the same feedback as his fanfic alter ego would have, in exactly the same way, she might grow suspicious. She might recognize him as her longtime friend and writing partner.
Besides, the version of him she knew now hadn’t spent years helping with her fics and writing his own. He wouldn’t be as familiar and comfortable with the revision process as Book!AeneasWouldNever, both in general and with her. Which meant he couldn’t be as helpful to her for that reason too.
If they kept doing this for months or years to come, if she kept asking him to read and respond to her stories, maybe he could slowly transform into the writing companion he’d once been in a credible way, a way that wouldn’t set red flags flapping. But not now.
It was a bitter note on his tongue, noticeable even amid so much sweetness.
Because this moment was sweet. And so was her story.
“I think you underestimate yourself,” he told her. “There are a few words that are a bit too modern”—dammit, he needed to make this plausible—“or at least, the scriptwriters never had us say them, and we should probably look up when they came into common usage. ‘Okay,’ for instance. But otherwise, I think you managed to capture the feeling of the books.”
Her expression smoothed. “Oh, good. I wanted to figure out a way I could keep writing in this fandom without it getting, uh, weird. Especially if I included explicit content.”
Which she had. Very ably and descriptively. That particular content had necessitated some explicit readjustment of his jeans in her office, because damn.
In the past, when she’d written about an Aeneas who looked like him, he’d avoided beta-reading sex scenes, a stipulation Ulsie had accepted without demanding an explanation. By mutual agreement, she’d excised those bits before sending him her drafts, noting any major developments he’d missed in a dry author’s note of a sentence or two.
But at the beginning of this fic, she’d described a dark-haired, stocky Aeneas, thick with muscle, eyes as richly brown as fertile soil. Book!Aeneas, not Show!Aeneas. Not Marcus, in any recognizable way.