Work Text:
Pax Fitness.
The words are large and daunting, carved out in sleek steel with the signature jiao running along the ends — a professional, clean palette for a place filled with sweat and tears. You’re only able to look away from the intimidating label when the sliding doors open and a man jogs out, waving wildly. Despite you still being in the parking lot, too far away to see who it is clearly, you can recognize him immediately: that purple-toned hair with that tall, confident stride can only be identified as Marius von Hagen.
He had texted you earlier, practically begging you to check out his new venture. Pax had decided to invest in the world of athleticism, which includes the newly-opened fitness and recreational centers that have popped up around Stellis. You had vaguely heard about it thanks to the constant litter of news surrounding the Pax Group but hadn’t had the time or energy to commit to a workout lately.
Until today.
Now, you’re clad in leggings and a matching sports bra, the phone in your hand still displaying the message you had sent to Marius moments earlier: I’m here. A smile spreads on your face as you strut over to meet your friend in the middle, watching his features get closer and closer: violet eyes dancing with excitement, clear skin sheen with flush and sweat, toned body stretching against his black tank top and gray joggers.
He looks delicious. His arms look bigger than ever from just working out, his shoulders and cheeks all ruddy. You struggle to not let your eyes linger on the way the contours of his abdomen are very apparent through the rayon fabric, or even more distracting, the way the crotch of his joggers clings onto certain parts of his body a little too well. You clear your throat as Marius steps towards you, “Nice place you got here.”
“Right? Wait until you see the inside, you’ll love it,” he brags smugly, his face spread wide in a bright smile. You laugh, raising an eyebrow as you pinch his cheek lightly, “So cocky. Didn’t anyone teach you how to be humble?”
“How can I be humble when I have you to impress?” he jokes, pouting slightly when you release his cheek. You don’t respond to that — there’s no need to acknowledge Marius’ idle flirtations — and instead gesture towards the gym, “Why don’t you show me around?”
He pauses for a moment before sighing, laughter edging his words, “Anything you say, jiejie.” His hand slips around you, guiding you inside by the small of your back, warmth radiating from his palm in a way that makes you shiver. A strange part of you, untamed and lustful, wishes that he would move lower, that he would let you feel that heat against a different area of your body . . . but you shake your head quickly to disperse the idea. It’s wrong to think of Marius like that, no matter how attractive he may be or how provocative his words seemingly are. He only thinks of you as a friend, as someone to support him through his dark times and celebrate with him during the light ones — nothing more. Why would he ever see you as anything else?
As you pass by the reception area, your eyes go wide at the open-floor design and the large windows. The entire layout is simply beautiful, utilizing minimalism to its maximum extent. There are lush plants, state-of-the-art appliances, and classy color schemes that tie every part of the building together. Pax didn’t spare any expenses with this center, and you can’t help but wonder if the other Pax gyms in the area are this elegant, this mesmerizing.
Marius tugs you a little closer and rubs your back in circles with his thumb, “Let's see . . . what are your favorite workouts to do? Do you like squats?” You frown in confusion, tearing your eyes away from the crystalline pool appearing on your left, “Squats? Why would you assume squats?”
“Who wouldn’t?” he snorts, a wicked smile on his face as his hand snakes down and grabs your ass, squeezing it firmly. You squeal, immediately swatting him off while cringing at the flush curling over your ears, and Marius laughs as his hand returns to your back, “Just look at that ass, jiejie.”
“Marius. von. Hagen!” Friends. He’s only teasing you, touching you like this, out of friendship. Maybe he’s like this with other women too (it wouldn’t surprise you if he circled through a harem due to his coquettish nature). It’s important to remember you shouldn’t get your hopes up — this is just who he is.
Even when he does things like that.
It doesn’t mean you can’t stare at him though. You’re only focused on him as he takes you onwards, his voice bouncing off the walls as he excitedly details each machine, each room, and each piece of decor to you. You sometimes make eye contact with the other guys around the fitness center, waving at them when they give you a smile or a wink. Marius seems to see them too, watching them as he continues to play a tour guide, his smile unwavering.
The only time Marius’ hand separates from your back is when you pass by the smoothie bar, at which he turns to you and tilts his head, “You need to try one of these. What flavor do you like?” You don’t realize how firm his hold was until he releases you, and you rub your spine to hoard the warmth there, wanting to keep the feeling, “I’m okay with anything. Get something for both of us.”
“Yes, ma’am. Don’t stray too far,” he orders playfully, bounding over to the counter as you find a corner to rest at. As you wait, you scroll through Pax’s social media, looking for posts regarding the fitness center. It’s been advertised a couple of times, and after browsing some images, you begin to notice Marius’ presence in all of them — photobombing in the back, smiling in the corner, and even the subject of a well-positioned selfie — despite the caption being directed towards Pax’s ventures. You hold back a snort as you squint through a few more when suddenly, you hear a deep voice beside you.
“Hey there!”
Putting your phone down, you find yourself face-to-face (or rather, face-to-chest) with a husky, dark-haired man. He looks down at you with a kind smile, “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you a new member?”
“Uh, yeah . . . and you are . . . ?” you hesitantly answer. The man laughs, his hand flying to the back of his neck, “I’ve been coming here regularly since its opening. Just figured I’d say hi, I like to know the people I work out with.” His eyes dart down to your thighs for a second before resting back on your face, “And I’d especially like to get to know you.”
He’s hitting on you. He’s definitely hitting on you.
“So,” he starts again, “Are you here alone? If you need a workout buddy, I’d be glad to join you.” The words come off as ingenuine, and you look at the wall next to you to avoid his stare, “I’m good, haha. I’m waiting for a friend.”
His eyes light up and he looks around eagerly, “A friend? Maybe she’d be willing to join us-”
“I’d love to.”
The familiar voice rings through the air, and when the man in front of you turns around to face the intrusion, you feel your chest tighten at the sight of Marius. His smile is wide, welcoming, and not even close to reaching the dark, withering stare he gives the other man. He seems bigger than ever, his chest puffed out against his tank top, his arms tense and veiny. It takes all your mental strength not to cling onto him right then and there. Marius lifts his head, jutting out his chin, “Where are we heading?”
“Who are you?” the man challenges, his voice edged with the slightest ounce of nervousness. He looks over his shoulder at you, “You know this guy?”
“He’s, uh, the friend I was waiting for,” you shrug. Marius steps forward, making the man move to the side, and twists his wrists slowly, his bones popping menacingly, “Right. So what are you waiting for?” He cocks his head to the left, an order, “Get out.”
You gnaw on your lip as you watch the man sulk away, your cheeks hot. Marius . . . you rarely see him so stern in front of you, and nothing about it helps ease the heat in your stomach. You really shouldn’t be thinking about him like this, not after he just helped to get rid of unwanted attention, but—
Thud. Marius’ hand slams onto the wall beside your head, effectively trapping you in the corner, and you shiver from how loud your heart is pounding. There’s no way he can’t hear each ba-dum, your blood racing with anticipation. Those amethyst eyes are closer than ever, deep and captivating, and you avert your own from his hypnotic gaze. He doesn’t speak, only breathing hard and letting his smell ease into the air around you, coating you. Silence . . . he’s only giving you silence . . .
“Shit,” he murmurs, a crack in his overbearing aura, and you gasp as he grabs you by the wrist and swings you into the nearest space. It’s an aerobics room, just as modern as the rest of the gym — the only difference being the large mirrors scaling along opposite walls and the wooden bars in front of them. As you gape at the sheer size of the space, Marius locks the door with a simple click before addressing you, “Friend, huh?”
“Marius . . . ,” you say, not sure how to react. He stalks towards you, his steps predatory and dangerous, and you back up until you hit one of the bars. The wood is cold and uncomfortable against the bare skin of your back, but you’re more focused on the CEO in front of you, who’s currently stripping off his top mid-stride.
Lord. His body is divine — sculpted out of marble and smoother than silk. His large back leads into slender hips, marked with rows of perfect muscles along his abdomen. Sweat shines along the sides of his waist into the ridge of his pelvis, and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on the faint sweep of indigo hair trickling into the hem of his joggers. Swallow. You have to swallow, you have to calm down and focus elsewhere-
Marius is too close for you to even attempt to look away. He cages you between his arms, his weight braced by the bar, and before you can even blink, his tongue is swiping at the crook of your neck. You groan, immediately regretting the noise, and place your hands on his chest tentatively, “Marius?”
It’s hard to think straight with his scent suffocating you, the sensation of his wet tongue laving over your skin. You can feel his soft lips move along the tendons of your shoulder as he speaks, “Just a friend?”
You hiss as he bites down, his canines clamping down as he sucks hard, and you interlock your hands behind his warm, damp neck, “Ahh . . . c’mon . . . ”
“No.” His denial is strikingly cold, completely different from his hot kisses. You exhale shakily as he moves his head closer, biting at the column of your neck and massaging it with his tongue. Every place his mouth conquers aches, and bruises and marks paint your collar in abundance. You clutch him tighter and Marius reciprocates, his hands wrapping around you and grabbing at your hips and waist, “You know that what we have is not just friendship.”
“Friends don’t hold each other like this,” he whispers roughly, his nose gliding along your jaw until he reaches his destination, sucking on the skin below your ear. His palms land on your ass, squeezing the flesh tightly and groaning at the way it bends under his fingers. You whimper as he tugs you closer, pushing his groin right against you. His bulge feels hard, and it only makes you more aware of how aroused you are below.
You’re wet. Entirely, undeniably wet.
“Friends don’t kiss each other like this,” Marius continues, detaching himself from your neck momentarily to stare at you. His eyes are blown out with raw desire, and the lust-filled look he gives you before he leans forward makes your knees buckle. His teeth catch your lip, biting hard, and you cry out as he soothes the pain with his lips, his tongue. A sliver of pain swirls along with his taste — sharp and metallic — and you call his name against his lips as he claws at you, tenderly, roughly, and everything in between.
His hand slides up your body, kneading your breast through your bra, and his teeth nip at your jaw fiercely, “Friends don’t fantasize about each other like this.” You feel tears sting the corner of your eyes as you dig your nails into the muscles of his back, your voice unsteady, “I don’t . . . I’ve never- oh!”
Marius grabs your hip tight and eases off you just enough to turn you around, his chest flush against your back as you’re pressed against the bar. Your hands jerk up to catch yourself on top of the mirror, forcing your eyes to lock onto your reflection. It’s as if someone had choked you, as if someone had dug their fingers into your flesh with all their might: your neck is mottled with purples and reds, your hips flushed and cradled in small indentions from Marius’ fingers, and your lips are red and swollen, a thin line of red splitting along the middle.
It’s too much. You close your eyes.
“Don’t lie to me, jiejie. You don’t think I see the way you stare at me?” he breathes against your neck, his lips hovering over your sensitive wounds, “You practically fuck me with your eyes.” A low moan escapes you, and he takes that as a sign to go further, grinding his erection against your ass, “And I know you know how bad I want you. Do you still think we’re only just friends?”
He isn’t letting you respond, not with the way he’s groping you, assaulting you. His hand tugs the elastic edge of your bra upwards before pinching your nipple hard, eliciting another groan from you. Every single pull at your breast is twisted with pain and pleasure, shooting straight to your core, and as you lean your forehead against the mirror, you can feel his other hand move lower.
Much lower.
“Marius, what- oooh, ngh!” you sigh, excitement trailing behind Marius’ touches as he moves under your leggings and underwear, pushing along your slit and feeling the soaked flesh. He spreads your lips with his fingers before tracing up and flicking your clit. His fingers hold it tight, and you convulse as his mouth works on another bruise along your back, “Still trying to deny it?” He tugs the soft skin between his teeth and you gasp, eyes flying open immediately.
Eyes red, cheeks flushed, lips shiny with drool. Hands shaking, legs spreading, body arching forward. You can see the outline of Marius’ arm in your pants as he messes with your pussy, the veins of his hand as he rolls your pliant nipple harshly. His orchid eyes are lifeless — a man possessed — and you whine as his stare meets yours, as his lips curl into a deadly smirk, “Look at you. Your expression tells me just how bad you want me.”
He’s prodding at your entrance now, two fingers easily stretching you out and entering you quickly. They move deep, his long digits reaching further than you ever could, and your hands curl into fists as you clench around his fingers, your arousal drenching his hand. You buck against his palm, his dick pressing into your ass deliciously, and then he’s suddenly retracting his fingers, backing away, leaving you wet and unsatisfied.
You almost break down right then and there, your body abused and filled with want, but Marius has other plans for you. His rough hands grab at your waist and bend you forward, lifting your ass higher. You cling onto the bar, struggling to tear your eyes from your hazy reflection as Marius wrestles off your bottoms. He lets out a low whistle at your bare ass and smacks it before molding the reddened flesh in his hands, “Ah fuck, I think about this every day.”
He arches you further until your pussy is fully displayed to his greedy eyes. He sighs. “You know how many times I’ve made you moan in my head? How many times I’ve fucked you so deep that” — he moves his hand to your stomach and pinches the skin of your navel — “you can feel it here?”
God. He’s going to ruin you.
“I love seeing you completely filled with my cum, marked by me and me only,” he growls, his eyes ablaze with animalistic hunger. You wonder how many times he’s thought of you, pleased himself to you, completed himself to you — and the very idea makes your eyes roll back in your head, just as he pulls you back on his dickprint. He drags you along the fabric of his joggers, the friction making you twitch and stain the cloth with your sex, and you whimper desperately, “Marius, please . . . “
“Shit, you’re so sexy,” he breathes, licking his lips, “Bet that guy from before thought the same thing. Would you let him fuck you like this, make you look like this?” You shake your head furiously, head cloudy and hurting, “What? No—!”
It’s far too late to calm his jealous streak. Marius uses one hand to whip out his dick — tall, thick, and ready — while he flattens his tongue over the other. Without warning, he slaps your pussy hard. You cry out, nearly choking at the hot pain fleeing to every edge of your body, “Marius!”
And then, he thrusts in easily, slipping so far in that you sob. He keeps you still, reveling in the way you squeeze him so tightly, and you watch as he hangs his head back. His eyes are scrunched in bliss, pink flush crawling down the vein of his neck, washing over his chest, and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth. His fingers rub the colorful splotches on your skin soothingly, an unspoken apology for his roughness.
You want to kiss him badly. Instead, you settle for the tight pit in your stomach growing as he drags his dick out slow, slamming back in quick. He holds it for a second each time he’s fully inside of you, gasping each time you flutter around him wildly, “Ungh, you’re mine. You’ve always been mine, always will be . . . “
“Faster, please,” you beg. He complies, his pace readily increasing until he’s forcing you up against the mirror, his hips bucking up into you fervently, “Beg louder for me, jiejie. Let, shit, every guy out there . . . know just how good I fuck you . . . mmm, fuck.” His hand strikes your ass again before he reaches forward and rotates your hair around his hand, tugging you back. You wail, pain shooting along your scalp and splitting off into radiating heaven as your fucked-out expression only gets lewder. Marius holds you close to his chest as he continues, his eyes devouring your ravaged state. He presses his lips to yours madly, his tongue pushing against yours and swallowing your hoarse moans, completely dominating you.
“Give into me, baby,” he commands huskily, his teeth exacerbating the cut on your lip, “I know you want to.” You can feel his hand shift on your stomach, able to feel the bulge of his dick hitting your limit every single time, and you cry out as you writhe uncontrollably, unable to contain the way his name falls out of your mouth, accompanying each ‘please’ and ‘more’. It’s hard to tell what you’re even looking at anymore: all the colors are starting to look similar, and the reflection in the mirror is too distorted to properly discern any shapes.
“Jiejie,” he gasps, his eyes wide and eyebrows knitted upwards as if he’s in pain, “J-Jiejie, I think I’m . . . I think-”
“Inside,” you rasp. You’re getting close, you can feel your impending orgasm rearing its head, eager to emerge. He shakes his head, the slightest movement, and within seconds he’s slipped out of you, flipped you over, and reentered you. You don’t know how many more tears you have left, how many more broken cries you can let out — there’s no sound coming from your open mouth as he pistons into you relentlessly, thumbing at your clit aggressively. His voice is barely audible, just as strained, “Look at me when you cum. Look only at me.”
And you obey, your orgasm unraveling fast and hard. It rips through your body violently, your vision turning white and your body lifting. Marius’ face is not one of need anymore, but one of admiration, of awe. He fucks you through it slowly, his own body stilling as he reaches his climax, “I love you. Fuck, I love you.”
You’ve never clung onto someone as hard as just now.
His cum seeps out of your swollen pussy when he gently pulls out, pale and sticky. Marius watches the apex of your legs with bright red cheeks, his face looking much more embarrassed and boyish compared to seconds earlier. You try to stretch up when an intense cramp runs along the side of your body, and you yelp as you hold onto the bar, “Ow!”
“Are you okay? Was it too much?” Marius frets over you, holding you gently and easing you to the floor, “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me bu-”
“It’s nothing,” you assure him, groaning as you sit back against the mirror, “But we should talk about this. Us. Do, uh, you really see me as more than a friend?”
Marius looks at you like you’re absolutely insane. His jaw stays dropped for a few seconds, his brain scrambling to rationalize your words, “Do you . . . think I’d fuck a friend like that?” His tone makes you laugh softly and you run your hands along the veins of his forearm softly, “It’s harder than you think to tell when you’re just teasing me. I’m glad you love me back, though.”
“. . . Back?”
You nod.
Marius doesn’t unlock the aerobics door for another five hours.