Sinead Get Nervous

Sinead wasn’t sure why the hell she said it.

Everything had been moving so fast. The fundraiser dinner, the wealth and fancy clothes around her, feeling out of place but somehow being openly accepted even when Marc left her side to forge her own path. Then the walk through the museum, and the coat room, and his fucking smile as he explained their ‘adventure’ for the night.

Why did he keep calling it that? He was leveraging her for sex acts. It must have made him feel better or something. To be fair, it did help - whenever she got a text from him that said ‘our next adventure’ instead of ‘the next time I get you to compromise yourself sexually’ it didn’t make her cringe.

She’d blown him in the coat room, and Sinead hated the fact that she’d done it willingly. He’d barely needed to ask. She’d put up a token resistance at best and caved as soon as he assured her. Then his cock had been in her mouth, and she’d tasted him on her tongue again, and she’d gone at it with energy. His words, from that first time, had been taunting her in the back of her mind. There had been plenty of problems between her and her ex, the biggest of which had been they just got married too fast and too young, but the sex had never been an issue until the end when hate-fucking wasn’t enough to ignore the hate part.

So she’d blown Marc, and every little groan he let out and his soft touches to her hair as if he wanted to grab it and use it like a handle to fuck her mouth but also wanted to protect her from getting it messed up had gotten her going. She’d felt his orgasm coming on, his cock stiffening that little bit more, and she’d swallowed it. Tasting it. It had been like a prize she’d been chasing and she wanted more. She wanted him to bend her over in that coat room, hitch up her dress and pound her like a bitch in heat.

And then she’d looked up at him and said, ‘That it?’

That sort of comment was… with her ex, it would have been a little taunt he would have laughed at before starting round two. Or it could have been a saucy line from a TV show or movie if she’d been getting interrogated and tortured by some evil bastard, something the heroine would say to show they weren’t broken.

Maybe she’d meant it like that, just a little bit. Not consciously though. No, kneeling there on the coat room floor she’d wanted Marc bad and she blushed just thinking about it. She wasn’t supposed to want him like that. She was trying not to want him at all. The longer she kept him hooked with basic stuff, the more she could get out of him before he got tired of their arrangement. And he had to get tired of it eventually and walk away like every other guy. That’s what they did.

But Marc hadn’t laughed and flipped her ass up to fuck her. And he hadn’t chuckled evilly and threatened her. No, he’d… ordered her to put him away. And it had been with a tone of voice that told her there was no arguing. No room for sass. Sinead could have found it hot if it also didn’t feel so…

She wasn’t sure why she said it.

Marc had brought her back out to the main fundraiser area and things went back to how they had been. The speeches were still happening, but people were slowly filtering around the bars and speaking quietly, and that was where they went. The drinks were free, and Sinead ended up with a glass of some ridiculously nice wine as she chatted away.

But it wasn’t the same as before. Something had changed, and she couldn’t tell what it was.

Marc didn’t get clingy, but he also didn’t get distant. He was there and present. He didn’t glare, or get snotty or snappy. He just… something had changed in the way he looked at her when their eyes met during a quiet moment.

It took until the party was ending, and Marc offered her his arm to escort her out, that Sinead realised what was missing.

Marc wasn’t giving her that smile.

The game had deepened, and Marc wasn’t sure how he wanted to play it.

He hated to admit it, but Astrid was right in one of her observations - Marc had it easy with Felicity. His blonde escort was so willing, and trusting. She loved to submit to him, and it was all so easy with her.

Marc wasn’t used to being challenged.

It was a tough pill to swallow. There was a small instinct in him that had wanted to punish the Detective right there in the coat room. To show her who was in control, like an owner correcting a puppy. He knew that there were some Doms who approached things that way.

He also had a very deep feeling that if he handled the Detective like that it might have been fun in the moment, but the game would have ended. What was happening between them wasn’t an agreed-upon D/s relationship. There were controls and boundaries and discussions that helped establish trust in a proper one. With Sinead, it was… different.

So Marc decided to wait, and he could tell that Sinead was stewing as they continued on with socialising. He didn’t give her anything, and he watched her. She played her part well, talking openly without being overbearing. She didn’t get drunk, she was polite and funny. He had no doubt that a couple of the folks he knew from the fundraiser would be surreptitiously asking him about her in the future, just like he’d gotten a few questions about Felicity not being at his side for the night.

The thing that helped Marc keep his inner calm was that she kept looking to him, more and more frequently. Checking in with him. She knew what she’d done, and was waiting for what his reaction would be.

The game wasn’t over, but he needed to make a move that night. His plan had been that the coat room would be the limit. Now he needed to decide what the new limit was, and how far they would push together.

At the end of the night, Marc offered her his arm and escorted her out as they bid their goodbyes. When they got to his car, Marc opened the passenger door for her and helped her in, and then got into the driver’s seat. He glanced at her, and she was looking at him. He just raised an eyebrow slightly and pulled the car forward and onto the street.

Sinead sighed softly in the seat next to him, folding her hands in her lap and fidgeting with her thumbs.

No, Marc thought to himself. The game certainly isn’t over.

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