Of course Marcus loves it. Getting literally swept off his feet is so deeply satisfying to his hopelessly romantic streak that he has to protest just to save face. He grumbles accordingly into Midnighter’s neck, something-bastard-something, and sighs with pleasure once he’s stretched out on the bed and watching him start to undress.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, and he wriggles on the bed and gets his boots off, letting them thud down onto the floor. “And I don’t get off on seeing you hurt. Just like feeling useful. Always been a bit like that.”

He nudges Midnighter’s thigh with his toe. “Need someone looking after you.”