Oh, cute. When did Marcus learn to be cute about this shit? Midnighter, still naked in bed, rolls over and groans. He was hoping for more of last time. He was hoping, he realizes, for a reset. A second chance.

Rolling over hurts. His wound is still healing, a dark, ugly, scarred bruise on both sides of his chest. No more gauze or bandaging needed, just the upscale nature of his body taking its course. He won't die, he'll get better, he just has to be annoyingly careful for a while.

Rolling over hurts, but he stays rolled over. Most things hurt. He knows what he's capable of.

Honesty. Sometimes he's capable of that.

cute

id love to say i want you to get over here and fuck me
because i do
i really fucking do
but im still a little torn up for that

i wanna see you
let me see you?
please