Service and Assistance (Layla X Marc X Steven)

Service and Assistance

Notes: Thank you so much my amazing boyfriend who, once again, beta read and fixed all my errors. Thank you sweetie pie <3

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Marc traces his hand along the body lying in his arms. It is warm, comfortable, and safe in his mind, and his tired brain won't consider more than that. He touches the edge of consciousness, but the sweet grip of sleep has yet to let him go. The body shifts under him with a sigh, and Marc mumbles softly, "Steven."

Layla's laugh wakes Marc up abruptly. He blinks his eyes clear of their tired blur, and after a moment too long, he acknowledges Layla watching him flounder around. She has a fond smile on her lips that grows when he pouts at her.

"So, you're cuddling with Steven now, hmm?" Layla teases, shifting over to face her husband.

Marc clears his throat and looks around the room for what to say. Unsurprisingly, he doesn't encounter anything, and Layla's amusement goes smug.

"You're cuddle buddies with Stevie? Yeah, you were all over me thinking I was him." Layla walks her fingers over Marc's chest.

"I was not," Marc denies, "I was dreaming."

Layla rolls her eyes, tracing shapes over Marc's pectorals, before directing her finger lower down to his abdomen. She drew Marc's attention lower and said, "must have been some dream, huh?"

Marc peeks below her finger and catches the tent of his cock underneath their blanket. He reddens and hides it, poorly, with his hands.

"Oh, god, no that is not about, um," Marc attempts to explain his boner away, mortified, and Layla dares to laugh at him.

Marc scowls, and Layla stops, quickly soothing him, "no, wait, I think it's silly and cute, love, you're alright,"

Marc stares at Layla, his head reeling with the rush of emotions he had woken up to, and it becomes overwhelming fast. He doesn't move his hands or anything, and it isn't until he jolts a little on the bed that Layla realizes what's happened.

"It's just something that happens," Steven sheepishly says, refusing to look at Layla.

Steven's hands remain firm where Marc left them, and he can feel his cock still shamefully hard despite his embarrassment. Layla shifts and draws his attention to her soft, sympathetic expression.

"I was just messing with Marc, Steven, it's alright, I promise," Layla whispers, just loud enough for Steven to hear, and he nods.

Marc fades into the mirror beside their bed with a huff, drawing Steven's eyes to him. For Layla, it looks like Steven is watching his own reflection intensely, but for Steven, he sees Marc, standing looking at him with blown pupils and a flushed face. He eyes Steven like prey, but there's a very clear barrier between them that Marc seems unhappy with.

"Your messing wasn't misplaced... I suppose we had a good dream." Steven keeps his eyes on Marc, "a really, m'really good dream."

Layla raises her eyebrows, "oh, well," she trails off, playing with the blanket.

Steven's eyelashes flutter as he stares, and Layla watches for any change in her partner, but he shakes his head, remaining Steven. He looks at Layla before bringing his hands together with a clap and shifting to leave the bed.

"Well, I'll go handle this, cheers," Steven, clearly still flustered despite the heavy dissociation fogging his brain, stumbles out from under the blanket.

Layla lets him sway momentarily before speaking up, "I mean, I could help you with that, if you, or– um– if both of you would want that."

For a beat, Steven stands in shock, waiting for Layla to laugh at her own joke; she doesn't. She remains seated in their bed, looking like a work of art in the dim lighting. Steven swallows, and he glances at Marc in the mirror for reassurance. Marc, who kept abnormally silent through the embarrassing bit, smirks at Steven.