Marc Spector X Reader Novels & Stories

He didn’t stop. If anything, his stroke slowed and became deliberate. A lazy twist over the swollen head that made his hips twitch and another bead of clear fluid spill over his knuckles. His lips curved into a half smirk. “Enjoying the show, Theo?” My mouth went dry. I should have said something clever. I should have apologized and backed out. Instead I stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind me with a soft click that sounded like surrender. Marcus’s gaze raked over me—bare feet, pajama pants hanging low, the obscene tent I couldn’t hide. His tongue dragged across his bottom lip.

It has gotten a lot bigger now. Marc rode on Poly’s back in a standing position. He massaged his pet’s head then he moved his face near its ear as if he whispered something. Then, I caught Marc and Ploy simultaneously close their eyes. What is he planning to do? How can he fight Belphegor with closed eyes? Is he going to meditate too like Acanta did?