Chapter Text
Ever since they first got together back in ‘78, Marvin had always doubted that Whizzer was really trained in karate. Sure, the kid talked about it damn near every fight or spat they had, but Marvin had always figured that he was always exaggerating; trying to one-up him every chance he got.
But since they had gotten back together a few months ago, his lover still wouldn’t shut up about it. He had last mentioned it a few hours ago over lunch, and that's how Marvin finds himself thinking it over while saddled up next to Whizzer on the couch: his head leaning on his Whizzer’s shoulder, Whizzer’s resting atop Marvin’s head, Marvin’s hand gently caressing up and down Whizzer’s inner thigh, Whizzer’s absentmindedly caressing Marvin’s side as they watched some stupid romcom.
Marvin worried the frayed end of the blanket they were using between his fingers – an old thing that Trina had made him in the beginning of the lie that was their relationship that he could never bring himself to throw away. “You know…I really don’t believe you.”
Whizzer quirked his brow as he looked down at the fluffy head of hair resting on his shoulder. “What?”
Marvin looked up at him, his eyes narrowing playfully before clarifying. “Karate. I don’t think you were ever actually trained, is all.” He smirked and shrugged, turning his attention back to the television in front of them.
The other man scoffed with a smile, continuing to look down at the man incredulously. “Excuse me, sir,” he started, snaking his hand up to card through Marvin’s nape before giving a playful tug and leaning down to whisper right into his lover’s ear. “I was trained in karate. Three days a week from when I was five up until I was sixteen. I even got a red belt and everything.”
Marvin let out a faint gasp when Whizzer pulled his hair, an airy laugh escaping him before looking back to him. “Really?” He said, an unamused look overtaking his face. “Then why have I never seen this ‘red belt,’ huh? Because I know I’ve never taken it off of you…” He smirked, turning his body to face Whizzer’s before slowly pushing him back, his hand finding its way up his shirt to stroke at his abs.
“Yeah, well, it’s been more than a decade. I didn’t see any reason to keep it when I moved out.” He responded automatically, far more interested in what Marvin was doing, or what Whizzer hoped he was doing, that is, than whatever nonsense he was blabbering on about.
“Right.” Marvin replied with a chuckle, starting to undo the bottom few buttons of Whizzer’s shirt before the man in question reached down to stall him.
“What was that?”
“What was what?” Marvin questioned back, confused as to why Whizzer had just stopped him – he never turned down sex unless they had a bad enough fight that resulted in one of them leaving, which, by the way, hasn’t happened since they got back together. They’re more mature now. Well…mature-ish.
“‘Right.’ What do you mean, ‘right?’” He explained with an unimpressed look as he stared Marvin down with narrowed eyes.
“Well, you know,” Marvin began, waving his hands about. “You’re not really trained in karate. You just say that so you look sexier, which isn’t possible because you’re the sexiest man alive.” He tried to get them back on track by leaning in for a kiss, but Whizzer wasn’t having it, deciding to lean back to avoid the incoming lips.
“I’m not lying, Marvin. I was trained in karate.” Whizzer said more seriously.
“Oh yeah?” Marvin challenged with a disbelieving laugh as he leaned back. “Prove it.”
“Excuse me?” Whizzer raised a brow.
“Prove it, Whizz. Fight me. Put those ‘karate’ skills to use for the first time in almost two decades!” He smirked, eyes trained on Whizzer like he was prey.
“Okay, first of all, it hasn’t been two decades since I used them, how do you think I fought back against the straight men beating up queers outside of the bars and nightclubs that I went to?” He refuted, continuing on his tangent. “And secondly, I am not fighting you, Marvin. We don’t need to bother Charlotte tonight.”
Marvin rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine, no fighting. But how about wrestling? Whoever pins the other first wins.” He said smugly. He was sure he would best Whizzer at this. He had an easy enough time maneuvering him around during sex and pinning his arms or wrists – how different could this be?
Whizzer’s unamused expression returned, a small giggle along with it. “Are you serious, Marv? You think your old man body can fare against me in wrestling? Don’t get me wrong, I love your bod, babe, but I think it’s a little unfair to beat you when you’re no longer in your prime.”
Marvin returned the comment with a scoff and his own look of mock-offense. “I assure you, I am in my prime, thank you very much. I’m not that much older than you! And yes, I am being serious.” Marvin pushed himself off of the couch and stood in the middle of the room, waving his hand to motion the other to get us as he made a show of stretching his arms and legs. “Come on, let’s go!”
Whizzer sighed affectionately with a smile, pushing himself off of the couch to start his own stretching. “Fine, but I make the rules. One: no actual fighting. No punching or pinching or slapping – and yes that applies to my ass.”
“What about my ass?” Marvin asked with a frown, hands on his hips.
“Unlike you, I don't need rules to tell me not to do something. But I can slap that ass as much as you’d like after I win.” Whizzer winked.
“Very funny.” Marvin smiled coyly, enjoying their easy banter, as well as Whizzer’s ass as he bent over to stretch his legs, the other clearly putting on a show for Marvin’s enjoyment. “So what’s rule two?”
“Simple.” Whizzer smiled at him, stretching his back one last time before getting into position. “Don’t be a whiny asshole when you lose!”
Marvin scoffed and got into his own position, both of them half bent-over, faces inches apart in the middle of their living room. “Oh, you’re on!”
And so the two grown men began to wrestle in their mid-sized apartment’s living room. It had started out fairly even, with both of them making moves on the other before dodging with ease, that is until Marvin dove for a leg and knocked Whizzer to the ground with a soft thud. But before Marvin could crawl up on top of him, Whizzer managed to grab Marvin’s arm and pin it to the ground as he tried to pry one of his legs out from under the shorter man.
“You know,” Whizzer grunted. “This really isn’t the same thing as karate.” He managed to free a leg and was now trying to bend it to get some leverage.
“Oh?” Marvin panted, reaching for one of Whizzer’s hands with his free arm. Though he couldn’t reach, thanks to Whizzer’s stupidly long limbs. Not that he ever complains about them, sexy as they are. “Don’t make up excuses for why you’ll lose!” He abandoned his reach for a loose appendage and instead focused his effort on trying to pry Whizzer’s hand off of his arm, trying to break free.
“Ha! You wish, Marv! I’m gonna beat your ass!” Whizzer laughed and managed to get himself onto one knee, his other leg trapped under all of Marvin’s weight. “You look a little winded there, babe! Sure you don’t want to tap out?”
Marvin scoffed with a grin, though he knew what Whizzer was saying was true. He was starting to tire himself out, which is probably in part due to the fact that they hadn’t really warmed up aside from stretching. “You wish! Don’t underestimate your old man, kid!” Still, he wasn’t about to go down without a fight. He managed to free his arm from his boyfriend’s grip and clambered up to push Whizzer to the ground.
That didn’t exactly go according to plan, though, because Whizzer managed to lean to the side, causing Marvin to fall forward onto the ground, allowing Whizzer, who finally got his other leg free, to swiftly straddle the other man as he turned around to face the ceiling, trying to gain purchase again, but before he knew it, Whizzer had taken both of his wrists in his hands and pinned them above his head, leaning down so his face was just inches away from Marvin’s.
“Whizzer wins.” Whizzer smirked.
The two men were panting, cheeks flushed. It wasn’t too dissimilar to how they looked during sex, aside from the fact that Marvin was the one under Whizzer. Marvin was the one under Whizzer. Marvin, who could feel his face flush brighter as he realized this fact. Marvin, who felt his face flush darker as he realized that his hands were pinned. And that he couldn’t move. And that he was at Whizzer’s mercy. And that he kind of wanted Whizzer, who had this dark, domineering look in his eyes, to kiss him, and to take control, and-
Oh.
Oh no.
He was hard.
Marvin was hard.
Marvin was very hard.
Marvin’s eyes widened as he realized the weight of what he had just gone through in his mind, cheeks flushing impossibly darker as he began to squirm under Whizzer. “Whizz let me up.” He said, his voice just below panicked.
Marvin would say that he’s grown a lot as a person – especially since he and Whizzer had that fight that led to their breakup. But there were still things Marvin struggled with when it came to his masculinity. To be more specific, he had a hard time losing control when he was with another man. He always wanted to battle for dominance, and although he had worked through a lot of those issues in the past two years, he still had a difficult time with control when it came to the bedroom. He could never bring himself to give up control, even for a minute, and since they had got back together, whenever Whizzer had tried to take control, Marvin was quick to turn the tables, though Whizzer had never said anything, more than happy to go along with whatever Marvin had planned.
So sue him, he was a little panicked right now.
Luckily, he knew Whizzer didn’t know he was hard, or at least he hoped he didn’t know. Whizzer was kneeling above him, not sitting directly on his bulge, so at least he was granted that one reprieve. Then again, Whizzer seemed to have a sixth sense for when Marvin was turned on.
“Come on, Marv.” Whizzer teased, leaning down to mouth along his jawline. “Don’t be such a sourpuss.”
“Whizzer, let me up.” Marvin didn’t plead. He didn’t beg. He would never say he begged. Ever. But if he sounded desperate to get away in that moment, maybe even a little angry just to gain back some semblance of control, no one but himself needed to know. He squirmed more, pulling at his hands, still trapped in his lover’s grasp.
Whizzer, seeming to sense that something was up, raised a brow and loosened his grip on Marvin’s wrists, backing his face away from Marvin. “Marv-”
But he could barely get another word out before Marvin pulled his arms from Whizzer and quickly removed himself from under him, standing up and walking to the front door as quickly as possible.
“Marvin, what the hell?!”
Marvin didn’t even hear the last of Whizzer’s sentence before shutting the door, rushing out and walking two steps across the hall to begin knocking rapidly on his neighbor’s door, leaving Whizzer alone in the apartment in silent disbelief and contempt.
“Jesus Christ, you only need to knock once-!” Charlotte opened the door to a both amusing and quite worrying sight – Marvin panting, red in the face, and eyes as wide as saucers. “Holy shit, what happened to you?”
Marvin stood there for less than a second before barging past the woman internist to stand in the middle of the lesbian’s own living room, groaning loudly into his hands.
Charlotte closed the door with a shocked expression just as Cordelia came out from the kitchen in her apron with stains that could probably be attributed to her nth attempt at making what is supposedly knish. “Hey babe, can you taste- oh, hi Marvin! What are you…” Hearing his groaning, her eyebrows knit together as she looked at her own lover in question, who just shrugged her shoulders with a grimace.
“Help me…” He said into his hands, a despairing and mortified look on his face.