Ok, so I put up a fic the other day, and I thought that it really needed a follow up, so you could see if Roxanne decided to let her self looove *sigh* *romantic music* *worlds tiniest violin*. So this is the after the event of "Chivalry" but you don't really have to read that to understand. But damn that's some good loving;) Its in marks POV this time round. I'm adding more M rated filth to the internet, but who doesn't like smut? Well I guess nuns and priests wouldn't like it very much...but I mean other than that? Yeah you know you like it other wise you would no clicky on the smutty smut smut. Reviews are appreciated, flames are hated, thanks XX

Its been three days since the incident at the bar...three days and she wasn't answering his calls, three nights filled with dreams of her. Her smile, her jokes, her eyes, her body, the way her mouth fell into a perfect 'o' when she came around him, shuddering so beautifully in his arms. He wants more, wants to make her feel good again. But he can't if she wont return his calls. Damnit!
Why does she have to be so goddamned stubborn. Why can't she see he just wants to take care of her?
The door vibrates against someone's knuckles as they knock on the wood.
He sighs rubbing his hand over his face and getting up, expecting Alex or Whitney. He flings open the door and feels his heart stutter in his chest and he's staring into the tormented eyes of the girl he'd just been thinking about.
"Rox..." He says her name like he was sighing, deflating with the effort.
"Mark, I...came over because...I...I...I don't even know why I came over," her eyes are filling with tears and he wants nothing more than to pull her to his chest and ease her pain.
"I just wanted to see you again," and it feels like someone's stabbed him in the chest.
"Why?"
There's a long pause and then...
"I can't stop thinking about you. And I thought I could get over it. I thought I could convince myself I wasn't feeling those things, and I just needed to get laid. I always convince myself, I always get over it. But...god I can't stop thinking about you"
And she's crying, and he's never seen his Roxanne cry so he comforts her in the only way he knows how. He presses his lips to hers, and they're just as warm and soft as he remembers, and when he licks into her mouth she tastes like Listerine mouth wash and dark chocolate and Roxanne. He's pushed off her leather jacket and his fingers have shifted under her loose cotton t-shirt and are skimming the skin of her hips, her belly, just under her breasts. She's so fucking soft. And hot. Her skin feels so damn hot where he touches it, scalding him, burning her into his brain. He needs this, needs her, feels the desire moving through him like molten lava, searing his veins. She whimpers as he nips at her bottom lip and then leaves her mouth to trail kisses down her neck. He's leaving bruises, blooming red and purple against her pale skin and he loves it because she's his, and this is like proof for him, he's marking her. She belongs to him.
"Mark, please," she gasps and he isn't even sure she knows what she's asking for, so he nips one last time at her collar bone and pushes her down onto the couch that only she likes and runs his hands up her heated thighs and under her skirt and pulls down her panties because right now he really, really needs to be inside her. She's tugging at the buttons on his shirt and its making him lose tiny bits of his control so as soon as she pushes it from his shoulders and rakes her fingers down his chest he's pushing two fingers inside her and she feels even hotter and wetter and tighter than the first time and he growls into her ear.
He's so painfully hard already, and he tells her, whispering huskily in her ear.
"Mark stop, I...I want you inside me now," she whimpers and he grunts into her neck as he presses painfully hard against his zipper and he's almost glad he didn't wear boxers today because all he has to do in unzip his jeans and he's pushing into her.
He's trying really hard to go slow because he's trying to comfort her and the sweet torture might just drive him crazy but he's doing it for her, and they're both sweating and his blood feels like its boiling and he doesn't think it can get and better until...
"Oh god...ungh, fucking...love you Mark"
He freezes. Everything is still, and she's looking at him with horror in her eyes like she didn't mean to say it.
"What?"
"I...I'm sorry," she gasps, "I didn't mean...it was an accident I..."
"Do you?"
"Huh?"
"Do you love me?"
She looks at him for a long moment, like she's deciding something and she whispers, "Yes."
And then he's pounding into her all restraint leaving his body, using all the force in his hips and she's crying out, arching her back, pushing against the couch to get more leverage and chanting his name over and over like a mantra.
"Mark, Mark, oh fuck, Mark."
"You're so fucking hot, Rox," he groans pushing his lips back to hers, sucking her tongue into his mouth. She wraps her long legs around him, letting him slide deeper and they both moan and he's seeing stars behind his eyes. Suddenly she breaks her lips away from his and her mouth falls open in a silent scream and she tightens around him, squeezing his cock just right, making him follow her over the edge. They're panting laying sweaty in each others arms and he leans his forehead against hers.
"I love you too Roxanne, so much" and she smiles and buries her head in his chest and they fall asleep on the couch like that, her legs wrapped around him, him with his jeans still on, her skirt hiked up around her hips and him still buried deep inside her. They are woken and hour later by a screaming Whitney and he really should've locked the door.