He followed without complaint, mostly because it hadn't occurred to him where they might be going. The music dimmed, dropping into a low, rhythmic pulse, but his ears were still ringing, the moonlight silver blue, reflected off the cave walls, and for a moment, that was enough to distract him.
It was pretty and soft and Marshall wondered if it would be okay if he just stayed there forever. Moved in and took up residence in this tiny corner of the island.
But then there were hands on him and he thought oh. Oh, that's why we're here.
It didn't seem strange at all to shrug off his shirt and let it fall to the rocks. He'd never gotten this far with Jason, or even Hal, and Courtney hardly counted, but the drugs brought up instincts in him he didn't even known he had.
He pressed forward, pushing Maxxie back against the wall, and it felt strange to be the one crowding the other boy into a corner of the alcove, but he couldn't think of a single reason why he should be hesitating.
Maxxie had no problem whatsoever with Marshall crowding him. It didn't feel strange at all but fucking fantastic, having someone just as desperate to get off with him as he was, a hot, firm body willingly pressed against his skin.
He got his hands on Marshall's hips again, bringing them back to where they were before, perfectly aligned as on the dance floor, so that now when Maxxie rolled his hips to the distant beat, his hardening dick found friction against Marshall's thigh. Groaning into Marshall's mouth, Maxxie clawed with frantic fingers at the stupid vest. Teeth tugging at his lower lip, Maxxie released him from the kiss only long enough to pull the last layer of clothing off over Marshall's head.
Marshall emerged disheveled and blinking stupidly in the low light of the alcove, just enough time to focus on Maxxie's face before he was diving in for another kiss. It didn't even feel weird to be getting naked with another boy. A stranger with really great hands, who happened to be a pretty amazing kisser.
And the hard line of an erection pressed against his thigh wasn't completely new, either, but that didn't stop it from feeling better than just about anything else ever had.
Pulling back for air, gulping in huge lungfuls that stuttered on the sound of a strangled moan, he realized that his hands were on the other boy's chest, trailing down his stomach, tracing the sharp ridges of muscles and the jut of his hipbone over the tight waistband of his pants. And that's where his hands stopped, pausing with just a hint of uncertainty, mostly because he didn't really know what he wanted. But whatever it was, he wanted more, and preferably now.
Maxxie knew exactly what he wanted and exactly how to get it. He took over where Marshall's hands paused, undoing the close and zip on his own trousers. Why the other boy hesitated or what it meant didn't matter. It was only another small obstacle to be tossed aside.
Ducking his head, Maxxie kissed his way down Marshall's neck, his hands busy now with the other boy's jeans. It only took a few seconds of practiced movements before his thumbs could hook over the elastic of Marshall's boxers and pull everything down to cling precariously just below his hips. His fingers wrapped around Marshall's dick, the height and weight of it feeling so good in his hand it inspired a slight smile and groan muffled against the crook of Marshall's neck.
It was kind of insane, how different it felt, having a guy's hand around his dick, in comparison to how it had felt with Courtney. Maybe, once he was sober, he'd have more time to analyze, but right then, a whoa, holy shit was pretty sufficient.
His fumbling hand catching briefly on a bondage strap, Marshall let out a huff of laughter, said, "I think your pants are attacking you," then he wrapped his hand around Maxxie's dick, because it was there and really, how could he not?
He let out a breathy chuckle, not because it was a funny joke, but because any kind of real talking at all struck him as funny just then. True sentences were beyond him as he bucked his hips up into the touch.
"Fuck, Marshall," Maxxie breathed against his skin. Dragging his lips up the line of his throat again, Maxxie started to stroke his dick, not slowly but not so fast that he couldn't feel the slide of skin under his fingers, savoring the build up just as much as the eventual release.
He got it, now. He really did. After that last fiasco, he'd kind of been wondering why people even did stuff like this. In his experience, it was awkward and disappointing and let to shed fires and Liar Boxes and being left behind by a kid he'd kind of really liked but could hardly even speak to. It's not like he didn't understand the simple physicality of getting off, but he'd never really understood why kids his age spent so much time obsessive over it.
But this? This was totally worth obsessing over.
He opened his mouth to say something-- something at least halfway coherent, but instead, all that came out was a strangled, "Gah!" His hips rolled into the other boy's palm, and he only had the drugs to thank for the fact that he hadn't come on first contact. Because Maxxie's hands were strong and broad and so fucking warm, and his dick was pulsing in the palm of Marshall's hand, and it felt like his own, but at the same time, nothing like it at all
( ... )
Maxxie couldn't read Marshall's mind, but he could feel the other boy start to come undone. That vague sense he had that Marshall wasn't a regular citizen of this world, didn't mess around with boys like this often solidified into truth in his mind. It didn't change anything. Maxxie would have done the same and felt no guilt or remorse or anything like that now. But it made him smile now as he threaded his fingers almost affectionately through Marshall's hair, holding onto him as he stroked faster.
He wouldn't be too far following himself, but he bit his lower lip hard and resisted the urge to thrust into Marshall's hand, wanting far more to enjoy the feeling of the other boy coming against him than push his own needs.
They didn't make boys like this in Overland Park. He was almost positive. The closest he'd ever seen was Lionel, and for a long time now, he'd suspected that all Lionel Trane's talk was at least fifty-percent bullshit.
Stuff like this just didn't happen. Not really. Accept for on trashy, gay-interest tv shows on Showtime. He knew that, in the back of his head. But instead of that freaking him out, he felt incredibly, unaccountably lucky. He really, really needed to thank Kate, later, for dragging him to this party, after he'd been so down on the idea. So sure it just wasn't his scene.
Not that he really had a scene, anyway.
He was running off of instinct alone. His hand kept moving, trying every little trick he'd ever used on himself, because he was a teenage boy, and even teenage boys like Marshall jerked off. And right before he came, with a whimpering animal-cry of a sound, he lifted his head and blindly sought out Maxxie's lips with his own, because he wanted to be kissing while it happened.
Maxxie returned the kiss with a soft whimper of his own, only just holding on. Marshall's cum spilled hot and sticky over his hand and even that somehow felt amazing right now. Normal. The whole fucked up travail of the past few days didn't register. He didn't feel the loss of his boyfriend and his best friend and his family. He couldn't think of the future. All Maxxie knew in that moment was the taste of Marshall's mouth, those sweet, awkward noises he made and the never-ending, blessed heat of him.
He jerked his hips forward and came, breaking the kiss to cry out softly against Marshall's mouth. Fingers tightening in Marshall's hair, he let the orgasm wash over him and held them close as they both recovered, the moments punctuated by gasps of breath and slow kisses.
There was come splattered sticky across his fingers, but for was, he wasn't thinking about what he should do with it. What the proper etiquette was after jerking another boy off practically in public. All he cared about were the kisses, the soft gasps of breath they were sharing. There wasn't a cool down. There wasn't that moment of awkwardness when reality set in.
Because reality was long, long gone.
His hand was still on Maxxie's dick, pulling him through the last aftershocks, then when it finally slid away, it curled around Maxxie's hip, pulling him closer as he worked open Maxxie's lips with his tongue.
Letting out a pleased little moan, Maxxie let his arm drape across Marshall's shoulders again, his mouth pliant and willing under the other boy's. Too many chemicals, natural and otherwise, coursed through his bloodstream now for things to be anything but easy, languid and good.
Eventually he moved to tuck himself back into his pants and trousers, but it was a one-handed affair without any urgency or attention. His real focus was on kissing his way to Marshall's ear so he could murmur, "You're so fucking cute," with a nip to his skin.
It was pretty and soft and Marshall wondered if it would be okay if he just stayed there forever. Moved in and took up residence in this tiny corner of the island.
But then there were hands on him and he thought oh. Oh, that's why we're here.
It didn't seem strange at all to shrug off his shirt and let it fall to the rocks. He'd never gotten this far with Jason, or even Hal, and Courtney hardly counted, but the drugs brought up instincts in him he didn't even known he had.
He pressed forward, pushing Maxxie back against the wall, and it felt strange to be the one crowding the other boy into a corner of the alcove, but he couldn't think of a single reason why he should be hesitating.
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He got his hands on Marshall's hips again, bringing them back to where they were before, perfectly aligned as on the dance floor, so that now when Maxxie rolled his hips to the distant beat, his hardening dick found friction against Marshall's thigh. Groaning into Marshall's mouth, Maxxie clawed with frantic fingers at the stupid vest. Teeth tugging at his lower lip, Maxxie released him from the kiss only long enough to pull the last layer of clothing off over Marshall's head.
Reply
And the hard line of an erection pressed against his thigh wasn't completely new, either, but that didn't stop it from feeling better than just about anything else ever had.
Pulling back for air, gulping in huge lungfuls that stuttered on the sound of a strangled moan, he realized that his hands were on the other boy's chest, trailing down his stomach, tracing the sharp ridges of muscles and the jut of his hipbone over the tight waistband of his pants. And that's where his hands stopped, pausing with just a hint of uncertainty, mostly because he didn't really know what he wanted. But whatever it was, he wanted more, and preferably now.
Reply
Ducking his head, Maxxie kissed his way down Marshall's neck, his hands busy now with the other boy's jeans. It only took a few seconds of practiced movements before his thumbs could hook over the elastic of Marshall's boxers and pull everything down to cling precariously just below his hips. His fingers wrapped around Marshall's dick, the height and weight of it feeling so good in his hand it inspired a slight smile and groan muffled against the crook of Marshall's neck.
Reply
His fumbling hand catching briefly on a bondage strap, Marshall let out a huff of laughter, said, "I think your pants are attacking you," then he wrapped his hand around Maxxie's dick, because it was there and really, how could he not?
Reply
"Fuck, Marshall," Maxxie breathed against his skin. Dragging his lips up the line of his throat again, Maxxie started to stroke his dick, not slowly but not so fast that he couldn't feel the slide of skin under his fingers, savoring the build up just as much as the eventual release.
Reply
But this? This was totally worth obsessing over.
He opened his mouth to say something-- something at least halfway coherent, but instead, all that came out was a strangled, "Gah!" His hips rolled into the other boy's palm, and he only had the drugs to thank for the fact that he hadn't come on first contact. Because Maxxie's hands were strong and broad and so fucking warm, and his dick was pulsing in the palm of Marshall's hand, and it felt like his own, but at the same time, nothing like it at all ( ... )
Reply
He wouldn't be too far following himself, but he bit his lower lip hard and resisted the urge to thrust into Marshall's hand, wanting far more to enjoy the feeling of the other boy coming against him than push his own needs.
Reply
Stuff like this just didn't happen. Not really. Accept for on trashy, gay-interest tv shows on Showtime. He knew that, in the back of his head. But instead of that freaking him out, he felt incredibly, unaccountably lucky. He really, really needed to thank Kate, later, for dragging him to this party, after he'd been so down on the idea. So sure it just wasn't his scene.
Not that he really had a scene, anyway.
He was running off of instinct alone. His hand kept moving, trying every little trick he'd ever used on himself, because he was a teenage boy, and even teenage boys like Marshall jerked off. And right before he came, with a whimpering animal-cry of a sound, he lifted his head and blindly sought out Maxxie's lips with his own, because he wanted to be kissing while it happened.
Reply
He jerked his hips forward and came, breaking the kiss to cry out softly against Marshall's mouth. Fingers tightening in Marshall's hair, he let the orgasm wash over him and held them close as they both recovered, the moments punctuated by gasps of breath and slow kisses.
Reply
Because reality was long, long gone.
His hand was still on Maxxie's dick, pulling him through the last aftershocks, then when it finally slid away, it curled around Maxxie's hip, pulling him closer as he worked open Maxxie's lips with his tongue.
Reply
Eventually he moved to tuck himself back into his pants and trousers, but it was a one-handed affair without any urgency or attention. His real focus was on kissing his way to Marshall's ear so he could murmur, "You're so fucking cute," with a nip to his skin.
Reply
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