Felt The Words
Title: Felt The Words.
Pairing: Singer/Marshall.
Rating: R for Rude.
Word Count: 1,834.
Warnings: Vampiric themes throughout, brief mention of Cash-like ridiculousness.
Disclaimer: Pics or it didn't happen.
Notes: Thank you to slashxmistress for beta'ing this and just being constantly awesome. This is for choclitbunny cus she likes Cab babies and vampires and hopefully the combination of those things.
Summary: Singer’s hand is moving again, tracing the veins in his throat as they rise through his sweat damp skin to become his pulse. Marshall can feel every cell in his body, blood and skin alike, straining towards Singer. Rising and surging to meet his touch.
*
They come off stage hyped and sweating as usual.
Marshall turns to avoid the soaked towel Cash is using as a makeshift whip and finds himself pressed up against Singer, chest to chest.
He starts to laugh it off, brings his hands up to shove at Singer’s shoulders but all of a sudden finds himself pushed back against the wall, hands pinned uselessly to either side of his head by Singer’s interlocked fingers.
The other guys are halfway to the van now, he can hear their laughter disappearing through the door and across the parking lot, peppered with the occasional indignant squeal from Ian.
He’s not sure exactly what’s going on here, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t like it.
Things had been light on stage, buzzed as they bounced off afterward. If Singer had been catching his eye more than usual or pressing closer than strictly necessary between songs he hadn’t called him on it.
Singer has been different lately. Far more serious and yet the complete opposite at the same time. One things for sure though, no matter what the mood - the theme has been heavy. Singer’s looks have become stares. Marshall hasn’t asked the other guys about it yet, thinks he’s probably just being overly sensitive, but fuck if he can’t feel Singer’s gaze like a physical touch across stages and backseats and hotel rooms.
He can’t see Singer’s eyes now, he’s not sure he wants to. Singer is nosing along his throat, slowly working his way up to Marshall’s ear. He can feel the damp press of his mouth, lips catching on the skin of his neck as his breath hitches in his throat.
Singer pushes forward again, surging right up against Marshall and tightening his grip on his wrists. Marshall feels like he can’t breath right, can’t even force the air from his lungs right now and he’s not sure why.
He tries to struggle, twists his head to the right to try and bite at Singers grip on his wrists, but he doesn’t expect it to work. Singer drops his hands, brings them down to his hips instead. He still has Marshall pinned to the wall with his chest, but Marshall sort of can’t remember why he wanted to get out of this in the first place.
Singers hands are cupped tight, fingers curling around the bone of his hips with a vice grip. His mouth is on Marshall’s chin now, teeth appearing to nip his bottom lip as he pauses suddenly.
Marshall can’t breath. Something isn’t right. Why haven’t the others come back to see where they are? Why does everything feel so .. sluggish? Why haven’t Marshall’s hands moved from where they were? Why can’t he force his focus on anything other than Singer? Singer’s hands on his hips, thumbs tracing the skin of his stomach just beneath the waistband of his jeans. Singer’s skin, hot even through the layers of clothes that separate their bodies. All that Marshall can concentrate on is this heat, this energy coursing between them, through Singer.
His gaze is pulled suddenly to Singer’s face, Singer’s mouth almost on his own - lips wrapping around words he can’t quite hear.
Singer brings a hand to cup his jaw and force his eyes upwards. Their eyes lock and Marshall’s able to hear now. He wouldn’t even have to, seeing the look in Singer’s eyes, but he can. He needs to listen, needs to hear anything Singer’s willing to say to him, take anything he’s willing to give him.
“Come on Marsh .. you don’t have to be scared. It’s just me. You know me better than anyone could. You trust me, don’t you Marshall?”.
Marshall can’t bring himself to answer, doesn’t know how he’d even begin to tear his concentration from Singer’s face, his eyes burning brighter than Marshall has ever seen, startlingly green against the olive skin surrounding them. Singer looks like he’s in control, like he needs to be control. But Marshall doesn’t trust the way his gaze is wavering. Singer’s barely got a grip on whatever this is, whatever it is he’s trying to say.
“Marshall. Alex. Look at me. You trust me, yes?”
He leans forward, and Marshall feels his knee’s start to give. Singer’s mouth presses desperately against his own, gasping right into it. Marshall doesn’t protest, can’t think why he’d even want to and moans back, lips parting against Singers. Singer growls low in his throat and Marshall feels it rather than hears it. The kiss is controlled, slow but sure. Marshall knows better though. He can feel the tension coursing through Singer, the effort it’s taking him to stay in control of his actions. Marshall doesn’t want him in control. He slips his tongue along the curve of Singer’s lower lip, steals a taste before Singer starts to pull away.
“Alex. You don’t know. We can’t. You need to get to the others. Please, get away from here. You don’t understand .. if we .. If I ..”.
Marshall knows he should listen. Knows this situation is entirely too weird to be safe. But he seriously can’t find it in himself to care right now. He just wants Singer’s mouth back on his, that’s all he can concentrate on in this moment.
He pushes forward, arching away from the wall to reach Singer, to seal their lips together again. Singer starts to pull away again and Marshall suddenly realises that the hands on his hips aren’t holding him to the wall, just holding him away from Singer.
“Please, Singer. I don’t understand it. I don’t know. I just .. I don’t care right now. We can sort this out some other time. Just .. stop wasting time .. the guys will be back soon .. just .. please”.
Singer laughs at that. It sounds ugly to Marshall’s ears, he’s not even sure it’s come from Singer until he looks up into his eyes. His irises have turned black, all traces of green being swallowed by the darkness even as Marshall watches now.
“You don’t know what you’re saying, Marsh. Sweet little Marshall, it’s a pity you trust me really. You might have avoided this otherwise”.
Singer’s smile is feral now, bottom lip curling almost in disgust. Marshall’s nearly too focused on the spit slick sheen clinging to it to notice the way Singer’s smile is changing. His top lip is pulling back to reveal incisor’s that are slowly descending to sit against Singer’s full bottom lip, stark white against the gleaming wet red smear of his mouth.
Marshall distantly registers that he should be scared, should feel something other than fascination at the way Singer is pushing back into him pressing hot skin and wet lips and sharp teeth. He knows it’s how he should feel, but that’s as far as that fleeting feeling progresses. He leans into it, tongue deftly licking at those teeth, curling behind them to taunt Singer with soft little teasing flicks. Singer growls again but Marshall somehow expected it this time. It sends a shiver right through him, forcing the air from his lungs and making his hips jerk forward, desperately seeking more, any contact with Singer’s body.
“It’s almost a pity that you’re too weak to resist this, Alex. I’m sure I would have enjoyed the fight. But whatever, things will ultimately end the same way. You’re going to give in, you’re already desperate for this. You feel that Marshall?”.
Singer trails a hand up Marshall’s chest, slowing his fingers to a stop over his racing heart. Marshall can feel Singer’s touch searing even through his shirt like a brand. He still can’t tear his eyes away from Singer’s.
“Your blood is pumping through your veins so fast now, Marsh. I can smell it’s rhythm. I can almost taste it. Don’t you want to let me taste it? You’ll like it, I promise.”.
Singer’s hand is moving again, tracing the veins in his throat as they rise through his sweat damp skin to become his pulse. Marshall can feel every cell in his body, blood and skin alike, straining towards Singer. Rising and surging to meet his touch.
“You want it. You want it so bad, Marshall. You can feel it, feel how your body wants me. Are you going to give me your permission? Or will I have to do this by force?”.
Marshall shivers again, the prospect of Singer hurting him both terrifying and exciting him. He knows this isn’t the way he should be reacting in this situation, but he’s just as sure that whatever’s controlling his thoughts and reactions right now isn’t going to let up anytime soon. He trusts Singer. He wants Singer. He wants to give in.
He’s going to give in.
He flicks his fringe from his face and maintains eye contact with Singer as he deliberately turns his head, offering his throat to Singer’s mouth.
Singer growls softly, low in his throat and it buzzes across Marshall’s skin as he presses his mouth to the dip between his collarbone, breathing in the scent before dragging his tongue up Marshall’s throat, pausing to nip gently just below his hammering pulse point.
“You won’t regret this Marshall. It’s not going to hurt. It’ll be over in just a second and then things will get better. Things will be better Marsh. You have to know what this is like, I have to share this with you. The intoxication of finding someone like you, someone so completely irresistable it nearly drives me insane each second of the day. Nothing will ever come close to this feeling, Marshall. I’ve wanted you for so long. And tonight, I finally get to have you…”
Singer moans, almost like he’s in pain. His mouth pauses over Marshall’s skin and he kisses him once, teeth sheathed by lips that linger on Marshall’s and leave whispers of promises that Marshall never knew he wanted to hear.
He drags his mouth back to Marshall’s throat, stepping in as close as he possibly can and sliding both hands to touch Marshall’s back, one staying low to hold them together and the other sliding into the soft hair at the back of Marshall’s head, cradling his neck to his eager mouth.
Singer’s teeth push through skin and pierce veins and Marshall’s breath hitches one more time before it gets lost between his lungs and forever.
End.
Pairing: Singer/Marshall.
Rating: R for Rude.
Word Count: 1,834.
Warnings: Vampiric themes throughout, brief mention of Cash-like ridiculousness.
Disclaimer: Pics or it didn't happen.
Notes: Thank you to slashxmistress for beta'ing this and just being constantly awesome. This is for choclitbunny cus she likes Cab babies and vampires and hopefully the combination of those things.
Summary: Singer’s hand is moving again, tracing the veins in his throat as they rise through his sweat damp skin to become his pulse. Marshall can feel every cell in his body, blood and skin alike, straining towards Singer. Rising and surging to meet his touch.
*
They come off stage hyped and sweating as usual.
Marshall turns to avoid the soaked towel Cash is using as a makeshift whip and finds himself pressed up against Singer, chest to chest.
He starts to laugh it off, brings his hands up to shove at Singer’s shoulders but all of a sudden finds himself pushed back against the wall, hands pinned uselessly to either side of his head by Singer’s interlocked fingers.
The other guys are halfway to the van now, he can hear their laughter disappearing through the door and across the parking lot, peppered with the occasional indignant squeal from Ian.
He’s not sure exactly what’s going on here, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t like it.
Things had been light on stage, buzzed as they bounced off afterward. If Singer had been catching his eye more than usual or pressing closer than strictly necessary between songs he hadn’t called him on it.
Singer has been different lately. Far more serious and yet the complete opposite at the same time. One things for sure though, no matter what the mood - the theme has been heavy. Singer’s looks have become stares. Marshall hasn’t asked the other guys about it yet, thinks he’s probably just being overly sensitive, but fuck if he can’t feel Singer’s gaze like a physical touch across stages and backseats and hotel rooms.
He can’t see Singer’s eyes now, he’s not sure he wants to. Singer is nosing along his throat, slowly working his way up to Marshall’s ear. He can feel the damp press of his mouth, lips catching on the skin of his neck as his breath hitches in his throat.
Singer pushes forward again, surging right up against Marshall and tightening his grip on his wrists. Marshall feels like he can’t breath right, can’t even force the air from his lungs right now and he’s not sure why.
He tries to struggle, twists his head to the right to try and bite at Singers grip on his wrists, but he doesn’t expect it to work. Singer drops his hands, brings them down to his hips instead. He still has Marshall pinned to the wall with his chest, but Marshall sort of can’t remember why he wanted to get out of this in the first place.
Singers hands are cupped tight, fingers curling around the bone of his hips with a vice grip. His mouth is on Marshall’s chin now, teeth appearing to nip his bottom lip as he pauses suddenly.
Marshall can’t breath. Something isn’t right. Why haven’t the others come back to see where they are? Why does everything feel so .. sluggish? Why haven’t Marshall’s hands moved from where they were? Why can’t he force his focus on anything other than Singer? Singer’s hands on his hips, thumbs tracing the skin of his stomach just beneath the waistband of his jeans. Singer’s skin, hot even through the layers of clothes that separate their bodies. All that Marshall can concentrate on is this heat, this energy coursing between them, through Singer.
His gaze is pulled suddenly to Singer’s face, Singer’s mouth almost on his own - lips wrapping around words he can’t quite hear.
Singer brings a hand to cup his jaw and force his eyes upwards. Their eyes lock and Marshall’s able to hear now. He wouldn’t even have to, seeing the look in Singer’s eyes, but he can. He needs to listen, needs to hear anything Singer’s willing to say to him, take anything he’s willing to give him.
“Come on Marsh .. you don’t have to be scared. It’s just me. You know me better than anyone could. You trust me, don’t you Marshall?”.
Marshall can’t bring himself to answer, doesn’t know how he’d even begin to tear his concentration from Singer’s face, his eyes burning brighter than Marshall has ever seen, startlingly green against the olive skin surrounding them. Singer looks like he’s in control, like he needs to be control. But Marshall doesn’t trust the way his gaze is wavering. Singer’s barely got a grip on whatever this is, whatever it is he’s trying to say.
“Marshall. Alex. Look at me. You trust me, yes?”
He leans forward, and Marshall feels his knee’s start to give. Singer’s mouth presses desperately against his own, gasping right into it. Marshall doesn’t protest, can’t think why he’d even want to and moans back, lips parting against Singers. Singer growls low in his throat and Marshall feels it rather than hears it. The kiss is controlled, slow but sure. Marshall knows better though. He can feel the tension coursing through Singer, the effort it’s taking him to stay in control of his actions. Marshall doesn’t want him in control. He slips his tongue along the curve of Singer’s lower lip, steals a taste before Singer starts to pull away.
“Alex. You don’t know. We can’t. You need to get to the others. Please, get away from here. You don’t understand .. if we .. If I ..”.
Marshall knows he should listen. Knows this situation is entirely too weird to be safe. But he seriously can’t find it in himself to care right now. He just wants Singer’s mouth back on his, that’s all he can concentrate on in this moment.
He pushes forward, arching away from the wall to reach Singer, to seal their lips together again. Singer starts to pull away again and Marshall suddenly realises that the hands on his hips aren’t holding him to the wall, just holding him away from Singer.
“Please, Singer. I don’t understand it. I don’t know. I just .. I don’t care right now. We can sort this out some other time. Just .. stop wasting time .. the guys will be back soon .. just .. please”.
Singer laughs at that. It sounds ugly to Marshall’s ears, he’s not even sure it’s come from Singer until he looks up into his eyes. His irises have turned black, all traces of green being swallowed by the darkness even as Marshall watches now.
“You don’t know what you’re saying, Marsh. Sweet little Marshall, it’s a pity you trust me really. You might have avoided this otherwise”.
Singer’s smile is feral now, bottom lip curling almost in disgust. Marshall’s nearly too focused on the spit slick sheen clinging to it to notice the way Singer’s smile is changing. His top lip is pulling back to reveal incisor’s that are slowly descending to sit against Singer’s full bottom lip, stark white against the gleaming wet red smear of his mouth.
Marshall distantly registers that he should be scared, should feel something other than fascination at the way Singer is pushing back into him pressing hot skin and wet lips and sharp teeth. He knows it’s how he should feel, but that’s as far as that fleeting feeling progresses. He leans into it, tongue deftly licking at those teeth, curling behind them to taunt Singer with soft little teasing flicks. Singer growls again but Marshall somehow expected it this time. It sends a shiver right through him, forcing the air from his lungs and making his hips jerk forward, desperately seeking more, any contact with Singer’s body.
“It’s almost a pity that you’re too weak to resist this, Alex. I’m sure I would have enjoyed the fight. But whatever, things will ultimately end the same way. You’re going to give in, you’re already desperate for this. You feel that Marshall?”.
Singer trails a hand up Marshall’s chest, slowing his fingers to a stop over his racing heart. Marshall can feel Singer’s touch searing even through his shirt like a brand. He still can’t tear his eyes away from Singer’s.
“Your blood is pumping through your veins so fast now, Marsh. I can smell it’s rhythm. I can almost taste it. Don’t you want to let me taste it? You’ll like it, I promise.”.
Singer’s hand is moving again, tracing the veins in his throat as they rise through his sweat damp skin to become his pulse. Marshall can feel every cell in his body, blood and skin alike, straining towards Singer. Rising and surging to meet his touch.
“You want it. You want it so bad, Marshall. You can feel it, feel how your body wants me. Are you going to give me your permission? Or will I have to do this by force?”.
Marshall shivers again, the prospect of Singer hurting him both terrifying and exciting him. He knows this isn’t the way he should be reacting in this situation, but he’s just as sure that whatever’s controlling his thoughts and reactions right now isn’t going to let up anytime soon. He trusts Singer. He wants Singer. He wants to give in.
He’s going to give in.
He flicks his fringe from his face and maintains eye contact with Singer as he deliberately turns his head, offering his throat to Singer’s mouth.
Singer growls softly, low in his throat and it buzzes across Marshall’s skin as he presses his mouth to the dip between his collarbone, breathing in the scent before dragging his tongue up Marshall’s throat, pausing to nip gently just below his hammering pulse point.
“You won’t regret this Marshall. It’s not going to hurt. It’ll be over in just a second and then things will get better. Things will be better Marsh. You have to know what this is like, I have to share this with you. The intoxication of finding someone like you, someone so completely irresistable it nearly drives me insane each second of the day. Nothing will ever come close to this feeling, Marshall. I’ve wanted you for so long. And tonight, I finally get to have you…”
Singer moans, almost like he’s in pain. His mouth pauses over Marshall’s skin and he kisses him once, teeth sheathed by lips that linger on Marshall’s and leave whispers of promises that Marshall never knew he wanted to hear.
He drags his mouth back to Marshall’s throat, stepping in as close as he possibly can and sliding both hands to touch Marshall’s back, one staying low to hold them together and the other sliding into the soft hair at the back of Marshall’s head, cradling his neck to his eager mouth.
Singer’s teeth push through skin and pierce veins and Marshall’s breath hitches one more time before it gets lost between his lungs and forever.
End.