Bandslash: Cash/Marshall
Title: Crawl Into You
Fandom: Bandslash
Pairing: Cash/Marshall
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,161
Summary: Cash and Marshall hug it out.
Notes: This is for bluejbird for inspiring the entire thing and then doing the beta like a fantastic person she is.
Marshall is a very touch-oriented person. He knows this; he’s used to this. Ever since he was a kid he’s hugged and cuddled just a little bit more than other people did. So he shouldn’t be surprised to find the other guys picking up on it and grabbing him for a hug when he fells like he needs one. It’s as if they can sense this big need for human contact deep within him, and it’s awesome. It really is.
Only Cash tends to hug like he does everything else in the world - with his entire body and soul.
The first time it happens, Marshall freaks out. Since his version of freaking out is to sigh and walk away calmly, he’s sure no one notices. But he spends half an hour sitting in the back of the practice space wondering why Cash had just melted into him.
It’s not like he was suddenly into dudes or anything, but his head just felt funny and he had to be alone for a bit.
--
The thing is, Cash Colligan hugs like he’s trying to have sex with you. And it’s not just because he probably is trying to have sex with you. It’s more of a full body experience that he just wants to share with you. Marshall is sure that deep down, Cash is just as touch deprived and heat-seeking as he is. So he puts up with the hugs, ignores the way he can feel Cash going boneless in his arms, and just tries to keep in mind the fact that he likes girls.
Because he totally, totally does.
Girls are soft and pretty and love Marshall a lot. Cash is abrasive, cocky, and kind of cute when he smiles. And maybe it feels good when he’s hovering behind Marshall, moving along to the music they’re making together. The fact that Marshall doesn’t play right unless he can sense Cash near him, can feel his breath against the back of his neck, doesn’t mean that Marshall has a thing for him or anything. Maybe he just likes hugs.
--
Then suddenly they’re out on tour with their new record and the world is just a blur of fans, music, and each other. Somewhere around Virginia, Marshall realizes that he’s been sleeping on Cash for a week straight. Of course, he realizes this in the middle of the night and bolts upright at the knowledge.
“Sleeping here,” Cash mumbles to his left. Marshall stares down at him, his eyes impossibly wide, as he takes in Cash’s mostly-sleeping form. Before he can even question it, Cash reaches out and pulls him back against his side.
“Right, sleeping,” Marshall whispers before tucking his head under Cash’s chin. He ignores the way his heart is pounding against his ribcage and tries to fall back asleep.
He is so completely screwed.
--
“So Cash hugs you, right?” Marshall asks, cringing at how freaking suave he is. Johnson quirks an eyebrow but just shrugs when Marshall pouts at him.
“I guess, yeah,” Johnson tells him, his voice tinged with confusion. “We all hug.”
“Yeah, but does he like hug you? Like with his entire body so it feels like you’re completely wrapped up in him?” Marshall asks quickly. He feels his face flush as soon as the words tumble out of his mouth and wonders when he became an idiot.
“That sounds like a whole ‘nother issue. You think about talking to Cash about this?” Johnson asks. His shoulders are doing the little shaking thing they do when he’s secretly laughing at someone, and Marshall feels like a tool.
“I can see that going well,” he grumbles as he throws his hands up. “Hey Cash, do you hug me different because you like me or because you think I need it? Want to share the backseat tonight? Please check yes or no,” he says in a sing-song voice. Seriously. He’s not a fucking sixth grade girl.
“That’s a big verbal checkmark in the yes column,” Cash shouts from somewhere behind Marshall. He tenses up and closes his eyes, waiting for the world to just swallow him up.
Johnson snorts out loud and it’s the least attractive thing Marshall has ever seen. How does he even get girls? He’s like a big unhelpful monkey.
Marshall avoids Cash for the rest of the night and doesn’t even feel bad when Cash pouts alone in the back of the van. Well, he tries not to be upset, at least.
--
“So I hear your big gay hug fest with Cash is over,” Singer says as he falls into Marshall’s lap. He sucks the last of the Coke out of his straw while Marshall glares at him.
“There was never a big gay hug fest to begin with. I like hugs,” Marshall tells him. But he feels deflated, like one of those sad day-old balloon animals that can barely retain its shape.
“If you haven’t noticed, Cash doesn’t,” Singer points out. Marshall shoots him a quizzical look before actually thinking about it. He has a point. Cash is always up in someone’s face about something or energetic on stage, but he really doesn’t hug other people. It’s kind of a Cash and Marshall thing. Oh.
“Oh,” Marshall whispers. Because yeah, he gets it now. “Is this going to be weird for you?” he asks, because he figures he should at least have permission before throwing himself headfirst into something with Cash.
“Johnson, Ian, and I kinda figured this out months ago,” Singer says, laughing. “You do whatever you need to do. Just not, like, in the van. Ok?”
“Right, no van sex,” Marshall says solemnly. He has a feeling that the rule is going to get broken at some point, but all that matters right now is getting to Cash. God, he’s an idiot. “So um, if you could just get off me that’d be great. I have a bassist to track down.” He doesn’t even wait, just shoves Singer off of his lap and giggles as he rushes out of the dressing room.
--
Cash is standing in the hallway, leaning against the cement block wall with one foot propped up against it. He looks like he’s trying to be hardcore and failing miserably. Marshall might be a little bit in love with him. He ignores it and races up to him, feeling like he’s in some bad early 90s romantic comedy.
“Hug me,” he pants out, realizing how freaking out of shape he is.
“You finally get over your internal sexual crisis?” Cash asks, smirking as he pushes off from the wall. He reaches out and wraps his arms around Marshall, letting their hips settle in against each other.
“Maybe,” Marshall says softly, his mouth pressed up against Cash’s shoulder. Cash somehow moves even closer, and they stumble backwards against the wall. Marshall lets his weight settle on Cash and rocks their hips together again. He realizes he’s half-hard and stills, hoping Cash doesn’t notice.
“I can’t figure out if your innocence is a charm or just plain annoying,” Cash says, chuckling deep in his chest. He grinds his hips against Marshall’s, and Marshall can feel the hard length of him pressed against his thigh. He whimpers and digs his fingers into the material of Cash’s hoodie.
He’s close to coming and they haven’t even kissed yet.
“So I really hate to interrupt your newfound closeness and all, but we have a show to play,” Ian says softly from behind them. Marshall jumps at the sound of his voice and tries to pull away from Cash. Only Cash is tangled up in him and doesn’t seem to want to let go.
“We’ll be there in a minute,” Cash says. Marshall buries his face in Cash’s shoulder and tries not to blush. He is a strong, confident, adult male. He does not blush when he gets caught…doing whatever it is he and Cash are doing. “You can look at me now,” Cash says, sounding pleased with himself. Marshall tilts his head and stares at Cash. His heart is hammering in his throat and he knows he looks like a complete fool.
Cash doesn’t seem to mind, though, because he just smiles and presses his mouth gently against Marshall’s. It’s soft and fantastic and over far too soon. Then Cash untangles himself from Marshall and moves away from the wall.
“After the show? You’re mine,” he tells him. He walks away before Marshall can even protest, though he’s not sure if he was planning on doing so.
He plays their set with tight jeans and a lump in his throat.
--
“Drinks?” Johnson asks everyone after they walk off stage. Singer bounces behind him, silently agreeing, and Ian nods fervently. Marshall is about to agree when Cash grabs his hand and tugs him away from the band.
“Not tonight,” he calls over his shoulder as he drags Marshall back to the van. Marshall can hear the guys laughing as they walk away.
“There’s this rule,” he starts to say, but then Cash shuts him up with a kiss. He’s pushed back against the van, Cash’s body against his and Cash’s tongue sliding past his lips. Marshall moans into the kiss and strokes his hands over Cash’s hips, tugging on his pockets to bring him close. Cash licks into his mouth and Marshall bucks up against him, pressing their hips closer.
“Inside,” Cash whispers harshly against Marshall’s mouth. He nods and scrambles to open the door, nearly falling over himself to get inside. Cash climbs in and slams the door shut behind them before manhandling Marshall into the back of the van. It’s cramped, and Marshall’s going to have a bruise from the corner of one of the merchandise boxes, but it doesn’t even matter.
And then Cash’s hands are on him, trailing up and down his sides before pulling at Marshall’s t-shirt. Marshall lists his arms and helps Cash get the shirt off. Cash shrugs out of his own shirt before crushing their lips together again. He nips at Marshall’s lower lip and Marshall grunts and bucks his hips. He can feel Cash laugh into the kiss before sucking on his tongue. Marshall groans and presses up against Cash, his jeans impossibly tight.
Cash takes pity on him and pulls back, smirking as he rests on his heels and just looks Marshall up and down. “You’re gorgeous,” he says simply before ducking his head and popping the button on Marshall’s jeans. He shoves the denim out of the way, not bothering to take of Marshall’s shoes and fully remove the pants. Marshall sucks in a deep breath as he watches Cash work on his own jeans, biting his lower lip as he slowly lowers them to his knees.
Marshall blinks slowly and then Cash is on top of him again, settling down so they’re pressed up against each other. He whimpers in Marshall’s ear and starts to rock his hips. Marshall clings to him and turns his head to catch his lips in a harsh kiss. He traces Cash’s teeth with his tongue and bucks his hips, needing to feel more. Their cocks slide together, sending shocks up his spine with every thrust.
Marshall melts against him, digging his fingers into Cash’s shoulders as they move against each other. Cash dips his head and licks the length of Marshall’s neck, pausing to nip at the curve of his collarbone. He sinks his teeth into the soft skin and Marshall hisses and comes. His eyes fly open and he chokes out Cash’s name as he falls apart.
Cash whispers, “gorgeous,” before going tense above him. Marshall can feel him come in hot spurts between their thighs, coating both of them.
He collapses on top of Marshall and it’s reminiscent of one of his hugs. He’s using his whole body to hold onto Marshall, except this time they’re both covered in come and breathing heavily, chests moving together as they calm down.
“So was this your goal the entire time?” Marshall asks as soon as he can think again. Cash laughs into his armpit before pushing up on his elbows and looking down at him.
“Pretty much. Worked, didn’t it?”
“You’re such a cocky motherfucker,” Marshall tells him, laughing at the shocked look on his face. “My cocky motherfucker though, so it’s ok.”
“Yours?” Cash asks, going still.
“Mine,” Marshall growls. He’s worried Cash won’t get it, won’t want to be part of whatever the hell they’re doing.
Finally, Cash nods and grins. “You’re mine too, though, ok?”
“Duh,” Marshall says pointedly.
He jumps when someone pounds on the door of the van and Cash shoots him a worried look.
“Dude, if you fuckers had sex in the van, you’re both driving for a month,” Singer shouts through the side of the van.
And really, a month in the driver’s seat with Cash on the passenger’s side doesn’t seem all that bad.
Fandom: Bandslash
Pairing: Cash/Marshall
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,161
Summary: Cash and Marshall hug it out.
Notes: This is for bluejbird for inspiring the entire thing and then doing the beta like a fantastic person she is.
Marshall is a very touch-oriented person. He knows this; he’s used to this. Ever since he was a kid he’s hugged and cuddled just a little bit more than other people did. So he shouldn’t be surprised to find the other guys picking up on it and grabbing him for a hug when he fells like he needs one. It’s as if they can sense this big need for human contact deep within him, and it’s awesome. It really is.
Only Cash tends to hug like he does everything else in the world - with his entire body and soul.
The first time it happens, Marshall freaks out. Since his version of freaking out is to sigh and walk away calmly, he’s sure no one notices. But he spends half an hour sitting in the back of the practice space wondering why Cash had just melted into him.
It’s not like he was suddenly into dudes or anything, but his head just felt funny and he had to be alone for a bit.
--
The thing is, Cash Colligan hugs like he’s trying to have sex with you. And it’s not just because he probably is trying to have sex with you. It’s more of a full body experience that he just wants to share with you. Marshall is sure that deep down, Cash is just as touch deprived and heat-seeking as he is. So he puts up with the hugs, ignores the way he can feel Cash going boneless in his arms, and just tries to keep in mind the fact that he likes girls.
Because he totally, totally does.
Girls are soft and pretty and love Marshall a lot. Cash is abrasive, cocky, and kind of cute when he smiles. And maybe it feels good when he’s hovering behind Marshall, moving along to the music they’re making together. The fact that Marshall doesn’t play right unless he can sense Cash near him, can feel his breath against the back of his neck, doesn’t mean that Marshall has a thing for him or anything. Maybe he just likes hugs.
--
Then suddenly they’re out on tour with their new record and the world is just a blur of fans, music, and each other. Somewhere around Virginia, Marshall realizes that he’s been sleeping on Cash for a week straight. Of course, he realizes this in the middle of the night and bolts upright at the knowledge.
“Sleeping here,” Cash mumbles to his left. Marshall stares down at him, his eyes impossibly wide, as he takes in Cash’s mostly-sleeping form. Before he can even question it, Cash reaches out and pulls him back against his side.
“Right, sleeping,” Marshall whispers before tucking his head under Cash’s chin. He ignores the way his heart is pounding against his ribcage and tries to fall back asleep.
He is so completely screwed.
--
“So Cash hugs you, right?” Marshall asks, cringing at how freaking suave he is. Johnson quirks an eyebrow but just shrugs when Marshall pouts at him.
“I guess, yeah,” Johnson tells him, his voice tinged with confusion. “We all hug.”
“Yeah, but does he like hug you? Like with his entire body so it feels like you’re completely wrapped up in him?” Marshall asks quickly. He feels his face flush as soon as the words tumble out of his mouth and wonders when he became an idiot.
“That sounds like a whole ‘nother issue. You think about talking to Cash about this?” Johnson asks. His shoulders are doing the little shaking thing they do when he’s secretly laughing at someone, and Marshall feels like a tool.
“I can see that going well,” he grumbles as he throws his hands up. “Hey Cash, do you hug me different because you like me or because you think I need it? Want to share the backseat tonight? Please check yes or no,” he says in a sing-song voice. Seriously. He’s not a fucking sixth grade girl.
“That’s a big verbal checkmark in the yes column,” Cash shouts from somewhere behind Marshall. He tenses up and closes his eyes, waiting for the world to just swallow him up.
Johnson snorts out loud and it’s the least attractive thing Marshall has ever seen. How does he even get girls? He’s like a big unhelpful monkey.
Marshall avoids Cash for the rest of the night and doesn’t even feel bad when Cash pouts alone in the back of the van. Well, he tries not to be upset, at least.
--
“So I hear your big gay hug fest with Cash is over,” Singer says as he falls into Marshall’s lap. He sucks the last of the Coke out of his straw while Marshall glares at him.
“There was never a big gay hug fest to begin with. I like hugs,” Marshall tells him. But he feels deflated, like one of those sad day-old balloon animals that can barely retain its shape.
“If you haven’t noticed, Cash doesn’t,” Singer points out. Marshall shoots him a quizzical look before actually thinking about it. He has a point. Cash is always up in someone’s face about something or energetic on stage, but he really doesn’t hug other people. It’s kind of a Cash and Marshall thing. Oh.
“Oh,” Marshall whispers. Because yeah, he gets it now. “Is this going to be weird for you?” he asks, because he figures he should at least have permission before throwing himself headfirst into something with Cash.
“Johnson, Ian, and I kinda figured this out months ago,” Singer says, laughing. “You do whatever you need to do. Just not, like, in the van. Ok?”
“Right, no van sex,” Marshall says solemnly. He has a feeling that the rule is going to get broken at some point, but all that matters right now is getting to Cash. God, he’s an idiot. “So um, if you could just get off me that’d be great. I have a bassist to track down.” He doesn’t even wait, just shoves Singer off of his lap and giggles as he rushes out of the dressing room.
--
Cash is standing in the hallway, leaning against the cement block wall with one foot propped up against it. He looks like he’s trying to be hardcore and failing miserably. Marshall might be a little bit in love with him. He ignores it and races up to him, feeling like he’s in some bad early 90s romantic comedy.
“Hug me,” he pants out, realizing how freaking out of shape he is.
“You finally get over your internal sexual crisis?” Cash asks, smirking as he pushes off from the wall. He reaches out and wraps his arms around Marshall, letting their hips settle in against each other.
“Maybe,” Marshall says softly, his mouth pressed up against Cash’s shoulder. Cash somehow moves even closer, and they stumble backwards against the wall. Marshall lets his weight settle on Cash and rocks their hips together again. He realizes he’s half-hard and stills, hoping Cash doesn’t notice.
“I can’t figure out if your innocence is a charm or just plain annoying,” Cash says, chuckling deep in his chest. He grinds his hips against Marshall’s, and Marshall can feel the hard length of him pressed against his thigh. He whimpers and digs his fingers into the material of Cash’s hoodie.
He’s close to coming and they haven’t even kissed yet.
“So I really hate to interrupt your newfound closeness and all, but we have a show to play,” Ian says softly from behind them. Marshall jumps at the sound of his voice and tries to pull away from Cash. Only Cash is tangled up in him and doesn’t seem to want to let go.
“We’ll be there in a minute,” Cash says. Marshall buries his face in Cash’s shoulder and tries not to blush. He is a strong, confident, adult male. He does not blush when he gets caught…doing whatever it is he and Cash are doing. “You can look at me now,” Cash says, sounding pleased with himself. Marshall tilts his head and stares at Cash. His heart is hammering in his throat and he knows he looks like a complete fool.
Cash doesn’t seem to mind, though, because he just smiles and presses his mouth gently against Marshall’s. It’s soft and fantastic and over far too soon. Then Cash untangles himself from Marshall and moves away from the wall.
“After the show? You’re mine,” he tells him. He walks away before Marshall can even protest, though he’s not sure if he was planning on doing so.
He plays their set with tight jeans and a lump in his throat.
--
“Drinks?” Johnson asks everyone after they walk off stage. Singer bounces behind him, silently agreeing, and Ian nods fervently. Marshall is about to agree when Cash grabs his hand and tugs him away from the band.
“Not tonight,” he calls over his shoulder as he drags Marshall back to the van. Marshall can hear the guys laughing as they walk away.
“There’s this rule,” he starts to say, but then Cash shuts him up with a kiss. He’s pushed back against the van, Cash’s body against his and Cash’s tongue sliding past his lips. Marshall moans into the kiss and strokes his hands over Cash’s hips, tugging on his pockets to bring him close. Cash licks into his mouth and Marshall bucks up against him, pressing their hips closer.
“Inside,” Cash whispers harshly against Marshall’s mouth. He nods and scrambles to open the door, nearly falling over himself to get inside. Cash climbs in and slams the door shut behind them before manhandling Marshall into the back of the van. It’s cramped, and Marshall’s going to have a bruise from the corner of one of the merchandise boxes, but it doesn’t even matter.
And then Cash’s hands are on him, trailing up and down his sides before pulling at Marshall’s t-shirt. Marshall lists his arms and helps Cash get the shirt off. Cash shrugs out of his own shirt before crushing their lips together again. He nips at Marshall’s lower lip and Marshall grunts and bucks his hips. He can feel Cash laugh into the kiss before sucking on his tongue. Marshall groans and presses up against Cash, his jeans impossibly tight.
Cash takes pity on him and pulls back, smirking as he rests on his heels and just looks Marshall up and down. “You’re gorgeous,” he says simply before ducking his head and popping the button on Marshall’s jeans. He shoves the denim out of the way, not bothering to take of Marshall’s shoes and fully remove the pants. Marshall sucks in a deep breath as he watches Cash work on his own jeans, biting his lower lip as he slowly lowers them to his knees.
Marshall blinks slowly and then Cash is on top of him again, settling down so they’re pressed up against each other. He whimpers in Marshall’s ear and starts to rock his hips. Marshall clings to him and turns his head to catch his lips in a harsh kiss. He traces Cash’s teeth with his tongue and bucks his hips, needing to feel more. Their cocks slide together, sending shocks up his spine with every thrust.
Marshall melts against him, digging his fingers into Cash’s shoulders as they move against each other. Cash dips his head and licks the length of Marshall’s neck, pausing to nip at the curve of his collarbone. He sinks his teeth into the soft skin and Marshall hisses and comes. His eyes fly open and he chokes out Cash’s name as he falls apart.
Cash whispers, “gorgeous,” before going tense above him. Marshall can feel him come in hot spurts between their thighs, coating both of them.
He collapses on top of Marshall and it’s reminiscent of one of his hugs. He’s using his whole body to hold onto Marshall, except this time they’re both covered in come and breathing heavily, chests moving together as they calm down.
“So was this your goal the entire time?” Marshall asks as soon as he can think again. Cash laughs into his armpit before pushing up on his elbows and looking down at him.
“Pretty much. Worked, didn’t it?”
“You’re such a cocky motherfucker,” Marshall tells him, laughing at the shocked look on his face. “My cocky motherfucker though, so it’s ok.”
“Yours?” Cash asks, going still.
“Mine,” Marshall growls. He’s worried Cash won’t get it, won’t want to be part of whatever the hell they’re doing.
Finally, Cash nods and grins. “You’re mine too, though, ok?”
“Duh,” Marshall says pointedly.
He jumps when someone pounds on the door of the van and Cash shoots him a worried look.
“Dude, if you fuckers had sex in the van, you’re both driving for a month,” Singer shouts through the side of the van.
And really, a month in the driver’s seat with Cash on the passenger’s side doesn’t seem all that bad.