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Here's 1900 words of Seguin/Marchand commentfic for sociofemme's prompt "a bro's gotta help a bro out."
Thanks to impertinence for the quick lookover!
Tyler doesn't realize at first that he's awake, or why he's awake when he specifically gave instructions that nobody was supposed to wake him up because it was the day after his day with the Cup and there are times in a man's life when he deserves to sleep in, when he realizes that it's his phone playing that one LMFAO song and he should probably answer because it's Marchy and he's not going to let up.
"What the fuck, Marchy," he slurs into his phone, then says it again when he turns his phone around so he's talking into the right end.
"I'm looking at the pictures on the internet from your party last night," Marchy says, sounding like a smug asshole who's way too awake for his own good.
Tyler groans and hope Marchy takes that as conversation.
"You bang any of those girls all up on your jock?" Marchy asks him.
"What time is it?" Tyler croaks.
"After lu--oh, shit, I forgot the time difference! Sorry, bro!"
Tyler sighs. He should hang up. He really should, except that requires finding the right button, which requires moving, and he's got a pretty okay set-up right now with his phone wedged between his head and his pillow and his hands draped over his face.
"Anyway, talk to me about those chicks, guy. You couldn't get any hotter ones to show up for your party, eh?"
"There were hot chicks there," Tyler says defensively, suddenly feeling a little more awake. Like defending his pride is going to take more energy than he has, or something. "Maybe whoever was taking pictures had bad taste or something, I don't know, there were lots of hot chicks around," he finishes lamely.
Marchy laughs at him. "So, did you bang them?"
"What? No," Tyler sighs. "Too close to home, my mom would find out, you know how moms are. And I don't want to have that talk with her right now. Or ever."
"Harsh, dude," Marchy says. "You got cockblocked by your mom and you're clearly hungover as fuck, sucks to be you."
"Thanks for rubbing it in, asshole."
"You couldn't even get a quick blowie in the bathroom, though?" Marchy goes on, and Tyler is seriously about to consider moving just to hang up on him. "Because that's, like, subtle, I guess, or at least I don't think your mom would find out?"
"Why do you care?" Tyler croaks.
"Just lookin' out for you, bro," Marchy says, smarmy and shitty and Tyler wants to reach through the phone to punch him, or he would if he wasn't sure it would make his headache worse. "So how many of those chicks do you think you could have nailed, if you didn't have to worry about your mom?"
Tyler rolls his eyes, even though his eyes are closed and also Marchy can't see it because he's in Nova Scotia. "All of them, man. Like five or six at once." Marchy brays with laughter and Tyler smiles. Something about it makes him feel ever-so-slightly less like death. "It was my party, man, they all would have gone for me."
"How could they resist." Marchy tries to deadpan but he's still laughing. "But five or six at once, I don't know, Segs, can you even handle that?"
"Sure I can," Tyler says, then yawns huge and wide. It feels good, and he feels a little more awake afterward. "And they could help each other out, you know?" And okay, that mental image gets him going. He reaches down and adjusts himself through his boxers; his dick is waking up too. He's not hard yet, but he could get there if he wanted to. Or if he keeps talking about, like, chicks going down on each other in front of him.
"Look at you, always thinking." The way Marchy says it makes it sound like he means the exact opposite.
"Fuck you, Marchy," Ty says easily.
"Did you even get any action at all, or was it just your imaginary, uh, seven-some?"
A rush of warmth runs through Tyler at the memory that bubbles up through the fog. He points his toes and stretches his legs as he says, "Hmmm, yeah, there was this one girl."
"Thank god!"
"She was a nine for sure, nine-point-five even. Blonde hair, big rack, but not too slutty, you know?" Tyler has to adjust himself again as he remembers her, the way her perfume smelled as she lifted her face to his.
"But kind of slutty."
"Yeah, the good kind of slutty."
"So what happened?"
Tyler reaches down to pull the waistband of his boxers over his dick. The side of his hand brushes the head of his dick and he hisses. He freezes for a moment, sure that Marchy heard him, sure that Marchy's going to give him shit, but Marchy doesn't say anything about it. "She, uh, when I was heading to piss, she pulled me into this corner, right?"
"Okay."
"So she had her back against the wall and pulled me against her, and like, pressed her tits up against me."
"Wait, but you said she was only kind of slutty?"
"Naw, man, I don't know how she did it but it was nice and not gross, you know? I don't know, I liked it." And his dick liked it too, at the time and now too as he retells it, if the way it twitches against his leg is anything to go by. He runs his palm down its length a couple times, feeling the situation out. He could probably get it up at this point, even with his hangover, and who knows, maybe it would help make him feel better. He's pretty sure it wouldn't hurt, anyway.
"Okay, okay, I know what you're talking about, that's cool, bro."
"Mmmmmm." The noise slips out as Tyler fists his dick lightly, but just like last time, Marchy either doesn't notice or doesn't comment. Tyler hopes it's the former, but he's not so scared of it not being the case that he wants to stop. "She, uh, she had these long nails and she ran them up the inside of my arm." Tyler shivers remembering the feel of it and closes his hand a little tighter. His dick is harder now, getting bigger and filling in his grip, and soon he'll be able jerk off for serious.
"Dude, that's weird," Marchy sounds half-horrified, half-interested.
"No, shut up, it feels awesome."
"How drunk were you?"
"I think I'm still drunk, and fuck you."
Marchy laughs again. It's his happy laugh, Tyler thinks, then wonders where that thought just came from. "So then what?" Marchy asks.
Tyler twists his wrist, thumbs at the head of his dick, and bites back a grunt before it can slip out. "She leaned up to talk in my ear and she was like, congratulations on winning the Cup, that's a pretty big deal--"
"Well, yeah--"
"And then she had her hand under my shirt, on my stomach, and just, like, held it there and looked at me," Tyler sucks in a heavy breath as his abs go all tight, and he rubs his thumb against slit in the head of his dick, "and she was totally going to kiss me or go for my belt or something but then this bouncer came into the hall and, like, told us to break it up."
"Are you fucking kidding?" Marchy sounds-- more than shocked, Tyler thinks, but like he actually cannot fathom such a thing happening.
"I think he was a Leafs fan."
And that makes Marchy laugh even harder, like he's going to fall off his chair or whatever he's sitting on, if he's sitting on something. "Only you, Segs," he gasps through his laughter.
Tyler rolls his eyes again and starts jerking himself a little faster.
"So, what," Marchy starts after he catches his breath, "that was it? You just gave up because some douche bouncer told you to?"
Tyler sighs. "Then the chick disappeared."
"Dude," Marchy says. "Dude."
"I know."
"DUDE."
"I know."
"What the fuck, dude."
Tyler doesn't answer that because he's biting his bottom lip. There's heat curling through his stomach and his thighs and he doesn't trust himself not to totally give himself away if he tries to say something.
"What if she was, like, waiting in the bathroom for you?"
"Huh?" Okay, Tyler is a little dumb because he's in the middle of jerking off, but he's pretty sure he still wouldn't have any idea what Marchy was trying to suggest even if he wasn't.
"Like, what if she was going to ambush you again when you went in to piss? Like, grab you and pull your pants off and totally just start sucking your dick right there?"
"Oh." Oh. Tyler's stomach clenches and jerks upward as he lets it play out in his mind's eye, the girl thumbing his pants open and getting to her knees carefully, so she didn't trip on her heels, and sliding his pants down--
"She'd totally be going for it, like, her tongue everywhere, and she'd be all looking up at you and whatever, so you could see how much she liked it."
Tyler moans at that, doesn't even try to hide it. He knows Marchy could hear that, knows there's no way he didn't.
"And uh," Marchy's voice is weird and thick, and he must realize it because he pauses and clears his throat. "I don't know, she'd play with your balls with one hand and then, like, do that thing with her nails that you liked, but on your abs or something."
"Fuck, fuck." Tyler's getting close to losing it. Marchy's got to be able to tell. Tyler doesn't care.
"And then she leans back and is like, 'Hey, Segsy, I can deepthroat,' and then she grabs your hips and pulls you in..."
Tyler's losing track of what Marchy's saying but he moves his other hand down his stomach to his hip, and it's an awkward angle but he can sort of grab hold like Marchy's saying the girl would do, and he digs his thumb in next to the line of muscle. His dick jumps in his hand, his balls draw in tight, and he squeezes his eyes shut as he braces his heels on his mattress.
"...and then she's all, 'You should come on my face,' or, no, wait, she probably doesn't want to ruin her makeup..."
Tyler chokes out this weird sob that's half-laugh and half groan as he comes, spurting up between his fingers onto his abs and chest. He breathes out long and satisfied, and when he hears his heartbeat thudding in his ears he realizes that Marchy's stopped talking.
"Thanks," he says into the quiet.
"You have a good night, at least?" Marchy's voice is rough but he can't tell where Marchy's at, if he needs a hand or if he's done too. If he had to guess he'd say that Marchy probably isn't done, probably isn't close.
"Yeah." Tyler smiles. "Yeah, it was good. Maybe not as good as Foxwoods, but."
Marchy's breath out is something like a laugh. "I know it wasn't as good without me, bro."
Tyler doesn't want to lie and deny it, so he doesn't say anything.
"Hey," Marchy says, "I'll let you go back to sleep."
"Thanks," Tyler says again. "I'll hit you later."
"Later, bro."
Later, Tyler thinks, and then he's asleep again.
Thanks to impertinence for the quick lookover!
Tyler doesn't realize at first that he's awake, or why he's awake when he specifically gave instructions that nobody was supposed to wake him up because it was the day after his day with the Cup and there are times in a man's life when he deserves to sleep in, when he realizes that it's his phone playing that one LMFAO song and he should probably answer because it's Marchy and he's not going to let up.
"What the fuck, Marchy," he slurs into his phone, then says it again when he turns his phone around so he's talking into the right end.
"I'm looking at the pictures on the internet from your party last night," Marchy says, sounding like a smug asshole who's way too awake for his own good.
Tyler groans and hope Marchy takes that as conversation.
"You bang any of those girls all up on your jock?" Marchy asks him.
"What time is it?" Tyler croaks.
"After lu--oh, shit, I forgot the time difference! Sorry, bro!"
Tyler sighs. He should hang up. He really should, except that requires finding the right button, which requires moving, and he's got a pretty okay set-up right now with his phone wedged between his head and his pillow and his hands draped over his face.
"Anyway, talk to me about those chicks, guy. You couldn't get any hotter ones to show up for your party, eh?"
"There were hot chicks there," Tyler says defensively, suddenly feeling a little more awake. Like defending his pride is going to take more energy than he has, or something. "Maybe whoever was taking pictures had bad taste or something, I don't know, there were lots of hot chicks around," he finishes lamely.
Marchy laughs at him. "So, did you bang them?"
"What? No," Tyler sighs. "Too close to home, my mom would find out, you know how moms are. And I don't want to have that talk with her right now. Or ever."
"Harsh, dude," Marchy says. "You got cockblocked by your mom and you're clearly hungover as fuck, sucks to be you."
"Thanks for rubbing it in, asshole."
"You couldn't even get a quick blowie in the bathroom, though?" Marchy goes on, and Tyler is seriously about to consider moving just to hang up on him. "Because that's, like, subtle, I guess, or at least I don't think your mom would find out?"
"Why do you care?" Tyler croaks.
"Just lookin' out for you, bro," Marchy says, smarmy and shitty and Tyler wants to reach through the phone to punch him, or he would if he wasn't sure it would make his headache worse. "So how many of those chicks do you think you could have nailed, if you didn't have to worry about your mom?"
Tyler rolls his eyes, even though his eyes are closed and also Marchy can't see it because he's in Nova Scotia. "All of them, man. Like five or six at once." Marchy brays with laughter and Tyler smiles. Something about it makes him feel ever-so-slightly less like death. "It was my party, man, they all would have gone for me."
"How could they resist." Marchy tries to deadpan but he's still laughing. "But five or six at once, I don't know, Segs, can you even handle that?"
"Sure I can," Tyler says, then yawns huge and wide. It feels good, and he feels a little more awake afterward. "And they could help each other out, you know?" And okay, that mental image gets him going. He reaches down and adjusts himself through his boxers; his dick is waking up too. He's not hard yet, but he could get there if he wanted to. Or if he keeps talking about, like, chicks going down on each other in front of him.
"Look at you, always thinking." The way Marchy says it makes it sound like he means the exact opposite.
"Fuck you, Marchy," Ty says easily.
"Did you even get any action at all, or was it just your imaginary, uh, seven-some?"
A rush of warmth runs through Tyler at the memory that bubbles up through the fog. He points his toes and stretches his legs as he says, "Hmmm, yeah, there was this one girl."
"Thank god!"
"She was a nine for sure, nine-point-five even. Blonde hair, big rack, but not too slutty, you know?" Tyler has to adjust himself again as he remembers her, the way her perfume smelled as she lifted her face to his.
"But kind of slutty."
"Yeah, the good kind of slutty."
"So what happened?"
Tyler reaches down to pull the waistband of his boxers over his dick. The side of his hand brushes the head of his dick and he hisses. He freezes for a moment, sure that Marchy heard him, sure that Marchy's going to give him shit, but Marchy doesn't say anything about it. "She, uh, when I was heading to piss, she pulled me into this corner, right?"
"Okay."
"So she had her back against the wall and pulled me against her, and like, pressed her tits up against me."
"Wait, but you said she was only kind of slutty?"
"Naw, man, I don't know how she did it but it was nice and not gross, you know? I don't know, I liked it." And his dick liked it too, at the time and now too as he retells it, if the way it twitches against his leg is anything to go by. He runs his palm down its length a couple times, feeling the situation out. He could probably get it up at this point, even with his hangover, and who knows, maybe it would help make him feel better. He's pretty sure it wouldn't hurt, anyway.
"Okay, okay, I know what you're talking about, that's cool, bro."
"Mmmmmm." The noise slips out as Tyler fists his dick lightly, but just like last time, Marchy either doesn't notice or doesn't comment. Tyler hopes it's the former, but he's not so scared of it not being the case that he wants to stop. "She, uh, she had these long nails and she ran them up the inside of my arm." Tyler shivers remembering the feel of it and closes his hand a little tighter. His dick is harder now, getting bigger and filling in his grip, and soon he'll be able jerk off for serious.
"Dude, that's weird," Marchy sounds half-horrified, half-interested.
"No, shut up, it feels awesome."
"How drunk were you?"
"I think I'm still drunk, and fuck you."
Marchy laughs again. It's his happy laugh, Tyler thinks, then wonders where that thought just came from. "So then what?" Marchy asks.
Tyler twists his wrist, thumbs at the head of his dick, and bites back a grunt before it can slip out. "She leaned up to talk in my ear and she was like, congratulations on winning the Cup, that's a pretty big deal--"
"Well, yeah--"
"And then she had her hand under my shirt, on my stomach, and just, like, held it there and looked at me," Tyler sucks in a heavy breath as his abs go all tight, and he rubs his thumb against slit in the head of his dick, "and she was totally going to kiss me or go for my belt or something but then this bouncer came into the hall and, like, told us to break it up."
"Are you fucking kidding?" Marchy sounds-- more than shocked, Tyler thinks, but like he actually cannot fathom such a thing happening.
"I think he was a Leafs fan."
And that makes Marchy laugh even harder, like he's going to fall off his chair or whatever he's sitting on, if he's sitting on something. "Only you, Segs," he gasps through his laughter.
Tyler rolls his eyes again and starts jerking himself a little faster.
"So, what," Marchy starts after he catches his breath, "that was it? You just gave up because some douche bouncer told you to?"
Tyler sighs. "Then the chick disappeared."
"Dude," Marchy says. "Dude."
"I know."
"DUDE."
"I know."
"What the fuck, dude."
Tyler doesn't answer that because he's biting his bottom lip. There's heat curling through his stomach and his thighs and he doesn't trust himself not to totally give himself away if he tries to say something.
"What if she was, like, waiting in the bathroom for you?"
"Huh?" Okay, Tyler is a little dumb because he's in the middle of jerking off, but he's pretty sure he still wouldn't have any idea what Marchy was trying to suggest even if he wasn't.
"Like, what if she was going to ambush you again when you went in to piss? Like, grab you and pull your pants off and totally just start sucking your dick right there?"
"Oh." Oh. Tyler's stomach clenches and jerks upward as he lets it play out in his mind's eye, the girl thumbing his pants open and getting to her knees carefully, so she didn't trip on her heels, and sliding his pants down--
"She'd totally be going for it, like, her tongue everywhere, and she'd be all looking up at you and whatever, so you could see how much she liked it."
Tyler moans at that, doesn't even try to hide it. He knows Marchy could hear that, knows there's no way he didn't.
"And uh," Marchy's voice is weird and thick, and he must realize it because he pauses and clears his throat. "I don't know, she'd play with your balls with one hand and then, like, do that thing with her nails that you liked, but on your abs or something."
"Fuck, fuck." Tyler's getting close to losing it. Marchy's got to be able to tell. Tyler doesn't care.
"And then she leans back and is like, 'Hey, Segsy, I can deepthroat,' and then she grabs your hips and pulls you in..."
Tyler's losing track of what Marchy's saying but he moves his other hand down his stomach to his hip, and it's an awkward angle but he can sort of grab hold like Marchy's saying the girl would do, and he digs his thumb in next to the line of muscle. His dick jumps in his hand, his balls draw in tight, and he squeezes his eyes shut as he braces his heels on his mattress.
"...and then she's all, 'You should come on my face,' or, no, wait, she probably doesn't want to ruin her makeup..."
Tyler chokes out this weird sob that's half-laugh and half groan as he comes, spurting up between his fingers onto his abs and chest. He breathes out long and satisfied, and when he hears his heartbeat thudding in his ears he realizes that Marchy's stopped talking.
"Thanks," he says into the quiet.
"You have a good night, at least?" Marchy's voice is rough but he can't tell where Marchy's at, if he needs a hand or if he's done too. If he had to guess he'd say that Marchy probably isn't done, probably isn't close.
"Yeah." Tyler smiles. "Yeah, it was good. Maybe not as good as Foxwoods, but."
Marchy's breath out is something like a laugh. "I know it wasn't as good without me, bro."
Tyler doesn't want to lie and deny it, so he doesn't say anything.
"Hey," Marchy says, "I'll let you go back to sleep."
"Thanks," Tyler says again. "I'll hit you later."
"Later, bro."
Later, Tyler thinks, and then he's asleep again.