Fic: Every So Often Expect Things To Get Hectic (Cab GSF)
Title: Every So Often Expect Things To Get Hectic (Or Technically Difficult)
Pairing: Cab GSF, Cash/Singer, Ian/Marshall.
Rating: NC 17
Disclaimer: About as false as Cash is faily ;)
Summary: Sometimes he worries about the fact that, within the band at least, Johnson doesn’t have someone to love in that way. And Marshall is clearly on the same page as Cash, since it’s his grand plan that has them all cornering Johnson in the backroom of the recording studio, once everyone else has gone home.
A/N: Huge thanks to mintyfiend for the fantastic beta job, and to approximately half my flist who looked over this for me when I was all frowny about it. All mistakes are because I’ve tinkered with this a ridiculous amount of times since. This was only finished because jess_darkwater asked for it, but I'm glad she gave me a kick in the arse to do it. Title belongs to Buck 65 (thanks for the help with that, dreamofthem!)
It’s Marshall’s idea, which Cash thinks should probably surprise him. But it doesn’t. At least, once Alex has explained it to him (Marshall’s idea having been put forward by Ian, of course) and Cash has stopped laughing and realised Alex is serious, he’s really not surprised that it’s Marshall’s doing.
Marshall always has the best ideas.
Cash loves his band more than anything else on earth. All of them, although if he thinks about it enough he’d have to admit he loves Alex a little differently, but he’s been firmly filing that under the ‘because he gives me blowjobs’ category of love in his head.
He suspects Ian loves Marshall a little differently too, possibly for the same reasons, and Marshall loves Ian in the same way. And, maybe, hopefully, Alex feels the same about Cash, although he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on it too much, because it makes him feel happy and panicked at the same time.
Sometimes he worries about the fact that, within the band at least, Johnson doesn’t have someone to love in that way. And Marshall is clearly on the same page as Cash, since it’s his grand plan that has them all cornering Johnson in the backroom of the recording studio, once everyone else has gone home. Johnson is on the sofa, texting someone that Cash thinks can’t be too important since it’s not a member of the band.
Ian sits down beside him, Alex on the other side, while Cash takes the chair opposite. Marshall perches on the arm of Cash’s chair and looks around at them all expectantly.
“Dude,” Ian says, and Johnson looks up at them all, expression turning suspicious.
“Hey,” he says slowly. “What do you want?”
“We wanted to talk to you,” Marshall says, and Johnson looks even more suspicious.
“Is this some sort of intervention?” he asks, flipping his phone shut and sliding it back into his pocket. He has to lean back, lifting his hips a little off the sofa as he does, and Cash’s attention can’t help but be drawn there. And he’s not the only one. Alex is licking his lips, and Ian has a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Johnson sits back and narrows his eyes at them. “Seriously guys,” he says. “What’s up?”
Ian smiles slowly. “You know how Cash and Alex have been…getting it on a lot lately?”
Johnson rolls his eyes. “Yes. I’m frequently awoken by them rubbing off on each other in the van so, yeah, I’m kinda aware of it.”
Ian laughs and turns it into a cough when Cash shoots him a look. It’s not his fault if Singer rolls on top of him when they’re squished into the backseat of the van together, or if the friction they can work up when Singer braces his hands on one side of the van, and his feet on the other is too great to pass up. Also, Ian and Marshall get up to much kinkier things in much more public places.
“And you know how Marshall and I…” Ian makes a vaguely rude gesture that makes Cash laugh and earns him a kick in the shin from Marshall.
“Yeah, yeah, no need for the R rated Marcel Marceau impression,” Johnson says, pushing Ian’s hands out of his face.
“The point is,” Marshall says. “The point is that. Well. It must suck to be in a band and know that the others are…enjoying private times together-“
“Not so private sometimes,” Johnson points out, and Marshall ignores him.
“We thought,” he continues, and trails off, looking embarrassed suddenly, and Alex takes over.
“We thought that maybe you’d want to join us. Tonight. For…” he stops and looks at Cash.
“An orgy,” Cash supplies helpfully. “A band orgy.”
Johnson blinks at him slowly. “Haha,” he says, like he thinks Cash is joking.
Cash grins, and Johnson looks at Ian.
“We’re not kidding,” Ian says seriously and Cash sees the moment when Johnson believes him, the way it dawns on his face slowly.
“You guys are insane,” Johnson says, starting to get up. “I’m not interested in-“
“Just,” Alex says, putting his hand on Johnson’s arm. It makes Johnson stop, and Cash can’t help feel a swell of something akin to jealousy that Alex has that affect on someone who’s not him. “Just hang out for awhile. Just watch.”
He glances over at Cash, and Marshall seems to take that as a cue, sliding off the arm of the chair and onto the floor, pushing Cash’s knees apart and moving in to kneel between them.
This wasn’t mentioned in the plan. They’d discussed this before they’d come to talk to Johnson, laid some basic ground rules (no fucking, basically, since both Cash and Marshall had gotten a little narrow eyed when the subject had been brought up, and no incriminating footage was to be taken - unfairly aimed at himself, Cash thought) but they’d not discussed any sort of order of events or schedule or anything, and Cash realises he’s over-thinking this, but Marshall is slowly unzipping his jeans, and if Cash doesn’t over-think, he’s going to do something embarrassing.
Like look up at Alex, who’s watching with wet lips and dark eyes, one hand on Johnson’s thigh to keep him in place. Cash wonders if this had been Alex’s idea, if he’d leaned in to Marshall at some point and asked him to do this, had said he’d wanted to watch. The thought turns Cash on more than he thinks it probably should, and when Marshall’s hand slides in and fishes Cash’s dick out of his boxers, it’s achingly hard and leaking.
Marshall lowers his head, making his hair fall forward. It hides his face, so Cash reaches out and slides his hands into Marshall’s hair, pushing it back, off his forehead. Their eyes meet, and Marshall is looking at him a little in surprise as he wets his lips and fits them over the head of Cash’s dick.
Cash sucks in a breath and holds it as Marshall sucks at him, long fingers curling loosely around his dick, squeezing at the base. Cash grips the arms of the chair and promises himself that he won’t buck his hips, won’t force himself further into Marshall’s mouth, no matter how amazing it feels. It’s a promise he’s not sure he’s going to be able to keep, not if Marshall keeps dragging the flat of his tongue along Cash’s length like he’s doing.
Cash feels his thigh muscles tense beneath Marshall’s hand with the effort of not moving, and feels Marshall’s lips curve into a smile against the head of his dick. Marshall laughs softly, a soft huff of air that makes Cash’s dick twitch against Marshall’s mouth, and then he opens up and takes Cash inside the wet warmth.
Cash goes very still as Marshall starts to move, dipping his head, letting Cash slide between his lips, across his tongue. Cash watches the way he looks, disappearing into Marshall’s mouth, watches the way Marshall’s eyelashes flutter against his hollowed cheeks. Cash tries to hold back, to think unsexy thoughts to draw the moment out, but he can’t get past the image of what Marshall’s mouth is going to look like when he’s done, can’t get past the three sets of eyes on them, Alex and Ian pressing in close on either side of Johnson.
Marshall pauses, and moves his free hand up to his head, lacing his fingers between Cash’s where they’re still holding his hair back. He pushes Cash’s hand back, until Cash’s fingers are sliding round to the back of Marshall’s head, and presses against Cash’s hand. Marshall meets Cash’s eyes and Cash takes the hint, pushes Marshall’s head down, just a little, making him take in a little bit more, then pulls him back. Marshall hums in approval, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through Cash. It makes him shudder a little and press Marshall back down a little further, faster this time, picking up a pace.
Cash tilts his head back, feeling it building, knowing he’s not going to last much longer. He looks over at the others. Johnson’s lips are parted, and his gaze is fixed on where Cash’s dick is sliding in and out of Marshall’s mouth. There’s something in his eyes, something hungry and wanting , and Cash thinks that Marshall definitely has the best ideas ever, and he’ll tell him so, later, when he’s able to string words together. Ian has the heel of his hand pressed hard against his crotch, a smile playing on his lips. And Alex- Cash gasps when he sees the way Alex is watching them.
Alex looks the way he looks when he’s riding Cash, turned on with flushed skin and smouldering eyes and bitten lips, and it makes Cash lose his rhythm, makes him press Marshall down a little more than he’d intended, and Marshall takes it. All of it is suddenly too much, Cash can’t hold back anymore.
“Alex,” he says. “Fuck.” And then he comes, still looking into Alex’s eyes. When the rushing in his ears stops, when he can breathe again, think again, he looks down at Marshall, who’s stroking him through the aftershocks, licking him clean and Cash slides his hand around, cups Marshall’s cheek, rubs a drop of come from the side of his lip. Marshall grins, and turns back to the others.
“Still not interested?” Marshall asks, but before Johnson can answer, Alex is up and out of his seat.
“Shut up,” he says, throwing himself on Marshall, pressing him back onto the floor and kissing him. “He tastes different, this way,” Alex says, coming up for air, and he slides his eyes towards Cash. “I thought it’d be the same. But it’s not.”
Marshall lifts his head up off the floor and kisses Alex again, his hands on Alex’s hips, pulling their bodies together, lining them up. Alex makes that groan Cash loves to hear, and grinds his hips down, making Marshall moan in answer.
Cash’s dick twitches, and he’s never been so glad to have the recovery time of a teenager. He can’t take his eyes off Alex and Marshall, even though his stomach clenches when he thinks of Marshall’s tongue in Alex’s mouth, when he looks at the way Marshall’s hands are clutching at Alex’s hips, like he has a right to.
For a moment, Cash wants to join in, to steal Alex’s mouth away, to wrap Alex’s hand around his half-hard dick. And then Alex breaks the kiss and pushes himself up until he’s sitting, straddling Marshall.
Marshall makes a noise of protest and tries to chase his lips, half sitting, but Alex pushes him down, holds him in place, one hand pressed to his chest.
“Hang on,” Alex says, and grabs the collar of his shirt, yanking it up and over his head. He turns and chucks it into Cash’s lap, where it catches on his dick as it slides down, making Cash inhale sharply. He grabs for the shirt before it can fall to the floor and clutches at it, watching as Alex grabs the hem of Marshall’s t-shirt, pushing it up and up, baring his chest. He slides his thumbs across skin and ribs and nipples, making Marshall gasp.
“Off,” Alex says, and Marshall lifts his arms, lets Alex tug the t-shirt off. Cash is ready to catch it, but this time Alex throws it across the room at Johnson. Cash doesn’t watch to see if he catches it, because Alex is shuffling back down Marshall’s thighs a little, and slowly unbuttoning Marshall’s pants, opening them up slowly. Cash can see Marshall’s dick pressing up against the fabric of his boxers, sees it twitch as Alex’s hand brushes deliberately over it as he slides his hands just inside the waistband, moving them round until he’s lifting Marshall’s hips enough to slide pants and boxers down together, halfway down Marshall’s thighs, leaving him mostly naked and exposed and hard.
Cash has seen Marshall’s dick before, because not only do they practically live on top of each other, but there was also that one time, years ago, when they both wanted to get off but had a distinct lack of porn and failing imaginations and so it seemed the most natural thing in the world to jerk off facing each other. Cash has never told anyone about that, not even Alex. Especially not Alex. But he can’t help but stare at Marshall’s dick now, at Alex wrapping his hand slowly around it and stroking up once, twice, before letting go and moving his fingers to his own waistband.
Cash’s eyes follow the movement, the way Alex’s finger teasingly runs around the button on the top of his jeans before popping it open, the slow easing down of the zipper. And then Alex lifts himself onto his knees and wriggles, pushing his jeans down. Marshall’s hands reach up to help, and Cash wants to too, but Marshall tugs at them, yanks them down, not much, but enough for Alex’s dick to be there and on display for people who’re not Cash to see. Cash isn’t entirely sure how it makes him feel. He doesn’t really get the chance to explore the feeling though, because Alex is easing himself down, lining himself up with Marshall, grinding his hips down, and it makes Marshall tip his head back, exposing a long pale stretch of neck that Alex covers with his mouth.
Marshall does something that makes Alex groan, and his hands are on the small of Alex’s back, on his ass, and even though it’s hot as fuck, Cash can’t help but wish the hands on Alex’s skin were his, that he was the only one who could make Alex moan like that.
Cash tears his eyes away and looks over at Ian, who’s watching them in much the same way. Their eyes meet, sharing a moment of solidarity and understanding, and then Ian turns away, pushing Johnson back and throwing a leg over his thighs, straddling him. Cash hears Johnson’s gasp from all the way across the room, and thinks that Ian should be focused on Johnson, but he’s not. He’s staring at Cash, and when Cash doesn’t move, he holds out a hand.
Cash glances back down at Alex and Marshall, who’re working up a rhythm, sweaty flesh sliding against sweaty flesh, and then over at where Ian is capturing Johnson’s mouth for a kiss. Johnson’s hands clutch at Ian’s biceps, tighter and tighter as they kiss, and Cash is out of the chair and halfway across the room before he can think, stepping over writhing bodies and self-consciously holding Alex’s shirt over his half hard dick.
Ian grabs Cash’s hand when he sits down beside them, shirt still covering his lap, and between them they undo both Johnson and Ian’s pants.
Cash has big hands, big enough that he’s always been a little jealous of Alex’s slender ones, so quick and nimble and able to bend just the right way to make bursts of light explode behind his eyes. But right now they’re the right size to wrap one around both Ian and Johnson’s dicks, slicked with lube from Ian’s pocket. He slides his hand up experimentally, watching their faces, their eyelids flutter, and then does it again, firmer, quicker.
Johnson’s hand clutches at Cash’s wrist, urging him on, tighter, faster, and the other slides into Ian’s hair, pulls him sharply forward for a kiss just as a familiar noise makes Cash’s rhythm stutter, makes him turn and look at Alex’s arched back, the look on his face he only gets when he comes, the one Cash has memorised because he’s seen it so many times. He watches as Marshall grabs Alex’s hips, grinds up into him, mouth going slack as he shudders beneath him.
Ian moans, grabbing Cash’s attention, and he’s watching Marshall too, until Johnson turns his face, demanding, and kisses him hard and dirty while Cash jacks them off. He’s lacking in finesse, can’t concentrate with his dick suddenly achingly hard again, the image of Alex coming for someone who wasn’t him etched behind his eyes, turning him on and making his heart ache at the same time. But he’s still doing a good enough job to feel Johnson tense and spill into his palm, Ian lasting only a stroke or two longer.
It’s one of the hottest things Cash has ever seen or done, but it’s missing something.
Cash glances over, and Alex is still on top of Marshall, his cheek resting on Marshall’s chest, hair sticking damply to his forehead and Marshall’s skin. They’re both still a little breathless, and Marshall’s arm is wrapped around Alex, holding their bodies tightly together. Cash has time to feel his heart clench possessively, before his view is blocked by Ian’s hair, and then Ian’s lips are on his. And a hand- Johnson’s hand, Cash recognises, from the pattern of the calluses, and how strange is it he can tell his band members apart by that alone?- slides across his bare skin and wraps tightly around him.
Johnson is quick and efficient, and there’s a rhythm there that Cash can’t quite catch with Ian’s clever tongue in his mouth, muffling his gasps and groans. It doesn’t take much, just the feel of Johnson’s hand on him, the taste of Ian in his mouth, the knowledge of having Marshall and Alex’s eyes on him before he can’t hold back any longer and comes, gasping wordlessly into Ian’s mouth.
It all gets sort of awkward then, for a few minutes, everyone climbing off of each other, letting go of limbs and appendages, wiping themselves off and collecting clothing. And then Johnson starts to laugh, and it’s as contagious as Marshall’s stupid death ‘flu, because they all start and don’t stop for the longest time.
“You know we all love you, right?” Marshall asks, hugging his knees to his chest, and Johnson nods.
“I knew that before the group orgy,” he says. “I’m happy for you guys, having each other. Really. I don’t feel left out. Although this was fun. But I have my own thing going on. Which reminds me, Spencer and Brendon are probably wondering where I am. I should-“ he thumbs over his shoulder, getting to his feet and heading for the door. “Thanks, you guys. I appreciate it.”
And then he’s gone, leaving them in stunned silence, until Ian giggles and echoes “Spencer and Brendon?”
“I’m going to get some coffee,” Alex says, getting to his feet and following behind Johnson. The others all look at each other, and then Ian stands up too, heading for the door, dropping a kiss on the top of Marshall’s head as he goes.
“So,” Cash says, when they’re alone.
“Good idea?” Marshall asks, as if he really cares what Cash thinks. Cash laughs.
“You always have the best ideas,” Cash tells him, and Marshall beams. Cash mostly means it too, even though underneath the afterglow, underneath the amazing feeling of togetherness he’d felt from them all, there’s a tug of something else, something he wants more.
~~~
“That was fun,” Alex says much, much later, when he’s just slid almost all the way inside Cash, propped up on his elbows and panting a little.
“It was,” Cash agrees, trying to press down, wanting Alex in further, greedy for more.
Alex presses in the last inch and Cash makes a small noise of satisfaction.
“I don’t think we should do it again though,” he says, trying to sound blasé and conversational which is hard when someone has a dick in your ass.
“Do what?” Alex asks, gripping Cash’s upper arms tightly as he eases out, pulling a moan from Cash’s throat as he does.
“Fuck,” Cash breathes, then stills. “I don’t think we should fuck other people,” he manages after a moment or two, then stops, tilts his head to the side, because that came out much more serious than he’d intended and it wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all. Or maybe it was exactly what he meant.
Alex grins down at him, and jerks his hips, slamming into Cash harder than he’d expected, making him gasp out “Alex!”.
“Okay,” Alex says, leaning in closer until his lips hover just above Cash’s. “I’d like that. No fucking other people. Just each other.”
Cash nods, and Alex closes his eyes.
“I lo-“ Alex starts to say, but Cash doesn’t need to hear it, not really, because he already knows, and so he lifts his head and steals the words from Alex’s lips.
“Fucking me is okay though,” Cash hints, when Alex doesn’t move and just grins down at Cash for a long moment.
“It was hot watching you with the others,” Alex says, wriggling his hips a little, pressing just that tiny bit deeper and making Cash pant. “Really hot. I kept thinking about getting you like this and touching you where they’d touched you. I liked watching. But,” he stops, presses his lips into a thin line for a moment and frowns, searching for what to say.
“Yeah,” Cash agrees. “Yeah. I know. Same. Look, please, just fuck me?”
“Just fuck you,” Alex echoes and when Cash nods, he digs his fingers into Cash’s hips for a moment. “Just me,” he adds and it’s only when Cash nods, heart unclenching from his confusion earlier, that he pulls out and thrusts back in.
Pairing: Cab GSF, Cash/Singer, Ian/Marshall.
Rating: NC 17
Disclaimer: About as false as Cash is faily ;)
Summary: Sometimes he worries about the fact that, within the band at least, Johnson doesn’t have someone to love in that way. And Marshall is clearly on the same page as Cash, since it’s his grand plan that has them all cornering Johnson in the backroom of the recording studio, once everyone else has gone home.
A/N: Huge thanks to mintyfiend for the fantastic beta job, and to approximately half my flist who looked over this for me when I was all frowny about it. All mistakes are because I’ve tinkered with this a ridiculous amount of times since. This was only finished because jess_darkwater asked for it, but I'm glad she gave me a kick in the arse to do it. Title belongs to Buck 65 (thanks for the help with that, dreamofthem!)
It’s Marshall’s idea, which Cash thinks should probably surprise him. But it doesn’t. At least, once Alex has explained it to him (Marshall’s idea having been put forward by Ian, of course) and Cash has stopped laughing and realised Alex is serious, he’s really not surprised that it’s Marshall’s doing.
Marshall always has the best ideas.
Cash loves his band more than anything else on earth. All of them, although if he thinks about it enough he’d have to admit he loves Alex a little differently, but he’s been firmly filing that under the ‘because he gives me blowjobs’ category of love in his head.
He suspects Ian loves Marshall a little differently too, possibly for the same reasons, and Marshall loves Ian in the same way. And, maybe, hopefully, Alex feels the same about Cash, although he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on it too much, because it makes him feel happy and panicked at the same time.
Sometimes he worries about the fact that, within the band at least, Johnson doesn’t have someone to love in that way. And Marshall is clearly on the same page as Cash, since it’s his grand plan that has them all cornering Johnson in the backroom of the recording studio, once everyone else has gone home. Johnson is on the sofa, texting someone that Cash thinks can’t be too important since it’s not a member of the band.
Ian sits down beside him, Alex on the other side, while Cash takes the chair opposite. Marshall perches on the arm of Cash’s chair and looks around at them all expectantly.
“Dude,” Ian says, and Johnson looks up at them all, expression turning suspicious.
“Hey,” he says slowly. “What do you want?”
“We wanted to talk to you,” Marshall says, and Johnson looks even more suspicious.
“Is this some sort of intervention?” he asks, flipping his phone shut and sliding it back into his pocket. He has to lean back, lifting his hips a little off the sofa as he does, and Cash’s attention can’t help but be drawn there. And he’s not the only one. Alex is licking his lips, and Ian has a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Johnson sits back and narrows his eyes at them. “Seriously guys,” he says. “What’s up?”
Ian smiles slowly. “You know how Cash and Alex have been…getting it on a lot lately?”
Johnson rolls his eyes. “Yes. I’m frequently awoken by them rubbing off on each other in the van so, yeah, I’m kinda aware of it.”
Ian laughs and turns it into a cough when Cash shoots him a look. It’s not his fault if Singer rolls on top of him when they’re squished into the backseat of the van together, or if the friction they can work up when Singer braces his hands on one side of the van, and his feet on the other is too great to pass up. Also, Ian and Marshall get up to much kinkier things in much more public places.
“And you know how Marshall and I…” Ian makes a vaguely rude gesture that makes Cash laugh and earns him a kick in the shin from Marshall.
“Yeah, yeah, no need for the R rated Marcel Marceau impression,” Johnson says, pushing Ian’s hands out of his face.
“The point is,” Marshall says. “The point is that. Well. It must suck to be in a band and know that the others are…enjoying private times together-“
“Not so private sometimes,” Johnson points out, and Marshall ignores him.
“We thought,” he continues, and trails off, looking embarrassed suddenly, and Alex takes over.
“We thought that maybe you’d want to join us. Tonight. For…” he stops and looks at Cash.
“An orgy,” Cash supplies helpfully. “A band orgy.”
Johnson blinks at him slowly. “Haha,” he says, like he thinks Cash is joking.
Cash grins, and Johnson looks at Ian.
“We’re not kidding,” Ian says seriously and Cash sees the moment when Johnson believes him, the way it dawns on his face slowly.
“You guys are insane,” Johnson says, starting to get up. “I’m not interested in-“
“Just,” Alex says, putting his hand on Johnson’s arm. It makes Johnson stop, and Cash can’t help feel a swell of something akin to jealousy that Alex has that affect on someone who’s not him. “Just hang out for awhile. Just watch.”
He glances over at Cash, and Marshall seems to take that as a cue, sliding off the arm of the chair and onto the floor, pushing Cash’s knees apart and moving in to kneel between them.
This wasn’t mentioned in the plan. They’d discussed this before they’d come to talk to Johnson, laid some basic ground rules (no fucking, basically, since both Cash and Marshall had gotten a little narrow eyed when the subject had been brought up, and no incriminating footage was to be taken - unfairly aimed at himself, Cash thought) but they’d not discussed any sort of order of events or schedule or anything, and Cash realises he’s over-thinking this, but Marshall is slowly unzipping his jeans, and if Cash doesn’t over-think, he’s going to do something embarrassing.
Like look up at Alex, who’s watching with wet lips and dark eyes, one hand on Johnson’s thigh to keep him in place. Cash wonders if this had been Alex’s idea, if he’d leaned in to Marshall at some point and asked him to do this, had said he’d wanted to watch. The thought turns Cash on more than he thinks it probably should, and when Marshall’s hand slides in and fishes Cash’s dick out of his boxers, it’s achingly hard and leaking.
Marshall lowers his head, making his hair fall forward. It hides his face, so Cash reaches out and slides his hands into Marshall’s hair, pushing it back, off his forehead. Their eyes meet, and Marshall is looking at him a little in surprise as he wets his lips and fits them over the head of Cash’s dick.
Cash sucks in a breath and holds it as Marshall sucks at him, long fingers curling loosely around his dick, squeezing at the base. Cash grips the arms of the chair and promises himself that he won’t buck his hips, won’t force himself further into Marshall’s mouth, no matter how amazing it feels. It’s a promise he’s not sure he’s going to be able to keep, not if Marshall keeps dragging the flat of his tongue along Cash’s length like he’s doing.
Cash feels his thigh muscles tense beneath Marshall’s hand with the effort of not moving, and feels Marshall’s lips curve into a smile against the head of his dick. Marshall laughs softly, a soft huff of air that makes Cash’s dick twitch against Marshall’s mouth, and then he opens up and takes Cash inside the wet warmth.
Cash goes very still as Marshall starts to move, dipping his head, letting Cash slide between his lips, across his tongue. Cash watches the way he looks, disappearing into Marshall’s mouth, watches the way Marshall’s eyelashes flutter against his hollowed cheeks. Cash tries to hold back, to think unsexy thoughts to draw the moment out, but he can’t get past the image of what Marshall’s mouth is going to look like when he’s done, can’t get past the three sets of eyes on them, Alex and Ian pressing in close on either side of Johnson.
Marshall pauses, and moves his free hand up to his head, lacing his fingers between Cash’s where they’re still holding his hair back. He pushes Cash’s hand back, until Cash’s fingers are sliding round to the back of Marshall’s head, and presses against Cash’s hand. Marshall meets Cash’s eyes and Cash takes the hint, pushes Marshall’s head down, just a little, making him take in a little bit more, then pulls him back. Marshall hums in approval, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through Cash. It makes him shudder a little and press Marshall back down a little further, faster this time, picking up a pace.
Cash tilts his head back, feeling it building, knowing he’s not going to last much longer. He looks over at the others. Johnson’s lips are parted, and his gaze is fixed on where Cash’s dick is sliding in and out of Marshall’s mouth. There’s something in his eyes, something hungry and wanting , and Cash thinks that Marshall definitely has the best ideas ever, and he’ll tell him so, later, when he’s able to string words together. Ian has the heel of his hand pressed hard against his crotch, a smile playing on his lips. And Alex- Cash gasps when he sees the way Alex is watching them.
Alex looks the way he looks when he’s riding Cash, turned on with flushed skin and smouldering eyes and bitten lips, and it makes Cash lose his rhythm, makes him press Marshall down a little more than he’d intended, and Marshall takes it. All of it is suddenly too much, Cash can’t hold back anymore.
“Alex,” he says. “Fuck.” And then he comes, still looking into Alex’s eyes. When the rushing in his ears stops, when he can breathe again, think again, he looks down at Marshall, who’s stroking him through the aftershocks, licking him clean and Cash slides his hand around, cups Marshall’s cheek, rubs a drop of come from the side of his lip. Marshall grins, and turns back to the others.
“Still not interested?” Marshall asks, but before Johnson can answer, Alex is up and out of his seat.
“Shut up,” he says, throwing himself on Marshall, pressing him back onto the floor and kissing him. “He tastes different, this way,” Alex says, coming up for air, and he slides his eyes towards Cash. “I thought it’d be the same. But it’s not.”
Marshall lifts his head up off the floor and kisses Alex again, his hands on Alex’s hips, pulling their bodies together, lining them up. Alex makes that groan Cash loves to hear, and grinds his hips down, making Marshall moan in answer.
Cash’s dick twitches, and he’s never been so glad to have the recovery time of a teenager. He can’t take his eyes off Alex and Marshall, even though his stomach clenches when he thinks of Marshall’s tongue in Alex’s mouth, when he looks at the way Marshall’s hands are clutching at Alex’s hips, like he has a right to.
For a moment, Cash wants to join in, to steal Alex’s mouth away, to wrap Alex’s hand around his half-hard dick. And then Alex breaks the kiss and pushes himself up until he’s sitting, straddling Marshall.
Marshall makes a noise of protest and tries to chase his lips, half sitting, but Alex pushes him down, holds him in place, one hand pressed to his chest.
“Hang on,” Alex says, and grabs the collar of his shirt, yanking it up and over his head. He turns and chucks it into Cash’s lap, where it catches on his dick as it slides down, making Cash inhale sharply. He grabs for the shirt before it can fall to the floor and clutches at it, watching as Alex grabs the hem of Marshall’s t-shirt, pushing it up and up, baring his chest. He slides his thumbs across skin and ribs and nipples, making Marshall gasp.
“Off,” Alex says, and Marshall lifts his arms, lets Alex tug the t-shirt off. Cash is ready to catch it, but this time Alex throws it across the room at Johnson. Cash doesn’t watch to see if he catches it, because Alex is shuffling back down Marshall’s thighs a little, and slowly unbuttoning Marshall’s pants, opening them up slowly. Cash can see Marshall’s dick pressing up against the fabric of his boxers, sees it twitch as Alex’s hand brushes deliberately over it as he slides his hands just inside the waistband, moving them round until he’s lifting Marshall’s hips enough to slide pants and boxers down together, halfway down Marshall’s thighs, leaving him mostly naked and exposed and hard.
Cash has seen Marshall’s dick before, because not only do they practically live on top of each other, but there was also that one time, years ago, when they both wanted to get off but had a distinct lack of porn and failing imaginations and so it seemed the most natural thing in the world to jerk off facing each other. Cash has never told anyone about that, not even Alex. Especially not Alex. But he can’t help but stare at Marshall’s dick now, at Alex wrapping his hand slowly around it and stroking up once, twice, before letting go and moving his fingers to his own waistband.
Cash’s eyes follow the movement, the way Alex’s finger teasingly runs around the button on the top of his jeans before popping it open, the slow easing down of the zipper. And then Alex lifts himself onto his knees and wriggles, pushing his jeans down. Marshall’s hands reach up to help, and Cash wants to too, but Marshall tugs at them, yanks them down, not much, but enough for Alex’s dick to be there and on display for people who’re not Cash to see. Cash isn’t entirely sure how it makes him feel. He doesn’t really get the chance to explore the feeling though, because Alex is easing himself down, lining himself up with Marshall, grinding his hips down, and it makes Marshall tip his head back, exposing a long pale stretch of neck that Alex covers with his mouth.
Marshall does something that makes Alex groan, and his hands are on the small of Alex’s back, on his ass, and even though it’s hot as fuck, Cash can’t help but wish the hands on Alex’s skin were his, that he was the only one who could make Alex moan like that.
Cash tears his eyes away and looks over at Ian, who’s watching them in much the same way. Their eyes meet, sharing a moment of solidarity and understanding, and then Ian turns away, pushing Johnson back and throwing a leg over his thighs, straddling him. Cash hears Johnson’s gasp from all the way across the room, and thinks that Ian should be focused on Johnson, but he’s not. He’s staring at Cash, and when Cash doesn’t move, he holds out a hand.
Cash glances back down at Alex and Marshall, who’re working up a rhythm, sweaty flesh sliding against sweaty flesh, and then over at where Ian is capturing Johnson’s mouth for a kiss. Johnson’s hands clutch at Ian’s biceps, tighter and tighter as they kiss, and Cash is out of the chair and halfway across the room before he can think, stepping over writhing bodies and self-consciously holding Alex’s shirt over his half hard dick.
Ian grabs Cash’s hand when he sits down beside them, shirt still covering his lap, and between them they undo both Johnson and Ian’s pants.
Cash has big hands, big enough that he’s always been a little jealous of Alex’s slender ones, so quick and nimble and able to bend just the right way to make bursts of light explode behind his eyes. But right now they’re the right size to wrap one around both Ian and Johnson’s dicks, slicked with lube from Ian’s pocket. He slides his hand up experimentally, watching their faces, their eyelids flutter, and then does it again, firmer, quicker.
Johnson’s hand clutches at Cash’s wrist, urging him on, tighter, faster, and the other slides into Ian’s hair, pulls him sharply forward for a kiss just as a familiar noise makes Cash’s rhythm stutter, makes him turn and look at Alex’s arched back, the look on his face he only gets when he comes, the one Cash has memorised because he’s seen it so many times. He watches as Marshall grabs Alex’s hips, grinds up into him, mouth going slack as he shudders beneath him.
Ian moans, grabbing Cash’s attention, and he’s watching Marshall too, until Johnson turns his face, demanding, and kisses him hard and dirty while Cash jacks them off. He’s lacking in finesse, can’t concentrate with his dick suddenly achingly hard again, the image of Alex coming for someone who wasn’t him etched behind his eyes, turning him on and making his heart ache at the same time. But he’s still doing a good enough job to feel Johnson tense and spill into his palm, Ian lasting only a stroke or two longer.
It’s one of the hottest things Cash has ever seen or done, but it’s missing something.
Cash glances over, and Alex is still on top of Marshall, his cheek resting on Marshall’s chest, hair sticking damply to his forehead and Marshall’s skin. They’re both still a little breathless, and Marshall’s arm is wrapped around Alex, holding their bodies tightly together. Cash has time to feel his heart clench possessively, before his view is blocked by Ian’s hair, and then Ian’s lips are on his. And a hand- Johnson’s hand, Cash recognises, from the pattern of the calluses, and how strange is it he can tell his band members apart by that alone?- slides across his bare skin and wraps tightly around him.
Johnson is quick and efficient, and there’s a rhythm there that Cash can’t quite catch with Ian’s clever tongue in his mouth, muffling his gasps and groans. It doesn’t take much, just the feel of Johnson’s hand on him, the taste of Ian in his mouth, the knowledge of having Marshall and Alex’s eyes on him before he can’t hold back any longer and comes, gasping wordlessly into Ian’s mouth.
It all gets sort of awkward then, for a few minutes, everyone climbing off of each other, letting go of limbs and appendages, wiping themselves off and collecting clothing. And then Johnson starts to laugh, and it’s as contagious as Marshall’s stupid death ‘flu, because they all start and don’t stop for the longest time.
“You know we all love you, right?” Marshall asks, hugging his knees to his chest, and Johnson nods.
“I knew that before the group orgy,” he says. “I’m happy for you guys, having each other. Really. I don’t feel left out. Although this was fun. But I have my own thing going on. Which reminds me, Spencer and Brendon are probably wondering where I am. I should-“ he thumbs over his shoulder, getting to his feet and heading for the door. “Thanks, you guys. I appreciate it.”
And then he’s gone, leaving them in stunned silence, until Ian giggles and echoes “Spencer and Brendon?”
“I’m going to get some coffee,” Alex says, getting to his feet and following behind Johnson. The others all look at each other, and then Ian stands up too, heading for the door, dropping a kiss on the top of Marshall’s head as he goes.
“So,” Cash says, when they’re alone.
“Good idea?” Marshall asks, as if he really cares what Cash thinks. Cash laughs.
“You always have the best ideas,” Cash tells him, and Marshall beams. Cash mostly means it too, even though underneath the afterglow, underneath the amazing feeling of togetherness he’d felt from them all, there’s a tug of something else, something he wants more.
~~~
“That was fun,” Alex says much, much later, when he’s just slid almost all the way inside Cash, propped up on his elbows and panting a little.
“It was,” Cash agrees, trying to press down, wanting Alex in further, greedy for more.
Alex presses in the last inch and Cash makes a small noise of satisfaction.
“I don’t think we should do it again though,” he says, trying to sound blasé and conversational which is hard when someone has a dick in your ass.
“Do what?” Alex asks, gripping Cash’s upper arms tightly as he eases out, pulling a moan from Cash’s throat as he does.
“Fuck,” Cash breathes, then stills. “I don’t think we should fuck other people,” he manages after a moment or two, then stops, tilts his head to the side, because that came out much more serious than he’d intended and it wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all. Or maybe it was exactly what he meant.
Alex grins down at him, and jerks his hips, slamming into Cash harder than he’d expected, making him gasp out “Alex!”.
“Okay,” Alex says, leaning in closer until his lips hover just above Cash’s. “I’d like that. No fucking other people. Just each other.”
Cash nods, and Alex closes his eyes.
“I lo-“ Alex starts to say, but Cash doesn’t need to hear it, not really, because he already knows, and so he lifts his head and steals the words from Alex’s lips.
“Fucking me is okay though,” Cash hints, when Alex doesn’t move and just grins down at Cash for a long moment.
“It was hot watching you with the others,” Alex says, wriggling his hips a little, pressing just that tiny bit deeper and making Cash pant. “Really hot. I kept thinking about getting you like this and touching you where they’d touched you. I liked watching. But,” he stops, presses his lips into a thin line for a moment and frowns, searching for what to say.
“Yeah,” Cash agrees. “Yeah. I know. Same. Look, please, just fuck me?”
“Just fuck you,” Alex echoes and when Cash nods, he digs his fingers into Cash’s hips for a moment. “Just me,” he adds and it’s only when Cash nods, heart unclenching from his confusion earlier, that he pulls out and thrusts back in.