Weighted
Measure
By Chris Owen
Marshall dropped his hands low, sliding over
cotton and then denim until he had a good handful of ass, and
pulled. The way their legs were tangled meant they both had
a thigh to rub on, and that was just perfect, exactly right,
even if the setting was less than desirable.
"Christ, fags making out in the hallway again,"
someone laughed, bumping into Marshall's arm.
"That's not a fag, that's the drummer. Ty!
Let the groupie go and get your ass back on stage!"
Marshall ignored them both, all his attention
taken up by the tongue in his mouth, the ass in his hands, and
the cock getting hard along his hipbone. "Are they talking
about us?" he said, mumbling around the kisses. He wasn't
sure if he'd even be heard above the noise of the bar and the
stereo system piping in canned music around them.
"Probably, unless there's another drummer."
The thigh just under Marshall's balls flexed and
another group of people trying to get to the bathrooms yelled
at them to find a room. "So you're Ty?" Marshall asked,
using his hands to shift narrow hips just a little to the left.
"Uh huh. Tyler. You?"
"Marshall." Tyler's mouth slid down
to his neck and Marshall tilted his head to give him room.
"Are you going to hang around after the last
set?" Tyler asked, licking his way up to Marshall's ear
and grinding against him.
"I could," Marshall said with a gasp
as teeth scraped his earlobe. "Will you make it worth the
effort of staying out that late?"
"Hell, yeah." Tyler pushed into him,
hard, then backed away and let him go. "Time for the set.
Stay, okay? We'll have some fun after."
Marshall nodded and kissed him once more. "My
place is only a few blocks away."
"Awesome." Tyler grinned at him and
took his hand, pulling him through the crowd standing at the
bar and heading for the stage. "I'll find you after,"
he promised.
"I'll be here." Marshall let go of his
hand as they passed the table where he'd been sitting, watched
as Tyler climbed onto the stage, then casually dropped into
the chair beside his friend Paige. "We're staying,"
he told her, reaching for the beer bottle in front of her.
"I'm stunned," she said dryly, snatching
the beer before he could steal it. "Get your own."
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