Office Confrontations Ch. 04

"Stop asking for punishment moron." Kyle ground out after releasing Marshall and surveying the dark splotch on Marshall's throat. "Apologize."

"Excuse me?" Marshall gaped, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Apologize. Grovel. Then maybe I'll let you up." Kyle sunk his teeth into the same mark and Marshall cried out.

"For wanting to blow you?" Marshall demanded, leaving welts in Kyle's skin. "I'm not apologizing for that asshole," he tried arguing again and Kyle bit down harder. "Fuck, stop that." His pleading was weak and his arms wound around Kyle's waist, hands linking together and holding on.

"Why are you so stubborn?" Kyle complained, licking languidly at the forming bruise like a bored cat. "And such an idiot?" He sighed, outlining the bruise with his lips and sucking. Marshall moaned hard and shook under Kyle.

"Not...apolo...gizing." Marshall groaned again. Kyle pulled away to grin down at Marshall, clearly more amused than his tone let on.

"Will you ever shut the hell up?" Kyle asked rhetorically. Marshall tried to reply and only managed to whimper as Kyle picked another spot on his throat, high this time and just below the jaw, and sunk his teeth into the sensitive skin. Marshall's instinctive twist away made him cry out harder―Kyle not only didn't let go, but clinched his teeth closer together.

"Fucking―vampire freak." Marshall gasped out. A rumbling vibration at his neck made Marshall's teeth clatter from the sensation, and Kyle's answering laughter had Marshall breathing in relief and disappointment. Sitting up, Kyle licked the fresh mark and dropped his hips into Marshall's.

"I figured out why you can't get your mouth off my dick." Kyle announced, rolling his hips and making Marshall whimper with need. "It's the only thing that'll shut you up." Marshall didn't reply and didn't even try. Speaking was beyond his ability to comprehend, not with that slide of flesh against flesh and the tingle of Kyle's marks at his throat. He was pulsing and red and so damn close to cumming he was surprised he hadn't splattered all over Kyle by now. His breath came in ragged gasps and his hands clutched each other so tight they creaked when pried apart, but Marshall didn't notice anything but the ache building up, that promise of sweet, sweet release.

"You and your trigger dick need to calm down before you ruin my sheets. Again." Kyle chided, lifting his hips and moving until he sat on Marshall's legs instead of balls-to-tip like before. Marshall's piteous sounds and air humping put a smile on Kyle's face and he leaned down for a firm kiss.

They crushed together, noses bonking into each other as Marshall twisted and lifted his head to get closer, his tongue seeking Kyle's and fighting Kyle's lips with urgency. Kyle chuckled again, wrapping his hand around Marshall's neck and pulling him close. He stroked the firm flesh of Marshall's throat and traced the bruises-to-be with reverence, Marshall's answering moans more than satisfying.

"You may be a stubborn idiot, but you're so delightful to play with." Kyle breathed, drawing his tongue over Marshall's lower lip. "You really are the cumslut I pegged you for that first night." Marshall laughed weakly.

"As if you're surprised." He mumbled. His eyes were no more than slits, satisfied and wanton all in the same expression. Kyle hmmm-ed in response, petting Marshall's jaw thoughtfully.

"Good point." With that he bent down and captured Marshall's lips all over again, moving to graze his dick over Marshall's and tease the dripping hardness with firm strokes. Marshall's moan clashed with Kyle's tongue and he fought to contain himself. Clinging to Kyle with fingers scrabbling over bare flesh and legs writhing as they attempted to latch onto something, anything at all, Marshall did everything he could to avoid saturating Kyle's stomach with loads of sweet release.

"You're, ahh, killing me," Marshall whimpered between kisses, flinching at Kyle's attention to his new teethmarks and secretly liking the jolt of pain they awarded him. "So - fucking hell, Kyle – so close," he whispered a warning, lower lip caught between his teeth as sharp exhales flared his nostrils.

Kyle merely made a sound of smug satisfaction – though how he accomplished that with no more than a grunt and a rock of his hips, Marshall would never know – and released Marshall's hip to grasp their cocks, wrapping his long fingers around their aching hardness. Stroke after stroke of liquid heat and unimaginable sensation. A sharp twist at the upward stroke and a dig of nails to his backside at every drop to the base of their cocks. Even Kyle couldn't withhold a quiet moan, though he covered it up with a rough kiss.

"You, no--don't--dammit, would you ju--stop that," Marshall rambled. But instead of fighting or trying to push Kyle's fingers away, he rose with every stroke and bucked against Kyle's grip, demanding silently for more. Kyle, as intuitive as he was(and not a complete moron who ever would take Marshall's words as truth) ignored any and all calls to cease and desist but rather moved faster, grinding against Marshall and devouring Marshall's lips so he didn't have to listen to any more complaints or demands. Kyle's free hand, previously curled against Marshall's neck, slid down the expanse of Marshall's chest and grazed his nails over the pale skin, urging sounds of delight from between Marshall's teeth.

Marshall could handle only so much stimulation much less by Kyle himself. With his wayward antics and firm grip, Kyle brought Marshall to the edge and pushed him over with no remorse. Crying out and shuddering, Marshall held onto Kyle and rode wave after wave of sensation. Heat poured through him, its focal point the tip of his spewing cock. Kyle kept his mouth crushed against Marshall's capturing all the moans and whimpers of need as he gently milked Marshall of wet spurts of cum. Their bodies, having lay flush together from toe to shoulder, were slick with Marshall's load as Kyle pressed his face into Marshall's neck, the heat of his breath barely felt when up against heated skin and slick torsos sliding together.

It took a few minutes before Marshall remembered how to think other than fuck that was hot, why can't we do this every night, why am I still squished underneath him? For a tiny guy he's heavy as hell, dammit I just want to touch him but I don't think I can move my arms, when am I going to remember how to speak? Shit my mouth is so dry I can't believe I haven't passed out from dehydration, I should really his inner monologue continued as his mouth quivered, open but unable to piece together words.

It wasn't simply that Marshall didn't know how to speak; more that he had no idea what to say. Sure he could admit to being completely flabbergasted every time Kyle so much as looked at him with interest, but after such a dedicated amount of attention on his now overly-sensitive and deflating dick stringing together coherent sentences that didn't involve 'Thanks pal how about I do you next?' seemed on par with flying to the moon sans a spaceship or eating pork-free bacon and enjoying it(which was possible to be fair, but it was also a very horrifying taste - no offense to the vegheads and vegans out there - thanks to its lacking the greasy pig fat that gave it such a good flavor). Instead he lay there beneath Kyle and began to stroke the trail of spine from shoulder to tailbone.

Kyle knew him better than anyone else on this earth. He knew the touches were Marshall's way of saying he could barely breathe without wanting Kyle more than life itself. Kyle knew that the heavy breathing, the expulsion of cum until they were both sticky, and the fact that Marshall had avoided eye contact meant he thoroughly enjoyed their time together.

But most of all he knew with utmost certainty how head over heels in love with Kyle Marshall was. Or at least, he should. Where Kyle was a book as thick as a volume of the encyclopedia with indecipherable text, Marshall was a pop-up book with bold rhymes and clear-cut characters. If Kyle had ever doubted for a second how much Marshall needed him to exist, one look at that goofy, delirious face of his put that fear to rest.

Marshall sighed happily and lay his cheek on Kyle's hair, nuzzling the curls and closing his eyes. Kyle didn't speak either, but that wasn't unexpected. More than likely they'd lie silent until sleep overcame them and in the morning they would never discuss their fight or subsequent make-up sex ever again.

They may have been idiot men in love with each other, but expressing emotions were still far beyond what they could deal with.

Time passed. Marshall didn't count the days, but hours quickly disappeared into weeks and before he realized it, the big day was upon them. Kyle's opening night was three days away and Marshall had been banned from his house until then – presumably so he could work on the last tricky lines in peace, which Marshall usually ruined with needy kisses and loud whining until Kyle "took pity on him"(aka got ticked off by all the less than subtle dick jokes) and busied his mouth for a couple hours.

Lying in his own bed, Marshall realized with irritation how incredibly uncomfortable his lumpy mattress seemed. Wide springs, a worn set of sheets riddled with holes, and an abused pillow no longer the shape of a fluffy rectangle but a crushed pea were few causes of his many frustrations. He shifted in the blankets once more with a loud sigh, glaring at the digital clock on the nightstand. 2:35 am, it kept blinking. The clock was off by an hour, as Marshall had a habit of being too damn lazy to adjust for daylight savings' time and he'd spent the last weeks at Kyle's house, only returning to clean out the fridge of moldy food and grab new clothes to wear.

The apartment dwellers one floor up stomped about with meaty footsteps and caused the ceiling to shake. Marshall hadn't remembered how noisy his apartment was, either. Or the fact that his shower spit rather than bathed him in a constant heat; nor had he remembered how small the apartment was. He'd slammed his knee into the couch when going to the kitchen for a glass of water, along with half a bottle of NyQuil which he downed in gulps.

To be fair, there was nothing wrong with the reasonably cheap apartment and its shoddy, but thoroughly loved at one point or another furniture. Marshall just didn't want to admit how much he missed Kyle's presence. Rooms lit up when Kyle stepped inside, and he could charm a nun out of her habit if he really felt the urge. With his loose, messy curls(usually from Marshall's incessant tugging) and dark, watchful eyes, just looking at Kyle made Marshall's shoulders unwind and his face to relax into a smile.

Marshall rose to his elbow and punched the lumpy mattress, and the mutilated pillow, to no avail. Work again tomorrow, and Friday as well. Saturday was the Big Event, and then Marshall could return to fine linens and warm embraces. Three days seemed like a helluva long time. Part of him was bothered by the dependence, and the loneliness. He'd spent most of his life lacking a girlfriend or roommate. Other than two semesters in college and a few flings, Marshall wasn't the type to connect to other people.

Not to say he hated company or was a bad conversationalist(though he had a streak of narcissism to say the least), but that he never found the need for others to justify his lifestyle or personality. Now that he lived and breathed by the slightest arch of Kyle's eyebrows, going back to normalcy was more along the lines of monotony; like a dream he couldn't wait to get out of. Not a nightmare, but certainly not pleasant.

Unable to sleep, Marshall drifted back to the last night he and Kyle went out together.

Around the four-week count-down to the Big Event, Kyle demanded they go out on date nights as frequently as possible. He even went so far as to tuck sticky notes in Marshall's wallet before he left for work with a time and location. Not showing up was paramount to sleeping outside on the porch...with one of those god-awful chastity belts Kyle threatened him with jokingly a few weeks ago. At least...Marshall hoped it had been a joke.

Going out with his Kyle(they hadn't yet come to a title for their relationship, or whatever it was) nearly three times a week threw his sleep schedule out of whack, but mostly it was a welcome relief and teased a level of anticipation out of Marshall he'd never felt before. Kyle constantly expected to be treated like a dainty woman on their dates, whether it was perching on his lap and giggling with a feminine lilt or using trembling fingers to grasp Marshall's hand over the table with a deep blush building high in his sculpted cheeks. If Marshall dared talk to him with anything less than complete devotion and admiration, there were sharp nails in intimate places, usually in public. Which was both a boon and a damned curse, after the third restaurant-oriented date ending with an awkward wobble and a heated session in the back seat.

But last time Kyle let Marshall choose the destination, much to his dismay.

Marshall was not a man for choosing dates. He barely managed three square meals a day out of ramen and whatever Kyle whipped up for dinner, and he nearly had a panic attack before Kyle took pity on him and told him they could go anywhere of his choosing – except the movie theaters which Kyle deemed cliched and useless.

His first idea was the batting cages. He wasn't a great athlete, hadn't been in high school or college, but thought that would be a safe, no touchie zone. But then the look in Kyle's eye when he mentioned the idea made him slam down on that route so hard he nearly passed out. Kyle, who thought this hilarious, foretold a fantasy date for them based on the cages(apparently Kyle had a fetish for cages too, thank god he didn't have a dog or Marshall might have spent a night or two cramped in one of them!), where he'd start by begging Marshall show him how to grip a bat and ending with him taking said bat – yes, he specified bat – in very, very tight places.

Suffice it to say, they didn't go to the cages.

Instead, Marshall surprised him with his next choice. Bowling. He, again, was no athlete or even skilled at tossing a ball down a lane(though Kyle made enough ball fondling jokes to fuel an entire bowling league) but it was a safe public place that didn't have the teenager feel of 'be home by nine o'clock sharp'. Actually, it did. But Kyle said he thought it was cute.

So red-faced and stammering, Marshall drove them to the nearest bowling alley. It turned out to be quite the popular spot for families and groups of kids alike, and Kyle was a decent player. He kicked Marshall's ass without breaking a sweat.

"How are you so good at this?" Marshall complained from the sidelines as Kyle did a little hip-swish-toss, earning yet another strike. He jumped up and shot a fist in the air, twisting to grin at Marshall.

"It's just luck, calm down." Kyle replied with a bright grin belying his amusement. "If you want I can give you a few pointers." The wicked gleam of his eyes turned Marshall pink.

"I'd rather lose, thanks." He grumbled, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand, wincing when he scented the faint oil from the ball. He rose on creaking knees and ambled toward the lane, jumping only a little when Kyle patted his ass for good luck. At least, that's what he said he was doing. With Kyle, you never really knew what he was thinking.

"Oh, come on don't be so proud." Kyle pestered good-naturedly, hiking a hip onto the little flat area attached to the computer. "You picked this place out, I thought you'd have some killer moves to show off." Marshall rolled his eyes but didn't reply, concentrating on not tossing a gutter ball―for the third time this game.

He tensed his wrist and tossed, aiming hesitantly for the central arrow. It veered just a hitch to the right but managed to take four pins with it. For a moment Marshall beamed and whooped, and though it was no feat of skill at least he finally did something.

"If you hike up your leg you'll shoot better," Kyle demonstrated by kicking his right foot behind him, the tip of his ugly green shoes smacking the swell of his ass. Marshall guiltily pulled his eyes away from that lovely curve of flesh and gulped before replying.

"If I do that I'll be the one sliding down the lane face first." He grumbled. "Besides, you just want me to do that so you can make fun of me some more." Kyle chuckled and hopped to Marshall's side, arms wrapped around his waist and kissing his cheek.

Kyle did that shit on purpose. Maybe not consciously, but he had a nasty habit of adding PDA to the experience every time they left the house. Unmoved by Kyle's feigning innocence and clinging to him like a school girl, Marshall tilted his chin away and peered down at him through slit eyelids. It wasn't that Marshall had a problem with affection or hand-holding. He didn't even mind the kissing; in fact that may have been one of his favorite perks of outings with Kyle. But he was still unused to being a sort of gay man in public with the world watching.

Granted most of the patrons weren't bothering with their chaste hug, but paranoia suited Marshall as easily as anger when covering up innate fears, and he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if everyone found out he was sleeping with Kyle. Literally, most of the time. They probably wouldn't care, save the scant few homophobes in the office. Clara already knew and cherished their whatever-ship like a third wheel siphoning affection from the sidelines. Aaron would probably have a few coarse words to say, but Marshall didn't give a damn what he thought.

Thinking it over, there was nothing that justified Marshall's fear of being 'caught'. He just didn't want it, didn't know how to handle it. Kyle and he didn't discuss his worries, but it was written all over his face every time he kissed Marshall or tugged his hand and received a flinch for his efforts.

Marshall didn't want to hurt Kyle's feelings – though honestly he was shocked the man had any easily bruised feelings in all that unfettered confidence and smug amusement – but he couldn't control his knee-jerk reactions. No matter how prepared he tried to make himself for the casual touches and smiles, he always reacted the wrong way.

That was probably the reason Kyle felt the urge to torment him with them.

"So what if it might entertain me just a bit? Humor me anyway." Kyle demanded with a carefully light tone and a flick of his tongue over his lower lip. Peering up at Marshall under his surprisingly full lashes, he looked so delicate and innocent Marshall's heart skipped.

Nails tightened in Kyle's hips as Marshall clung to him and breathed out slowly before speaking.

"I always humor you." Kyle arched a brow at the statement. "Fine, I humor you when I won't end up the laughing stock of wherever we are." Marshall scrunched up his face, shaking his head a wee bit.

"Fine, you're no fun." Kyle pouted, pressing his cheek to Marshall's throat and nuzzling him. Marshall worked to keep the tension from his neck. Kyle switched personalities like a schizophrenic on crack. Most of the time it was too confusing for Marshall to follow from one attitude to the next, but on dates they mostly centered around overly affectionate and exceedingly shy.

The heat of Kyle's breath on his neck made him shiver. Sometimes Marshall's brain was wired too closely with his lower extremities and didn't have the capacity to think anything but 'no don't get hard, calm down think of awkward things like Clara trying to give you a kiss or grannies offering apple pie―dammit, Kyle's new shampoo smells like apples this isn't helping!' and breathe heavily to avoid staining his jeans with spots of arousal. Sensing his interest, Kyle tucked his face closer and drew his tongue across a sensitive swath of skin, lapping at his neck and making Marshall gasp.