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hidethekeyTitle: Epically Awesome and Supertastic Rules of the Touring Van
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Singer/Cash (implied Marshall/Ian)
POV: Third
Summary: Singer knows that He and Cash should not be having sex in the van. He knows this, there are rules.
Disclaimer: Don’t own, just love. The Cab owns themselves. Someone that is not me owns the van and Ian owns the fictional batman pillow-case.
Author Notes: This fic started on MSN.lampshadesrrad was feeling sad and she has mad love for Singer so I wrote her MSN fic. Here it is, all nice and edited for you guys. This is also my first cabfic ever, so I hope you like it.
Singer was just standing there, outside the dark venue when he felt himself being pulled from behind. He'd been listening to Panic on his ipod, so he hadn't even heard the van door open. Suddenly, he was sprawled across one of the bench seats and pressed up against a body that was far more solid than his own. He glanced down to the hands around his waist, preventing him from getting back up and saw the one and only thing that would give who the culprit was away. There was a green dollar sign tattoo between the thumb and the pointer finger. Fucking Cash.
He struggled out of his boyfriend's grip. Well, he didn't really struggle out; he just sort of turned around so that he could actually look Cash in the face. "What the hell are you doing, you douche bag?" he asked, eyebrow raised.
Cash just grinned at him. "I'm going to make out with you," he stated proudly and then leaned forward.
Singer pulled away, trying to evade Cash's questing lips. "Cash, you do realize we're in the van, right? Like, the van that we all tour in, the van that everyone sleeps in? The van that has fucking rules that include the fact that we aren't allowed to have sex in it? Ian and Marshall aren't allowed to either. We can't. We just... the van is sacred okay? We can't ruin its sacredness by covering it in jizz." Singer felt very strongly about the rules of the van. He wasn't sure he totally understood the 'no eating twizzlers in the front seat' rule, but he would follow it until the day he died (or until they actually got a tour bus). He shook his head firmly. "No sex in the van."
Cash pouted and it was almost enough to make Singer rethink his decision. Cash had these super pouty lips that just made Singer’s heart melt. He always seemed to be able to charm Singer out of the last bite of a chocolate bar or the last sip of a can of coke. It was truly unfair. Singer would stay strong against the assault this time though, he would. There were rules.
"Ian and Marshall totally broke the 'no sex' rule last week, I saw them, it was pretty hot," he said, "and they did it on your sleeping bag."
Singer was so appalled at that statement that he tried to actually struggle out of Cash's grip and hunt those two sleeping bag de-virginizers down but Cash held him firmly. Singer was not a big guy, so obviously Cash won the struggle. "That's..." and then he got an idea, "We are so doing it on Ian's pillow. Come on. He’s fucking protective of that thing. I don’t even think that Marshall is allowed touching it."
Cash grinned and squeezed one of Singer's hips while his other hand brushed beneath the waistband of Singer's tight jeans. "That's what I'm saying," he said. He loosened his grip enough for them to find Ian's pillow, the one with the batman pillow case that he was fiercely protective of, and put it underneath Singer's head. They weren't cruel enough to actually get it dirty (besides, that would make what they did obvious, and they wanted to be able to laugh about it every time Ian used the pillow).
Cash started up right away, lips firm against Singer's. Singer melted into it. It was hard to find time to actually be together when they had to share a van with like, eight other stinky guys and he was totally going to take advantage of this. Singer kissed back, his tongue tracing over Cash's lips and then licking into Cash's mouth. His hips were moving already, pressing up against Cash's and creating more friction. His hands were on Cash's hips, holding them firm to his own body. Cash's hands were soon up his shirt, tracing cool patterns with calloused fingertips. Their mouths were still locked, so instead of trying to get Cash out of his sweaty t-shirt, Singer just went directly to Cash's dollar sign belt buckle.
He could feel his boyfriend grin into the kiss and mutter something about someone being eager and how breaking rules was a huge turn on. Singer wasn't turned on by breaking the Epically Awesome and Supertastic Rules of the Touring Van ((TOURING VAN!)) (Marshall had named them); he was turned on by Cash. He told him so, too, just before undoing his belt, his button, his fly and then slipping his fingers inside of Cash's boxers. Singer grinned into the moan that ensued.
Singer liked that as soon as his fingers brushed over Cash's dick, Cash got all hot and needy. His hands pulled at Singer's skin more, his mouth moved against Singer's a little harder and he moved his hips in the most delightful of ways. It wasn't long until Cash was pulling at Singer's grey wife beater (he wasn't sure if this one used to be white or if it had been grey all along, but...) and pulling it over his head, breaking the kiss for only two seconds. It was a record, Singer actually counted. Once his shirt was off, Singer pressed his chest up against Cash's and kissed him hard. He pulled at Cash's lower lip with his teeth and stroked at Cash's cock a little bit harder.
The bassist rocked down against him, his body solid. Singer always felt like a leaf around Cash because he was so much smaller than him but he didn't mind really, not as long as Cash's body was there to keep him grounded. He slipped his hand out of Cash's jeans though, much to his boyfriend's dismay, and instead lifted at Cash's shirt. "Did you buy more lube?" he asked quietly, breathily.
They'd run out the last stop where they'd gotten to stay in a hotel. Cash just nodded and allowed Singer to pull off his clothing. Before long, both Cash's t-shirt and his jeans, along with his boxers were on the messy floor of their van and Cash was pulling Singer's own jeans down over his skinny legs. "Can't wait for this, Singer," he murmurs, mouth pressed up against Singer's hip. "Who made those fucking rules anyway?"
Singer stopped him for a moment, even though Cash’s lips were hot and wet against Singer's skin. "You did. It was before we started fucking though, and you said you never ever wanted to have to think of Ian and Marshall getting it on. You said that Marshall was way too cute and innocent for you to even consider him ever having sex. It's your fault, you know."
"Hey, Johnson agreed. It's not only my fault," Cash protested.
Singer rolled his eyes. "Shut up and get my pants off. It's been like a week since the last time we've had enough time to actually do this properly." Singer was a little tired of just getting by with quick blowjobs and handjobs in venue washrooms. It was dirty, doing stuff in there.
"Which is definitely the perfect reason to speed up to process, right babe?" Cash said, grinning up at Singer from where he was kneeling at the base of the bench seat. Singer just shot him a glare and thrust his hips up, slightly, to make a point.
"Just come on. I want you, Cash. I want you inside of me," he said it slowly so that he was sure Cash would actually get the point. Sometimes he didn't think that Cash actually understood how much Singer liked having sex with him so Singer plagued him with sarcastic comments to try and get the point across. It wasn't only that Cash was hot, and his best friend and everything. Cash was also very, very good in bed and Singer's body ached for him. If Ian and Marshall had broken the sacred rules, well, he wasn't going to pass this opportunity up.
Finally, Singer's jeans joined the rest of the discarded clothing on the floor of the van and Cash was climbing back up his body, pressing skin together and dragging his lips over Singer's neck. Cash went to his jaw bone and then finally met with Singer's own lips in an explosive kiss. Singer moaned, loudly, because he'd missed the feeling of Cash's bare skin against his. He pressed his hips up against Cash's, hard and ready, craving the friction. Cash was hard too but Singer had known that already because he'd had his hand on Cash's dick. Cash hadn't touched his at all yet though, and it was starting to make Singer a little bit crazy.
He was about to start bitching at Cash again, about taking too long, when he felt Cash slip a finger in. Singer melted back against the seat; this was exactly what he’d been waiting for. Cash always made him feel so full, so sexy. He didn’t feel that way around anyone else, not even the little groupie fan girls, but with Cash… with Cash, Singer felt like he could look like a bag of shit and Cash would still want to fuck him into the wall. Maybe Cash was just a horny guy but Singer thought that it was more than that. He forced himself to relax as he let out a shaky whimper, “God, Cash.”
Cash was staring down at his face; Singer knew this even though his eyes were closed. His breath was hot against Singer’s neck, “Fuck… you look so fucking sexy like this, Singer. God.”
Singer grinned and arched against Cash’s hand, forcing Cash’s finger inside deeper. “I’m even sexier when you’re fucking me,” he said.
Cash made the perfect response to that by slipping another lubed up finger inside. “I know. Since I’m the one that does the fucking, I’ve seen it. I can’t wait to get you like that again,” he smirked.
Singer thrust up against Cash’s hand a few more times, let Cash scissor his fingers inside of him before pausing and letting out a shaky breath. “Kay, I’m ready,” he breathed, “No more stalling, I want this now.”
Cash grinned down at him and for a moment, Singer thought that Cash was going to be even more of a douche bag about this and make it all take even longer. He didn’t though, so Singer took that to mean that Cash really wanted it too. After Singer stated how much he wanted this, Cash pulled his hand away and poured even more lube over his fingers. He leered at Singer as he stroked himself, spreading the slippery liquid over his cock. Once he was all slicked up, he spread Singer’s legs even wider and positioned himself at Singer’s entrance.
Singer tried not to moan at the small amount of pressure that Cash’s cock was presenting. He really did try, that’s not to say that he actually succeeded. His moan rang out into the silence of the van and Singer actually felt a little embarrassed about how slutty he was acting. He didn’t want Cash to know how much he wanted this, how much he craved it. He didn’t want Cash to know that every time they even looked at each other, Singer was thinking about Cash naked and the next time they’d get to be naked together. It was kind of pathetic really. The truth was that Singer was completely and helplessly in love with Cash. He couldn’t even look at Cash while they were onstage because if their eyes met, it could be very embarrassing for them both.
Singer bit his lip as Cash pressed in. He bit down and scrunched his eyes shut. His hands gripped at Cash’s hips, surely leaving bruises to be noticed in the morning. Singer breathed in deeply, steadily, forcing himself to relax as Cash pushed in all the way. When Cash was buried up to the hilt, Singer let out a shaky breath, stopped biting his lips and opened his eyes. Cash was right in front of him, so close that his face looked distorted because Singer couldn’t quite focus on it as a whole. “I love your stupid face,” Singer said.
Cash smiled down at him. For once the smile wasn’t smirking or teasing. For once the smile was loving and appreciative. Singer felt his own lips spread, Cash’s smile being reflected right back at him. Singer shifted his hips underneath Cash’s. Cash thrust into him experimentally and then Singer shifted a little bit further. There. Right there and fuck… Cash was thrusting shallowly but still hitting Singer’s prostate and making him see stars, literally. “Fuck, Cash…”
“I’m trying, babe,” Cash replied with a grin, “I’ve been thinking about this all night…” He pressed in slowly a few more times, until Singer could get used to him again. It had been a while since they’d actually done the whole penetration thing. Singer did have to get used to it again. His muscles burned in a not so pleasant way but Cash was a good lover, he waited patiently, pushing in gently until Singer gave him the go-ahead. Once Singer demanded more, Cash was very willing to comply.
Singer cried out as Cash’s thrusts became more than just experimental shifts of the hips and he started to move inside of Singer properly. “Oh my God! Keep doing that… right there…” Singer reached up, attaching his mouth to Cash’s neck and sucking hard. He didn’t even care that he’d leave a mark. Cash could smirk at the fans the next day when they asked about it. Singer didn’t care what the bassist told them; he just wanted to know that Cash was his.
Cash pulled on his leg, shifting it so that his knee was bent and he could get a better angle. Singer could tell that Cash was starting to get close because his breath was coming out in sharp pants and he was making tiny little noises in the back of his throat. Cash’s eyes were closed, his smirk was gone and all that was left was an unguarded expression of pleasure. This was how Singer liked Cash the best.
Singer moved his hips in time with Cash’s thrusts as he felt Cash getting closer and closer to release. He pushed up, rubbing his own dick against Cash’s stomach. He needed the friction, he needed to get off. He needed Cash’s hand on him and he needed it all now. “Cash…”
Cash slipped a slick hand between them, gripping at Singer and began pumping him. Singer searched for Cash’s mouth with his own and kissed him deep and dirty when their lips connected. He could feel the sweat on his hairline, on his chest. He knew they’d both need a shower after this but he also had no idea when the next time they’d get one would be. He tried to ignore the part of himself that liked being clean and just focussed on how full he felt, how Cash’s dick had some sort of homing device on his prostate, how incredibly fucking close he was to just shooting his load between their bodies.
Cash had long since lost any rhythm, hips moving without any beat or pattern. His hand that was gripping Singer slipped over the skin sloppily but Singer didn’t even care. He was so close that he thought pretty much anything would bring him over the edge at this point. He was right. Cash brought his mouth down and bit at the juncture between Singer’s neck and shoulder and Singer toppled over the edge, coming all over Cash’s hand and their stomachs.
Cash groaned a deeper sound than Singer’s cry of Cash’s name and let go of Singer’s cock to grip his hips instead. Singer kept thrusting up to meet Cash’s hips and soon, Cash was biting down on his shoulder (again) hard and coming inside of Singer’s body.
Singer was shaking after his orgasm; all the muscles in his body were clenching, and then relaxing then clenching again. He held Cash close against his body as he rode out the aftershocks. Cash dragged his lips over Singer’s shoulder, his neck, and then pressed their lips together. “Singer… Singer, oh God…” he breathed into Singer’s flushed skin.
“Cash…” Singer exhaled the word, his breath hot against Cash’s temple. “We need a fucking bus… with bunks so we can do this every night.”
Cash was about to make a response when the van door slid open and they both looked up, eyes wide. Ian was just about to climb into the vehicle when he noticed that Singer and Cash were in there, naked, and that the whole thing smelled like sex. He looked at them both and then noticed something even more important, “Fuck! Is that my batman pillow!? You fucking assholes!”
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Singer/Cash (implied Marshall/Ian)
POV: Third
Summary: Singer knows that He and Cash should not be having sex in the van. He knows this, there are rules.
Disclaimer: Don’t own, just love. The Cab owns themselves. Someone that is not me owns the van and Ian owns the fictional batman pillow-case.
Author Notes: This fic started on MSN.
lampshadesrrad was feeling sad and she has mad love for Singer so I wrote her MSN fic. Here it is, all nice and edited for you guys. This is also my first cabfic ever, so I hope you like it. Singer was just standing there, outside the dark venue when he felt himself being pulled from behind. He'd been listening to Panic on his ipod, so he hadn't even heard the van door open. Suddenly, he was sprawled across one of the bench seats and pressed up against a body that was far more solid than his own. He glanced down to the hands around his waist, preventing him from getting back up and saw the one and only thing that would give who the culprit was away. There was a green dollar sign tattoo between the thumb and the pointer finger. Fucking Cash.
He struggled out of his boyfriend's grip. Well, he didn't really struggle out; he just sort of turned around so that he could actually look Cash in the face. "What the hell are you doing, you douche bag?" he asked, eyebrow raised.
Cash just grinned at him. "I'm going to make out with you," he stated proudly and then leaned forward.
Singer pulled away, trying to evade Cash's questing lips. "Cash, you do realize we're in the van, right? Like, the van that we all tour in, the van that everyone sleeps in? The van that has fucking rules that include the fact that we aren't allowed to have sex in it? Ian and Marshall aren't allowed to either. We can't. We just... the van is sacred okay? We can't ruin its sacredness by covering it in jizz." Singer felt very strongly about the rules of the van. He wasn't sure he totally understood the 'no eating twizzlers in the front seat' rule, but he would follow it until the day he died (or until they actually got a tour bus). He shook his head firmly. "No sex in the van."
Cash pouted and it was almost enough to make Singer rethink his decision. Cash had these super pouty lips that just made Singer’s heart melt. He always seemed to be able to charm Singer out of the last bite of a chocolate bar or the last sip of a can of coke. It was truly unfair. Singer would stay strong against the assault this time though, he would. There were rules.
"Ian and Marshall totally broke the 'no sex' rule last week, I saw them, it was pretty hot," he said, "and they did it on your sleeping bag."
Singer was so appalled at that statement that he tried to actually struggle out of Cash's grip and hunt those two sleeping bag de-virginizers down but Cash held him firmly. Singer was not a big guy, so obviously Cash won the struggle. "That's..." and then he got an idea, "We are so doing it on Ian's pillow. Come on. He’s fucking protective of that thing. I don’t even think that Marshall is allowed touching it."
Cash grinned and squeezed one of Singer's hips while his other hand brushed beneath the waistband of Singer's tight jeans. "That's what I'm saying," he said. He loosened his grip enough for them to find Ian's pillow, the one with the batman pillow case that he was fiercely protective of, and put it underneath Singer's head. They weren't cruel enough to actually get it dirty (besides, that would make what they did obvious, and they wanted to be able to laugh about it every time Ian used the pillow).
Cash started up right away, lips firm against Singer's. Singer melted into it. It was hard to find time to actually be together when they had to share a van with like, eight other stinky guys and he was totally going to take advantage of this. Singer kissed back, his tongue tracing over Cash's lips and then licking into Cash's mouth. His hips were moving already, pressing up against Cash's and creating more friction. His hands were on Cash's hips, holding them firm to his own body. Cash's hands were soon up his shirt, tracing cool patterns with calloused fingertips. Their mouths were still locked, so instead of trying to get Cash out of his sweaty t-shirt, Singer just went directly to Cash's dollar sign belt buckle.
He could feel his boyfriend grin into the kiss and mutter something about someone being eager and how breaking rules was a huge turn on. Singer wasn't turned on by breaking the Epically Awesome and Supertastic Rules of the Touring Van ((TOURING VAN!)) (Marshall had named them); he was turned on by Cash. He told him so, too, just before undoing his belt, his button, his fly and then slipping his fingers inside of Cash's boxers. Singer grinned into the moan that ensued.
Singer liked that as soon as his fingers brushed over Cash's dick, Cash got all hot and needy. His hands pulled at Singer's skin more, his mouth moved against Singer's a little harder and he moved his hips in the most delightful of ways. It wasn't long until Cash was pulling at Singer's grey wife beater (he wasn't sure if this one used to be white or if it had been grey all along, but...) and pulling it over his head, breaking the kiss for only two seconds. It was a record, Singer actually counted. Once his shirt was off, Singer pressed his chest up against Cash's and kissed him hard. He pulled at Cash's lower lip with his teeth and stroked at Cash's cock a little bit harder.
The bassist rocked down against him, his body solid. Singer always felt like a leaf around Cash because he was so much smaller than him but he didn't mind really, not as long as Cash's body was there to keep him grounded. He slipped his hand out of Cash's jeans though, much to his boyfriend's dismay, and instead lifted at Cash's shirt. "Did you buy more lube?" he asked quietly, breathily.
They'd run out the last stop where they'd gotten to stay in a hotel. Cash just nodded and allowed Singer to pull off his clothing. Before long, both Cash's t-shirt and his jeans, along with his boxers were on the messy floor of their van and Cash was pulling Singer's own jeans down over his skinny legs. "Can't wait for this, Singer," he murmurs, mouth pressed up against Singer's hip. "Who made those fucking rules anyway?"
Singer stopped him for a moment, even though Cash’s lips were hot and wet against Singer's skin. "You did. It was before we started fucking though, and you said you never ever wanted to have to think of Ian and Marshall getting it on. You said that Marshall was way too cute and innocent for you to even consider him ever having sex. It's your fault, you know."
"Hey, Johnson agreed. It's not only my fault," Cash protested.
Singer rolled his eyes. "Shut up and get my pants off. It's been like a week since the last time we've had enough time to actually do this properly." Singer was a little tired of just getting by with quick blowjobs and handjobs in venue washrooms. It was dirty, doing stuff in there.
"Which is definitely the perfect reason to speed up to process, right babe?" Cash said, grinning up at Singer from where he was kneeling at the base of the bench seat. Singer just shot him a glare and thrust his hips up, slightly, to make a point.
"Just come on. I want you, Cash. I want you inside of me," he said it slowly so that he was sure Cash would actually get the point. Sometimes he didn't think that Cash actually understood how much Singer liked having sex with him so Singer plagued him with sarcastic comments to try and get the point across. It wasn't only that Cash was hot, and his best friend and everything. Cash was also very, very good in bed and Singer's body ached for him. If Ian and Marshall had broken the sacred rules, well, he wasn't going to pass this opportunity up.
Finally, Singer's jeans joined the rest of the discarded clothing on the floor of the van and Cash was climbing back up his body, pressing skin together and dragging his lips over Singer's neck. Cash went to his jaw bone and then finally met with Singer's own lips in an explosive kiss. Singer moaned, loudly, because he'd missed the feeling of Cash's bare skin against his. He pressed his hips up against Cash's, hard and ready, craving the friction. Cash was hard too but Singer had known that already because he'd had his hand on Cash's dick. Cash hadn't touched his at all yet though, and it was starting to make Singer a little bit crazy.
He was about to start bitching at Cash again, about taking too long, when he felt Cash slip a finger in. Singer melted back against the seat; this was exactly what he’d been waiting for. Cash always made him feel so full, so sexy. He didn’t feel that way around anyone else, not even the little groupie fan girls, but with Cash… with Cash, Singer felt like he could look like a bag of shit and Cash would still want to fuck him into the wall. Maybe Cash was just a horny guy but Singer thought that it was more than that. He forced himself to relax as he let out a shaky whimper, “God, Cash.”
Cash was staring down at his face; Singer knew this even though his eyes were closed. His breath was hot against Singer’s neck, “Fuck… you look so fucking sexy like this, Singer. God.”
Singer grinned and arched against Cash’s hand, forcing Cash’s finger inside deeper. “I’m even sexier when you’re fucking me,” he said.
Cash made the perfect response to that by slipping another lubed up finger inside. “I know. Since I’m the one that does the fucking, I’ve seen it. I can’t wait to get you like that again,” he smirked.
Singer thrust up against Cash’s hand a few more times, let Cash scissor his fingers inside of him before pausing and letting out a shaky breath. “Kay, I’m ready,” he breathed, “No more stalling, I want this now.”
Cash grinned down at him and for a moment, Singer thought that Cash was going to be even more of a douche bag about this and make it all take even longer. He didn’t though, so Singer took that to mean that Cash really wanted it too. After Singer stated how much he wanted this, Cash pulled his hand away and poured even more lube over his fingers. He leered at Singer as he stroked himself, spreading the slippery liquid over his cock. Once he was all slicked up, he spread Singer’s legs even wider and positioned himself at Singer’s entrance.
Singer tried not to moan at the small amount of pressure that Cash’s cock was presenting. He really did try, that’s not to say that he actually succeeded. His moan rang out into the silence of the van and Singer actually felt a little embarrassed about how slutty he was acting. He didn’t want Cash to know how much he wanted this, how much he craved it. He didn’t want Cash to know that every time they even looked at each other, Singer was thinking about Cash naked and the next time they’d get to be naked together. It was kind of pathetic really. The truth was that Singer was completely and helplessly in love with Cash. He couldn’t even look at Cash while they were onstage because if their eyes met, it could be very embarrassing for them both.
Singer bit his lip as Cash pressed in. He bit down and scrunched his eyes shut. His hands gripped at Cash’s hips, surely leaving bruises to be noticed in the morning. Singer breathed in deeply, steadily, forcing himself to relax as Cash pushed in all the way. When Cash was buried up to the hilt, Singer let out a shaky breath, stopped biting his lips and opened his eyes. Cash was right in front of him, so close that his face looked distorted because Singer couldn’t quite focus on it as a whole. “I love your stupid face,” Singer said.
Cash smiled down at him. For once the smile wasn’t smirking or teasing. For once the smile was loving and appreciative. Singer felt his own lips spread, Cash’s smile being reflected right back at him. Singer shifted his hips underneath Cash’s. Cash thrust into him experimentally and then Singer shifted a little bit further. There. Right there and fuck… Cash was thrusting shallowly but still hitting Singer’s prostate and making him see stars, literally. “Fuck, Cash…”
“I’m trying, babe,” Cash replied with a grin, “I’ve been thinking about this all night…” He pressed in slowly a few more times, until Singer could get used to him again. It had been a while since they’d actually done the whole penetration thing. Singer did have to get used to it again. His muscles burned in a not so pleasant way but Cash was a good lover, he waited patiently, pushing in gently until Singer gave him the go-ahead. Once Singer demanded more, Cash was very willing to comply.
Singer cried out as Cash’s thrusts became more than just experimental shifts of the hips and he started to move inside of Singer properly. “Oh my God! Keep doing that… right there…” Singer reached up, attaching his mouth to Cash’s neck and sucking hard. He didn’t even care that he’d leave a mark. Cash could smirk at the fans the next day when they asked about it. Singer didn’t care what the bassist told them; he just wanted to know that Cash was his.
Cash pulled on his leg, shifting it so that his knee was bent and he could get a better angle. Singer could tell that Cash was starting to get close because his breath was coming out in sharp pants and he was making tiny little noises in the back of his throat. Cash’s eyes were closed, his smirk was gone and all that was left was an unguarded expression of pleasure. This was how Singer liked Cash the best.
Singer moved his hips in time with Cash’s thrusts as he felt Cash getting closer and closer to release. He pushed up, rubbing his own dick against Cash’s stomach. He needed the friction, he needed to get off. He needed Cash’s hand on him and he needed it all now. “Cash…”
Cash slipped a slick hand between them, gripping at Singer and began pumping him. Singer searched for Cash’s mouth with his own and kissed him deep and dirty when their lips connected. He could feel the sweat on his hairline, on his chest. He knew they’d both need a shower after this but he also had no idea when the next time they’d get one would be. He tried to ignore the part of himself that liked being clean and just focussed on how full he felt, how Cash’s dick had some sort of homing device on his prostate, how incredibly fucking close he was to just shooting his load between their bodies.
Cash had long since lost any rhythm, hips moving without any beat or pattern. His hand that was gripping Singer slipped over the skin sloppily but Singer didn’t even care. He was so close that he thought pretty much anything would bring him over the edge at this point. He was right. Cash brought his mouth down and bit at the juncture between Singer’s neck and shoulder and Singer toppled over the edge, coming all over Cash’s hand and their stomachs.
Cash groaned a deeper sound than Singer’s cry of Cash’s name and let go of Singer’s cock to grip his hips instead. Singer kept thrusting up to meet Cash’s hips and soon, Cash was biting down on his shoulder (again) hard and coming inside of Singer’s body.
Singer was shaking after his orgasm; all the muscles in his body were clenching, and then relaxing then clenching again. He held Cash close against his body as he rode out the aftershocks. Cash dragged his lips over Singer’s shoulder, his neck, and then pressed their lips together. “Singer… Singer, oh God…” he breathed into Singer’s flushed skin.
“Cash…” Singer exhaled the word, his breath hot against Cash’s temple. “We need a fucking bus… with bunks so we can do this every night.”
Cash was about to make a response when the van door slid open and they both looked up, eyes wide. Ian was just about to climb into the vehicle when he noticed that Singer and Cash were in there, naked, and that the whole thing smelled like sex. He looked at them both and then noticed something even more important, “Fuck! Is that my batman pillow!? You fucking assholes!”