A/N: Shelby asks for Marshaine make-out sessions, she gets a Marshaine make-out session.
Rating: R
Warning: Sexual content.
Word Count: 900+
Word Prompt: Promise
Characters: Blaine Anderson/Marshall Gregson.
In hindsight, Blaine should've seen this coming.
Marshall has told him time and time again how busy the Gregson house can get, what with his mother's alters coming and going whenever they please, with Kate dropping in every other day and Charmaine right next door with her daughter and husband.
It's busy, ridiculously so, more than Blaine could've imagined.
One day, Alice bakes enough food to fill the dining room table and most of the kitchen counter with treats, making Blaine try each and every one until his stomach's bloated and his jaw hurts.
The next, Buck practically kidnaps him for guy time, a day of drinking and far too much heterosexual porn for Blaine to handle sober.
Chicken's there the next day, then T, then Shoshana, and they all find ways of tearing Blaine away from his boyfriend. It's not that he doesn't want to get to know Marshall's family, and it's not that he's weirded out by his mother's DID or anything, but he just really misses Marshall.
He misses the little things, like seeing his smile all day long and watching the corners of his eyes crinkle when he laughs, like the way his hands fit perfectly in Blaine's and how cute he looks when he wears one of Blaine's sweater vests.
And he misses the more prominent things, too, like the soft pressure of Marshall's lips on his and how his hands feel when they run over his abs, like the breathless laughs that always slip out when he strips for Blaine and the sounds he makes as Blaine gets him to fall apart under his touch.
He wants Marshall, wants him so bad that not being able to have him is killing him, and he realises now that he's been taking the many heated nights in their dorm room for granted, the privacy and the capability of being alone.
But by the time Tara's alters let him go at the end of the day, he's exhausted, drained mentally and emotionally from the effort of pleasing them, that he can barely even kiss Marshall goodnight before he falls asleep.
And as much as he loves Marshall's family, he's sick of it.
Which is why, a week into the visit, he resorts to lying about a migraine just to sneak back into the house and pull Marshall into the bathroom. He all but shoves him against the door, flicking the lock as an afterthought as he rushes forward to kiss him hard.
"Blaine, wha-"
"Miss you so much," Blaine whines between kisses, cupping the back of Marshall's neck and threading his fingers into his hair. "Want you so bad, Marsh, s'been too long, can't wait-"
He sounds desperate and ridiculous and more than a little pathetic but he can't bring himself to care, not when Marshall's returning the sentiments and kissing him back, fisting his hands in Blaine's cardigan to pull him close.
It's everything he's been missing and so much more, hotter and rougher in their desperation to get back what's been stolen from them.
Marshall pulls away just enough to nip at Blaine's lower lip, pulling it into his mouth and dragging his teeth over the skin, making Blaine whimper and tug on his hair, kissing him hard on the mouth once more as soon as Marshall lets his lip go.
It's a game of give and take, push and pull, but neither of them can be sure who's doing the giving and the taking, the pushing and the pulling, because they're both so goddamn desperate for more that they're both doing whatever they can to get it.
Bowties come undone and shirts become untucked, belts unbuckled and buttons tugged open, layers shed as they kiss and groan and suck and bite.
Marshall curls his hands into the back of Blaine's undershirt, pulling him close only to guide him backwards, away from the door, pressing him into the bathroom counter and slotting their hips together. Blaine hooks a leg around Marshall's waist almost instantly, chanting please please please Marshall please against his lips as he tries to pull him closer.
Everything's burning hot and overwhelmingly intense, the boys all but gasping into each other's mouths as they grind and tug and kiss hard enough to bruise.
It ends before it can really begin, with a sharp knock on the door and a bitchy comment from T, that grub's up so you homos had better stop fucking like rabbits before Max's barbecue skills go to waste, and Marshall tells her to fuck off as he buries his head in Blaine's neck.
They're both breathing hard, heaving chests pressed flush together, not ready to let go even though they both know that they don't really have a choice, and they take a few minutes to collect themselves before stepping away.
They kiss as they pull their clothes back on, soothing pecks and lingering presses of mouth on mouth, helping each other look more presentable and less like horny teenage boys between each kiss.
Once they're dressed and as presentable as can be under the circumstances, Marshall cups the back of Blaine's neck with both hands and pulls him in, pressing their foreheads together. He kisses him one, two, three times before sighing and looking him in the eye.
"Tonight," he promises, and Blaine almost groans in anticipation as Marshall presses one last kiss to his lips before pulling back to unlock the door.
"Tonight," Blaine echoes, mostly to himself as he glances in the mirror one last time.
Tonight.
FIN.
Feedback is appreciated.