A/N: M+M heavy chapter. SNS.
October 2010
The Connelly Brothers were to begin recording their second studio album in a couple weeks' time and had to go through the whole album art process again, which meant photographs that were mostly awkward and unnecessary. While they had gained popularity since their first album, they weren't exactly a force to be reckoned with, at least not in their eyes. They didn't think anyone would care if there were photographs of them or not. But their record label did not agree.
"I have great news," exclaimed Aaron York as the band arrived at the warehouse, various family members in tow.
"We're throwin' the whole idea of a photoshoot out the window?" suggested Brian.
"And let people miss out on those beautiful mugs? Absolutely not. No, your online presence is huge right now. People are sharing pictures and videos of your performances on their own social media pages, you have thousands of followers on all platforms, specifically from mainland Europe and South-East Asia for some reason, and I have a friend who wants to use one of your songs in their film. It's a small indie piece, but there's a lot of buzz around it and could mean further growth of your fanbase, which equates to more sales. We're going to send them lyrics for your new music and early demos of whatever songs they're interested in. Louis, you've got them on you?"
"Hang on," Marshall cut in. "We don't even know anythin' about the film. What makes you think we'll hand it all over without knowin' what it's about?"
Aaron sighed. Marshall was always the one to argue even the most minute thing. "Well, Marshall, the final decision rests with me regardless, but I'll send you some plot points she gave me at the end of the day. The other thing," he continued before Marshall could say anything else, "is that because of your following overseas, I'm wondering what you'd say to an eight-month tour in Europe and Asia with some other bands on the label."
"Eight months?" Louis repeated, glancing at Lyla who was sitting to the side with the other family members. Whatever she thought, he couldn't read her expression.
"Yes," Aaron confirmed. "You and a couple of our other popular bands would travel all around, not as openers, but as shared headliners. Places with a smaller following will use smaller venues, but that will only be for a select few places. There are some festivals we'll get you in on as well. Sell your merch, grow your following, and, best of all, get paid."
"Most of us'd have to leave our day jobs, so how much are you talkin'?" asked Steve.
"Details still need to be ironed out, but as an act, including the other bands, you'd take home eighty percent of ticket sales – not sure if it will be two or three bands including you yet – and a ninety percent of any merch sales, the rest going to the venue. At least, that's what I'll be offering them."
"What are the projected profits?" asked Marshall, the self-promoted manager.
"I can't get solid numbers to you yet. I just got out of the meeting where we discussed this, so we still have to do some number-crunching. But I think it'll make it worth your while. Besides that, the label will cover costs of travel within the tour time – to each new country and venue. Any additional travel on your off days will be out of your own pocket. I'll give you time to think about it but saying no would be a mistake. I'm going to leave you in the photographer's hands and I'll get numbers to you by the end of the week."
Aaron bid the band goodbye and made his way out of the warehouse. As the photographer began discussing his plan with the band, Maya left Mateo with Lyla and determinedly followed after Aaron York. She liked flirting shamelessly with him, though he was either oblivious, uninterested, or good at keeping things professional. He wasn't even someone she'd usually go for. But he made good money and it had been awhile since she'd gone out with someone who had the means of taking her to nice places.
"Aaron!" she called out as he opened the door to leave.
"What, Maya?" he groaned, knowing who it was without looking.
Maya laughed, "are you really that uninterested?"
"I don't make it a point of doing anything with my clients' wives."
"Me and Marshall aren't married and we both see different people. There's nothing to worry about with us."
"Fine, then I don't make it a point of doing anything with women like you."
Maya crossed her arms, "what is that supposed to mean?"
"You're a girl who everyone's had a turn on. I don't need the risk."
"Fuck you."
"Not for all the money in the world," Aaron retorted before promptly opening the door and exiting.
"Prick," she muttered, resisting the urge to scream obscenities after him. Instead, she returned to the main area of the warehouse where the band was awkwardly posing with their instruments, pretending to play and creating promotional materials for their upcoming album.
"Mama!" Mateo shrieked, running from Lyla's grasp towards his mother.
"Shh, mijo!" Maya whispered loudly, picking her son up and resting him on her hip. She watched the spectacle for a moment and laughed, "why don't they actually play something?" she said to Lyla. "They look ridiculous."
Lyla shook her head, "I don't know."
Maya took the opportunity to shout her suggestion across the room. Lyla wondered how Mateo could possibly follow his mother's request for quiet when both of his parents were capable of so much volume.
"Oi! Keep it down over there!" Marshall shouted back.
But the photographer evidently liked the idea and instructed the band to play different songs until he got what he wanted. Then he sent all but Brian for a brief break so that he could do individual shoots.
"Any luck?" Marshall asked, taking his place beside Maya and Mateo.
"No," Maya replied miserably. "He's got a stick so far up his—"
"I could've told you that," Marshall interrupted. Mateo was beginning to copy everything that came out of their mouths so they now tried to limit the vulgarities they threw about. "What about that one over there?" He pointed at one of the photographer's assistants.
The assistant was handsome and definitely Maya's type. She shrugged, "I haven't had any in so long though, I'll take anything at this point. Do you think he'd be willing?"
"For you? Of course."
"Hold your child," she said, passing Mateo to his father. "I'm going to see what I can get."
Marshall and Mateo joined the others sitting off to the side.
"What's Maya doin'?" asked Louis, Ben reaching out to his cousin. Louis and Marshall set them down so they could do whatever toddlers do together.
"Makin' friends," said Marshall. "She tried to… make friends with Aaron and he rejected her. Now she's on a mission."
Everyone seemed to watch Maya as she walked over towards the blonde assistant, interested in seeing her methods, but her body seemed to tense upon hearing something and she instead stood statue-still, fists clenched.
"Uh oh," Marshall murmured, standing.
"What?" Louis asked.
"Just keep an eye on Mateo, yeah?" he said, walking determinedly towards Maya, then began jogging over to her as she began screaming insults at the assistants.
"You're the fucking talentless ones, you prick," Maya shouted loud enough for everyone to hear. "You're a fucking photographer's assistant. You don't even have enough talent to take your own pictures. Fucking Facebook photographers have more talent than you."
The blonde assistant said something inaudible and Maya flew at him, any boxing training replaced by slaps and scratches. It didn't last too long though; Marshall wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back as she continued shouting expletives.
"My!" Marshall boomed as Maya struggled. She took a deep breath and stood fuming. Marshall didn't let go.
"Get that fucking spic whore out of here," the blonde assistant spat, a scratch on his neck.
"You watch your fuckin' mouth," Marshall retorted, feeling the urge to attack the man as well.
"Marshall!" Louis called. "Let it go."
Marshall pushed and dragged Maya until she walked with him of her own accord. They left through one of the warehouse doors into the sun, the crisp autumn air negating the sun's power.
"You need to fuckin' calm down," Marshall demanded once they were away from everyone else.
"If you heard the shit they were saying…" she began before her voice cracked and her eyes began to fill with tears. "They were such assholes."
"What'd they say?"
Maya shrugged, "it doesn't matter. They were talking shit about you and the band and our family and I just lost it. Who the fuck do they think they are? Like… you're paying them and they're just freely saying shit?"
"My," Marshall said, sitting next to her on a concrete ledge. "Don't do stupid shit for my sake. Or anyone else's. Those guys are pricks. Just leave it at that."
She didn't say anything for a moment.
Marshall draped his jacket over her shivering frame, "what do you want to do?"
"I'm going home. If I see that guy again, I'm going to lose my mind. Can you bring me my stuff? And Mateo."
Marshall nodded and returned to the warehouse where another shouting match had broken out. Lyla and Emily were off to the side with August and the toddlers while the band was evidently arguing with the photographer and his assistants. "What happened?" he asked Lyla, taking Mateo from her lap.
Lyla rolled her eyes, clearly done with the whole situation, "just a bunch of slurs and insults being thrown around. Nothing's getting resolved."
Marshall slung Maya's purse onto his arm and grabbed her jacket before making his way over to the ensuing chaos. "Right," he bellowed in his disciplinarian voice, "we're all goin' to leave now." He pointed to the photographer, "you can explain the situation to Aaron because we're done with it."
"If your whore of a girl would've just kept-"
"Shut your mouth before I break your jaw," Marshall threatened. "Your fu—your men need to keep—no." He shook his head. There was a lot that Marshall wanted to say and do, but he had Mateo in his arms soaking it all in. "I'm goin' home. I'll talk to Aaron tomorrow." He didn't say another word or listen to what anyone else had to say. Instead, he walked to where Maya was waiting so that the three of them could go home.
Maya sat on the floor with several plastic laundry bags of clothes that had been sitting since the night before after the weekly trip to the laundromat that had turned into a biweekly trip with the busy schedules of the household's adults. Surrounding her was a circle of clothes in various piles belonging to either herself, Marshall, or Mateo. It was an intricate system organized by clothing type and frequency of use. Then there was a pile of mismatched socks that would be left to Marshall because Maya lacked the patience.
"Pizza tonight?" Marshall asked, carrying a toweled Mateo to the living room couch.
"Yeah," Maya agreed. "I'm leaving the socks for you."
"Course you are. I'll put the order in after we get Matty to bed."
"No bed!" Mateo shouted, adamantly and suddenly against his parents' plans. "No, no, no!" he screamed, squirming out of his towel and making it exceedingly difficult to diaper him.
"Way to go," Maya joked as Marshall struggled.
"Y'know, you could help instead of makin' fun." He changed his voice's tone and boomed, "Matty, enough," which promptly sent the toddler into tears.
"Why do you always have to make him cry?" Maya demanded, storming towards them.
"If you'd get off your fuckin' ass once in awhile to help, I wouldn't have to."
"We're not supposed to swear in front of Mateo anymore! And I'm doing your laundry!" She leaned over Mateo and kissed him aggressively on the forehead, "goodnight, mijo. See you in the morning," and stormed off to her room, kicking over Marshall's piles of laundry as she went.
"Your mother's fuckin' mad, Matty," Marshall muttered, still struggling to secure his son's diaper.
"No mad!" Mateo screamed in as shrill a voice as he could muster. "No!"
"Right," Marshall boomed, "you keep that up and you're not gettin' a story before bed."
"Yes!" he shrieked. "No bed!" Mateo was completely unaccommodating and Marshall was losing his patience very fast.
With Mateo's diaper secure, Marshall picked up the squirming toddler. "Yes bed, Matty. No story tonight." He placed Mateo in his crib, turned on the underwater nightlight in the darkened room, and closed the door behind him. Mateo's shrill screamed pierced through the wooden door, a full-on tantrum taking hold.
Marshall stormed towards the entrance of Maya's room. "My, I'm goin' to pick up some beer. Text me anythin' else you need. Order the pizza."
When Marshall returned half an hour later, the lights were dimmed, the clothes were off of the floor, and Mateo was quiet. Marshall set the case of beer on the kitchen table along with the grocery bag of snacks requested by Maya.
"Hey," she said as she exited the bathroom. "What movie do you want to watch? Pizza should be here in fifteen."
"I don't know. Comedy?" Marshall opened two beers and handed one to Maya as he took his seat next to her on the sofa. "How many stories'd you read Matty?"
Maya laughed, "two. They were short ones though!"
Marshall rolled his eyes and took a long sip of his beer, watching while Maya browsed for a decent quality film, all frustration and anger from their argument entirely gone. She was fiercely protective of her friends and family, and Marshall admired her for that. Her plans for the evening hadn't panned out at all how she wanted, but she seemed just as happy to stay in. He placed his hand on her thigh, "d'you still have an itch that needs scratchin'?"
Maya looked at him, confusion clear on her face, "what?"
"Are you still horny?" He clarified bluntly.
"Oh. Why don't you just say that then? You Irish are so weird. And yes, if we weren't doing this, I'd be upstairs taking care of business."
Marshall placed his beer on the coffee table, caught Maya's eye, and put a coaster under his beer. "I might be dead from the waist down, but I can still help you out."
"Is that right?" Maya said coyly, placing the remote on the table and sliding down the sofa so that she was on her back. "Show me."
Marshall leaned over her, kissing her neck and running his hands under her shirt before promptly pulling it over her head and kissing the skin beneath. She arched her back slightly so that she could unclasp and remove her bra, and Marshall was immediately working on her breasts, kissing, licking, and biting, before tracing his way down her navel and stopping at her pelvis to remove her leggings and thong. He ran his hands up the length of her golden toned legs, taking in the soft perfection. There was so much that Marshall wanted to do to her, but he had to settle for using only his tongue and fingers. He pulled her further down the couch and began working his tongue expertly as Maya sighed and encouraged him with soft moans.
Maya's one hand grasped Marshall's arm, his hands cradling her hips as he worked, while her other hand ran over her body, unsure of where to rest and unable to do so even if she knew. She draped her legs over Marshall's shoulders and writhed her pelvis beneath his tongue, louder moans and whispers of his name escaping uncontrolled from her lips as the ecstasy built.
He began to work upwards towards her breasts, kissing and licking the contours of her stomach, much to Maya's protest, until he was level with her nipples, sucking and nibbling a moment before plunging his fingers into her with little warning. He received a muted and surprised moan as Maya's hands ran through his hair and over his neck, uncontrolled.
"Shirt," she breathed. "Off."
He paused to remove his shirt before continuing. She liked the feeling of his skin beneath her fingers and enjoyed being able to dig her fingernails into something bare.
Marshall worked his hand roughly, feeling the textures inside of her. Her pulsating body clenched and unclenched around his fingers as he worked his thumb purposefully, causing her body to go rigid before the oncoming eruption. Repetitions of "Marshall" and "fuck" escaped Maya's lips, each time a little louder than the last until she reached her limit and screamed.
He laughed and covered her mouth with his free hand, "shh!" but continued working as she convulsed and writhed without control until a second wave hit her and she was screaming again, this time following it up with a bite of his hand. He withdrew his fingers and ran his hands along her waist until he was holding her and kissing her neck again.
She did the same, sucking on his neck and running her hands over his back, wanting to hold him even closer than he already was. "I love you," she sighed, and her heart stopped. They weren't those kinds of people.
Marshall pulled away from her and stared into her eyes, seeming to loom as he said, "yeah?"
Figuring she was too far in it now, she nodded with as much faux confidence as she could muster.
Marshall kissed her neck once more before saying, "I love you too."
Her heart started again, this time filled with unbridled affection and the unbelievable knowledge that he felt the way she did.
He sat back and ran his hand from her neck to her navel. "How're you feelin' now?"
"Better," she assured him, feeling absolutely relaxed as the shocks wore off. Marshall stood and walked towards the kitchen. Maya glanced over to the coffee table where her phone was blinking with missed messages. "Pizza!" she announced. "He tried calling a few times. Forgot to put the ringer on."
"I got it," he said, drying his hands before lightly jogging to the door and down the stairs to thank the pizza man and tip him generously.
When he returned to the apartment, Maya was nowhere to be seen. He placed the pizza, along with a bunch of other things Maya had ordered, on the kitchen table and got out a couple of plates as Maya exited Mateo's room. "I woke him up," she laughed, her once-discarded shirt now the only thing she was wearing. "Why are you going to dirty plates? Just bring everything to the coffee table. I plan on being a fat ass tonight."
"Forgot we aren't human beings," he joked before returning the plates to the cupboard and bringing as much as he could carry to the coffee table.
With everything eventually set up – the pizza, beer, chicken wings, garlic bread, snacks, soda, and blankets – Maya and Marshall sat down together to watch a bunch of blockbuster comedies with stupid jokes until they fell asleep, bloated and more or less satisfied.
Lyla finished washing up and dabbed her face dry before methodically applying her moisturizer. Then she gave herself a once over in the mirror. She had been off birth control for the past three months, using condoms instead, which is where she wanted to be before she and Louis began trying for their next child. And despite being a bit of a rocky day, arguing about things that shouldn't really concern them, she wanted to surprise Louis (in as stealthy a way as possible, still stuck with Ben in their room). She put on her lingerie from their anniversary, aiming to ignite more than a regular interest in her.
However, when she opened the bathroom door, Louis was snoring softly into the pillow, only halfway undressed.
Lyla smiled and crept over to the crib to check that Ben was sleeping deeply. He rarely woke up so late in the night, which is why the usually left 'alone time' for a later hour, but she wanted to be sure. Satisfied that he'd sleep until morning, she took her bottle of jojoba oil from the bathroom drawer and climbed onto the bed. She straddled her half-naked husband's back before squeezing a little bit of the oil into her palms and methodically rubbing it into his exposed skin.
It took a moment of careful and deliberate massage before she felt him stir beneath her, the muscles in his back contracting as he stretched. He turned his head to the side so that he could catch a glimpse of his wife from the corner of his eye. "What're you doin'?" he asked, voice heavy with sleep.
Lyla flipped her hair over one shoulder so that she could lean over him unhindered and kiss his neck slowly.
"Hmm," he sighed.
She slid her hands up his back to his shoulders. "It's been three months since I stopped taking birth control. I want to start trying."
"Hmm. I don't know if you're aware, my love, but this isn't how you make a kid."
Lyla smiled, "yes, but it feels good, doesn't it?"
"That is does," he chuckled. "But you're goin' to put me back to sleep."
Lyla ran her hands along his sides, causing a sharp intake of breath. "I won't let that happen," she said. She kissed the back of his neck, following his hairline to his ear, which she nibbled gently, continuing the circular motion of her hands on his back and shoulders until he wanted more and shifted beneath her.
Louis turned over so that he could see his wife better. She was wearing the negligee from their anniversary – a piece that he particularly liked – and looked the picture of a goddess. He placed his hands on the sides of her face and pulled her towards him, relishing in the minty taste of her mouth. "You're so beautiful," he whispered before kissing her again. He ran his hands up her back and unclasped her bra. In one swift movement, her cover-up and bra were tossed on the floor. And while Lyla traced his skin with her teeth, he wriggled out of his already-unbuttoned jeans, kicking them off until they joined her clothes on the floor. "Lyla," he whispered, his lips against her skin. "I love you."
She smiled. "I love you." Lyla pushed his hair back and drew him into a kiss backed by her passion for him. She pulled back a moment so that she could guide him inside of her. They both sighed for the sensation no longer muted by the need for a rubber barrier and began moving with one another's rhythm.
Louis arranged the pillows to prop his head up so that he could better reach his wife. As she rode him, his hands gripped her hips, willing her forward with every thrust, while his lips connected with hers as she leaned close over him. The change of position hit something electric in Lyla, resulting in a louder-than-expected moan. She paused but Louis urged her onward, mad with lust and wanting.
"Louis," she gasped as he tormented her with pleasure.
He took charge and switched places so that he was on top and could determinedly send her over the edge. Her hands found their way to Louis' head where she pulled what hair she could clutch between her fingers. Her head was thrown back as Louis delved into her, kissing and sucking and biting at the skin on her neck and chest.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer to her, moaning and sighing and gasping all the while. He groaned in response, feeling the ecstasy build with every movement and every sound. They held on to each other as lifelines, moving rhythmically with one another, thrust after thrust, until they were holding back screams of a pleasure long-awaited.
Louis held his position for a moment before softly kissing Lyla's lips and exposed skin and lying down next to her.
"So much better," Lyla breathed, her hands feeling unsteady as she held them above her.
"Agreed," he said and they both laughed softly. After they calmed themselves, Louis rolled on his side and propped his head up on his hand. "Sorry about earlier."
Lyla shook her head, "I'm sorry. It was a stupid thing to argue about."
"Figure we should keep any arguments to personal problems 'stead of others'."
Lyla chuckled, "I was thinking the same thing." Louis smiled and twisted a strand of Lyla's hair between his fingers. "I love you so much," she whispered after some silence had passed.
Louis responded with an adoring kiss before the two readied themselves for sleep.