Love Is Ǝvil

1 This Type of Static

He shut the car door. Room 101, oddly fitting. All of this was rather new to him. Not that he hadn't had many one-night stands before, he was a pro at them. It also wasn't the first time - well, not the very first time at least - he had this kind of one-night stand, just ... He didn't feel comfortable doing this. It felt wrong to drive to a motel like this, to sneak in one of the rooms and ... to do it with another man.

A shiver ran down his spine.

Come on, Marshall, he told himself, don't get coy now.

In the window of 101 was light already. The guy was early. Or was he late? Didn't matter, it's not like he owed that guy anything.

Marshall's hand shook slightly, when he put it on the door handle. He murmured a curse under his breath. He clenched his fist a couple of times, to make the shaking go away. Maybe it worked? He opened the door.

The room was half lit and seemed clean enough on the first look. The bed was still made. And the guy stood next to it, already opening the buttons of his dress shirt. Dress shirt? Marshall blinked. Why was this guy wearing a suit? This was a seedy motel and they were about to engage in some fast, meaningless sex. Probably not even good sex, if Marshall's experience was anything to go by. And since all he did was one-night stands, that was a pretty safe bet.

Marshall shrugged mentally. "Hey man", he said and took off his jacket.

"Hm", was the answer.

Not one for talking, eh? Probably for the best. Marshall didn't like people, who were noisy during sex. The wrong kind of noisy. They usually ended up saying something wrong anyway. When he did this kind of meet up, he didn't really want to be recognized. And he really didn't want to be asked for an autograph, while his dick was inside another man's ass. Some people had no manners.

He took his shirt off, too, and started on his belt. The other guy was already down to his panties and Marshall couldn't help but look. Of course he had to, that was his sole reason for being here.

The guy was small, even slightly smaller than Marshall, which was surprising. Usually he was the smallest in a room. Now with his suit off, he didn't look like a stuffy business person at all. The guy had broad shoulders and compact muscles. A couple of scars, a huge one across his hip. He obviously got into trouble quite often. The hands were also big for a guy his size. Marshall anticipated a strong grip, another shiver ran down his spine.

Marshall, you're way too into this. Get a grip on yourself, man.

He didn't care if people were gay or lesbian or trans or whatever. People could be who they wanted and people could have sex with whoever they wanted. But himself? There was strong resistance inside him. Understandably, he had a lot to lose if it ever came out. Every time he went out to a one-night stand like this, he raised the odds of it getting out. People loved gossip.

He intentionally ignored, that he always had this resistance. Even back in the day, when he hadn't had anything to lose and even his life had seemed worthless. Still, he had been fighting these ... urges. Just biological urges.

His eyes were still on the other man, the pale skin glowing in the half lit darkness. Muscles twitched invitingly and a tattoo smiled back from the shoulder blades. Marshall liked tattoos. The man's back was lean and his hips almost seemed fragile. A weird contrast to the well trained biceps. A feeling of familiarity welled up inside Marshall.

That ass was tight. He bit his lip. He would love to bite into those cheeks - and luckily, he would in just a couple of minutes.

He opened his belt fast, lost his pants. This wasn't a moment for patience. Just raw, sweaty sex, certainly fast and then he was out of here.