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Marty awoke the same way he had every morning for weeks, lying on his back with one arm stretched out and Shawn's cheek pillowed on his hand. The position was a little awkward, but it was worth it to touch Shawn even a little, to feel like he was there for his partner. Before the last match with Somers and Rose, Marty hadn't realized how much he'd gotten used to sleeping with Shawn. They'd been joined at the hip since Shawn came up to the AWA and they had their habits.
His damn ribs had upset all that. It hurt to lay on his side, so they couldn't spoon. It hurt to have Shawn draped over his chest and it hurt to lean himself up on Shawn's, too. And he'd never worry Shawn with it, but some nights Marty dreamed about him hurt and he woke up feeling like he hadn't slept a wink. Sometimes he felt like if he could just hold him right that wouldn't happen. It might be bullshit, probably was, but damn did he miss being able to sleep cuddled up.
Shawn yawned and Marty felt the flutter of eyelashes against his hand. "Hey."
"Hey." Marty smiled at him. "You sleep okay?"
"Mh-hm." Shawn's eyes strayed to the bulge in his boxers. He climbed carefully astride Marty's hips instead of pouncing. Knowing how hard he was trying not to jar the bed, Marty did his best not to wince. But Shawn knew him too well. "Did I hurt you?"
"Breathing hurts me," said Marty, reaching up to rub Shawn's side, "and I need you just as much." After everything they'd gotten up to over the past year, he could still make Shawn blush.
"You mushball." Shawn leaned forward, very carefully, and pecked him on the lips. "I got an idea." He looked so intently at the bedside table that Marty almost laughed. "Can you reach the lube from there?"
Marty stretched out an arm, gingerly. "Not really."
"Ah, forget it. We don't really need it." He popped two fingers into his mouth. Marty wasn't sure exactly what his plan was, but he wasn't about to complain about the view. Shawn had slept in a threadbare t-shirt and nothing else, and he made quite a picture sitting on Marty's lap and sucking his fingers.
Sitting up on his knees and withdrawing his fingers from his mouth, Shawn reached between his legs to tease his hole. With his other hand, he gently lifted his cock and balls to give Marty a better veiw.
Marty groaned and took his own dick in hand, slipping it out of the slit in his boxers. "God, you look good."
"Don't come yet, I got a plan."
Chuckling, Marty watched Shawn finger himself. "Well, if you've got a plan."
Shawn gave him a little show, moving slowly and carefully. Probably still a little gun-shy about hurting his ribs, Marty guessed. He took a break from tugging his cock to slide his hands onto Shawn's thighs, rubbing up and down, teasing Shawn's inner thighs with his thumbs. Shawn shivered under his hands.
"Tell me if I hurt you." Shawn pulled his fingers out and spat on his palm, slid it over Marty's cock, repeated the process. Marty'd never had a thing for spitting but this was really doing it for him. Something about Shawn getting messy for him, the long wait for the brief contact of Shawn's hand, the chill when his wet dick was standing untouched in the air, all of it together had him biting his lip and trying desperately to keep still.
Finally, once he was wet enough for Shawn's liking, Shawn gripped his cock and positioned him how he needed. Marty moved his hand to Shawn's wrist and gripped convulsively as Shawn sank down. Knees sliding wide apart, Shawn took him balls deep, weight settling on Marty's hips. Shawn was gasping, head thrown back, and Marty stroked his thighs gently.
They'd tried Shawn riding him last week and it had been about as bad as him riding Shawn - better than missionary, but a still rough enough they hadn't tried it a second time. His ribs were doing better now though, and half the problem then had been Shawn getting dizzy. Poor thing really got his bell rung in that match. He gave Shawn's thighs a squeeze. "Alright?"
"Mm-hm." Shawn composed himself enought to grin at him. "You're really gonna like this Marty, I'm sure."
Marty couldn't help but chuckle. God, he was cute. "So show me, baby."
He expected Shawn to move his hips, but he just stayed where he was, knees splayed wide, and brought a hand down to squeeze his own cock, muscles tensing as he touched humself. "Can you feel it inside me?"
Moaning, Marty realized he could. Shawn grabbed his hand and brought it to his cock.
"Touch me, Marty. Use my body to jerk off."
"Jesus, Shawn." He could hear his own breath as he struggled to keep still. He slid his hand down to play with Shawns balls, straining not to buck his hips at every twitch of Shawn's inner muscles. "Where do you get this stuff?"
"Well," drawled Shawn, smiling slyly at him, "I'm in love with this guy who's into some pretty freaky things."
Marty chuckled. "That must be-" and that was where he stopped because the cough caught him. Shawn's eyes widened in alarm and Marty grabbed his hand, squeezing, he hoped, reassuringly. It was sure reassuring him, at least.
It was the long, scary kind of coughing fit where he really started to feel like he was drowning. The more he coughed, the more his ribs hurt, and the harder it was to get air. It was awful, painful, but at the same time he could feel Shawn tense and trembling around his increasingly sensitized cock. It was intense. He felt adrift in stormy weather, with Shawn's hand gripping his a faint lighthouse in the distance.
He didn't puke or come, as likely as either one felt. Eventually, the cough died down and the breaths came more easily. He eased up his grip on Shawn's hand, feeling the blood rush back to his fingers. "I'm okay."
"The doc said we gotta watch out for pneumonia."
Marty didn't sigh for fear of kicking off another roung of coughing. "I know. But I'm okay for now." He slid his hands to Shawn's thighs, grinning ruefully up at him. "Did I ruin the mood?"
Shawn shook his head and smiled. "Not if you still want to."
"I want to."
Gently, he wrapped a hand around Shawn's soft cock. He gave a few long, slow strokes and it didn't take Shawn long to start getting back into it. He loved the feeling of Shawn growing in his hand. "There," he sighed, "that feeling good?"
"Yeah." Shawn bit his lip and Marty felt him shift on his hips. "God, Marty, it's so hard to stay still."
"I know." He tried to stroke Shawn faster, but the motion made his ribs twinge so he slowed down, gripping harder, sliding his thumb over the slit. "Touch yourself, baby, I need a little help here."
With a laugh, Shawn added his hand to Marty's, their fingers brushing together as he rubbed himself. Marty worked the head of his cock with fingers and thumb while Shawn jacked the shaft. Inside him, Marty could feel the hot squeeze of Shawn's muscles and the pounding of his heart. He forced himself to keep his hips still and focus on pleasing Shawn with his hand.
"Oh God, Marty." Shawn was shaking, working his shaft frantically, cock dripping on Marty's fingers. Marty could see his nipples poking through the thin cotton of his t-shirt and he wished he could lean up and suck them.
"Come on," Marty panted, thumb slipping rapidly back and forth over the slit. "Come on, baby."
Shawn whimpered when he came, like he had to keep quiet to hold himself still. It wasn't the first time he'd felt Shawn's orgasm from the inside but now, lying still under him, there was nothing for him to do but take in the sensations. He watched Shawn panting, eyes closed, the right one still a little bruised, and felt his muscles contracting in waves. Marty could feel Shawn's legs trembling and he moved his hands to stroke gently over his ass and thighs.
"Just a little more," he groaned, not sure what he needed but knowing he was close.
Shawn's eyes fluttered open and met his and Marty felt him squeeze his cock, deliberate this time. Breathing hard, Shawn started to work his cock in a slow rhythm squeezing hard, releasing, milking his cock. Seeing a last, weak spurt of come forced out of Shawn's cock when he clamped down tipped Marty over the edge. He gripped Shawn's ass and rocked into him with tiny movements of his hips.
They stayed there until Marty felt himself starting to slip out. Shawn smiled wryly at him. "I guess we can't just stay like this."
"I wish." He patted Shawn's leg. "You gonna be okay getting up?"
"'Course I am."
Marty was a little skeptical, the way he was still shaking, but Shawn managed it. He planted his hands on the bed and pushed up on hands and knees, scooting his knees closer together until they touched Marty's hips. He leaned forward for a kiss. "See?"
"Mm-hm. Gimme another kiss."
Shawn obliged him before sitting up on his knees and climbing off the bed. Then he leaned over and gave him one more. "I'm going to clean up. You want me to grab you clothes?"
"Yeah, thanks." Watching Shawn cross the little hotel room to the bathroom, shirt barely brushing the top of his ass, Marty wolf-whistled. "I hate to see you go, Shawn, but I love to watch you leave."
Laughing, Shawn leaned in the bathroom door and teasingly lifted the hem of his shirt. "You think I oughta go to TV like this?"
"Sounds alright to me, baby. You might wanna put boots on though."
"If barefoot's good enough for Kevin von Erich, it's good enough for me."
Marty rolled his eyes and waved a hand at him. "Go on."
He listened to Shawn taking a piss and washing off, steeling him for the moment he was going to have to roll off the bed. Standing wasn't bad and lying down wasn't bad, but getting in between them was what hurt.
Shawn came back with a washcloth and grabbed some clothes from Marty's bag. "You want a hand up?"
"Yeah, thanks." Shawn set the washcloth on the bed and put out his arm for Marty to grab. Wincing, he pulled himself to a sitting position, scooted to the edge of the bed, and slid off it to his feet. That wasn't half bad, they were getting better at this operation. Now for his goddamn pants.
Washcloth in hand, Shawn knelt by his feet and looked up at him coyly. "Can I?"
"Sure." Marty couldn't help but smile. He laid his hand on Shawn's head, working his fingers into his hair.
Shawn pulled his boxers down, the brush of cloth against Marty's dick making him shiver. The warm, wet touch of the washcloth on him made him moan. Shawn was gentle and thorough in his cleaning, dragging the cloth over his cock and balls. When he was done, he took Marty's soft cock in his mouth, holding it there and looking up at him. His tongue flicked across the oversensitive head.
"Ah, too much," gasped Marty and Shawn pulled back.
"Sorry." Shawn kissed his hip and smiled up at him. "I just can't resist you, Marty."
Marty ruffled his hair. "I wouldn't have it any other way." He waggled his eyebrows. "Maybe I'll be ready for you by the time we get to Waffle House."
"Blowing wrestlers in the Waffle House bathroom," Shawn grumbled, helping Marty into clean boxers and pants while he tried and failed to keep a stright face. "How'd I get to this point, huh, Marty?"
Marty held his hands out and helped him up. "I dunno," he said, pecking Shawn on the cheek. "Just lucky I guess."