indiaalphawhiskey: twopoppies:A little Marcel/Louis WIP for a fic @indiaalphawhiskey is writing. Hav
indiaalphawhiskey:twopoppies:A little Marcel/Louis WIP for a fic @indiaalphawhiskey is writing. Have I mentioned that I love Marcel (and India)? Louis had barely been able to sling a towel around his waist when the knock came.“Who is it?” he called, while his hair dripped steadily onto the floor. The only answer was another frantic rap.Helpful, he thought. He wrestled his still damp thighs into his tangle of boxer shorts, nearly braining himself as he rushed to avoid another—Knockknockknockknockknockknock.“Oh for fuck’s –“ he grumbled, pulling the door open. “What the hell do you –““I need to talk to you!” It rushed out of Marcel, more a series of garbled sounds than a sentence.Louis raised an eyebrow, peering at him curiously. Marcel’s eyes were shut tight, his hands balled into fists at his sides, his shoulders up to his ears, like he was bracing for some invisible impact.“O-kay?” Louis answered, confused.Marcel opened one eye first, and then the other, and Louis had to mask a snort as they went comically round, as if in slow motion.“Oh.” Marcel whispered, his eyes level with Louis’ chest. “Oh –“ he hiccupped. “No.”He suddenly seemed like he was short of breath, and Louis’ mind quickly went to the spare inhaler Marcel always kept in his tote bag. Louis ducked his head, trying to make eye contact in an effort to assess whether Marcel needed medical assistance.“Are you okay?” Louis asked. When no answer came, he barked out sharply, “Marcel.”“We need to fuck.” Marcel’s eyes bugged out of his head in horror, his cheeks flooding with color. He shook his head frantically, and hiccupped again. “Talk!” he corrected desperately. “We need to –“ Hiccup. “Talk!” he corrected vehemently.“Get in here,” Louis said, rolling his eyes as he ushered Marcel through the door impatiently. “Mate,” he sighed, steering a wobbly Marcel to the hotel bed. “Have you been drinking?”Marcel plopped down with a bounce, and grinned dopily up at Louis, pinching the air in front of his face.“Only a very little,” he admitted. “The bottles –““Bottles?” Louis asked, stressing the ‘s’, and crossing his arms over his chest, unimpressed. “Plural?”Marcel nodded his head once.“I was going to stop at two, but the last one looked lonely.” he explained, looking truly distressed. “But it’s okay. They were teeny, teeny-tiny.” he giggled, voice going high. “They made me feel like a dinosaur.”“Oi.” Louis sighed. “And why, may I ask, did you suddenly turn into a boozehound at eight in the evening?”“Because,” Marcel said, face serious. “Because we need to talk.” He puts so much emphasis on the last word that, for a second, Louis worried he’d strained himself.A beat of silence passed, and then two.“About…?” Louis prompted, gesturing for him to get on with it. God, Louis was getting too old for this shit.Marcel stared down at his lap, instantly sobered, and the look on his face made guilt pool low in Louis’ gut.“What you said earlier,” he mumbled. “You were right.” he admitted quietly.And Louis knew, from the light blush that colored the tops of Marcel’s cheeks, exactly what he was referring to. Louis felt himself frown. He thought about taking a step closer, maybe sitting beside Marcel on the bed and slinging a comforting arm around him, but just as he moved, Marcel’s eyes drifted to the cotton of the bed sheet under him, and he picked at it, refusing to look up.“I c-can’t –“ he stammered. He paused, taking the time to clear his throat before starting anew. “The sex scenes I write,” he said, slowly, purposefully, even as he chewed nervously on his lip. “They’re cliché because… because I’ve not had sex a lot.” Another pause. “At all.” he corrected immediately. “I’ve not had sex… at all.”He looked so terribly embarrassed that Louis’ heart broke at the sight, and he scrambled to come up with something to say, all the while feeling like the world’s biggest arsehole.He couldn’t think of anything fast enough, and the admission seemed to hang in the air for a split second, before Marcel’s forced chuckle cut clumsily into the tension.“I’m an award-winning romance novelist… and a virgin.”–For @twopoppies. ILY. -- source link
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