"Closing in Closer to You"

Title: “Closing in Closer to You”

Author: xof

Email: xof1013@gmail.com

Fandom: RPS – Superfruit, Pentatonix

Pairing: Scömìche – Mitch Grassi/Scott Hoying

Rating: NC-17

Genre: RPS, Getting Together, Best Friends, Fluff, Happy Ending, Slash, M/M

Summary: It was everything in them made manifest, as Scott held him close and gave him, gave them, the sum of their worth.

Author Notes: First time Scömìche fic writer. Wait, don’t run away – come back! Lol. I have fallen down the Superfruit well this last month, consuming every video and performance. And just to let you know how worth it, it has been… I haven’t written a slash fic in over SEVEN YEARS, until I discovered my muse again in Scömìche. These men make me so damn happy. If you haven’t watched Superfruit on YouTube – you NEED to! If you haven’t heard them sing, OMG – you MUST! They are adorable, amazing and their album “Future Friends” is on repeat every damn day!!!

Betas: So very many thanks to Calysta Rose for the beta. We go back soooooo damn long in fandom. SO so many fandoms…lol. Thank you for the title suggestion from “Cliff’s Edge” by Hayley Kiyoko.

Warning: None

Disclaimer: Scömìche is real, in the sense that Mitch and Scott are the originators of the ship name. When you have such lovely, talented and hot best friends shipping themselves out shamelessly to the masses – who needs a frickin’ DISCLAIMER…lol.

“Closing in Closer to You”

By xof

December 13, 2017

Exhaustion and insomnia. That impasse of what-the-fuck-ville was slamming through both of their systems like a speedball. Add in the jetlag chaser, and both Mitch and Scott were rolling.

Both men were lying on separate beds in their shared room. They’d started the evening falling into individual balls on each bed; too tired to do anything other than kick off their shoes and close their eyes after countless hours traveling. That, the tour schedule and the late 2 am check-in to their hotel with the rest of the group – had them all wiped out.

Despite their best efforts, sleep hadn’t come. Both shifted and turned, shoved off their clothes and dove under the covers, each in their own time. But nothing settled their brains.

The pocket of Morpheus just out of reach.

Mitch was so tired, he’d started humming and muttering softly. Scott smiled at the sound, focusing on the lull of his friend’s voice, even adding a gentle harmony when a tune managed to emerge from the jumble of nonsense.

“Tirrrrrrred.” The word was drawn out, sounding plaintive and small in the air from Mitch’s bed.

“Me, too.” Scott cracked his eyes open as he heard Mitch sitting up. “What time do we have to be up?”

A shadow of Mitch’s form turned his head, and thought about it. “Scotty, there’s no up tomorrow. Or today, fuck. Day off, remember?”

“Wow. What’s that, even?” He laughed, as Mitch shifted to stand slowly, wearily. “What?”

“Fucking brain,” he replied. “Won’t stop. Won’t shut up.”

Blinking Mitch’s way, a sliver of light from the cracked bathroom doorway illuminating his slim frame, Scott murmured, “You okay, Mitchy?” He pulled back the covers, a longstanding invitation, as Mitch moved to join him.

“Yes, no. Maybe.” Was the answer. A bit joking, a bit not. It caused Scott to pull his friend closer; the two of them wrapped up together in the warmth of the blankets and each other. A comfort that was common between them.

Scott chuckled. His hand running down the smooth, bare line of Mitch’s back. “Cold?” Mitch was always cold, but taking off all his clothes except his underwear certainly didn’t help matters. Though the underwear was only a tour concession since they’d asked Esther to let them room together again after not loving the loneliness of being separated during last year’s tour. So undies and shared rooms, rather than home – naked and alone.

“Not cold now,” Mitch whispered. A pause, as he soaked in Scott’s warmth, and he murmured nonsensically, “Furnace.” Then a giggle, breath hot as it burst over Scott’s chest.

Laughing as he hugged Mitch closer and listened to him breathe, Scott thought he’d found the balance his body needed to tip over to the unconscious. But all best-laid plans….

Sleep wasn’t coming. And it was hitting Scott on that level of cold burn, the kind that can make you tremble. The kind that can make your consciousness shift and sway even when you’re being still.

Mitch was there as well, in that headspace, so awake that they began talking, softly. About nothing, about the tour, each other, future plans. Talking led to laughing, laughing led to giddiness. Tears fell in an odd mix of laughter and crying – the both so fucking tired, they were fucked up.

Scott hated the weight of how this much lack of sleep made him feel, but he was loving the moment with Mitch. Giddy, without forethought. Without barriers. Caught up in time, as he absently let his hands rub over Mitch’s skin; a mirror to Mitch’s unconsciously doing the same.

Mitch grumbled when Scott’s nails scratched too lightly over his side. “Tickle me and die, bitch.” He ran his own hands up and threaded his fingers through Scott’s hair, effectively cupping his head from both sides as a warning even as he buried his face against Scott’s neck.

The cold fire inside warmed considerably as Scott nodded. “I’ll stop,” he said softly. Making no move to do it, he just placing his palms more firmly on the curve of Mitch’s hips.

But only for a beat. Before he went all bed-boy-bad and laid in as Mitch jerked and cursed; tickling being an instant switch-flip for the other man from meek to momma-please.

“Bitch!” Mitch grabbed tighter, pulling Scott’s head back with one hand still in his hair and slapping at his fingers with the other. He was laughing, but tense, wire-tight as he pushed against Scott and laid him flat with the weight of his body.

When Scott laughed and didn’t stop, Mitch jerked the man’s head to the side and dove in, teeth fixed and biting, hard without thinking. Without remembering….

Until with Scott’s reaction, he did.

Remember.

A flash of the past and present merging, as Scott froze and then shuddered, arching into the pressure and gasping, “Fuck, fuck, oh fuck.” His body hair-triggered, and hard. So very hard, in an instant.

They’d been so young, so new to everything sexual when they’d first kissed as teens. First made out in Mitch’s room, then first touched each other in a darkened Mustang. It had been more than kissing. Hot hands, grasping, perhaps too hard, or too rushed, but glorying in everything that was them together; teens wanting and wanted, chasing the fire and loving the burn.

It had been the first time Scott put his hand inside Mitch’s jeans, zipper biting the back of his hand. Mitch had turned his face into Scott’s throat, grinding his palm against the bulge in Scott’s jeans as he moaned, “Please.” Scott’s fingers surrounding him. It had been quick, fierce and as the end came, Mitch had lost control, biting down; his teeth sharp and clinging as Scott… fell. Fell apart, coming hot and hard under Mitch’s hand – lost in the monsoon of new, WHAT?!?! and omg, yes.

Biting, they learned, was the quickest button to push to amp up Scott’s libido. In general, it increased his buzz. But in one place especially, it was a pure hair-trigger to instant arousal. Usually not to instant coming, thankfully. But bite him on the neck, just under his right ear. Bite and hold the pressure, and he was gone. His mind a mess of endorphins and need.

It had been one of the happiest and hottest of their Mustang memories. However short they had lasted before things had changed, and life… happened.

They’d transitioned from being in love (or a teenage variation), to being apart, to loving each other fiercely as friends. Soulmates, by their own words. Over the years, their constant physical affection had continued to build, to increase in intimacy and comfort, yes. But not until now, had playful bites and teasing led them back full circle to this. Mitch’s teeth, and Scott’s … surrender to them.

His hands dropped, clutching the sheets as he moaned, “Mitchy, fuck.” Not trying to get away, not moving to go further. Locked in the instant, and lingering there at Mitch’s whim. Scott’s response was pressed against his friend’s thigh, their legs locked together in a tangle. “I, ohh shit…”

Mitch’s first instinct in general, at least sexually, was to push forward when he caused someone pleasure. But even in his current haze, he knew to pause. Pause, but not pull away. Slowly, he dropped his jaw and released the pressure that had Scott locked so close. His lips ghosting softly over the indentations left behind, as he breathed in deep. The scent of Scott’s skin, his cologne, mixing together as he tried to think.

Which was almost impossible given that he was himself now hard as a rock.

A rush of air, hot, against Scott’s ear, as Mitch eased his grip on Scott’s hair. “Shit, Scotty. I didn’t think. What, wow. That’s….” He shifted, leaving no doubt on either of their minds at how he felt as a result of the other. “So hard, god. Uhmm, what do we…?”

Voice rough in the dark, Scott swallowed and said, “Bathroom. I can…”

It was an out. Everything would be fine, back to normal, right? If they did this, that way. Settle down, and resume their version of normal.

Or? What else?

Full forward felt almost like flying into a fire, full tilt and done. Instant risk, but also instant reward.

Mitch rolled more on his side, facing Scott, hand grabbing his wrist. “No. Stay. Be like this.” He pressed his face into Scott’s chest, holding him around the waist for a long moment. “Just be. Okay? For me.” Pulling Scott’s hand down, asking him without words to touch himself. Confessing to him as Scott inhaled sharply, as Mitch’s intent became clear. “I… I want to hear you.”

Vulnerable, scared, but needful, Scott gripped himself through his boxer briefs. Asking, “You too. Okay?”

Left hand already dipping into his shorts, Mitch moaned, “Yes.”

Right hand, Scott. Left hand, Mitch. They touched themselves, stroked and listened to each other in the moment. In the rush. Listened to the rustle and thwack, knuckles brushing, knocking against each other as they rode the pleasure. But paramount was their voices. Scott groaning as he felt the pressure build and Mitch gasping, cursing as he gained in the race.

“Close, oh fuck. Scott. Scotty, fuck!” The whine echoed, Mitchy’s words burst over Scott’s skin. The sound of which was all it took, the flare that caused Scott to come. More than his own hand, more than the pain at his neck – it was Mitch, his best friend and the man he never wanted to be without, calling his name as he lost himself, that did it.

Wet heat, nerves burning and hands now falling free – they rested, breathing hard. Shaking.

Shaken.

“God, Mitchy. That was…” Scott stopped as the other man fell against him, hugging him tightly.

“Shhh, shut up, hush.” Mitch clutched at him, keeping him. And that was the point; the keeping him. “We’re good. We’re always, always good, shhh.”

Scott held him, nodding. Understanding the man’s anxiety, just as he understood his own. But he had to ask.

“One question. Just tell me. What color are we?”

A laugh sounded, relieved and nostalgic – an old form of connection for them both. “Green. We’re so damn Green.”

One word, Green for go. Green for good. Not Yellow or Red. Their own version of an old code adapted to cover times when they had to be more candid than was comfortable.

Just that one word. And Scott knew he could close his eyes and breathe. Breathe and drift, holding the most important person in his life as they eased and faded into sleep.

000

They woke after lunchtime to a series of knocks on their door and a dozen missed texts between them. Nothing urgent, really – just Nicole telling them the rest of the group was headed to catch some sightseeing and did they want to come?

Did they want to come? Mitch may have had to hide his awkward laughter behind a fake yawn as he disappeared into the bathroom, yesterday’s t-shirt hastily thrown on to answer the door. Scott blinked sleepily after him, thinking it was a good thing they had both worn black the day before because it was less obvious that Mitch was swimming in Scott’s shirt instead of his own. If only a fraction.

With a quiet murmur about trouble sleeping, he waved Nicole goodbye with a promise to let them all know if he planned to join them. But no promises.

The click of the door left the room blanketed in silence. Only Scott’s heart pounding in his ears. It was racing.

He ran his hands over his bedhead and grimaced. It was full-on tornado hair bad. Courtesy of Mitch’s fingers… ok, good. It had felt more than good. He touched his neck. “Owe.” Sore. In the best way. “Fuck,” he mouthed, grabbing his phone and turning on the selfie camera so he could see how it looked.

Skin scraped, with just a small hint of bruising – but it was the shape that gave away the game. It was rather telling against his pale skin. And the position meant he’d be pulling on the new cream turtleneck hobo-chic sweater he’d bought just a few days before if they did head out.

Fashion as a shield. Mitch would probably love the practicality. In theory.

Scott looked towards the bathroom door. It wasn’t closed, just cracked. He could hear the shower. Which should have been reason enough to wait, but Scott found himself standing at the door, knocking until he heard Mitch reply.

The shower curtain was closed, and the room full of steam. Scott bit his lip, trying to figure out what to say, but then he decided to make use of the facilities while Mitch was busy. Washing his hands, he grabbed the second complimentary toothbrush – seeing that Mitch had already used the first. Teeth clean, he turned and leaned against the sink, waiting.

Green. Mitch had said they were Green.

Scott closed his eyes, stretching his neck as he ran his hand over his beard. They’d gotten closer to the line they’d drawn years and years back, closer than they’d ever been since they’d drawn it. He thought about his own reaction and shook his head. It wasn’t just the biting. It was the link from the first time to last night. It was Mitch. And if he had to be honest, even if it had been embarrassing and overwhelming at the same time…it had also been incredible.

Yeah, so Scott was beyond Green with it too. But they needed to talk.

Cue the water shutting off. Scott cleared his throat and said, “Morning, queen.”

From behind the curtain, Mitch laughed ironically. “Afternoon, you mean.” He paused, waiting a beat, as Scott remained silent, and then sighed. “Don’t you panic. I’m not panicking.”

Scott frowned, grabbing the white robe on the back of the door and handing it to him through the curtain. “I vote no to panic, yeah. But are you…? I mean…”

“Scott Hoying, do not ask me if I’m okay. I’m not the one who was … mauled.”

Pushing back the curtain, Scott pulled him close as Mitch ducked his head. “Hey, none of that. You didn’t get your full maul-on. It was more kitten nip territory,” he teased, trying to get Mitch to smile as he made a mewling meow sound but started laughing instead when Mitch slapped him on the chest. He hugged Mitch fiercely, enjoying the feel of him wrapped in terry cloth. He asked softly, “Kermit or Little Shop?”

It was an inside joke. Two songs – ‘Bein’ Green’ from Sesame Street and ‘Somewhere That’s Green’ from Little Shop of Horrors. The first was from a happy kid’s show, but full of angst and worry about it being hard to be yourself. The second was from a horror musical, about the hope for escape and living the life of your dreams. They’d always appreciated the juxtaposition, and it helped them gauge the strength of their resolve.

Mitch squeezed him back, singing in falsetto, “Far from skid row, I dream we’ll go, Somewhere that’s green...” When Scott harmonized the last line, Mitch pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “I always liked ‘Suddenly Seymour’ better, bitch.”

Scott opened his arms, belting, “Suddenly Seymour showed me I cannnnnnnnnnnn….” They both broke out giggling as Mitch joined in, “Seymour’s my mannnnnnnnnnnn.”

Layered harmonies, the house down, thank you very much.

Once they caught their breath, Mitch shook his hair out and flicked water at Scott. “Go shower. I’m going to order coffee and food.”

Scott smiled, “So we’re staying in?” His tone was warm, pleased even. It would give them time to work out what was going on with them at least.

Mitch rose on his tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “So very, yes.”

000

It had started after The Sing-Off. The traffic lights. Or rather the safe word versions, but with a Scömìche twist.

Almost two years after they’d experienced their own youthful love affair, that was in and of itself intense and then over just as quickly as it had begun.

Perhaps too quickly, Scott had always thought. But he’d dealt with his own despair, and Mitch had too. Just differently. And given the pull that was the both of them together, they’d built their friendship back up again after a glacier absence and silence on both their parts. Only for Scott to leave for college, and the silence to reign once more. Echoing inside, for them both.

Until the call that changed their world; Scott’s invitation to join him and Kirstin in what would become Pentatonix. And then The Sing-Off had happened.

It wasn’t the only thing that had happened, of course. Too close, too out of their element, too anxious and under pressure to win each week – they’d turned to each other again, for the span of a night. Only to stop before they went too far. Again.

Mitch would chalk it up to a change in chemistry. Scott would believe that it was the timing. That and the fact that they just were not ready. Certainly not given the context of the chaos they were living through at the time. So they’d talked it out.

They’d promised that going forward, they would always be candid to a fault. Reason things out. They’d agreed that no matter what happened, they would put in the effort to have this, them, be their always. No matter what form it took.

And yes, there were times when it hurt to say things out loud that a person held close the chest. To be that vulnerable. But self-protection became secondary. Scott knew that Mitch meant more to him than embarrassment or pain. Mitch knew Scott meant more to him than hiding away or letting go of control.

So they’d agreed. Red, Yellow or Green. Green was key, and always the desired result. But there had been times when Yellow reared its head. The slow down, care for me – take what I’m saying, or feeling, and THINK about it. Help me, pull me closer, because I think you’re going to push me away. Or in the most insecure instances, when it was I think I’m going to push you away, don’t let me.

They’d never made it to Red. Thankfully so committed to each other, so close, that it hadn’t even been an option, as yet. But they had an understanding. If one of them called Red, it wasn’t an end to them all together.

They were not allowing for such an ending. They would not even entertain the option.

Red would mean work. Effort and healing, but never goodbye.

What they HAD reached, over the years, was Chartreuse and Orange.

Chartreuse, ironically Mitch’s favorite color, wasn’t worse than Green. It was Green mixed with a chaser of questioning, curiosity or angst. It could be exciting because it was discovery. Of likes or limits. Choices and avenues untried. They kinda liked Chartreuse, in terms of them being Mitch AND Scott.

Orange. Well, it had only happened once. And it had been about Alex, last year. Or rather Alex’s reaction to the reality of what Scott’s love and friendship with Mitch was like on a daily basis. Mitch had tried to be less available to compensate, over time. Less hands-on, but he and Scott hadn’t talked about it. Like they’d promised. It had meant that Scott was having his most difficult time in the wake of what was the end of his relationship with his boyfriend; it also meant he was marooned in the lack of his best friend in a way that hadn’t happened since high school into college.

That had been a difficult conversation. Both in tears, Mitch because of Scott’s pain (and his own, to tell the truth) and Scott because he knew he had to end things with someone who meant a lot to him. But who hadn’t meant enough, Scott knew guiltily, in the face of what going forward with little to no Mitch at all in his world would have meant for his future.

000

“Can they do morning-after caffeine IV’s? Because if that’s a thing, sign me UP.” Mitch moaned as he took his first taste of the room service coffee that had just arrived with their food.

Scott snorted, as he put their phones in the drawer beside his bed. Phones were not allowed.

Candid did not need any more of an audience or distractions.

“Don’t forget to inhale the soup, along with your caffeine, Mitchy.”

“Ohhhh, Momma bear in the house.” Mitch smiled, already sipping at the large bowl of chicken noodle soup he’d ordered. Loving the warmth as it went down.

“Guilty,” Scott grinned before digging into his sandwich and fries.

They were sitting across from each other on the side of both beds with Mitch’s feet resting on top of Scott’s, endearingly, as they ate. The minutes passed easily enough, given the impact of what was to come. Both men were wearing white robes and had damp hair, though Mitch had combed his Roman bangs into the place. No cowlicks allowed for his queen, Scott smiled.

His…

Well, in a sense.

Of course, the definition of his was subject to transition.

“I wish we’d had more light. I would have loved to see you last night.”

Hello, Candid out the gate. In the lead, Scott Hoying. Mitch Grassi on his heels.

Mitch met his eyes, a bit surprised at the abrupt start. He put his empty bowl aside, and then slowly pushed his robe down so that it pooled in his lap. Torso bare to view. His expression brave, but vulnerable.

Scott put his plate on the table and looked at his friend. Letting his eyes travel over him. Allowed, and known in a way they didn’t usually share so blatantly. “Beautiful.” The word was said as easily as breathing. Then he pushed on, adding, “But I meant your face. It’s been so fucking long since I’ve seen you come.”

Since they’d been, what? Probably seventeen.

A beat, and then Mitch drew in a shaky breath. “I remembered your voice. Hearing you was always one of my favorite things.” His hands were playing with the robe tie, absently. Nervously. “I didn’t do it on purpose,” he said, meaning the bite. Or maybe, meaning the placement. “But I liked it.”

“So did I.” Scott moved closer, his knees brushing Mitch’s. He took the other man’s hand, holding it gently, but firmly. “What are you thinking?”

“That I like looking, too,” Mitch whispered. His meaning clear as he waited, then watched as Scott pushed his robe down as well. Firm, muscular chest, brushed by light hair and the bite mark bared for Mitch’s pleasure. And it was a pleasure, for them both, as their eyes traced and mapped every inch. It wasn’t new, but it was intimate on a larger scale.

His dark eyes rising, Mitch met Scott’s gaze. “Are we in trouble?”

“No,” Scott answered, the sound rough. But welcoming, too. He waited a moment, shoring up his courage before admitting something that couldn’t be a surprise, surely. “I want to touch you.” He looked a bit scared to have said it, regardless. Asking, “Green?”

Mitch closed his eyes, nodding, only to open them again as he assured, “Green. Only like before?” Hands, lips, mouths…they’d never gone beyond heavy petting, hand jobs and oral all those years back.

Shaking his head, Scott answered, “More. All of it.” He moved as if to pull Mitch forward by his hips, but stopped himself before he could follow through. He didn’t want to manipulate his friend by rushing forward before telling him what he most needed him to know. “I’ve always wanted to know you like that, Mitchy. Completely. But, but if you don’t...” He was, as ever, willing to do whatever Mitch needed him to do. Or not do.

Mitch caught Scott’s hand, threading their fingers together. “Wanting you has never been a question,” he admitted. His next words were a rush, as he said emphatically, “Fuck, Scott. We’ve always known that want wasn’t the issue. Just the thought of it. You over me, in me, and I’m half-way to wrecked.”

Voice cracking as those words hit him, Scott whispered, “Green.”

Standing up quickly, Mitch wrapped his arms – still encased in the sleeves of the tied robe - around his waist. He stepped closer despite the anxious gesture, legs between Scott’s own, and stood there. Looking. Feeling. Deciding. When Scott bowed his head, resting it on Mitch’s chest, the word came out just as quietly. “Chartreuse.”

Nodding, Scott put his hands on the back of Mitch’s thighs, reveling in the feel as he felt slim fingers being threaded through his own hair. Scott reminded himself, they LIKED that color. And honestly, it was promising. They’d put in the time, damn it. Years of developing, learning. Growing into what they’d felt so intently, so very young.

“I could fall, so fucking hard.” Mitch didn’t sound reluctant; he sounded … breathless, maybe even amazed. Like he was allowing himself to realize the obvious. “Holy fuck, we’re…. I’m, you and...”

Scott raised his head at Mitch’s rambling, “You already love me, Mitchy. I know you do. Like I love you. Adding an ‘in’ to what we have would be...” He stopped, holding the smaller man so sweetly, hands now wrapped around Mitch’s waist, above the robe. “You have to know it would be perfect.”

Mitch put his hand flat on Scott’s chest, focusing on the feel of his heart beating for the longest time. Eyes growing damp, he said, “No safer place.” He ran his palm up, over Scott’s shoulder, his neck, covering the mark he’d made. “I don’t feel like I’m falling,” Mitch whispered, leaning in, forehead against Scott’s. “God, it feels like I’m already there.” His words caused Scott to pull him in, caught against his body. Mitch, shaking, said, “Need you, Scotty. You have to… I want you to…”

And then his words ended, stopped by Scott’s kiss. Fierce, bold and not a little amazing. It was everything in them made manifest, as Scott held him close and gave him, gave them, the sum of their worth.

It was hot, heady. Scott groaned as Mitch moved against him, giving him a tug forward until Mitch was sitting on his lap. The flow of them, one against the other, natural and needful as they tasted and teased. Scott held him still, controlling the kiss in a way that he’d never really allowed himself in the past. Mitch reveled in the attention, loving the feel of Scott’s beard against his bare lips. It had Mitch moaning, driving forward and then leaning back as he let Scott move him, hold him, take charge in a way that just fucking did him in.

Mouths parting reluctantly with the need to breathe, Scott cupped Mitch’s face. “You taste amazing.” He shook his head, mind in a whirl, only to lose himself again as Mitch whined in protest at the stopping. Scott laughed as the brunet insisted, “You should only keep doing that...” And then they were kissing again.

Truly, madly, deeply – the phrase had never made more sense, until then. Until them. The pair, dazed and dazzling as they moved. Synced to what the other wanted, and working to give it to them.

Running his hands down the warm length of Mitch’s back, Scott dipped beneath the robe – loving the gasp from Mitch as he traced the pert curves of his ass with no hesitation.

“Get this off me,” Mitch growled, panting as Scott’s fingers dipped and pressed just where he wanted them. His own arms were tangled, and he needed to free them – reluctant to have Scott stop touching him, but wanting nothing between them, like now. Like so very now. He pressed his mouth to Scott’s ear, nipping at the lobe softly before saying, “Please, daddy. Get me naked.”

“Holy shit,” Scott jerked. There was the history of that nickname and all the jokes and connotations in which they’d used it, but none of them had anything on hearing it like this. Fuck, he was screwed for all time at denying Mitch anything if this is how he reacted to that one word, said in this context. And in that way…

Not that he minded.

Yanking at the belt, he shoved the cotton down Mitch’s arms and off his body at record speed – lifting him to pull it free so it dropped on the ground. Scott settled Mitch on his feet, letting his eyes roam. The man who was his world, in so many ways, naked and hard for him. “You’re perfect.”

“Touch me,” Mitch made to fall into him, but Scott held him back, hands on his hips. “Scotty, please. Green, fucking full-on Irish, damn it.”

“Get your bag, first. Before I stop being able to think.” Scott grinned at the impatient noise Mitch gave him. He dropped his voice and let the want sound through, “Come on, baby. I wanna watch you walk for me.”

Mitch walking back towards him from his luggage, lube and condoms in hand, slow and deliberate - the view was as enticing as he’d hoped. Eyes locked and lids lowered, Mitch stepped closer – enjoying Scott’s expression enough to say, “You look hungry. Gonna eat me, daddy?”

Scott groaned, knowing it was obvious exactly what those words were doing to him. “Mitchy,” Scott stood with determination and pushed off his robe as he answered, “Don’t think for a second that that’s not on the list.”

It was a bit satisfying to see the focus of Mitch’s attention drop, almost as fast as his jaw. Holding out his hand, Scott drew Mitch to him and closed his eyes when they touched. Mitch pressed and swayed into him, against him fully and Scott couldn’t hold back the moan as he felt the man reach between them and take Scott in hand.

“I remember this, too,” Mitch whispered. “How good you felt. Feel.” He kissed Scott’s shoulder, teasing his teeth in a gentle line over his collarbone. “So hard, darlin’.” The endearment said warmly, and with just a bit this side of a drawl as Scott had ever heard from him.

“For you,” Scott said, like a promise. The feel of Mitch, just as hard against his thigh as he touched him. It was too much, and not enough all at once. With a curse, Scott turned them and pushed Mitch onto the bed, laying him out across the mattress before covering him, pressing him down and taking his mouth again.

Scott knew Mitch liked to be led, moved and made to give in, sexually. The man’s submissiveness was admittedly a draw for Scott. That mix of vulnerability and strength that would shine from Mitch at times, leaving Scott not a little stunned when he let himself think about the possibilities.

But even knowing what buttons to push in theory, it was seeing it now very much in the flesh that took the experience to a whole other level.

The other man flowed as he moved with Scott’s touch, dancing with his hands as they swept over his body, arching into them. Mitch acquiesced freely, fiercely as Scott pulled his arms above his head – pressed them to the covers, wrists held in place by one firm hand. Even as he moaned and whispered Scott’s name, breathless and high – it was the, “Please,” that followed that made it all the sweeter when he spread his legs for Scott to lie between.

His heart beating rapidly, Scott circled his hips, cursing at how good they felt together. “I want inside you so bad, Mitchy.” He kissed him again, wet and deep, as Mitch strained towards him, their bodies becoming slick with sweat as they moved. But then Scott pulled back, eyes a little wild as he said, “But you have to be very, very good first.”

Half-drunk on the moment and the man above him, Mitch groaned out a laugh. He closed his eyes and threw back his head, rolling it side to side as Scott held him still. “Green, green, green…” He rambled almost like a prayer.

Laughing as he rose up higher, Scott squeezed a bit harder to get Mitch to open his eyes. “Say it, queen. Tell me you’ll be good for me.”

Mitch swallowed, slowly, growing serious as their eyes held. “Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll be your best…ever.”

A beat as those words shot through him like liquid fire, and then Scott inhaled his next breath like he’d just discovered the quality of life that air could bring to the living. “Mitch Grassi, what are you like?”

“Find out.”

“Oh god, I love it when you tart-out on me.” Scott groaned as Mitch grinned. Diving in, Scott kissed him, long, hard and not a little possessively.

Yep, button pushing. Pressure, steady on.

Scott moved down Mitch’s body, leaving a trail of fire with lips and hands. He tasted the rise and blush of the man’s tiny nipples, loving how they hardened even more as Mitch writhed under his mouth. “I’m going to make you scream so pretty, baby,” Scott promised as he dropped further, tracing the curve of Mitch’s hip with his tongue.

And then he was there. The warmth of Mitch’s skin, the hard length of his cock as he took it into his mouth – paradise found. Scott clutched at him as Mitch gasped loudly, lifting him bodily. Holding him still, Scott moved his mouth over him, along him – the suction, the depth, the taste - all of it working to drive them both mad.

“Won’t last, won’t, oh fuck. Scott!” Mitch lost the battle at keeping his hands over his head, burying them in Scott’s hair as he moved further down to play his tongue over Mitch’s balls. “Sen…sensitive, shit!” His balls had always been a hotspot for him, more than he’d found was common in most of the men he’d known. If Scott didn’t stop, he would come like a shot.

Pulling back, Scott groaned, his own nerves amped up so high that he bit into the flesh of Mitch’s inner thigh playfully and tried to calm down. He hummed as Mitch ran his shaking hand over the back of his head, before Scott took the brunet’s fingers to his lips and sucked at them with a hungry sound. He glanced up along the length of Mitch’s panting form, loving how wrecked he’d made him look.

Kneeling up, Scott ran a hand down his own chest, his stomach and then his cock. Letting Mitch watch as he touched himself while towering, large above him. “Put your hand on your dick. No, just hold it. Don’t stroke, don’t squeeze.” When Mitch moaned plaintively, Scott told him, “Be good, Mitchy. I want you to feel it, the weight of your dick as I opened you up for mine.”

Wet fingers wrapped around himself, Mitch bit his lip and grabbed at the bedding with his other hand. He was keeping his body still with visible effort, eyes large and dark – looking at Scott like he was his own personal deity. Spreading his legs more, raising his knees, he whispered, “Need you.”

“Need you back,” Scott said, gruffly. He reached for the bottle of lube that had fallen on the bed and coated his fingers, warming the lube as he let Mitch look his fill at the picture of Scott, hard and working to get them where they most wanted to be in the moment.

Leaning over Mitch, Scott circled his fingers over and then against the opening to his body as the other man gasped. He took it slow, probably slower than he needed to, just to draw it out. To witness Mitch as he melted into the mattress, stomach clenching and mouth open as he fought to breathe and not move his hand, like Scott had asked.

Inside, he was so smooth, so hot. So fucking tight, that Scott was moaning right along with him at just the thought of being inside him. Two fingers in, then three. Mitch was losing the battle to be still, his hips rocking in time to Scott’s fingers as they fucked him. And as the man above him shifted the angle just right, causing Mitch to grab his arm. “Now! You have to, have to… Need you, so bad.”

Feeling as desperate for it as Mitch sounded, Scott nodded. At a loss for words, he torn the wrapper with his teeth and barely managed not to drop the condom. Rolling it down, he groaned as he added more lube and then moved up over Mitch’s body.

Cradled between his thighs, Scott pulled Mitch up long enough to kiss him, playing his tongue filthily inside as he shared the taste of his cock from earlier. He pushed him down, and lifted Mitch’s legs until they were draped over Scott’s thighs, circling his hips. “Hold on to me.”

And then eyes locked, he pushed into him slowly, focus strong, and brought them home. What resistance there may have been naturally, gave way as they moved – Scott inside Mitch, feeling overwhelmed as he strained forward to kiss him. Their breath shared, panting hotly as they shook and held the moment. Caught, the pair of them, frozen as Scott waited for Mitch to adjust, and as he tried not to fall apart in his arms.

All thought was eclipsed for them both, in the wake of that first look, seeing the impact of their joining on each other’s faces – hearing themselves cry out as if from outside themselves. Before in the blink of an eye, they were back in their bodies as Scott began to move inside him.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck. Scott? So, love… oh god.” Mitch moved with him, clutching at Scott fiercely, suffused with sensation and emotion. All of it painted on his face and in the ramble of his voice. “Keep, keep doing that.”

Scott gasped, “I can’t believe how good you feel, Fuck.” He pushed an arm under Mitch’s body, pulling him forward into every thrust, loving the sound it caused as Mitch cried out.

“There, Scotty! Oh shit, that’s it.” Turning his face into the curve of Scott’s neck, Mitch moaned and clung to him as the larger man kept fucking him, nailing his prostate just right. “So full, daddy. You’re everywhere. Please…”

“You make me crazy,” the words fell from Scott’s lips in a rush, his mind near frantic for more, all, now … and Mitch. Always Mitch. He kept the pace, but lowered them to the bed – too weak in the moment to lend the extra support needed for their position. Holding himself up on one forearm and his knees, he reached between them and took Mitch’s cock in his hand. Loving how hard he was, how wet with precum. Burning, burning from the inside and out – stroking him, loving him even as he himself neared the point of everything.

Mitch cursed and grabbed at his face, kissing him even as he writhed. Words said against Scott’s lips, the smaller man pleaded, “Please, I need you. Make me.” He bit and licked mindlessly over Scott’s mouth, then whined, “Now, now please.” The words ending in a yell as Scott jerked him faster and took him harder.

When it hit, the storm raged. Mitch screamed when he came, the sound both short and sharp as wet heat covered Scott’s hand. Scott felt his own body clench and then shudder as he shot, falling against the man who was his world.

In the moments that followed, they didn’t move apart for the longest time until Scott managed to withdraw from Mitch and clean them as best he could with tissues from the side table. Then he was back, pulled close again by Mitch. When Scott made to lift his weight, thinking he was too heavy for the slender man in his arms, Mitch held on all the tighter and told him to stay where he was. “We’re talking definite limb loss-age here if you move anymore,” he grinned, letting out a giggle when Scott rubbed his face against Mitch chest and groaned dramatically. “And I like all your limbs very much as they are.”

Scott rolled his face up to watch Mitch as he laughed, smiling softly at him. Voice raspy, he murmured, “Mind totally blown.”

Mitch agreed with a nod, adding naughtily, “And body rocked. Damn, Hoying. Like, we’re talking… big with the wow!” When Scott buried his face in the curve of Mitch’s neck, shaking with laughter, the brunet added, “Who’s my very big daddy?”

Howling, Scott pleaded, “Stopppp!” He put a hand over Mitch’s mouth, looking to see that both of them had wet faces from laughing too hard. A kiss to the back of his own hand, then he slipped it free and took Mitch’s mouth with his own. The taste of them, shared again, chased the laughter back and had them breathless in a whole other way, soon enough.

A whisper, a request, fell from Mitch’s lips when they parted to breathe, “Bath? We haven’t tried the tub.”

Scott agreed, privately amused that he hadn’t even realized there was a tub. But to be fair, he’d been extremely preoccupied by Mitch and the night before, when he’d taken his shower. He slowly untangled himself and stood, enjoying the wolf whistle that sounded from the bed. Raising an eyebrow, Scott got a little of his own back by teasing, “Walking or carry?”

A snort from Mitch as he sat up, then a slight wince. “Is climbing you like a tree on that list of yours?”

Reaching down, Scott gave Mitch a quick pull, humming as he settled his legs around Scott’s waist as he was lifted from the bed. “It damn well is now,” Scott said, before kissing Mitch and slowly letting him slide down Scott’s body until he was standing against him. “Seriously, you okay? Everything good?”

Brown eyes held blue as Mitch saw the worry in Scott’s face. The man had the kindest heart Mitch had ever known. It radiated from him all the time; the caring. Usually directed mostly at Mitch. Seeing it again now made Mitch smile. Because he knew that okay wasn’t even the tip of how great he was and would be every day going forward.

Raising up on tiptoes, he kissed Scott, gentle and slow. Then answered the best way he could in the moment, “I’m with you. Let’s just say good is a given.”

Lit as if from within, Scott’s smile danced across his face – his eyes soft, and happy. “With me?”

Running his hand over the soft scratch of Scott’s beard, Mitch pulled him down, smiling to as they kissed again. “In, in every way, yes.”

And because he couldn’t help it, and had no desire to try, Mitch stage whispered while fanning his face, “Omg! Scömìche is real.”

Scott leaned in, hugging him tight and laughing loudly. The joy he was feeling inside colored his voice as he said, “I love you.” It was probably the thousandth time he’d said it in all the years they’d known each other, but he’d never meant it more. And more fully.

“Love you back,” Mitch, his voice the same. He dipped his chin, looking up at Scott through his lashes. “Scotty?”

“Yeah, baby?” Scott murmured, caught up in the expression on his lover’s face when he pulled back to see his face.

“I’m all dirty. I’m a dirty, dirty boy.” His tone turning full-on flirt level 10, Mitch took Scott’s hand and started pulling him towards the bathroom, “And I was thinking. You have such long arms, strong hands and talented fingers…. For all those hard to reach places.” With a wink at the flummoxed look on Scott’s face, Mitch turned and went through the door, the chorus of “Rubber Duckie” echoing off the tiled walls.

Grinning like mad, Scott followed hard on Mitch’s heels and forward into their future made new – with all lights Green for go.

Finis