Blissful Oneshots

Christmas Coincidence (Scomiche)

Note that this fic and its sequel are now available in a separate book called Synchronicity, where you'll also find the third installment and anything in the same AU that I write in the future.

Mitch wakes slowly. He can feel the sun streaming in through the window, warming the bed and his skin. The hotel blankets are comfortably tucked up around him. His head...kinda hurts actually, but not as badly as he probably deserves.

***

He's at Station 4, his favorite club when he's home, on the one night of his visit that he's free from family obligations. There's a hilarious Christmas-themed drag show followed by some great music and somewhere along the way he downs several gin and tonics. And maybe some vodka shots? There's definitely some champagne involved at one point but he's smart enough to avoid the egg nog special. Then he's dancing with the old high school friends who'd invited him out in the first place, until they inevitably start making out on the dance floor—some things never change—and Mitch is forced to move along elsewhere so it's not awkward as fuck. The DJ is fantastic though, as is the red and green light show, and Mitch has had just enough booze to have exactly zero problem dancing by himself. Not that he's alone for long; he's never had trouble attracting a partner when he wants one.

There are several options vying for his attention but it's not much of a competition; as soon as he sees the tall blond eying him, he loses interest in the others. The blond isn't the best dancer out there; he has a good sense of rhythm but not much else going for him on the solo dancing front. However, the look in his eyes as he checks Mitch out, the curved bow of his lips when he smiles, the perfect wave of his undercut, the sharpness of his jaw and the width of his shoulders, the length of his legs and the line of his ass in those tight jeans, the roll of his hips as he dances, and the way he waits for Mitch's nod before pulling them together and turning their dance into a deep grind...fuck yes, Daddy. Come do all the things.

Mitch leans back into him, enjoying the feel of those big hands on his body, at first just guiding his hips into a shared rhythm but eventually becoming braver and roaming, exploring his chest, tweaking his nipple and then teasing down his stomach and tugging at his thighs, pulling him closer. Mitch raises an arm up behind him and pulls that tall head down, groaning encouragement when the move earns him those curved lips nibbling down his neck and collarbone. He leaves his other arm dangling, happy to let his unexpectedly attractive dance partner control their movements and just enjoy the sensations he's invoking. And fuck, he's invoking a lot of them.

***

Mitch smiles to himself, still not fully awake; the memory is a good one and completely makes up for his slightly pounding head. He feels great otherwise, relaxed and lighthearted and warm. The higher-end room he shelled out for when his parents asked if he wouldn't mind giving up his old bedroom to his niece and nephew is more than worth it. He stretches slowly, first his arms over his head, which feels absolutely fantastic and then letting the stretch flow down his body. A telltale ache in his ass soon makes itself known, along with residual fatigue in his quads. Mmm, he clearly had a lot of fun last night.

***

"C'mon," Mitch implores, running his hands down his bare chest as he lies on the bed, tilting his hips up invitingly. "Mommy needs a good long fuck. Gonna give it to me?"

"Oh, I'm happy to fuck you all night," the blond kneeling between knees responds, licking his lips as his eyes follow Mitch's hands down his body. He reaches over for the box on Mitch's nightstand, peering inside. "Or, at least until we run out of condoms."

Shit, really? Mitch could have sworn he brought a decent-sized pack. He'd been hoping for exactly this situation. "How many are there?"

The man—Scott, he'd called himself Scott—pulls the strip out of the box with a playful pout. "Only six."