As much as Mitch wants to stay out and party, his eyes keep drifting to half-mast. He's swaying on his feet as he rides the elevator up to his hotel room, and he can't even blame it on the movement of the elevator, because he nearly stumbles into the wall when he's trying to swipe his key card through the slot on his door a few minutes later. The quiet comfort of the pristine hotel room makes him want to collapse face-first on the bed, but he has to at least take off his clothes. They'll wrinkle if he doesn't.
He makes a quick call to room service and orders some tea—it's probably the jetlag making him feel so worn thin and run down, but the long flight with its dry, recirculated air certainly didn't help. By the time he's done washing his face and swaddling himself in the plush hotel robe, the tea has arrived.
Mitch settles into bed with a mug in his hand and his computer in his lap. It's two—no, wait, three in the afternoon back in Los Angeles. He tries to FaceTime with Scott twice before giving up with a sigh. Mitch thought afternoon would be the perfect time to check in, even if it was just for a minute. Scott must be with some people, if he's ignoring Mitch's calls.
It's only been a day, but Mitch misses him. He doesn't even want to talk about anything in particular. He just wants to hear Scott's voice, just to say goodnight.
He sips his tea slowly, letting the warmth soothe his body while he watches videos on his laptop. It isn't until the hot tea trickles onto his bare chest that Mitch realizes he's dozing off with his drink in his hand.
"Fuck," he hisses, quickly shoving his computer out of harm's way as he soaks up the spilled tea with his robe. It's time for bed, clearly.
The computer, the remnants of his tea, his phone, everything gets piled together on the nightstand. He turns off the light and snuggles down into the blankets. The sleeve of the robe is damp, but it smells nice, and Mitch breathes deeply, settling in for sleep.
And then there's a soft knock on the door.
Mitch opens his eyes, glares straight ahead at the glowing clock display on the nightstand.
Another knock, this time sharper.
Groaning, Mitch throws back the covers and rolls to his feet, shrugging the robe closed so he's at least not exposing himself to innocent bystanders. As he nears the door, the person knocks again, even louder this time, and Mitch has no idea why they so badly needed to wake him up in the middle of the night. He has everything he ordered from room service.
He swings the door open, frowning and still half-asleep, only to find... Scott. Standing in front of him. Wearing a hoodie and a backpack and a sheepish smile.
"Hi," he says. "Did I wake you up?"
Scott's hair is so adorably disheveled, he looks so soft and unreal, that Mitch thinks he might be dreaming this whole encounter.
"I started missing you like two minutes after you left, so I got on the next flight," Scott tells him.
Mitch tips forward and stretches his arms around Scott's neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Just to make sure he's really here. Scott wraps himself around Mitch and shuffles him backward, back into the room so the door can close. It's dark again, but Mitch knows Scott's body well enough by now, he doesn't need the light to find Scott's soft lips and soft hair. His hands move unerringly, tangling their bodies together. It's a good thing, too, because without Scott's broad hand against his back, Mitch is pretty sure he would fall over.
Scott guides them to the bed and gently pushes Mitch down. Mitch's eyes have adjusted enough that he can sort of see Scott dropping his backpack to the floor and pulling his sweatshirt over his head. He hears more than sees Scott taking off his shoes and jeans, and then Scott's crawling over him and pulling the covers up to their heads like a cozy tent.
With skin against skin and their mingled breath caught between them, their cave of blankets warms quickly. Mitch chuckles and closes his eyes.
"Do you want—"
"Yeah, okay."
Scott nuzzles Mitch's cheek, his beard scratching until their lips meet again. He arranges his body until Mitch can feel his thick cock hardening, and Scott wraps his hand around both of them at once. Mitch's cock fills more slowly, and he breaks their kiss to catch his breath as Scott begins stroking them both. Scott kisses his neck instead, pushing the soft collar of the robe aside with his nose so he can latch onto Mitch's skin. He nibbles and sucks, clearly intent on leaving his mark on Mitch's body.
Mitch is dazed, dizzy with exhaustion and the spiraling pleasure taking over his brain. Scott's groaning, thrusting into his hand, sliding his cock right up against Mitch's through his tight fist. Mitch can feel the moment Scott starts to come. He's close himself, but Scott's come slicking his hand, smearing on both of their stomachs is what pushes him over the edge. Mitch grasps Scott's firm shoulders when his orgasm overwhelms him, digs his nails in as he pants for breath.
Scott keeps stroking him through the aftershocks, kissing his throat as Mitch shudders and shakes. The dizziness hasn't gone away. Mitch pulls the blankets down just enough to get a rush of fresh air. He's lethargic, his body slow to respond as Scott shifts them into their usual cuddling position.
"How'd you know my room number?" he murmurs sleepily.
Scott sighs and Mitch can feel his lips stretch into a grin. "I messaged Candice that I wanted to surprise you. It was good, right? You're happy?"
"It was so good. 'm so happy. Missed you."
"I missed you too. So much."
"Glad you came," Mitch whispers. Sleep is tugging at him, and at long last he's ready to give in to its pull.
"Sleep now, baby," Scott says softly, planting a gentle kiss on Mitch's cheek. "Sweet dreams. Tomorrow you can introduce me to your world of fashion."
fin.
