Scomiche One Shots

Sore-ing, Flying*

*Mature!*

-

Scott groans, shifts uncomfortably in his big comfy bed. He reaches over, feels the spot where Mitch would typically be and frowns when he recognizes it's empty.

His muscles cry, ridiculously tense from his workout yesterday, as he turns over and pushes himself slowly out of bed, rubbing at his thighs, trying to dull the ache.

He had felt perfectly fine last night when he slipped into bed, but it is now apparent that he shouldn't have pushed himself so hard at the gym yesterday.

He calls, "Mitchy," as he slowly rounds the corner of the hallway, wincing when his sore thigh momentarily trembles.

"In here," the familiar voice replies from the kitchen. It's then that Scott is hit with the smell of bacon, wafting from the kitchen.

He stumbles into the room, groans as he sits in the nearest chair that's set up along their island.

"Eggs and bacon?" He smiles softly, propping his head up with his tender arm.

Mitch nods, turning with two plates filled with yummy breakfast foods and serving one to Scott with a shining smile plastered on his face.

"Are you okay, Scotty?" Mitch asks as he bites into his toast, brow quirked.

"'M fine," Scott says between a forkful of eggs, "just a little sore."

"Sore?"

Scott nods, "from the gym yesterday."

"Oh baby," Mitch frowns, reaching over and squeezing Scott's empty hand. They eat quietly for a bit before Mitch breaks the silence again, "I can give you a massage when we're all done?"

Scott eyes snap up, meet Mitch's to check he's sincere. He's offered jokingly before, simply teased Scott with the idea, but he seems to be honest right now. "Really?" Mitch nods. "That would be amazing, angel."

-

Scott's on his stomach, head tilted to the side so he can breath and arms resting by his sides.

Mitch is on top of him, straddling his lower thighs so that he has the whole expanse of Scott's toned back to knead at and work with. His hands are just what Scott needs, too, pressing so perfectly into the knots in his lower back, his shoulders, working his muscles until the soreness is only a dull ache.

Scott groans occasionally, mumbles "s'good," here and there, the sensation of having Mitch all over him, being completely at his will is amazing, not to mention, that Mitch would massage him like this is sweet. It all just feels so good.

Mitch's hands gradually travel farther down his back when most of the soreness has been worked out of Scott's muscles. They knead at his lower back, right by the top of his sweats, before pulling at the waist band, letting it snap against Scott's pale skin.

The blonde underneath him gasps, squirming at the sudden snap, and Mitch moves both of his hands to the side of Scott's torso, using his leverage to grind against Scott's clothed ass as he presses a wet kiss to his shoulder.

Scott doesn't do much, just makes quiet noises and occasionally grinds his hips back and against the mattress. It's a nice feeling, Mitch against him for a change.

"I want to make you feel good," Mitch breathes into his ear, fingernails scraping down his sides and eliciting a breathy whimper out of Scott. "Turn over," he demands, shifting off of Scott.

The blonde flips himself over, lounges on his back and tilts his torso up with his forearms. Mitch urges him to move up the bed, to rest against the headboard comfortably instead of tiring his already tender arms.