The elevator ride was a blur of mirrored walls and Scott leaning heavily against Cam, staring at their reflection in fascination. “We look good,” he declared.
“We look drunk,” Cam said with a laugh.
“Hey, we’re good-looking drunks.”
Finding Cam’s keycard was a quest, but they finally managed it, and the hotel room door clicked shut behind them.
Scott took two determined steps forward, tripped over absolutely nothing, and dragged Cam down with him. They hit the bed in a tangle of limbs, shoes half kicked off, laughter muffled by sheets.
“Graceful,” Cam muttered into the pillow.
Scott rolled onto his side, still giggling, and promptly burrowed into Cam, because it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He slung a leg over Cam’s thigh. A heavy arm draped across his waist.
Cam exhaled, the laughter fading into something quieter.
Scott’s eyes were already drifting closed. “You were amazing,” he mumbled again, the words soft and drowsy.
Cam brushed a hand through Scott’s hair idly. “You told me.”
“Still true,” Scott said with a giggle, opening his eyes.
Their faces were so close.
Was it weird?
It didn’t feel weird. It felt natural. Like the most natural thing in the world.
Scott licked his lips and watched Cam’s dark eyes follow the movement.
“You wanna make out?” Scott heard himself say.
“I’m not a homo,” Cam said, still staring at his mouth.
“No, you’re a dick,” Scott mumbled with an eye roll. “Who cares? We’re both drunk, it doesn’t count.”
“Right,” Cam said, his gaze fixed on Scott’s mouth. “We’re drunk.”
“Very drunk.” Scott pouted. “Comfort me. My boyfriend dumped me because of you.”
“Good riddance,” Cam said, his hand cupping Scott’s cheek. He leaned closer. Close enough that their noses bumped. Close enough that Scott could feel the warmth of Cam’s breath, could see the tiny scar cutting through his eyebrow, the way his pupils had blown wide.
A thumb pressed against Scott’s lips, insistent.
Scott opened his mouth, and the thumb pushed in. Scott’s breath hitched around it.
Cam’s thumb rested on his tongue for a suspended second—warm and firm, tasting faintly of salt. Scott’s pulse thudded in his ears. He could feel it everywhere: in his throat, in his heart, in his dick.
He couldn’t look away from Cam’s eyes as the thumb dragged slowly over Scott’s tongue before pulling free, tracing the curve of his lower lip on the way out. A whine slipped out of Scott’s mouth.
His gaze dark, Cam pushed the thumb back in, rubbing the sensitive inside of Scott’s mouth until Scott instinctively started sucking on it.
“Fuck,” Cam said breathlessly, pulling out his thumb again and pushing two fingers in. Scott moaned around them, arousal making him even more lightheaded than he’d felt already.
Cam dragged his fingers in and out, the wet, lewd sounds on every thrust making the action even more obscene and arousing. Scott couldn’t think anymore. He liked sucking cock as much as any gay man, but he’d never thought of his mouth as particularly sensitive. He was quickly revising that opinion. He couldn’t remember ever being this turned on by oral sex, and this should have been far tamer.
He sucked on the fingers with relish, moaning around them, his hips squirming and grinding against Cam’s thigh.
“Fuck,” Cam said, watching his fingers thrust into Scott’s mouth.
