“Stay here while I’m gone,” Cam said, reaching for his cap and putting it on without quite looking at him.
That bossy tone should have rubbed him the wrong way. But instead, he felt a shameful thrill from the knowledge that Cam wanted him to stay—wanted him to still be here when he came home.
“I can’t, I don’t have my suitcase with me,” Scott said. “I need a shower and my clothes.”
Cam’s dark eyes returned to him. “Use mine.”
“Okay,” Scott said, feeling oddly breathless. He licked his lips.
Cam’s gaze flicked down to them before he turned around swiftly and left the room.
Scott deflated as the door shut after him. He’d kind of… he’d kind of wanted Cam to kiss him.
Fuck, he’d wantedCamto kiss him.
That was—that was more than a little weird. Even setting aside the fact that they were just friends, Scott had never been the type to want someone else to kiss him. He was always the aggressor, the one who made the first move. He was exclusively a top. What the hell was happening here?
Groaning, Scott got to his feet and headed to the bathroom. He needed a shower. He’d feel more like himself after a long, hot shower.
Scott did feel better after his shower, but when he stepped out, he sighed: he really would have to borrow Cam’s clothes, because he didn’t feel like putting his travel clothes back on.
After a moment’s hesitation, he headed to the closet and opened the drawer. Snatching a pair of black boxer briefs, he pulled them on. Looking down, he stared at his crotch, feeling a strange little thrill at the knowledge that he was wearing Cam’s underwear. His cock was touching the fabric that had been wrapped around Cam’s cock.
“Don’t be a weirdo,” Scott muttered under his breath as he reached for a McLaren shirt draped over the chair. He lifted it and took a tentative sniff. Cam must have forgotten to throw it in the laundry. It didn’t smell dirty, exactly—just faintly of cologne and something unmistakably masculine. It smelled like Cam.
Scott inhaled again, deeper this time.
Then he pulled the shirt over his head and looked at himself in the mirror.
In Cam’s shirt.
In Cam’s boxer briefs.
God, why was he so weird about Cam?
Sighing, he settled back in the bed and decided to text Cam. Not because he was being clingy. It was just polite to tell someone you’d borrowed their clothes.
Scott: I borrowed a pair of your boxer briefs and a shirt, going to take that nap now.
Cam was online, but he didn’t reply immediately.
When the typing dots finally appeared, Scott held his breath.
Cam: show me.
Scott stared at the screen, wide-eyed. After a moment’s hesitation, he took a selfie of himself in Cam’s shirt and sent it.
Cam: the underwear too.
Okay, that was definitely getting weird, right? That was no normal heterosexual behavior.
But Cam was asking for a picture. And Scottwantedto send him one. He wanted to please him.
Lifting the shirt, Scott spread his thighs a little, made sure the underwear and lower part of his abs were visible, and took another selfie.
Cam was still online. But he wasn’t typing anything. Was he just looking at his picture?
Scott’s mouth went dry, his cock half-hard again.
