Chapter 10
Dutch Grand Prix
He could act totally cool and unbothered. People did stupid things when they were drunk all the time. Friends drunkenly having sex was nothing. It had literally happened to Scott during his college days a few times, and they’d just laughed about it afterward. This was the exact same thing—
The door opened.
“Hey!” Scott said, flashing a wide smile as he met Cam’s inscrutable dark eyes. He had the uncomfortable feeling his grin was bordering on maniacal, but he couldn’t seem to do anything about it.
“Hey,” Cam said, stepping aside to let him in. He’d stepped too far away. As if he didn’t want any parts of their bodies to touch as Scott passed.
Scott narrowed his eyes. He should probably let it be. But it was one thing when Scott was the one being touch-averse. It was another when Cam acted as if he’d gotten the plague. That wouldn’t do.
Before Scott could think twice, he stepped forward and, leaning in, kissed the other man on his stubbled cheek.
Cam froze for like half a second—practically an eternity for a Formula One driver—before clapping Scott on the shoulder and pulling away. He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze sliding somewhere over Scott’s ear instead of his eyes. “Did you have a good flight?”
Apparently they were doing small talk now.
Smiling crookedly, Scott stepped farther into the room, hoping he looked like everything was perfectly normal and not at all weird. “Well, you know. Long. Boring. The usual.”
He dropped onto the couch with a casual confidence that took an alarming amount of concentration to maintain. Cam stayed by the door for a moment, his body language stiff, before walking closer.
Silence fell over the room. A very loud, awkward silence.
Right. So apparently they were going with the pretend-nothing-happened strategy. Scott could do that. Scott was great at pretending nothing happened.
He clasped his hands together behind his head and leaned back. “So. What’s up?”
Cam stared at him.
Scott stared back, smiling.
And never mind that his brain was running through that night in a high-definition replay he had absolutely not asked for. The club. The drinks. Too many drinks. Cam’s hand on his waist. Cam laughing into his shoulder. Cam’s thumb in his mouth. Cam’s cock heavy on his tongue—
“Are we really going to pretend it didn’t happen?” Scott blurted out. “That’s lame.”
A muscle in Cam’s jaw jumped. Then the tension around his eyes eased a little. He gave a short laugh. “Of course you wouldn’t behave like any normal person would after having ill-advised sex. Why did I think you would?”
Scott grinned. “Because I’m awesome like that?” He patted the space on the couch next to him. “Come here, don’t be shy. I promise not to suck your dick.”
Cam gave him a pinched look. “Very funny,” he deadpanned, but he did walk over and sit down next to him. His body was radiating tension, but he didn’t push Scott away when he threw an arm around Cam’s shoulders and leaned into him.
“Are you freaking out?” Scott said, studying his profile curiously.
“No,” Cam said, without looking at him. “We were drunk. And stupid. It doesn’t count. I’m straight. I’m not attracted to you at all.”
“Ouch,” Scott said with a laugh. He did his best to ignore the small knot that settled in his stomach. It was normal. Just an ego thing. No one liked being told that they weren’t attractive by a handsome man. It wasn’t as though he wanted Cam, either.
“So we’re good?” Scott pressed.
Cam gave a clipped nod.
“Why aren’t you looking at me, then?”
Finally, Cam turned his head. Their faces were so close Scott suddenly felt a little... uneasy. Though uneasy wasn’t quite the right word, either.
“We’re good,” Cam said. “I wouldn’t invite you to share my room otherwise, would I?”
Scott blinked. “Wait, what?” Belatedly, he glanced around and realized this hotel room was just that—a large bedroom with a living room space, not a spacious suite with two bedrooms like in Silverstone.
Scott stared at the bed. “Are we going to share it?”
Cam shrugged. “Unless you want to sleep on this couch, yes.”
Scott glanced down at the small couch they were sitting on. Yeah, no. It was a perfectly good piece of furniture, but it definitely wasn’t suitable for a six-foot-tall man.
“Bed it is,” Scott said with a forced chuckle.
Fuck, this was going to be so awkward.
***
He’d been wrong—it wasn’t awkward at all.
If anything, it was a little disturbing how easily he and Cam cohabitated, even after what had happened.
Scott usually got irritated whenever he had to share space with his boyfriends—he hated seeing someone else’s things mixed in with his, or seeing someone else’s messy toiletries on the bathroom counter.
Cam was… not exactly conflictless. It was just that his rough edges never seemed to catch on Scott’s.
Even getting into bed with him somehow wasn’t awkward.
They bid each other good night, easy and unceremonious, and Scott fell asleep without any trouble.
The steady sound of Cam’s breathing beside him was better than any lullaby.
The pillow smelled good—clean laundry and something masculine and vaguely familiar—and Scott turned his face into it as he drifted off.
Scott wasn’t sure what had woken him at first.
He hovered in that foggy space between sleep and waking, listening without quite meaning to. The room was dark and quiet, the kind of deep night silence where every small movement seemed louder than it should.
Then he heard it.
A soft, slick noise. Skin shifting against skin.
Oh.
Cam was jerking off. Right there. In bed next to him.
Scott’s eyes stayed closed, but suddenly he was wide awake, aware of everything—the warmth trapped under the blankets, the faint smell of Cam on the pillow, the subtle change in Cam’s breathing beside him, a little heavier.
A little less steady. The mattress shifted now and then with small, careful movements, restrained enough that Scott might have slept through them if he hadn’t already been half-awake.
In Cam’s defense, he probably thought Scott was asleep. And, to be fair, Scott had been.
Now he wasn’t sure what to do. If he moved, Cam would know he was awake. And that would just be awkward, right? More awkward than this was.
So Scott stayed still, listening—and, despite himself, paying far more attention than he probably should have.
The problem was, he knew what that cock looked like, what it tasted like. Imagining it now, thick and hard, in Cam’s hand was... It was unsettling. He couldn’t listen to this. He shouldn’t be listening to this. This was too weird.
Scott moved with a sleepy sigh, as if he was just waking up and had no clue what Cam was doing.
The noise stopped.
“I thought you were asleep,” Cam said after a moment, his voice sounding very normal. Not even a little breathless.
“I was,” Scott said, turning to him. It was too dark to see anything, but he still squinted, trying to make out whether Cam’s hand was still on his dick. “Not sure what woke me up. Why are you awake?”
“Can’t sleep.”
Scott hummed. “Stressed about the weekend?”
“A bit,” Cam said. “Hunter’s closer in the championship than I’m comfortable with. The car is fucking shit this season, an oversteery mess.”
Scott made a sympathetic noise, even though he didn’t really understand what that meant. He just liked watching hot guys drive cars fast; sue him. “That sucks,” he said. “Want a cuddle?”
There was a moment’s silence.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cam said.
“It’s not ridiculous,” Scott said with a grin.
“Hugs have been scientifically proven to make people feel less stressed.” Scooting closer, he wrapped his arm around Cam’s stomach.
The feeling of Cam’s happy trail startled him a little.
He usually shared a bed with younger twinks who kept themselves meticulously groomed, so touching a half-naked man with body hair felt a bit strange. Novel.
Cam was very still at first, his body tense. Scott half-expected him to peel his arm off and shove him away.
He didn’t.
After a few seconds, Cam let out a slow breath that softened the hard line of his stomach under Scott’s arm, not relaxing exactly, but the tension easing by a fraction.
But Scott was hyperaware of everything at once: the steady rise and fall of Cam’s chest, the faint scratch of body hair against his forearm every time either of them breathed.
It was… nice. Scott pressed his face against Cam’s bare arm—against his bicep.
Just to get comfortable. Cam smelled like soap and something warm and masculine that Scott had noticed earlier.
Up close like this, the scent wrapped around him in a way that made his chest feel oddly tight.
Cam shifted slightly, turning just enough that Scott’s arm slid more securely across his waist. The movement brought their legs closer together.
Scott tried very hard not to think about what had woken him up in the first place. About Cam’s hand stroking his—
No, he wasn’t going there.
He wasn’t.
But his brain, traitorous thing that it was, supplied the memory anyway. And now he couldn’t stop wondering. Was Cam still…
Scott squeezed his eyes shut.
Why did he even care? It wasn’t relevant. It was extremely not relevant. Cam was straight. They’d already established that. They were good. Totally normal. Bros who had accidentally had sex once and now cuddled platonically in the middle of the night. Very normal.
Scott shifted again. He was just getting comfortable. His knee brushed Cam’s thigh, and then—
Cam inhaled sharply.
Oh.
Scott’s stomach did a small flip-flop.
“Sorry,” Cam said roughly. “I was kind of in the middle of something when you woke up.”
There were two ways he could react to that: make it weird or make light of it. Scott chose the latter.
“Naughty,” he said, smiling against Cam’s bicep. “And here I thought you were too prudish and homophobic to touch your dick next to a gay man. What if I got ideas?”
Cam snorted. “It would be a little too late for that. Considering that I’ve already had my dick in your mouth.”