Chapter 8
“Scott, come on, I wanna dance.”
“I don’t think I could dance without falling right now,” Scott said with a laugh.
Andy pursed his lips, looking rather cross.
Scott felt a pang of guilt, but he really couldn’t be bothered to get up.
He felt perfectly good where he was—plastered against Cam’s side, his head on Cam’s shoulder.
They both were pretty drunk, but hey, they had a good excuse: Cam had won the race by utterly dominating everyone.
It deserved a celebration, right? Scott was a good friend. An amazing friend.
“You were amazing today,” Scott mumbled into Cam’s shoulder, in case he hadn’t told Cam that yet. He couldn’t remember if he had.
“Scott,” Andy tried again, but Scott didn’t look at him. He looked at Cam, their faces inches apart.
Cam gave him a wry smile. “You already told me that,” he said, burying his fingers in Scott’s hair. Mmm, it felt so nice.
“It bears repeating,” Scott said with a grin, rubbing his cheek against Cam’s shoulder. The club was loud, so they had to lean closer in order to be heard if they didn’t want to shout.
Cam’s thumb brushed lazily along the back of Scott’s neck, his fingertips warm and steady. “You’re a touchy-feely drunk,” he murmured, but he didn’t push him away. If anything, he pulled Scott a little closer, their knees knocking together.
Scott huffed a soft laugh. “No more than usual.”
Andy shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Scott,” he said, louder this time. “You said we’d dance.”
Scott dragged his eyes away from Cam with some effort. “In a minute,” he said, waving a hand vaguely in Andy’s direction before letting it fall back to Cam’s thigh for balance. “My legs don’t work.”
Cam snorted. “They work fine. You just don’t want to move. You’re being a lazy baby.”
Scott tilted his head, studying Cam’s face. It really was unfairly handsome. The flashing lights painted Cam’s skin in blues and pinks and purples. “Your mom should be proud,” Scott said. “Has anyone told you that?”
“What?” Cam said with a laugh.
Scott grinned at him, brushing his thumb over Cam’s chiseled jawline. “For making you. Good job. You’re very pretty to look at.”
Cam let out a low chuckle. “You’re ridiculous,” he said into Scott’s ear. “I’m not the pretty one here.”
Scott grinned, hooking his fingers in the front of Cam’s shirt, tugging him a fraction closer. Their foreheads nearly bumped.
Cam’s smile turned crooked. “Of course you’d be terribly clingy when you’re drunk.”
“Am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
Scott shifted even closer in response, probably proving Cam’s point. His head slipped from Cam’s shoulder to his neck. “You don’t mind, babe,” he muttered.
From where he stood, Andy let out a humorless little laugh. “Wow. Okay.”
Scott forced himself to look at him. Huh. Right. He’d forgotten Andy was still there. “What?”
“You’re practically in his lap, Scott.”
“Am not!” Scott protested. He wasn’t. Or was he?
Cam glanced at Andy, his hand slipping to Scott’s waist, the touch strong and steady. “Don’t look at me that way, mate. I’m straight. He attached himself like an octopus. I’m simply sitting here.”
Scott tilted his face up, grinning at him. “Just doing the good deed of the day. Exposure therapy. Or something.”
Andy stepped closer, reaching for Scott’s arm. “Come on, dance with me,” he insisted, his voice uncharacteristically biting. “I’m your boyfriend.”
Blinking, Scott looked between them—Andy’s outstretched hand, Cam’s firm grip at his waist. The moment stretched. And stretched.
Cam’s fingers on his waist flexed, tightening a little.
Scott knew he should probably go with Andy. He was being a shit boyfriend. It didn’t matter that he’d known Andy for just a week. He was being a jerk by neglecting him.
But he really didn’t want to move. He was perfectly content exactly where he was.
“We’re celebrating,” he said.
Andy’s hand dropped.
Cam leaned in, brushing his mouth against Scott’s ear, probably so he didn’t have to shout. “You’re going to get yourself in trouble,” he murmured.
Scott shivered. “Maybe,” he said, squirming even closer to him. “But I can’t stand clingy ones. If he can’t deal with me having fun with my friends, it’s better to cut him loose sooner rather than later. Less drama that way.”
Cam laughed. “You’re the only one allowed to be clingy, right?”
“Exactly,” Scott said with a smile, burying his face in Cam’s neck again. Mmm, he smelled so good. So nice. Scott wanted to roll around in his scent.
“I’m serious, Scott,” Andy said. The music seemed to swallow the words, but his tone was sharp enough to cut through the drunken haze in Scott’s head. “I’m tired of competing with him for your attention. You’ve been ignoring me all weekend.”
Turning his head, Scott blinked at him, slow and unfocused. “It’s not a competition, silly. Not with Cam.”
Andy laughed, eyeing them. “Yeah. I get it now.” He shook his head, his lips twisted bitterly. “I knew you were too perfect. Of course it was too good to be true. I just didn’t expect this.”
Scott frowned, his alcohol-addled mind struggling to make sense of what Andy was saying. Cam shifted beside him, his thumb still tracing idle circles at Scott’s waist, and Scott’s attention drifted back to him. No, he had to tell Andy something. Focus.
“Andy,” he said vaguely. “I’m sorry if I—”
“Don’t be,” Andy said with a crooked smile, shaking his head. “If anything, I feel sorry for you. It won’t end well.” And with that, he walked away.
Scott watched him leave with a confused frown. “Did he just dump me?” he asked after a beat.
“Looks like it,” Cam said, sounding unbothered.
Scott nodded slowly. If Cam wasn’t bothered, he probably shouldn’t be, either. “That sucks,” Scott muttered, pouting. “Will is going to make fun of me again for my fleeting relationships.”
Cam snorted. “Nice priorities.”
They ordered another round. Or maybe two. Or three. Time went syrupy and indistinct.
Later—much later—there was cool night air and a sidewalk that wouldn’t stay still. Scott clung to Cam’s arm as they walked, both of them stumbling and dissolving into helpless laughter every few steps.
“Hotel’s this way,” Cam insisted, though he sounded only marginally more certain than Scott felt.
“Lead the way, champ,” Scott slurred grandly.
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.
“Wanna put your cock in?” Scott mumbled.
Cam’s fingers stopped moving. “I’m not a—”
“We’re drunk,” Scott said. “None of this counts.”
Cam stared at him, his eyes dark and so very intense.
A beat passed, then another.
Slowly, Cam pulled his fingers out and reached down to his belt.
The sound of a zipper being undone had never sounded louder.
His heart pounding, Scott could only watch Cam shove his pants and boxers down and pull his cock out.
It looked even bigger in real life than it did in the picture. So fucking thick. An appropriate cock for the world champion.
Scott licked his dry lips as Cam straddled his chest. Drunk or not, this suddenly felt very real.
But Cam didn’t give him time for second thoughts.
He pushed the fat cockhead against Scott’s mouth, and Scott opened up, allowing it entry.
Someone groaned—maybe Cam, maybe him. And then Cam started thrusting, shallowly at first, then deeper and harder.
Christ. Jesus fucking Christ.
Scott couldn’t remember having his mouth ever fucked like this. When he sucked cock, he was usually the one in control. He didn’t get his mouth fucked this nastily, didn’t allow other men to be this domineering in bed. Scott was a top, and a fucking great one.
This was so damn wrong.
But God, he’d never been harder in his life.
Scott yanked his zipper open and pulled his aching erection out.
He moaned around Cam’s cock and started stroking his own desperately, tears springing to his eyes from the intensity of it.
The heavy weight and hardness of the cock in his mouth was driving him crazy, and the unusually submissive position for him set off the spark of wrong-forbidden-so good feeling.
Cam fucked his mouth faster, the wet sounds utterly obscene as he ground his cockhead against Scott’s throat, pulled out and did it again and again.
Scott was fisting himself furiously now, tears streaming down his cheeks, feeling utterly overwhelmed and turned on.
At long last, Cam groaned, pulled out and came all over Scott’s face. The humiliation of it pushed Scott over the edge, too.
God.
God.
Their breathing gradually synced, uneven at first, then steadying.
Scott’s eyelids grew heavy and he drifted off.