I don not own the image of Mitch Grassi or Scott Hoying, nor do I own their bodies. The events in the story are purely fictitious (no matter how much I wish Scomiche was real), and are for entertainment purposes only.
There. Disclaimer, check!
Thank you for reading, and leave a review!
xxx
"God, it's fucking cold!" Mitch's clear voice pierced the crisp, snowy night, "Can we get in now?" He whined.
"No. One more minute," Scott fought the urge to fold his arms against his bare chest.
Mitch stood beside him, his breath coming in foggy blasts as he panted the shivers away. The snow muted everything and the stars shone bright enough to make their bodies glow silver as they stood, barefooted in the snow, clad only in swimming trunks. It was so beautiful out here, it almost took his words away. Almost. "This is so fucking stupid." He pouted.
"Shh. Almost. It'll make it feel better."
"I'm about to make you feel something, and it ain't gonna feel good." He fidgeted with his septum ring, raising an eyebrow at the taller man, "A big kick in the ass."
He smiled, gave one last look down the hillside, and gave in when a shiver ran down his back, "Fine. Now."
The two of them approached the steaming, frothing tub, Mitch being the first to step into its depths. He moved to one side so Scott could join him. His body suddenly was plunged into the strange sensation, like what he imagined stepping into hot soda would feel like, the bubbles clinging and popping on his skin. "Whoo! What'd I tell you?"
"Shut up." Mitch kicked him under the water, shivering at the temperature difference. It truly did feel amazing though, being cold, and then sinking into the welcoming heat of a hot tub. He was in it up to his neck, and he rubbed his arms, massaging the heat across his chilled skin. It tickled, burned, and soothed at the same time. He inhaled deeply, the steam filling his lungs, and he could already feel it clearing his sinuses, soothing his throat and vocal chords.
"Such a pretty night," Scott tipped his head back and gazed at the stars.
"You're such a white girl."
"Shut up," He splashed him.
The conversation continued and evolved unhindered, and the heat of the water slowly warmed them to the bone. He was so easy to talk to, and Mitch loved that he wouldn't ever be judged for the things he said. Teased, yes, but not judged. He felt like they could talk forever, about anything in the world.
Things were heating up. There were ice droplets in Mitch's hair, but he broke a sweat. An hour had passed and it was about time to get out, but the conversation had gotten deep, and he didn't want it to end. "When do you think we should tell them?"
"Tell who what?"
"Tell the fans about us. I think they're picking up on it already, the way we act together. We live together, for God's sake!"
"I don't think we should. Not yet. It's kinda fun messing with 'em. If we drop the 'we're boyfriends' bomb on them, what do you think'll happen? Mass mayhem."
"I think you're giving them too much credit. It's probably not even a big deal." He was sitting directly across from Scott, and had one foot resting on his knee, "Have you ever fucked in a hot tub?"
Scott laughed, "Yeah. Well, kind of. It was after."
"Ooh, some kinky wet shit?"
"On the floor. Naked. Have you ever fucked in the hot tub?"
"Nope. Not yet." The way he asked the question made Mitch feel horny. It was like it was a hidden suggestion, "But I always wanted to try it, Daddy." Scott's smile welcomed him closer, his eyes seductively probing him, so Mitch made the move. He slowly made his way over to where Scott sat, crawling gracefully, like a lioness on the prowl, then sat straddling his thighs with his arms around his neck, "You wanna take me? I'm all yours, Scotty." Mitch whispered in his ear, then guided Scott's hand to his chest.
A wet, warm hand made its way across Mitch's torso, making his skin tingle. He was sitting so his upper body was above the water, and the winter air was cooling the water droplets. Their lips made contact, and Mitch was smiling, his own hands running down Scott's back, into the water until he touched the waistband of his shorts, then up again. Scott pulled him closer, his mouth moving to ravage Mitch's neck, his lips sucking and his teeth barely closing down on the soft flesh. Mitch gasped and his grip tightened so his nails were pressing little crescents into Scott's back.
Scott's hips started grinding upward.
"Don't get so excited, Hunty." Mitch pushed his hip back against the seat, "I want to go slow. Be creative with me. You can do whatever you want with me. I can make this last as long as you want." He cocked his head to one side and pushed his palm against the front of Scott's trunks, letting a soft laugh through his nose as he felt that he was already going hard. It was so satisfying to see him squirm under his touch, "You don't want it to end already, do you?"
A head shake and a gasp.
"I didn't think so," He muted his heavy breathing with a kiss and traced a large heart shape on Scott's chest with his fingernails, from the center of his sternum, around his pectorals, and down to meet again above his belly button.
Scott took charge, pushing Mitch into the deep end, and with a slip and a startled yelp, the two ended up under water. Scott kissed him anyway, a wet, warm, bubbly kiss, before they resurfaced.
"You clumsy ass!" Mitch inhaled, pushing water out of his eyes and shoving Scott back against the side.
He quickly regained his composure, and pinned Mitch in the corner of the tub, holding both wrists at his sides, "Hey, listen, Mitchy. If we're gonna take it slow, you gotta stop it with those amazing hands. They're driving me crazy." He raised both of the dark haired man's arms above his head, and held them captive against the edge of the tub.
"Make me scream, Scott." He wrapped his legs around his waist and pulled him closer, "Make me your dirty girl."
Scott was breathing so hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He placed a kiss on Mitch's neck, a feather light one that made the man growl with frustration and playfully elbow him in the head. It was almost painful, going this slow, his lips making a long, meandering trail down the slender neck, but Mitch wanted this. Scott wanted to go hard, biting and scratching, throwing each other around. This was much harder than he thought it would be.
Their lungs were heavy with steam, and the heat had warmed them so entirely and so thoroughly that they couldn't feel the winter as they stood, Scott finally releasing Mitch's arms. Mitch ran pruny fingers through Scott's hair, and Scott had to bend his head downward to kiss him. His arms encircled him, pulling him close, but Mitch broke away.
"Wanna go inside?" He panted, giving the blonde hair a tug so they kissed again, and the pair blindly escaped the hot tub. Mitch pushed Scott against the back door, forcing some of the air out of him in the form of a laugh.
"You wanna get rough, Mitchy?"
He didn't answer. Instead, the two collapsed in the snow, Scott falling onto his back. He couldn't even feel it. He felt invincible to the cold, his hands sliding across Mitch's drenched trunks. They were almost steaming, and the snow felt like pillows beneath them, despite their bare skin.
Mitch did it again: that incredible way he touched Scott's growing bulge. Scott wouldn't be able to hold on much longer with Mitch touching him like that. He stopped him by standing, forcing the smaller body off him, and hit him in the middle of the chest with a handful of snow.
Mitch gasped with surprise, his expression of shock freezing on his face for only a second before his voice rose with indignant fury, "You fucker!" He bent to scoop some snow and flung it in Scott's direction, sending both of them into giggly laughter. Scott trapped him again in his embrace, and Mitch let Scott lift him into the air. He settled his weight on Scott's pelvis, dizzy with the vertigo and the hunger to be ravaged. To be fucked. It made it harder to stumble through the door, having someone kissing him passionately, his limbs wrapped around his torso, but Scott managed it. Mitch couldn't usually feel the curve in Scott's spine, but the way he moved to the bedroom, and the way his trunk moved as he curved to accommodate the new center of balance, and the S shape was distinctive under Mitch's fingers. He hardly had time to notice though, before he was slammed down on the mattress as a wet, horny, panting mess.
"You still wanna go slow?" Scott pushed a smile against the skin above Mitch's belly button, then moved back up to his lips. He judged the fact that Mitch was incapable of responding-his smooth, sweaty chest heaving as he gasped for breath-as a green light, and began to slide his index fingers under the waistband of Mitch's trunks. Mitch's hands stopped him though, the fingers wrapping around his wrists.
Scott backed off. He stood, leaving a beautifully sweaty man trying to find his words, "Wait, Scott. I didn't… Come back."
But Scott bent, rummaging through his clothes where he'd left them after changing into his swim-shorts. It was here somewhere, the little piece of silk that he'd worn with his party suit. The jacket was embroidered with little gemstones on the lapels, and he probably shouldn't have left it on the floor, but he couldn't even think of that. He was busy letting his mind go to the filthy things he wanted to do with his little-Ah, there it was; he pulled it from the clothes and let it dangle in his hand for a moment so Mitch could see it.
It was a simple thing: just a strip of blood-red silk, hanging with a kind of innocence, but also a hidden mystery. What the hell did Scott have in mind? Mitch had nagged him into wearing it for the party, and damn, was it the right choice; it made him look like a darker side of the Scott he knew, slim in his dapper suit with the shiny lapels, his hands in the pockets with a new kind of confidence. If the devil ever wore a suit he would look like Scott did that night, the bloody tie the only splash of color in his black silhouette.
Scott wasn't all sparkles and puppies. His dark side came out as he descended on Mitch, pinning his wet body against the sheets as he ravaged his neck with kisses. Rough hands slid up tattooed arms, holding his hands with their fingers woven together. He passed the silk tie over Mitch's wrists, breaking away from the kiss long enough to pant, "Is this okay?" against his lips.
Mitch nodded, his smile growing as the tie was tightened, the fabric snug against his wrists, but loose enough for Mitch to be able to fight free if he wanted to. Scott fought for dominance against the upward pressure of Mitch's hungry kiss, and he had to use his tongue in order to feel in control again, using his jaw to press Mitch's head back into the mattress. By now he was squirming, his body bowing upward and his arms lowering to fit his tied hands on the back of Scott's neck so he could pull at his gorgeous, soaked tendrils of hair.
And then Scott used his power, his helpless Mitchy's hands held captive around his neck, and finally removed Mitch's swim-shorts. He was already so hard, and wonderfully, gloriously, drippingly bare, powerless to stop Scott's touch as his hands descended down his rib cage to settle with his thumbs in the indents of his hip-bones.
Mitch's head tipped back, his eyes closed as Scott buried a kiss in the crook of his shoulder, "I want you to make me your bitch, dirty boy."
xxx
Oops! I had to rewrite a bit to make it more coherent. I hope you enjoy the changes now that the end of the chapter makes a little more sense.
This chapter is a bit of an experiment. I wrote it a while ago as my first smut attempt and I have another chapter. I thought I'd see what you guys think. Should I continue? I have no idea how dirty is too much, but I'm willing to take it pretty far.
Thoughts?