Scömìche One Shots (*PG-R*)

Be Alright

Mitch let the hotel door swing shut behind him and threw his purse and big duffle bag next to the closest bed, turning the night lamp and angrily plopping on top of the fluffy, white comforter. He groaned in frustration as he buried his face in his hands and tried to calm himself down, breathing in and out slowly like his dad had taught him years ago when he would have anxiety attacks.

Today might have been the worst day of his adult life. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so frustrated. His day had started out bad and only gotten progressively worse, and now that it was finally over he was left with the weight of everything that had happened all day crashing down on him at once. By the time his labored hyperventilation finally subsided thanks to minutes of deep breathing, he was left fighting the tears that had accumulated in his eyes and were threatening to spill. He didn't want to start crying. He was already so exhausted and he knew once he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. He was glad his roommate had decided to go out and explore with the band tonight and was going to take full advantage of his time alone to recover in quiet solitude.

Over the next half hour he took a quick shower and unpacked into the room he and Scott would be staying in for the next few days. He went through his nighttime skincare routine and changed into a comfortable sweatshirt and some clean boxers, climbing back on top of the bed before trying to decide what to do with himself. His head and body were still aching with tension despite the pills he had taken almost an hour ago and he sighed, upset that he was incapable of making himself feel better. There was no way he was going to fall asleep like this.

He laid down on his back, studying the intricate patten on the ceiling and trying to ignore the tension that was trying to consume him. He slipped his eyes shut when he felt the tears resurfacing and decided to go ahead and take advantage of the fact that he was alone to relieve himself in the quickest and easiest way he knew of. He leaned over to the nightstand to grab a few tissues and piled them within reach for cleanup, settling onto his back and trying to get comfortable.

He slid his hand under his soft hoodie, letting it linger as he caressed his chest and stomach. He let his hand drift lower down his abdomen, pushing down his white boxer briefs and letting them fall onto the floor next to the bed. He slipped one hand back under his hoodie and splayed his fingers across his chest, using the other to lightly run the tips of his fingers up and down his freed length.

He let his fingers trace along the veins of his cock, enjoying how sensitive he was and letting the feeling of his own gentle touch distract him. He was almost surprised at how easy it was for him to get hard, but he had so much frustration pent up in his body that he didn't let it bother him and wrapped his thin fingers loosely around himself, stilling for a moment. He teased his head with his thumb, humming in arousal when he felt himself twitch in his hand. For a second, the intense straining in his head subsided as gentle waves of pleasure redirected his attention to lower in his body.

He spat into his hand for a quick solution to lube and took himself back into it. He let his eyes slip shut as he wrapped his fingers a little tighter around his hardening cock, gently dragging his hand up and down the shaft. The friction felt nice and the pattern from the ceiling was slowly swirling around behind his closed eyelids as he worked himself to erection, his other hand still resting comfortingly at his chest under his hoodie. He was finally so relaxed after so long that he completely missed the high pitched beep as the door to his hotel room was unlocked, his eyes finally shooting open when he snapped out of his daze moments after he heard it click shut behind Scott.