Scomiche One Shots (R)

deja vu pt.1

Been a while, y'all!! Whoops! I have like 4000 drafts and no idea how to finish any of them. Hope this one makes up for it! P.S. The second part is LONG. Like 3000 words long. 

Scott's alarm blared at some ungodly hour of the morning- or at least ungodly for the time he went to bed- and he pulled the pillow over his head, slapping around his bedside table to put it on snooze. The sun was flittering in through the curtains and his head pounded from the large quantity of alcohol he had managed to consume. A knock on the doorframe of his room only elicited a groan and caused his to pull the covers up over his head too. It was all very cliché, like the opening scene of some chick flick. 

"Get up, we have a faculty meeting today in the office," he heard Kirstie pipe brightly, obviously having been awake for some time.

"Uhhhh. What time is it?"

"Almost 8 and we have to leave by 9 if we don't want to be stuck in too much traffic," she smirked, seemingly amused by his lack of coherence. When he finally emerged from the pile of bedding, Scott shielded his eyes from the brightness and blinked rapidly until he adjusted to some degree.

"Kirst, I'm so fucking hungover, you don't even know," he complained but she only giggled and grabbed him a cold bottle of water. 

"Now get up and get dressed."

He quickly dismissed her with the wave of his hand, rolled out of bed onto his feet and made his way into the bathroom. When he looked in the mirror his eyebrows furrowed at the hickey on the lower right side of his neck. Quickly, the night before came flashing into his mind, blinding him like the lights of the club and speeding his heart up just like the erratic bass of blasting music...

He felt a shy hand slink around his waist and instinctively pulled the smaller framed boy closer to his body as if they weren't already as close as possible, like maybe if he pulled hard enough, they could somehow close the nonexistent gap. Instead, he just got lithe fingers unabashedly feeling him up and dimples to show on the boy's celestial face. 

Before he could register what was happening, they were pulling each other and fumbling into a back room at the club. Why the door was unlocked, or how they both knew it was here and available were questions he could not answer, especially in his drunken, lustful state of mind. Again, without any conscious processing, their lips were on each other and suddenly there was less space. 

Scott toyed with the boy's luscious lips and he seemed to reciprocate gleefully, as if it was a cue he had been waiting for. He cupped his jaw, which then slowly slid down so he could run his thumb along the brunet's throat. When his lips replaced his thumb and sucked, Scott heard the most delicious moan slip past the smaller mans lips, giving him encouragement that he didn't need.

"Mmmm, what's your name again?" he heard, causing him to pull back.

"Scott. Yours?"

"Secret. Not everyone deserves to scream my name," he slyly replied, beginning to nip at Scott's collarbones with his eyes closed and eyelashes resting beautifully against his cheeks. 

"What about me?" Scott questioned, hands sliding into the beautiful boy's back pockets and squeezing.

"Hmmm, convince me." 

Scott soon found his sinful lips working the wicked boy down his throat, and even if he had known his name, his mouth was too occupied to moan it. Those fingers that he was quickly learning to love tangled themselves in his blond hair and if his jeans had been tight before, they were now painful. 

When Scott finished, a smile tugging at the corners of his swollen lips, he felt the familiar buzz of his phone in his back pocket. "Shit, my ride's leaving," he grumbled.