The Pact (Scömìche)(completed)

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Hello lovelies, happy Monday. Time for your regularly scheduled episode of Scömìche. 💖✨

Two smokin' hot dudes, years of pent-up tension, whatever will happen next?? 😏

All I can say is, when they get together stuff happens. I don't make the rules, I just write it down. 😊 So, if that's not your thing, that's cool. ( if it is read on but be ready for 💥)

(tw for panic attack)

Scott and Mitch crossed a significant threshold last time. Now they must confront demons and make a decision.

The next morning Mitch woke and didn't know where he was. The body behind him was definitely not business as usual. He was used to waking up alone, surrounded by empty space. Here he was warm, held by someone familiar.

"Morning, baby." Scott's morning rasp was better than he remembered, especially when whispered in his ear.

"Morning," he replied, nestling his butt into Scott's lap. "Feels like a very good morning for someone." He rubbed against his morning wood, smiling at Scott's groan.

"God, Mitch."

"Yeah?" He turned over and kissed Scott on the nose. "What?"

"You are trouble." Scott looked at him fondly.

"You like it."

"Fair point." Scott rolled away and got up to the bathroom.

Mitch stretched and yawned, totally relaxed. Safe.

"What are you smiling about?" Scott came back and put on the discarded sweatpants, then sat on the bed.

"I had this really vivid dream."

"Really?" Scott looked down at him, eyes soft. "Was it good?"

"Yes you were." He gazed up at his sunshine in wonder. "I hope to God it was real."

A gentle kiss on the lips was his answer. "Me too. Shall I make breakfast, since we kinda missed out on food last night? I'm starving."

"That's an excellent idea. I'll have coffee, eggs, and more coffee."

"Yes ma'am." Scott kissed Mitch's forehead leaving a warm feeling in his chest that spread all the way to his toes.

Mitch dozed for a bit longer, then got up and washed his face with some kind of man soap. A new toothbrush in its wrapper waited for him. He smiled at his sleepy-eyed reflection, faint purple marks on the base of his neck. He'd have to bring his own things next time, if there was going to be a next time.

If? Who am I kidding?

He'd finally tasted Scott, and once would never be enough.

He put on boxers and tee shirt, and padded into the kitchen barefoot. Scott stood at the hob wearing an apron, pink marks blooming on his neck, singing along with a current radio hit. Mitch stepped up behind him, rested his head on one shoulder blade, and put his hands on Scott's hips.

"Hello. You should stop that before I drop some - aaahh!"

Mitch licked up Scott's spine, grinning as muscles flexed and shoulder blades drew together in a delicious shiver.

"You should wear more clothes, I told you before." He sat at the breakfast bar. "Need any help?"

Scott waved a spatula. "If you set the table, we're all good."