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.
"Shame, Scotty boy," he heard the high pitched boy muse.
"Can I at least get a name now?" Scott sassed
"Wishful thinking, maybe next time."
He poked and prodded at the small mark in hopes of it somehow fading before his meeting but only ended up making the skin around it an aggravated red. The shirt he had chosen was of no help in covering it and sweating to death in a turtleneck was slightly less favorable in his mind than it being seen. "Kirst?"
"Yeah?" she called to him. He sauntered out of the room, now fully dressed, but with a slight pout adorning his face.
"Can I borrow your concealer?" Scott whined melodramatically, fingers coming to run along the mark. He got a quiet chuckle in response and moments later, she returned with the small tube in her hands. "Can you do it? You're better at it."
"Was he cute?" Kirstie asked as she began applying the makeup
"Beyond. Gorgeous."
"Tall and blond like you, i'm assuming?" she smirked. So what? He had a type.
"No, actually. Short and brunet," Scott smiled at the memory
"Ooh! Name?"
"He wouldn't tell me"
"A mystery boy!" she nearly squealed, finishing covering his neck. Scott just snickered at her excitement and then rushed to grab his belongings so they wouldn't be late.
They got in the car and began the silent drive, save for the background music playing from the stereo. Scott heard his stomach rumble and quickly realized he hadn't eaten at all today or last night– unless he considered the boy he wanted to gorge himself on. "Can we go to Starbucks?"
"We're gonna be late but I'll let you take the fall for it," Kirstie replied, pulling into the nearest Starbucks, not even one mile up. Oh, Los Angeles.
Scott practically ran in to the shop, not even bothering to wait for Kirstie to get out of the car. He stepped in line and whipped his phone out, sending a quick text to their manager that they would be late and it was his (stomach's) fault. As he did so, his head snapped up when a loud crash echoed through the building.
Two of the baristas had bumped into each other, sending iced coffee onto the small man's apron. He quickly took it off and turned to go grab a new one when Scott felt his breath hitch.
It was him; the boy who had felt him up, teased him and then wouldn't tell him his name.
His heart rate sped up at the sight of the brilliant, mysterious boy and continued to rise as he got closer to the front of the line. The boy returned with a new, dry apron and took his place at the register. "I can take the next customer!" he chimed while fixing the register and Scott stepped forward.
"Hello," the blond simpered and his eyes widened at how quickly the boy's head jerked up.
Scott was met with eyes that quickly darkened in an almost deviant way and a smirk that played on the lean boy's face. "Can I help you?" he asked impishly
"Oh I'm sure you can, but I'll have an iced coffee and Kirstie will have a latte"
"Coming right up," he said throwing a playful wink in Scott's direction and scurrying off.
The two stepped aside to wait for their drinks and Scott could feel his palms actively sweating while he checked his phone. He watched as the boy moved around the counter expertly, mixing their drinks in no time. "Scott and Kirstie! Iced coffee and a latte."
Kirstie grabbed hers and turned with a polite wave while the blond lingered. "Can I get a name now, pretty boy? Your name tag went conveniently missing."
"Hmm, you'll have to wait a little longer," he chided effortlessly and then was gone.
When Scott finally peeled his eyes away, he noticed a small note on his cup that read 'Club Z @ 9pm'. He made his way to the car and slammed the door behind him. "That was him."
"The mystery boy?!" Kirstie jumped
"Yes, the mystery boy. Who else?" he rolled his eyes, now in a bad mood from being denied a name twice.
"You were right, he's gorgeous."
"I know."
––––––
The duo was sat in their meeting, coffee cups in hand and ideas being thrown around with their managers. Scott had been moody since the moment they walked in the door, suddenly much preferring to be alone rather than with the people near him.
"I think we need to start advertising within large scale stores. Y'know, reach a broader market," Jonathan, their manager, suggested.
"No, are you kidding?" Scott snapped "It completely ruins the point of being a small town band if we're plastering our faces everywhere."
"What's wrong with you, sour-puss?" he countered.
"He's got a crush that won't tell him his name," Kirstie chimed.
"Oh, Scotty's got a crush. I see how it is," Jonathan played.
"No I don't!! I just think he's hot!" he rushed
"So...a crush"
"Maybe." he grumbled
––––––
Their meeting ran later than expected and afterwards Scott had gone to the gym to burn off some pent-up energy. Traffic was being a bitch, per usual, and Scott found himself hitting the horn on the steering wheel more than probably needed.
That boy did something to him. He couldn't pin down what exactly, though. Withholding his name was definitely frustrating, but Scott found himself more aggravated by the way the boy smirked and popped his eyebrows as if this whole thing was just a game. He didn't miss how the brunets head nearly shot up when Scott spoke, like he had recognized his voice and was waiting to hear it. Maybe he did something to that boy, too.
The coffee cup with the vague invitation had been crushed after he finished the drink and quickly thrown out– after Scott jotted the time and place into his phone reminders.
With the time already quickly nearing 9pm, Scott was rushing around his apartment in attempt to find clothes for tonight. He had tried on nearly half his closet, throwing the rejected clothes somewhere behind him and continuing to search for the perfect combo. Finally, he decided on a pair of tan jogger pants and a camel colored jumper, paired with white Converse shoes. He styled his hair into the perfect wave, grabbing his car keys and setting out to the club.
Maybe this time he would finally get the boy's name.