Mitch is being hoisted up, feels his feet being lifted off the ground as his legs are pulled around Scott's waist. A tongue is invading his mouth as large hands run along his thighs, squeezing gently at the middle.
Scott sets him on top of the small vanity, and it's a bit uncomfortable, his butt dipping into the sink a bit, but Scott's addictive, and Mitch can't help but keep pushing forward as Scott lets his hands travel, trail up Mitch's thigh and dig gently into the soft clothed flesh.
They are making out at this point, tongues pushing in and out of each other's mouths. Mitch thinks it's erotic, loves the way Scott is putting his all into this sudden kissing session. His teeth come out to play, occasionally, tugging on Mitch's bottom lip as he slides his hands under his damp shirt to explore the skin there.
Mitch gasps quietly, revels in the sensation of Scott's cold fingertips against his heated skin, ignited by the overwhelmingness of Scott. He's reaching his hands up, playing with the small hairs at the base of Scott's head as his legs tighten around his waist.
Scott is the perfect height, too, just right so that their hips subtly rub together. There's a little moan from Mitch, but it's swallowed up by Scott's mouth almost as immediately as it's released. Scott lets out a quiet groan when the bulge growing in his tight jeans rubs just right against Mitch.
Scott's hands grip Mitch's hips tightly, pull him closely against him. Mitch whimpers, pants into Scott's mouth as large hands fumble with the button and zipper on his skinny jeans, tugging and pulling.
It's quiet, a subtle knocking on the door, almost too low of a rumble for either to notice as quiet noises escape them both, but Mitch hears it, pries his lips away from Scott's red and swollen ones. He turns his head, eyes locking on the locked door handle that jiggles.
Scott remains oblivious, instead turning his attention to Mitch's bare neck that's being presented to him, latching onto the smooth expanse of skin there. He sucks hard, and it has Mitch's toes curling, but his eyes are still fixated on the door that wants to open.
Mitch grips Scott's firm broad shoulders, pushes gently, "Scott - Scott, stop." Scott leans back, eyes laced with worry. Mitch nods his head toward the door, whispers, "someone is trying to get in."
Scott glances to the side, clears his throat awkwardly before taking a step back, adjusting himself. "Yeah, uh, sorry." He mumbles.
"Hey," comes from the other side of the door, "I need to fucking pee!"
Scott bites his lip, helps Mitch scoot off the vanity, waits as he buttons up his pants. He rubs bashfully at the back of his neck before twisting the lock and pulling open the bathroom door.
"Oh, thank god," Kirstie groans, shoving her way into the bathroom. "You guys have been in here forever."
"Sorry," Scott says sheepishly, shuffling toward the door and glancing hesitantly at Mitch.
Kirstie halts, turns, even sends them a cold glare, but then she looks over both of the boys. She takes in their disheveled clothes, Scott's tousled hair, their red, bruised lips.
Her eyes widen, a giggle escaping, "oh my god. You two were totally just fucking in here-"
"We weren't!" Scott interrupts, but Mitch already feels the anxiety creeping up. His heart is racing now, his breath coming out in little puffs. He thinks he can feel the burn of tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.
He's pathetic, he thinks, making out with Scott in his friend's bathroom while Scott is probably too drunk to realize his mistake. Mitch thinks he might be sick, or he at least will start crying, and that is the last thing he wants to do in front of Kirstie, and especially in front of Scott.
So he turns abruptly on his heel, races out of the bathroom. He feels the hot tears starting to stream down his face, rubs at them angrily. He hopes he's not noticeable, hopes nobody recognizes that he's shamefully crying. He bumps into Kris as he storms toward the front door, stumbles into his friend who immediately wraps his arms around him protectively when he notices that Mitch is practically sobbing.
"Mitchy, what's wrong?"
Mitch just shakes his head, burrows into Kris's neck. He wants to disappear, needs to get out of this crowded place. He can feel eyes on him, and he hates it.
"Okay, okay," Kris soothes, rubs his back gently. "Let's get out of here. I'll take you home."
"Please," Mitch hiccups into his chest.
-
It all happens in a blur, really. Mitch feels himself being guided, barely registers himself being settled into the back of an uber. He refuses to let Kris leave him, holds tightly onto his hand, and his friend obliges, doesn't let go.
"Want to talk about what happened?" He says softly.
Mitch frowns, peers at his unoccupied hand, "I kissed Scott."
Kris's eyes widen, "you - what?"
"Well, he kissed me - we kissed. It was a mistake," Mitch whispers.
"Why do you say that?"
Mitch sighs, "I'm me, Kris. You've seen him - I'm the kind of guy he'd only ever kiss if he were drunk, and I know he's going to regret it."
"That's silly," Kris says, squeezing Mitch's hand. "You're a great guy - you're kind, genuine, and super attractive." Both boys laugh softly. "If the way Scott looks at you is anything to go by, I think he won't ever regret kissing you, Mitchy."
Mitch rubs frustratedly at his face, leans into Kris. "I ruined it all - I kissed him, and then I ran away from him. He's never going to want to speak to me again."
"He seems like a nice guy, Mitch. Don't count him out yet."
Mitch sighs, burrowing his head further into the crook of Kris's neck. His friend places a soft kiss on his temple, stroking his thumb along the knuckles on his hand. "I'll try."
The rest of the car ride is quiet, only the soft hum of the engine and the outside providing any noise. Mitch sits comfortably against Kris, thankful he isn't riding all alone. He's pretty sure he would still be a sobbing mess if he were.
When they get to Mitch's home, Kris gives his hand a gentle squeeze, urges him toward the car door.
Mitch steps out, turns to close the door and says a soft, "thank you," to Kris because he really means it, isn't sure he would be so stable if it weren't for his friend comforting him after the entire fiasco tonight.
Kris smiles, bares his pearly whites, "it's nothing." There's a pause, where Mitch grips the door, smiles fondly back at Kris. "It's all going to be okay, Mitchy."
And Mitch thinks he really means it, thinks it might even be true.
Maybe it will all be okay.
