Chapter Text
Mitch arrived at Langley twenty minutes after he said he would, with a distinct pep in his step despite the lateness. Irene and Hurley were already waiting for him, along with several others in the operations room. He gave them a cursory greeting and went to pour himself a coffee while he waited to be debriefed, oblivious to the confused looks directed at his back.
“Is he… humming? ” Irene Kennedy, the CIA director, asked incredulously.
“Uh-huh. Rapp!” Hurley barked. “The hell is going on with you today?”
“Nothing, boss,” Mitch said, stirring three spoonful's of sugar into his cup. Kennedy and Hurley exchanged a bewildered look. In the five years they’ve worked together, since when did Mitch call him boss?
“Are you high?” Hurley asked.
Beside him, Irene whispered, “Should we call Dr. Lewis?”
This time Mitch looked over at them, scowling. “No?”
“Is this a breakdown? You’ve finally lost it, haven’t you?”
“I’m fine, guys,” Mitch laughed. “I’m just in a good mood. Is that allowed?”
“No!” They answered together. Mitch snorted.
“Of course we’re glad you’re happy, Mitch,” Kennedy said carefully. “It’s just… out of character for you.”
“Yeah. What’s got you so hopped up, anyway?”
“I had a good night,” Mitch shrugged. Hurley looked doubtful, and even Kennedy seemed skeptical of the explanation. He sighed and turned to face them fully, leaning back against the coffee car. “If you need to know: it was sex.”
“Sex.” Hurley’s voice came out flat and unimpressed, and dripping with doubt.
“Yeah. Really great sex, and if you haven’t called, I’d probably still be in bed.” Mitch took a deliberate sip of his coffee. “Be thankful it left me in a good enough mood that I don’t want to kill you for interrupting.”
“Wow.” Hurley whistled, impressed; that must’ve been a damn good lay if Mitch was willing to walk away from an extra round. “You should get laid more often.”
“I get laid all the time. It’s about the quality, not the quantity. Can we actually get to work now, or do you need details, too?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Kennedy cut in, and gestured for Mitch to follow her for the debrief.
***
Partway through the briefing, Kennedy got called away to handle a different matter. Her responsibilities had grown since leaving behind her position as Director of Operations, and taking over directorship of the CIA as a whole. Mitch didn’t begrudge her the interruption, or envy the scope of her new position. He never could understand the desire to climb through the ranks of an organization whose sole purpose was espionage. Then again, it was different for her.
Shortly after Irene stepped out, Dr. Lewis took her place.
“Rapp,” he greeted. “Hurley wants us to have a talk.”
“Oh God. Tell me he didn’t order a psych eval because I got laid. ”
“Not quite. He just wants to make sure you aren’t distracted on your mission. None of us want to see you hurt—or killed—because you’re compromised.” Lewis smiled placidly, gesturing to the door. “Come on.”
Glaring daggers at Hurley on the other side of the room, Mitch reluctantly followed Lewis out and into the empty conference room he’d commandeered.
“Irene did want a drug test. I think she figured whoever you were with last night must have dosed you with something. She said you’re glowing .”
“For fuck’s sake—”
“She wasn’t wrong. But don’t worry; I told her labs wouldn’t be necessary. You’re allowed to be happy once in a while.”
“Thanks,” Mitch said flatly.
“Anytime. Now, I would like you to tell me about last night.”
“Seriously?” Mitch complained. “Are we really doing this?”
“Come on, Rapp. If you can’t talk to your therapist about your sex life, who can you talk to?”
“No one.” Lewis gave him a stern look. “There’s nothing to talk about! I don’t know what to tell you, doc. I had really good sex, that’s it.”
Why does everyone want to make this out to be more than it is?
Lewis studied him carefully. “I’m sure you have good sex all the time. You don’t strike me as the type that would tolerate a subpar performance. What made last night different?”
Mitch looked all around the room, at the large mahogany desk, and the dozen chairs strewn around it. Anywhere but at Lewis. Finally, he sarcastically said, “He was a good fit for me.”
“Since you were together for one night, I’m assuming you meant physically, not emotionally,” Lewis said dryly.
“You know I don’t have emotions, doc.”
“We both know that isn’t true, as much as you may wish it was,” Lewis said, the corner of his mouth ticking up. Mitch always had to make things so difficult. Five years of this, and he still hasn’t learned Lewis will get the truth out of him, one way or another. “That’s not something you do often, is it? Catching instead of pitching, as it were.”
Can we not have the bad euphemisms, please?
“No, I don’t really bottom, ” Mitch said, rolling his eyes. “It’s been… God, I don't even know how long. Months, probably. And when I do, I always stay on top.” He never lets someone put him on his back. Not like he did with Stiles.
“Understandable. It puts you in a vulnerable position. One you’ve been trained to avoid, at that. Yes, I know, you can protect yourself,” Lewis said, holding up a hand to stop Mitch from interrupting. “But you’re still giving up control. It takes trust.” Mitch reluctantly nodded in agreement. “What made this encounter different?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s figure it out, then,” Lewis said patiently.
Mitch thought about it. He really couldn’t come up with a better reason than liking the size of Stiles’ dick, and being struck with the urge to ride it.
When Mitch didn’t offer up any answer, Lewis asked, “Tell me about the first time you had sex with a man.”
“For fuck’s sake! How is that relevant?” That was the last thing Mitch wanted to discuss, and lewis was the second-to-last person he’d be willing to discuss it with. The only person worse would be Hurley. But unlike Lewis, Hurley would never ask.
“Indulge me,” Lewis said simply. He had that look in his steel blue eyes that said he was following a particular thread. Mitch raked a hand through his hair with a tense sigh; he knew Lewis wouldn’t let him go without an answer.
“Four years ago, I was twenty-two, it was awful, can I go now?”
Lewis leveled Mitch with that cold, calculating stare, the one he only used when he refused to give up a line of interrogation. Mitch really wanted to resist. But the faster he got this over with, the faster he could get out of the fucking country.
“ Fine.” Mitch leaned back against the conference table, trying to appear nonchalant. His good mood was rapidly fading. Taking a deep breath, he said, “It was a few weeks after Katrina’s death. I wasn’t on my revenge track, yet; I was still grieving, and lonely, feeling guilty over what happened. Just generally in a really shitty place. So I picked up some guy at a bar.”
“You didn’t want anyone that reminded you of her,” Lewis guessed. He knew Mitch’s history; Katrina had been his highschool sweetheart, the only person he’d ever been with, for the duration of their five-year relationship. There was no other reason for Mitch to develop a sudden interest in men. Granted, the interest wasn’t very sudden, and he’d always been aware of it on the peripheral. But until her death, Mitch only ever had eyes for Katrina. “You thought losing yourself in someone completely unlike her would help you forget what happened,” he added, not unkindly, aware that the last four years did little to lesson the pain of that loss.
“Yeah.”
“What this your first time receiving penetration?” Mitch gave him a dirty look. Lewis held his hands up in defence, returning it with a small smile. “I’m a medical professional.”
“No, it wasn’t. Katrina and I had been having sex for years. Penetrative and otherwise.”
“You weren’t a virgin, then.”
Mitch shrugged. “Not technically, no.”
“Technically?”
Mitch shrugged again. “My hymen was still intact. I always preferred smaller toys.”
“Really?” Lewis was mildly surprised. Again Mitch gave him that dirty look, looking scandalized.
“Did you think I was a size queen or something?”
“Well…” Lewis shrugged sheepishly. “I know you like a challenge. I supposed I expected that would carry over into the bedroom.”
“Not in this case,” Mitch snorted. “It’s uncomfortable, I’m not into it.” Mitch meant it when he told Stiles he didn’t like big dicks; he was incredibly picky about the things he put in his body.
“I see.” Lewis tapped his cheek thoughtfully. “What happened during this encounter of yours?”
“There’s not much to tell, doc. I hooked up with a guy, it hurt, I bled for the rest of the day, and I hated myself after because it just made me miss Katrina more.” Sex with her had never been anything but amazing. Even when it was still new and awkward, and they didn’t know what they were doing, learning the hard way that he couldn’t take the kinds of things she could, she never once hurt him. She never made him feel ashamed of his limits, either, like some of the partners he’s had since. “Hell,” Mitch continued, tears his mind away from the past, “I didn’t even get off. Just went home and spent the rest of the night miserable in bed.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lewis said honestly. Mitch shrugged; it was years ago, he never thought about it anymore. Not until Lewis decided to dredge up memories he’d rather leave buried, anyway. “Do you think you may have some lingering trauma over this incident?”
“What? No. It’s a pretty common experience for—” Mitch cut himself off with a derisive snort. “Well. For people with pussies.”
“Even still, I wouldn’t be surprised if it contributed to your tastes today.” Lewis gestured for Mitch to continue. “Tell me about your experience last night.”
“I don’t know… it was good. ” Stiles was fun, and surprisingly considerate, and spent an obscene amount of time with his tongue in Mitch’s cunt. Come to think of it, Mitch was pretty sure he’d gotten more oral last night than he has in the last four years. “He went down on me before we even made it to the bed,” Mitch added. “We’d barely even gotten into the room, and he didn’t do it like it was a chore, either.” Mitch still ached with that deep, well-used feeling, a warm reminder of Stiles with every step he took.
“He took his time with it, then,” Lewis said. Mitch grinned a bit.
“Yeah, that’s a way to put it. Couple times last night, again this morning…” They’d probably still be going at it now, if not for Hurley’s damnable call. Stiles was right, I should’ve ignored it. Oh well, it was something to look forward to if Mitch ever saw him again.
“Sounds like that’s not something you’re used to.”
“I’m impatient, I like getting to the main act. And I’m better at getting myself off than anyone else is. When I hook up with someone, it’s because I want to fuck them; I can take care of myself after.”
“Do you think that’s a defense mechanism?”
I think I hate your rhetorical questions.
“I don’t like wasting time.”
“Sex is meant to be a mutual experience. Finding pleasure for yourself is never a waste of time.” Lewis folded his hands on his stomach, leaning back in his chair, and Mitch very much wanted to leave, because he knew Lewis had finally arrived at his point. “It’s no secret you like to be in control. Giving yourself pleasure, or allowing someone else to give it to you, means letting go of that control. Like you did last night. And I think you did this time because this man gave you the one thing you deny yourself, because you tell yourself you don’t need it: intimacy. Security. He made you feel cared for, maybe even cherished. This wasn’t another meaningless night of anonymous sex. You made a real connection with someone, and now that you’ve fulfilled that need for real contact, not just physical but a mental, emotional connection, of course you’re high off it. You’ve been depriving yourself for years.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” Mitch said flatly. “On the other hand, maybe it’s not that deep, and it was just really good sex.”
“Come on, Mitch, don’t be obtuse. Your attitude today proves it was more than that. I’d be willing to bet no one has made you feel like this since—”
“Don’t.”
“My point stands.”
“We’re done here.”
“Fine,” Lewis agreed. “All I ask is that you are mindful of the rules, and why they exist.”
“There it is,” Mitch said bitterly. “That’s what this is really about.” Lewis could wrap it up in friendly concern all he wanted, but they both knew it was just a mask.
“I’m just trying to look out for you, Rapp. This is coming from me, not Irene or Hurley. You can call it whatever you like, but something is different with you.”
“It was one good night. And yeah, maybe it’s the first one I’ve had in a while. But that doesn’t mean I’m rushing to fall in love. ” For fuck’s sake, he wasn’t a love struck teenager. He was just riding an endorphin high. He knew how to tell the difference.
“I’m not going to tell you not to see him again, Mitch,” Lewis said. “Just be careful. Don’t get attached.”
Right, because I’m not allowed to have attachments.
Mitch pushed himself away from the desk and walked out, leaving his pleasant mood behind.
When he returned to the operations room, Kennedy was back and discussing something with Hurley. “Are you alright?” she asked when he came in.
“No.” No, he was fucking angry because none of them could have him have one good, day, apparently. Because he wouldn’t be as effective if he wasn’t running on anger. Mitch was hired for one reason, and one reason only: he was a ruthless killer seeking retribution. They could afford to let him lose his edge, even for one day.
“Mitch—”
“Tell me where I’m going and who I’m killing,” he said, ignoring the angry look Hurley gave him for daring to snap at his niece. If he wanted Mitch to be nice and accommodating, then Hurley should’ve left him the fuck alone.
***
Overall, the mission went off without a hitch. It took a few weeks of recon, Rapp getting all his pieces in place, gathering all the information he needed so that there would be no surprises this time. Then he was in and out without any significant complications, and on his way back home before the end of the month. He always appreciated a job well done, and left Langley behind satisfied that he gave exactly that.
Mitch spent his first day back the same way he always did after a long absence, knocking the dust out of his apartment and replacing any groceries he needed. Got his civilian life straightened out again. All the while, something simmered under his skin. A deep want that he refused to name, even as it built into a hunger that consumed his thoughts at night.
Finally, almost a week after coming home, Mitch broke down. He headed to that bar where he first met Stiles, telling himself he wasn’t looking for anyone in particular. Maybe he even believed it, for a while. He let people hit on him, flirting back with anyone that caught his attention. It was like a game. All the while his eyes kept scanning the crowd. Just to keep aware of his surroundings, he told himself. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down just because he’s stateside. But deep down, he knew.
When Mitch finally saw Stiles—sans flannel this time, wearing a tight red shirt and even tighter jeans, gesturing wildly as he talked to a pair of girls quickly losing interest—something hot coiled in his belly. He thought about stalking over, whisking Stiles off to have his wicked way with him, the way he’s been fantasizing about all week. But Mitch was a more subtle creature than that, and Stiles showed him that sometimes, it could be more fun to drag things out. For once, Mitch wanted to take his time.
Which is why Mitch let himself blend in and fade into the background—easy to do, dressed in all black in a darkened club—and headed over to the other end of the bar. It gave him the perfect vantage point to keep an eye on Stiles, while hiding him from sight in the ever-shifting crowd. He watched, watched the girls slip away after a few minutes, watched Stiles shrug off the rejection with a smile and a good-natured shrug. He started up a conversation with the next person to look at him for more than two seconds, just as animated as the last.
After a few minutes observing his target, Mitch hailed the bartender to send over a drink.
Stiles looked around wildly when a strawberry daiquiri was set down in front of him, garnished with a cherry stem tied into a neat little knot. His eyes widened when they landed on Mitch, like a deer in the headlight, and he started towards him a second later, his drink forgotten.
“Mitch!” Stiles greeted excitedly, shouting to be heard over the music. The bar was quieter on weekdays; Mitch tended to avoid the weekend club scene. “I wondered when I’d see you again. I was starting to think you’d never show.”
Mitch leaned in close so he wouldn’t have to shout—and so he could feel the way Stiles shuddered when his lips brushed his ear—and asked, “Missing me already?”
“Yeah.” Stiles grinned, sliding fully into Mitch’s space like he was meant to be there, pressing up against him with all the confidence of someone that already knew he was exactly what Mitch wanted for the night. “Y’know, I think we have some unfinished business. Things got cut shut just as they were getting good.”
“And I still owe you a day,” Mitch agreed, though he made no promise to follow through. The implication was promise by itself, and vague enough to keep Stiles guessing: would Mitch give him that day?
Stiles seemed to think he would. “What do you say we get started on settling that score tonight?”
Mitch could definitely get behind that. And, looking over Stiles’ shoulder, he knew just the place to start.
With a wicked smirk that always got him exactly what he wanted, Mitch took Stiles by the wrist and dragged him off towards the bathrooms. The second Stiles realize where they were going, he eagerly followed with a mumbled, “ Fuck yes. ”
***
“This is so fucking hot,” Stiles said when Mitch shoved him up against the restroom door, before Mitch silenced him with a filthy kiss. Mitch had a few inches on him and he used them to his advantage, pinning Stiles there like a butterfly to a board. Not that there was anywhere Stiles would rather be, than wherever and however Mitch wanted.
The bathroom’s lock was busted; it twisted loosely when Stiles blindly reached back and tried to flip the deadbolt. “Fuck,” he groaned. But before he could be disappointed, Mitch just ushered Stiles into the largest stall in the first corner; that one locked just fine. This time Stiles pushed Mitch up against the door, and immediately dropped to his knees. He worked open Mitch’s jeans as fast as he could; at the last second, he decided to pull the zipper down with his teeth, looking up at Mitch.
Stiles’ willingness—his eagerness, like there was nothing he’d rather do—to get down and eat Mitch out like his life depended on it, was quickly becoming one of his favorite things about him. Less than twenty-four hours in each other’s company, and an obscene amount of it was spent with Stiles’ head between his thighs. Mitch carded a hand through Stiles’ hair and thought, Right where be belongs.
“Hello, gorgeous,” Stiles said as he tugged Mitch’s clothes down just enough to see his cunt. He sucked two fingers to get them nice and wet, then slipped his hand between Mitch’s legs, teasing him with gentle strokes along his folds for now. “Miss me?”
“Shut up,” Mitch huffed, because really? He couldn’t hold back a grin, though; some part of him liked the playfulness. “We’re making up for lost time, remember? Better hurry up before someone catches us.” It wasn’t unlikely. Really, Mitch was only surprised they hadn’t walked in on someone else already fucking in the stalls.
“I remember. Don’t worry, handsome. I’ve taken good care of you so far, haven’t I?”
“That remains to be seen,” Mitch said dryly. He didn’t mean it. His pussy clenched around the reminder of just how good Stiles treated him before; and Stiles knew it, too, grinning as he felt Mitch tighten against his fingertips. He dipped them inside, shallowly, just enough to make Mitch want it, and gave him the most innocent, conniving smile Mitch has ever seen.
“Don’t tell me you already forgot how we like to do things.”
“Stiles,” Mitch warned, because the main door wasn’t locked and anyone could come in at any second. Hell, Mitch counted it a miracle no one had already. They didn’t have time for games.
“Alright, alright, I won’t make you beg for it. This time.” Stiles pulled Mitch’s pants down to his knees, spread his legs as much as he was able, and dove in.
“Fuck,” Mitch groaned, grabbing a fistful of Stiles’ hair. That’s what he missed. That beautifully talented tongue that swirled around his clit while Stiles finger-fucked him, digging into his g-spot with just the right amount of pressure to make his toes curl in pleasure. Stiles moaned against him when Mitch pulled his hair, sucking and licking messily at his cunt like he couldn’t get enough.
Then the door opened.
Stiles jerked back. He looked up at Mitch, mouthing, what do we do now? Mitch grinned down a him, held a single finger up against his lips: be quiet. Then he pulled Stiles back in, grinding against his hot mouth. Whoever it was out there walked over to one of the urinals on the other side of the bathroom, with no way to see under the stall, and unzipped. Hopefully the pounding music outside, muffled through the walls, would be enough to hide Mitch’s harsh breathing, and the wet sounds of Stiles’ mouth working over him.
Mitch was careful to keep himself quiet, even as Stiles started really getting into the idea that they may be caught at any second, going out of his way to break Mitch’s careful composure. But he liked to think he was a professional, able to keep calm under duress. So he bit his lip, dug his nails into Stiles’ shoulder, and held his breath against the quickly-building orgasm that made him want to scream.
It was a near thing. The guy on the other side of the stall finished pissing, zipped up, and left without washing his hands. Mitch, thighs trembling around Stiles at the effort to hold himself back, biting his knuckle, didn’t even have a chance to be disgusted. He came a second after the door swung shut, with a broken cry of, “ Stiles!”
“That was so fucking hot,” Stiles gasped when he finally came up for air, Mitch having to physically pull him back. His lips were beautifully swollen and red, and Mitch couldn’t resist dragging him up for a filthy salty-slick kiss. Stiles grabbed his hips hard enough to bruise. He pulled away to grin. “I thought for sure we were going to get caught!”
“The night’s still young,” Mitch said. He palmed Stiles’ cock, stroking the hard line of his length through his jeans. “Want to fuck me?”
Stiles made a wounded sound. “I don’t have a condom.’
“Cute.” Mitch couldn’t decide if Stiles just thought he wouldn’t get laid, or if he was sweet enough he went out not expecting anything other than a fun time. Either way—he turned to put his back to Stiles, fished out a condom from the back pocket of his crumpled jeans, and passed it over his shoulder. “I do,” he said simply. Stiles sucked his breath through his teeth, taking it from him.
“Do you normally carry around condoms for illicit bathroom sex?” Stiles asked, holding the foil between his teeth. He worked his pants open quickly, stroking himself to full hardness as Mitch braced himself against the wall and arched his back just enough to put his ass on display.
“I might’ve been hoping to see you again,” Mitch admitted.
“Oh, baby.” Stiles pressed his forehead against Mitch’s nape, taking a deep, steadying breath. He didn’t expect that kind of honesty, and he definitely didn’t expect to be so affected by it. He grabbed Mitch’s hips tightly, murmuring, “I’ve been thinking about this for weeks.”
“Get on it, then.” Mitch pressed his ass into Stiles’ groin, and turned his head to murmur, “Don’t keep me waiting.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Stiles pushed Mitch’s shirt up to his hips. With his ass on display like that, Stiles couldn’t resist giving it a little spank. “You have such a nice ass,” he said appreciatively.
“Are you just going to watch, or are you actually going to do something with that dick?”
“Always so impatient,” Stiles murmured. Mitch heard him tear open the condom and roll it onto his cock. “God, I wish I could take my time with you. Make you feel so good you scream my name.”
“Another time,” Mitch promised, surprised to find he actually meant it. Though not as surprised as he probably should be. It’s easy to make promises when you’re horny, Mitch told himself, and pressed his lips together.
“We don’t have any lube,” Stiles said, palming his ass. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Oh yeah.” Mitch was sopping wet; he’ll be more than fine.
Stiles laughed behind him. He rubbed his dick against Mitch’s cunt, back and forth between his folds, spreading Mitch open on his length. He reaches around to gather some click on his fingers and uses it to stroke himself. It’ll have to do. And by the sound Mitch made when Stiles slowly pushed in, Stiles would guess it did well enough.
“Fuck, yeah,” Stiles groaned. “I definitely missed this.” he ran his hand up Mitch’s back and grabbed his shoulder, the other wrapped around his hip. “How do you want it tonight, baby?”
“Hard,” Mitch said. Stiles knew how he liked it; hard enough to make him feel it, and filthy enough to make him blush.
“You got it. And remember—I like to hear it.”
“You’ve got to earn that,” Mitch taunted.
“I will.” Stiles loved a challenge. Especially one he knew he could win.
Squeezing Mitch’s shoulder, he drew his hips back until only the head of his cock was barely inside, then drove them forward, making Mitch hiss. He bent one arm across the wall to serve as a buffer between his face and the filthy graffiti'd plastic, his free hand wrapped over the top of the door.
Stiles worked up to a punishing pace that had them both breaking a sweat in minutes, thanks to the heat of the club. The sound of their skin colliding was obscene, mingling with the harsh pants and deep moans of pleasure, and the creaking stall as Stiles shoved Mitch into it with every hard thrust.
“Fuck, Stiles,” Mitch groaned, turning his face into the crook of his arm. He could just make out scribbled block letters beside his elbow: FOR A GOOD TIME CALL SALLY, the phone number that followed hidden by a phallic sketch. Mitch knew there was a hole cut into one of the other stalls at hip height, the edges masked with strips of duct tape. It was such a seedy fucking place, and the filthiness of it made a thrill run down his spine.
Stiles spread Mitch open to watch his cock slide in and out of him, glistening with slick. Mitch’s tight pussy squeezed around him, like he was trying to hold Stiles inside. “Can’t get enough of it, can you?” he asked. He brushed his thumb over Mitch’s hole, teasing against his rim. “What else can I give you?”
“Don’t,” Mitch snapped. He went tense all over, like he was about to shove Stiles back. Stiles immediately dropped his hand.
“Alright,” he soothed. “Not into it, that’s cool.” he curled his arm around Mitch’s middle instead, pressing a kiss to his nape as he reached around to play with Mitch’s pussy.
Mitch took to that much better, stuttering out a quiet moan as Stiles’ fingers effortlessly found his clit. They’re dry and rough against him, the friction burning as Stiles quickly rubbed it. Between the rasp of his fingers, and the perfect angle of his hips making Stiles pound right into his g-spot, a loud cry tore free just in time for the bathroom door to swing open again.
“Whoa, are you—?” the new guy started to ask.
“Fuck off!” Mitch shouted. He was too close to release to care about getting caught.
“Sure man, get it,” the stranger laughed, making a hasty retreat.
Mitch turned his head just enough to look at Stiles over his shoulder, grinning. His half-lidded eyes were dark with lust when he said, “Might want to hurry up before we— mmm, fuck— get kicked out.”
Stiles pulled Mitch’s collar aside to suck a mark into his shoulder; somewhere easy to hide because he was a gentleman like that. “Just waiting for you to give the word, baby,” Stiles said, giving Mitch’s clit a firm pinch, rolling his fingers together to make Mitch keen. Then he held his fingers up to Mitch’s lips instead and ordered, “Suck.”
Mitch did, closing his eyes and moaning around Stiles’ fingers as they’re pushed into his mouth. He curled his tongue around the digits, laved it over the pads of Stiles’ fingers, sucking on them in a way that made Stiles’ cock throb with jealousy. What he wouldn’t give to have Mitch’s mouth on him again.
When Mitch released him, Stiles dropped his hand back down to his cunt, gently tugging back the hood to rub Mitch’s naked clit. It makes the nare nerves burn, pleasure scorching his blood, and Stiles pressed just hard enough to make him cry out. He grabbed Stiles’ arm tightly, pressing his cheek against the cool plastic wall.
“Shit, Stiles—”
“Tell me what you want, baby,” Stiles said into the side of Mitch’s neck. “What do you need?”
“ Fuck you?”
“Next time.” Stiles dragged his tongue up Mitch’s neck and nibbled his earlobe. “C’mon, baby,” he changed his quick circling strokes for slow, hard pulses, and Mitch whimpered, so close to the edge.
“Let me come,” he spit. Then, softer, “ Please.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Sound so sexy for me, baby.” Mitch wanted to bite him, but Stiles was conveniently out of reach. “Man, I wish I could pick you up and fuck you against the wall. Bet you’d like that, huh? Let me sweet you right off your feet.”
Mitch was intimately familiar with Stiles’ body; he wasn’t a small man, but fuck, Stiles could probably do it. And wouldn’t that be a fucking experience. Of the occasional times he’d bottomed, no one’s ever fucked him like that. Suddenly, it’s all he wanted and damn Stiles for giving him the idea.
Mitch fervently nodded, rasping, “Next time.”
“I can’t wait,” Stiles laughed. “Maybe we can fuck on the balcony at your place, too. Let the whole—world—see—” Stiles punctuated every word with a forceful thrust, “How much you love it when I fuck you.” Mitch nodded mindlessly, scraping his nails against the wall. He would agree to anything Stiles said right now, unable to think of anything except for how fucking close he was, and Stiles knew it. “Come for me, baby.”
Stiles ground into him filthily, stopping his pounding thrusts in favor of focusing all his attention on Mitch’s clit, raking over it with toe-curling pleasure until Mitch finally cried out, clenching hard around his cock.
“ Stiles!”
Stiles let him ride out the orgasm, fucking him nice and slow through it, barely pulling out before pushing back in again. Mitch milked his cock as he trembled through the aftershocks, gasping prettily. Stiles grabbed a handful of Mitch’s hair and pulled his head aside, biting kisses all down his neck; not such a gentleman after all. He didn’t think Mitch would mind.
Stiles buried himself into Mitch’s hot, gasping pussy as he came, moaning against Mitch’s ear. “I really could do this forever,” he sighed happily. He sweetly nuzzled Mitch’s neck, then pulled out and stripped off the condom, tossing it in the toilet.
“Don’t tempt me,” Mitch said, trying to sound nonchalant and failing. He took a second to catch his breath before he pulled his pants back up and straightened his clothes. He felt pleasant loose and hazy in the post-orgasm endorphin rush, better than a hit of any drug he’s ever taken. Somewhere, the rational part of his brain was horrified, asking, Did we really just do that?
Mitch turned around and leaned back against the wall, watching Stiles tuck himself away with a satisfied smirk. We did, and it was fucking great.
Stiles gave him a beaming smile and a sweet kiss when he caught Mitch looking, tenderly cupping his face. And it was funny how romantic it felt, after getting fucked like a whore in a filthy bathroom stall.
“You’re something else,” Mitch said, putting a hand on the center of Stiles’ chest, where he could feel his heart.
Mitch didn’t want to examine what that something was. Instead, he reached behind himself with his other hand and slid open the lock, stepping back. He fully intended to disappear into the crowd outside, go back home with a pleasant ache between his legs and a new fond memory to look back on next time he thinks of seeking Stiles’ out.
Mitch had his hand on the door when Stiles called out, “Wait!”
He thought about it. Hesitated just long enough that Stiles must think he would. But he didn’t, offering a casual, “See you around,” just like he did before, then let the door swing shut behind him.
It was easier this way.
***
“Dammit, Mitch, wait!” Stiles caught up to him outside, his voice loud in the quiet night, broken only by the sounds of his pounding footsteps as he runs down the street, and the music coming from inside.
“Don’t make this awkward,” Mitch said. “It was good, I had fun, but I’m not interested in sticking around.” They’ve met twice; Stiles shouldn't know him well enough to catch the lie.
“I’m not trying to make you stay. Or commit to anything. I’m not looking for a relationship, either.”
Stiles’ tone has gone all serious, and Mitch wanted to laugh, because this wasn’t supposed to be serious. It was just a fun, easy way to blow off some steam, and now Mitch had gotten Stiles out of his system, and he could move on with his life. Cut things off now before he got attached. Of course, Stiles wouldn’t let him.
“I’m fine if you want to use me for sex. Hell, I’d love to be your most reliable booty call. But it’s easier to use me if you know where to find me, yeah? So, since you won’t give me your number, at least let me give you mine.”
Mitch didn’t know why he was even entertaining this. Meeting up with Stiles occasionally for mind-blowing sex—that was totally fine. He wouldn’t turn it down if they ran into each other again. But planning it out ahead of time, that was too intentional.
Even still, Mitch let Stiles take his hand and write his number across the back with a pen he produced from somewhere. “No strings,” Stiles reminded him, pressing a kiss to Mitch’s knuckles.
It’s stupid. It’s risky. With the chemistry between them, Mitch would be playing with fire, and Lewis already warned him not to get involved.
Then again, when has Mitch ever followed orders?