RPF (music), Bob Bryar/Matt Cortez, "tech bonding"
Hotel nights were always good, especially when they had a whole day to do absolutely nothing tomorrow. That happened next to never.
“Jesus, Cortez,” Bob croaked out in a strangled voice as he let himself into the room he'd been assigned. Cortez wasn't a bad draw for a roommate. The guy knew his shit and worked his ass off. He was willing to pitch in where ever, even when it wasn't his job. He'd been warned, and it seemed to be a running joke...Cortez and his porn and...
“Fuck,”
Bob couldn't tear his eyes away if his life depended on it. Cortez looked half terrified, which yeah. Bob could understand that one. Bad enough to get walked in on jacking off, worse with a fucking dildo up your ass, and just top it off with not knowing how the person who'd walked in was going to react.
“Thought—thought you were gonna be partyin'” Cortez managed. “Not be back for a few hours-”
“I--” Bob couldn't quite form the words. Wiry lean, strong arms and legs, almost skinny. Ink standing out here and there against winter-pale skin and... “Fuck,” He breathed, most of the blood in his body, which didn't have his cheeks bright red had headed south with a vengeance. Cortez looked fucking gorgeous, and deer-in-the-headlights frozen.
“So..what? Gonna freak and try to kill me?” Cortez managed, sheer fucking bravado Bob was pretty sure of that.
“No,” Bob swallowed, and had had just enough beer to make it seem like a good idea to move toward the bed, Cortez' eyes widened even further with each step. Bob moved his hand to Cortez' knee when he stood by the bed. Cortez shivered as Bob's fingertips slid downward just a little on the inside of his thigh. “Wouldn't mind fucking you though.”
Cortez' eyes widened a little bit more. “You fuckin' drunk and going to flip in the morning?”
“Buzzed and no, might ask you to fuck me in the morning...”
“Okay.” Cortez said and shifted, groaned as the toy inside him moved just right and stroked himself once.
Bob wondered if he'd lost his fucking mind or someone spiked his drink and he was hallucinating, even as he leaned down and brushed his lips over Cortez' nervously. Cortez' lifted his head just a little, following, wordlessly begging for a real kiss. Bob obliged before standing back up straight and hesitantly reaching for his own hoodie.
*
“Dude, you walk in on me with a dildo up my ass and you're the one playing shy?” Matt asked, more astonished and confused than anything. He watched as Bob toed off his tennis shoes and bit his lip, blushing even deeper red as he tugged his hoodie and shirts over his head. A light spattering of ginger hair on his chest, just a shade or two darker than the gold-red of his beard, more trailing down from around his belly button and into the jeans he was reaching to undo. Broad and just a little round in the belly, just a little soft in the pecs but nothing that would count as fucking man-boobs or anything Bryar was just a big guy, not as tall as Toro but built solid and broad, and maybe just a few extra pounds making him look softer than he was, hiding the muscle and strength underneath that, that Matt knew was there, he worked with the man, watched him haul equipment, knew how much it had taken to hold Bob back from throttling the idiot three cities and maybe two countries ago. Matt had been one of the four hauling Bob back before he decked the jerk.
“Goddamn,” Bob breathed with a swallow and settled onto the bed.
Matt slowly reached for Bob, not quite believing yet that Bob was... “Anyone gonna miss--”
“Brian might wonder but nah..”
Matt looked questioningly.
“Tell him tech bonding--”
Matt grinned and forgot about worrying for a while.