A/N: Smut, just smut. No plot at all, to be honest.

I just wanted to write some bottom!Scott, and i'm not super thrilled about the result, but I just wanted to write SOMETHING. I edited super quick so if you see any mistakes, sorry, i'm just so out of it lmao 

So..ya. It's 3k, nothing too crazy.

- Lia

****

The air already feels charged when you enter the room.

He had a photoshoot today, you knew about it, but you were not ready to come back home to this. Your bag falls on the floor with a loud thud as you freeze on the spot, the sound enough to catch Wyatt's attention and, of course, Scott's.

And when he turns to look at you, you know you're done for. The light stubble on his cheeks is usually enough to fuel all of your dreams, and the fondness in his eyes enough to make your heart swell with love. However, the light trace of orange makeup around his eyes, making them look even bluer, and the dark lashes that adorn them are like a punch in the stomach.

And as your eyes lower, the feeling only get worse.

He's wearing heels. 6" stiletto that makes him walk on wobbly legs as he tries to take a couple of steps in your direction, looking somehow graceful as he stumbles around the living room, his legs long and muscular and smooth enough that you can easily picture biting on them

Your pants instantly tightens, and you're sure your eyes darkens, if the look on his face is of any indication. His focus shifts completely, a shaky breath leaving his lips. He wasn't expecting you, just like you were not expecting this.

"Mitchy.." is the only word that leaves his mouth before you attack, every other thought leaving your brain.

The heels makes him stand taller, but not as steady. Your hands wrap easily around his neck, pulling his face down so that you can meet his mouth with yours in a kiss that is rough and deep and desperate, smudging the faint pink lipstick that tastes like vanilla. His hands immediately land on your hips, holding you like an anchor, more for himself than for you.

It doesn't take more than a minute to make him lose all of his focus, and for you to push him backwards on the couch, turning him around just before he is bent over it.

He's beautiful, and he's yours.

You usually don't doubt that he is, but there's something inside your brain that is screaming to mark him and show the entire world that he's yours. It's not jealousy, more like pride that no one else gets to have him like you do.

Your tongue pokes out of your lips to wet them, as you take in the sight in front of you: Scott bent over the armrest of the couch, his back showcased by the lack of shirt, tiny freckles sprawled around on his white skin, almost teasing you to mouth at them and taste their flavour. And you will.

Your eyes roam his body, moving down to follow the curve of his spine, taking in the delicious back dimples just above the navy short that he's wearing. Your thumbs press down on them, hard enough to leave a bruise on the porcelain skin, holding him still as he squirms in anticipation. His ass is perched high enough to lightly brush against your crotch, the material of his jeans teasing roughly against him.

You lower your head to leave a trail of kisses on his shoulders, just the tiniest touches of lips, a pink flush appearing on his skin. The faint freckles on his back look darker, and you can't help yourself when your tongue pokes out to lick at them, tracing an imaginary constellation. He tastes like cupcakes with a hint of sex, a smell that you never get tired of.

He squirms under your touch, a breathy moan leaving his lips as you press him down on the armrest, rolling your hips teasingly against his ass.. His legs tremble, and you're not sure if it's because of your touch or because of the shoes he's wearing. Whatever it is, you don't mind, the idea of being in control always makes your blood boil.

"Mitch, please," he begs, turning his head so that he can look at you through his long eyelashes, his eyes pleading and needy. He's rutting against the couch, straining against the thin basketball shorts that he's wearing.

A smile tugs on your lips. "Do you want these off?", you ask, slipping your index finger under the waistband of his underwear, peeking under his short, pulling lightly before letting them snap back against his skin.

He hisses at the harsh sensation and nods frantically, his body tensing in anticipation. You chuckle, the sound rich and dark even to your own ears, and lower his shorts and underwear down his legs in one motion. You kneel to better take them off, not wanting to pull off his shoes, the idea of making his thighs quiver in exhaustion as he fights his orgasm just too appealing.

His ass is right in front of your face, inviting. You can't help but kiss from his knees up to his ass, biting down every once in awhile to keep him from relaxing too much. You can already smell his scent, a musky, manly trace that is Scott. He's not expecting your hand wrapped around his already stiff cock, and the moan that leaves his mouth only fuels your need.

You give him one stroke right when his ass is in front of your face, your breath ghosting against his skin, close enough to taunt him but not give him what he wants. He moans and whines, "Please, Mitchy, please", moving his hips to try and get some kind of friction from your hand or some pleasure from your lips, but you only tighten your hold on his cock. He's so hard and you barely touched him.

"Look at you, all moany and begging for me." You give him another half stroke, knowing that the touch is only driving him crazy. His head is turned enough that even on your knees you can see his face, and the sight is breathtaking. He's sprawled on the couch looking helpless like a doll, his blonde hair falling messily on his forehead, his lips parted as he pants. His face is pink and sweaty, but so beautiful, his dark lashes contrasting with the fair shade of his complexion.

"God, please!"

"You look like such a doll, whining and waiting for me to do something." Your tongue pokes out to lick tentatively at the skin of his ass, close enough to his crack to drive him crazy, but not as much as he needs. "What do you want babydoll?"

You have never used those kinds of pet names on him, didn't even think they would sound anything shorter than ridiculous, but it obviously does something for him. His back arches as he moans, and you can physically feel him getting harder in your hand.

"Please, please touch me, I want your mouth, just - please."

A smirk appears on your lips as your other hand grabs at one of his cheeks to spread them, exposing his pink hole. You know what he wants, and you can't wait to get a taste of him, but the need to tease him some more is still there.

"You want me to suck you? Want me to lick at your hole and get you all wet for my cock? What do you want, doll? Want me to eat you out and taste you on my tongue, hmm?"

"Yes, yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, please, eat me out, touch me, fuck me, please do something:"

His tone is on the verge of desperation and you decide to take pity on him. Your hand starts slowly stroking him as you get your tongue inside his ass, licking a stripe of his crack to get him all wet before starting to tease him, poking at the rim of his muscles and giving you just a hint of what you will soon do.

It's been awhile since you've done this. It's not that you don't enjoy it, but if you have a preference, it sure is his cock stretching and pounding his of you. Still, there are times when you want to leave your mark on him just as much as he does. And you've never felt more completed, more sure that he's yours than when the times you've seen your come seep out of his ass and down his thighs.

Even the memory is enough to make you groan, and you bury your face even more in his ass, flicking your wrist in a way that makes him moan louder. Your cock is throbbing painfully by the time you get your lips off of him, drunk of the taste of him. His hole is pink and fluttering and you just want to bury inside of him, but no matter how much of a stubborn dick he can be, you need lube.

Thankfully for you, you have quite the habit to fuck all around the house since you first started all those months ago, giddy at the idea of being just the two of you. You're pretty sure that there's lube hidden between the pillows of the couch, and when you stand to check, it only takes you a couple of seconds to find it.

You honestly want to scoff of yourself: it's such a douchey porn move, but you won't complain. Not this time, at least.

You weight for a minute the idea of taking off your clothes, but it quickly goes away. There's something about fucking Scott fully clothed while he's only wearing his heels that spreads a warm sensation in your body. You set a hand on his back when he attempts to stand up, pressing him back against the couch.

"Don't move sweetheart."

"But.. but Mitch," he whines, and god he sounds completely fucked up already, his breathing faltering. "My feet.."

"I know your feet hurt baby, but that's okay. You can handle it, right? You can be a good doll for me and let me fuck you with your pretty heels on, because I really fucking want to." You smear some lube on your fingers as you talk, and push the first one in just as you ask, "can you do it, doll? Can you let me fuck you like this?"

Scott's only response is a moan, his ass already pushing against your finger, looking for more. The idea of being submissive is a huge turn on for him sometimes, and today seems to be even more intense. You don't know if it's the makeup, the heels or just a combination of both, all you know is that Scott takes your cock so good when he's in this mood, and you really want to fuck him right now.

So you're not really thorough while prepping him, only getting two fingers inside his ass and stretching him quickly, impatient to just bury yourself inside of him. He doesn't mind, whining and begging for you. "Yes, yes, god, fuck me, Mitch fuck me, come on.."

You prep him for as long as you can stand to, before you give up. He's leaking all over the couch, a stain of pre-cum forming on the fabric, and you're so hard that even unzipping your jeans makes you hiss in pain. You lower your pants and your underwear enough to just get them out of the way, and only take time to quickly smear some lube on your cock before you set the head against his hole.

"You want this cock, doll? You want me to fuck you now?"

"Yeeeessss," he groans, almost animalistic, pushing his ass back against you, teasing himself with the head of your cock. You're pretty sure that he's gonna turn around and fuck himself on your dick if you don't slam against him soon. Still, listening to him begging is the hottest thing you've ever heard.

"How do you want it, babydoll? Slow and easy? Or do you want it hard and fast?"

One of his hands sneak down to wrap around his leaking lenght, his moan music to your ears. "Hard, fast, just give it to me please, fuck me like you mean it, own this ass Mitch. Show me I'm yours, please."

And you can't deny him that. You push inside him in one motion, slow at first but not stopping until he's all stretched around your cock, his warm walls surrounding you and feeling just like home. You almost feel cold compared to how hot he is inside. His eyes are glossy as he looks at you from over his shoulder, and he looks so beautiful, his mouth opening in a silent plea as you start fucking him, taking up a rhythm that you know he enjoys.

The only things that interrupts the otherwise silent room are the sounds of your balls smacking against his ass, the louder and louder moans that leave his lips and the groans that leave yours as you start fucking him hard, blinded by the pleasure and the idea that Scott is yours and you're his, and no one else gets to have him like this, not anymore.

His hand on his cock increases his pace as your hips move frantically, sweat forming on your forehead. His legs are shaking hard and you're sure that he would be on the floor by now if it wasn't for the couch, but the heels gives you the perfect leverage to hit his spot with just the tiniest change of angle, as his loud "FUCK" tells you.

You hold back until he comes, and you can feel his orgasm before seeing it, his ass spasming around your cock as he arches his back and shoots, white cum sputtering against the grey couch that you chose together all that time ago. It's a fond memory, honestly.

You keep fucking him through his orgasm, giving him some time to stop trembling and regain control of his breathing, but you can't wait any more. You can already feel your balls tightening and the familiar pull at your stomach, and no matter how much you want to fill his ass with your cum, claiming him like yours, you have a better idea.

"Get down," you order through clenched teeth as you pull your cock out, an unhappy moan leaving his mouth. He doesn't follow through right away, instead taking the time to stop panting. You usually wouldn't mind if you were not seconds away from coming on his back, and while that's tempting, it's not what you want.

You smack his ass with your cock, and the touch catches his attention. "Babydoll, get down on your knees for me. Let me come all over that pretty face, get your skin all glowy."

It takes a second for his brain to register, but then he pushes himself off the couch, and the wait to come is worthy just to see the muscle of his back flexing under the effort.

Scott is, of course, not steady enough to stand with his heels on, and he falls ungraciously on his knees in front of you. Before you can worry about him, his hands shoot to grab at your hips and pull you closer, his mouth open in an invitation, his tongue already out, ready to taste you.

He doesn't offer to help, doesn't even touch you, just stands there looking at you through his lashes as you jerk off in front of him, the picture of your usually dominant man waiting for you to shoot on his face already too much. You come with a groan as your hand grabs at his hair to keep him still, your cum hitting him all over the face and dripping down his neck.

Only when he's sure that you're done he opens his eyes again and licks his lips to get your taste inside of you. "Thank you," he murmurs, looking happy and relaxed and all in all like he has just been fucked senseless.

You can barely get your underwear up before you let yourself fall on the floor, your legs shaking from the effort and the force of your orgasm. Your heart is beating fast and your breathing is not in control, but your body feels like it's floating. It's not a bad feeling at all.

You're pretty sure you could fall asleep on the parquet if it wasn't for his voice.

"Mitchy?" He calls, his voice soft and warm. You can only open your eyes to take a look at him, and the sight of his face covered in your come shouldn't make you feel this happy, but you can't help it. "These were Nicole's lashes."

It takes a second for his words to register in your brain, and when they do you groand loudly. "Fuck." You slap a hand against your face, before looking back at him, a lazy grin on his beautiful face. "I guess we need to go makeup shopping."