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You know what? Typically, Damien's all about accountability and taking responsibility for your actions, but maybe just this once, there's an exception. Sure, he'd been the one to ask if Shayne wanted to take a little while longer off work and drive home for Christmas this year, and sure, doing the long stretch and going to his parents' place first and getting hotels on the way was also his idea, but Shayne agreed. That was the biggest surprise, maybe. Maybe that was it. He never expected to get this far and now he's unprepared for the consequences of his actions. The consequences of his actions being that, as he pushes the door of their hotel room open, he sees it. A single bed. Queen size, big fluffy white pillows and plain bedspread, the comforter a calming green. Only one. Shit. He had just told front desk they needed a room, hadn't they? No specifications on the amount of beds. This one, this is definitely Damien's fault.
"Hey man, what's the holdup?" Shayne asks from behind him, not unkindly. He puts his hand on the small of Damien's back, guiding him forward and past the threshold easily; it's not like Damien resists. He's just not sure what he's supposed to do in this situation. He doesn't have a script for this.
"Houston, we have a bit of a problem," he says, looking pointedly at the bed. Shayne looks at it and then looks back at him, shrugging his shoulders with an easy grin.
"I'm not that worried about it if you're not, Dames," he says, placing his bag down on the bed. "You want the shower first or can I take it?" he asks, turning back to Damien with a raised eyebrow. Damien collects himself, all too aware of how he's still frozen in what he supposes serves the function of a foyer in a hotel room, though that's likely not what it's called. He clears his throat and closes the door, putting his key card down on the nearest flat surface, and his bag down in front of it.
"I showered this morning, it's all yours," he replies, waving Shayne off and relieved when the door closes behind him. He and Shayne have shared a bed before, not just once but almost definitely more times than Damien's ever spent sleeping in the same bed of anyone else he wasn't dating. He needs to chill the fuck out. He takes out his meds and puts them on the bedside table on the side he typically sleeps on; they've done this enough that they have sides of the bed, for fuck's sake. Going through the motions of getting ready for bed at least calms him down a little. He's not even stressed about this. He's totally fine. It's just Shayne!
He gets as far as that, as far as It's just Shayne, right before Shayne comes out of the bathroom, towel around his hips. He finds himself freezing once again.
"Forget something, bud?" he asks, voice pitchy. Shayne snorts.
"Yeah, I guess I did. Got caught up in the road trip ick and completely forgot I'd need clothes, I guess," he says, grabbing his bag but not yet looking away from Damien and going back to the bathroom to get dressed. The opportunity for comedic flirtation is too egregious to give up.
"I mean..." Damien says, giving Shayne an over the top once-over. He doesn't actually let his gaze linger as long as perhaps he'd like it to; he has some semblance of self control. Shayne raises his eyebrows at him, baiting him to continue the bit he's started. "I think need might be a strong word," he continues, committing even if he knows it's not his best idea. Joking with Shayne about this always feels like he's dancing on a knife's edge, far too close to the satisfaction of years of yearning to feel any kind of safe. Shayne, fist closed over the knot of his towel distractingly close to the V of his hips, shrugs a shoulder, following him from tang to heel to edge.
"If you wanna see me naked, you can just say, dude," he says wryly, looking Damien up and down in return. No fucking clue if this is a bit anymore. Jesus fucking Christ. Actually, fine. Sure. He has no idea how to walk this the fuck back without admitting that it's getting a little too close to home for him, so Damien does what he and Shayne do best. Follow each other off the deep end.
"Okay," Damien says. Shayne tilts his head, still with that teasing smile and his raised eyebrows and his pretty eyes, the shine of his still-wet chest. He's so beautiful it nearly hurts to look at him. "I wanna see you naked." Damien meant to say it jokingly at first, but that's not how it comes out. Shayne blinks at him, clearly not expecting Damien to commit that hard. Damien can't even blame him. He didn't expect himself to commit that hard either. He swallows, the click of his throat loud in the silent room.
"Is this a Damien tone thing or are you actually being serious right now?" Shayne asks, his guard high enough that Damien can't suss out which answer he'd be more comfortable with. Fuck.
"Honest?" he asks, hoping Shayne will just give him the fucking out for once. Shayne just nods, his breathing visibly shallow. Damien swallows. "Yeah, Shayne. I'm being serious," he says, the words more of a whisper than anything else. Shayne's bag drops to the floor and his towel follows immediately. Damien's gaze shoots to the ceiling, even in this moment of tacit permission just a bit too scared to push his luck. Shayne crosses over to him and fists his hand in Damien's shirt, pulling Damien just that little bit down to make him look at him head on. It sends Damien blinking, but it gets what was desired as well: Damien can't take his fucking eyes off of him. His eyes are so bright this close.
"You can look, Dames," he says, gaze flicking from Damien's eyes to his mouth and back again, staying on neither long. Damien takes at least a little initiative, hands careful as he cups Shayne's face between them. He leans down just that little bit more, resting their foreheads against one another, breathing in one another's air. Both of Shayne's hands are fisted in his shirt now, anchoring him close. As if there's ever been another port in this sea that Damien was sinking his anchor at.
"Tell me we're not gonna fuck this up," Damien requests, eyes closed. He can feel when Shayne moves, and he wouldn't say he's surprised when soft lips brush against his. He sucks in a breath still, overwhelmed if nothing else, before sinking into the kiss. Shayne is smiling against him and he's responsive when Damien licks into his mouth, giving back as good as he gets. A bolt of fear shocks its way through Damien. What if they fuck this up? He pulls back, resting his head against Shayne's collarbone. Shayne's fingers lace through his hair, rubbing at his scalp, holding Damien against himself. The nudity doesn't seem to bother him at all. Shayne's always been braver than him, though.
"You love me, right?" Shayne asks, to which Damien gives an immediate and almost offended affirmative. "I love you, too. And because I love you, and because you love me, and because we've made it work for our entire adult lives, I don't think this would fuck us up either. But we don't have to do anything about it today. I'll still love you just as much being what we've always been." Damien takes in a shaky breath, adrift in the idea that he might be able to have this. That he might be able to have Shayne.
"I want-" he starts, cutting himself off, and Shayne hums. A sense of ease suffuses through Damien at this tiny reminder that this is just Shayne, this is just them, this is the easiest relationship he's ever had in his life. One of his hands has dropped to the bare skin of Shayne's hip. A grin breaks across Shayne's face again as he leans up to kiss Damien briefly, hands trailing under his shirt now. His hands are big and warm on Damien's skin, solid, safe, sacred. Damien cups Shayne's jaw with his free hand, pulling him in for a firmer kiss, another kiss, more kisses still. He wants the feeling of Shayne's lips against his to feel as familiar as every other part of their relationship, though he cannot deny the novelty. Being able to finally, finally, finally touch Shayne how he wants? Fucking incredible. He can't stop his noise of protest when Shayne pulls more than their silently agreed upon few inches away, grabbing Damien's hand.
"You're way overdressed, man," he says, giving Damien a teasing smile as he sits down on the edge of the hotel room bed. Following the unspoken request, Damien takes his hand out of Shayne's, grabbing his shirt by the back of the neck to pull it off. Shayne gives him an appreciative and overt up and down look, utterly shameless. Ignoring that, Damien unbuttons his pants, about to take them off when Shayne's hands catch his. He raises an eyebrow.
"Mixed signals here, bud," he says. Shayne just rolls his eyes, but it doesn't even nearly disguise the dusting of pink across his cheeks. He drops his hands to the waistband of Damien's pants, lowering his zipper as he looks up at Damien through his lashes. Damien rests his hand on the back of Shayne's neck, stroking his thumb over the skin. He steps out of his pants and underwear as Shayne lowers them to his ankles, swallowing the immediate anxiety of nudity and tilting Shayne's face up, kissing him soft and sure. Shayne's hands anchor on his hips, pulling Damien closer as he strains up against him, determined mouth biting kisses into Damien's lips. Damien pulls away from the kiss grinning, about to say something teasing about Shayne's greediness, but greedy hands keep him close, draw him closer.
Shayne pulls Damien on top of him, flat on his back and grinning for the exposure of it. Damien crawls between his knees and doesn't even try to cloud the desire to kiss him on the mouth, dipping and taking that tempting bottom lip between his teeth. Shayne makes a desperate little noise, sweet, and Damien smiles against his mouth. He holds Shayne down against the pillows a little bit, experimenting with how much Shayne likes being held in place. When Damien pins his hand above his head, lacing their fingers, Shayne pulls back just to flash a grin at him, squeezing his fingers before arching up into another kiss. Damien's other hand rests on his jaw, this too holding him in place while he kisses Damien breathless.
"Jesus," Damien says, pulling back from the kiss to rest his head on Shayne's collarbone. Tilting Damien's head to the side with the hand not trapped beneath Damien's own, Shayne makes quick work of biting, licking and kissing his way down Damien's throat. Already overwhelmed with just a little attention from Shayne's tongue and teeth, Damien presses down into Shayne more out of a sense of self preservation than anything else. Well, and the other thing. The wanting Shayne like he'll die if he doesn't fuck him, that doesn't help either. He grabs Shayne's chin in his hand and tilts his face up, kissing the grin from his lips. Shayne submits beautifully, going pliant when Damien breaks the kiss to direct his attention elsewhere, namely in leaving a mark on the side of Shayne's neck that is going to be far too visible for holidays, but who the fuck cares? Fingers lace through his hair but don't pull, don't even hold him in place, just holding. Touching just to touch, not to direct. Damien trails kisses between Shayne's pecs, looking at him through his lashes as he takes a nipple into his mouth. Shayne arches into it, shameless. He makes the sweetest little noise when Damien bites.
"Deem," he says breathlessly, fond and affectionate even here, even now. God, Damien loves him. He lingers on Shayne's torso for perhaps a bit longer than necessary, but he keeps finding little things about Shayne he never could have known before this moment. Freckles and moles he's never seen before, scars that he doesn't know if now is the right time to ask about. He kisses each one anyway, gentle and reverent. Shayne lets him take his time, those gentle fingers still carding through Damien's hair.
"I love you," he says, kissing a small scar on Shayne's hip. Shayne laughs, not a loud thing but genuine, sweet. Damien's always been a collector, a completionist even, but wanting to collect Shayne's laughter like Pokemon cards was probably never that normal of a thing. Maybe that's just part of the possessive thing, though. He wants to know Shayne best. He wants every piece and part of him beneath his hands, studied and safe and sacred. Shayne tips his head back with the hand in his hair, not pulling but coaxing, moving to cup Damien's face. When it strokes over his mouth, Damien presses a kiss to his thumb.
"I love you too," Shayne says, his voice soft but sure. Damien kisses his hip again.
"You're so beautiful," he whispers, unable to keep it to himself.
"You should fuck me," Shayne says, point blank and blunt. Damien bursts into laughter, tucking his face down to put his lips against Shayne's skin. The tension in the room goes slack, languid and liquid, and Damien fucking loves this guy.
"Dry?" he asks, sarcastic. Shayne cups the side of his jaw in one hand, tipping his face up til they can see one another more clearly. He's so good at hitting that perfect intersection of careful and comfortable, new and familiar.
"I've got lube in my bag. Condoms too, if you want." There's a dusting of pink across his nose to his cheekbones, his gaze dropping somewhere to Damien's left. Damien kisses his stomach, fluttery little pecks that make Shayne giggle, shoving his head back playfully. He catches Shayne's hand, pressing a kiss to his palm.
"Were you expecting to get lucky while we were road tripping to see our families?" he teases, kissing Shayne's knuckles. Shayne grins back at him, shrugging his shoulders.
"I wouldn't say I expected it, but hope to? Absolutely."
"Oh? Planning to hook up with a stranger if I wasn't available?" Damien asks; he thinks he's still teasing, but there's a bit of insecurity creeping in that he can't keep out of his voice. Of course they've both been with other people in the course of knowing one another. Damien just wasn't always willing to call his feelings around that jealousy. Shayne furrows his eyebrows, pulling Damien up to look each other in the face.
"You're the only person I want, Dames. Not a stranger, not a friend, not a crush, just you. Most important person in my life," he tells Damien seriously, hand cupped around the back of Damien's neck. Eyes wide, Damien flounders for a moment. If the insecurity was unexpected, the reassurance is absolutely fucking gobsmacking, as if he didn't know exactly who the fuck he was dealing with. This is Shayne. He leans down and seals their mouths together, gentle but thorough as he tries to communicate every desperate thing in his chest into this one kiss, this one moment, this one thing. "And well. I guess I was also feeling a little more confident than warranted when I packed for this trip. I talked to Courtney and Amanda after you proposed the idea of this, and they talked me up about it, and it was a whole thing." Shayne is red again as he casts his gaze away from Damien, who can't help the fact that he's staring.
"I don't think it was more than warranted," he whispers, enraptured as Shayne's eyes snap back to his.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, dude. Should have known you had this in the bag. You think I try to spend over sixty hours in a car with just anybody?" he jokes, though whether it's actually a joke is probably up for debate. He could count on one hand the people he'd be willing to spend four days straight in a car with and Shayne is probably a necessary condition for three of them. Shayne grins and leans up to kiss him, quick and sweet. Damien sinks down to meet him, killing the quickness of the kiss and instead matching him for want, for desire, for love. Shayne is straining up against him, hand on the back of Damien's neck, keeping him close, keeping him grounded. This is probably the most grounded Damien has ever felt.
"Does that mean you'll fuck me?" Shayne asks as he breaks the kiss, eyes sparkling with mirth. Damien kisses him again, just a quick little thing they're both smiling through. He cups a gentle hand around the ball of Shayne's hip, softly stroking his fingers over the skin. Another kiss. For good measure. He trails more kisses back down Shayne's throat, his collarbones, his chest. He loves how solid Shayne is, how easy it is to hold onto the bulk of him and never feel like he's going to press too hard. Reverent almost, he dips his head to kiss Shayne's stomach, careful teeth sinking into the softness there. Shayne hums a little pleased noise and laces his fingers in the back of Damien's hair, not pulling but just holding. Admittedly reluctant, Damien moves his hands to the bed and presses himself up, crossing the room quickly to rifle through Shayne's bag. They've traveled together too many times for him to be particularly delicate about it, forgoing the time he'd typically take to make sure that someone is okay with him looking through their stuff.
Again, Shayne.
It's a testament to how weirdly connected they are, maybe, how quickly Damien is able to find a four ounce bottle of lube in Shayne's entire bag. He grabs a condom as well, though they still need to discuss if they plan on using it. The idea of marking Shayne from the inside out appeals to him in a way he didn't know he was into. But again. Shayne. He's always been at least a little possessive of Shayne, sure to let everyone know that Shayne was his best friend, Shayne was here with him, Shayne was his. He crosses back over to situate himself again between Shayne's knees, kissing the inside of each one to the soundtrack of Shayne's laughter. Shayne pulls him up again, heedless of the continuation of any activity without first kissing Damien thoroughly, grinning still as he does. Damien tries to move back down and return to the task at hand, so to speak, but Shayne keeps that playful grin, giving Damien short little kisses that are terribly flustering, though Damien can't tell him that. He'd never let him live it down.
"Do you want me to fuck you or not? I'm getting mixed signals again," he says instead, smiling against Shayne's mouth. Shayne heaves a dramatic sigh and removes his hands from Damien's face and shoulder, though the one previously resting on his cheek slides to tangle careful fingers in his hair. For a moment, Damien can't make himself move, can't make himself continue, because looking away from Shayne in this moment feels like a Herculean task. Shayne's smile goes sweet and he kisses Damien again, soft, lingering.
"Yes, I want you to fuck me. Please," Shayne says, gentle mockery wrapped around that last word, and yet still it makes the bottom drop out of Damien's stomach. He wants to make Shayne beg. He presses kisses down Shayne's chest again, quicker this time, and settles comfortably in the cradle of his hips. There's heat in Shayne's eyes when he looks down at him, his hand cupping Damien's jaw again. Damien presses a kiss to his palm.
"Okay, I'm gonna- how, um- have you ever-" he starts and stops, likely blushing dark as he tries to figure out how to ask what he needs to know. How careful do I need to be here? Have you ever done this before? He doesn't know how to make that words he's saying aloud and not just words in his head. He looks up at Shayne, willing him to understand even if he can't articulate his concerns. Shayne, being Shayne, does exactly as is asked of him.
"Fingered myself a few days ago, used a toy probably a week ago," he says succinctly, sending Damien blushing and blinking as the image of that situation is painted vividly in his mind. Shayne grins, giving a huff of a laugh. Damien clears his throat, opening the lube.
"You own a toy?" he asks curiously, coating his fingers and moving them down to rub at Shayne's hole, not pushing in, not yet, but just the tease of pressure. Shayne tenses but relaxes beautifully and immediately, melting down against the hotel room sheets. He looks so fucking beautiful.
"Oh, I own several. A couple vibrators, a couple dildos, nothing special," Shayne lists off casually, his grin easy. His mouth drops open as Damien pushes a first finger in, careful if nothing else. He's so warm inside, soft around Damien's finger, and the fact that he's about to fuck his best friend hits him over the head. His dick is going to be inside of Shayne. Holy shit. He fucks him with just one finger for maybe a minute or so, perhaps somewhat overcautious knowing that this isn't Shayne's first time, but he still doesn't expect it when Shayne rocks down on his finger, a frustrated noise making its way out of his throat.
"Need something, baby boy?" Damien asks, a smile pulling at his lips. Shayne gives him a look, a flicker of mischief, and Damien knows he's being played when those big blue eyes go round and soft, but goddamn, call him a fiddle.
"More, Damien. Make me feel good," he says, that pretty mouth just a little pursed, pink lips pressed together. He adds another finger on the very next pass, earning a noise that sets him alight. He would like nothing more than to make Shayne feel good. He curls his fingers and thinks of every modicum of research he's ever done about this (he didn't really know anything about sex with other guys til he met Shayne; then someone made one too many sex jokes about them, and a guy gets curious), knowing he's found his target when he pulls a moan out of Shayne. He rocks down on Damien's fingers again, chasing the feeling. He looks so pretty. He sounds so fucking pretty. Damien rubs at that spot, ringing as many pretty noises out of Shayne as he can, adding a third finger when he feels ready. Shayne's grip on him is only growing harder as those beautiful noises get louder; they could probably wake the entire hotel if Damien did this for as long as he wants to, for as long as he'd like to see Shayne spread out on his fingers, whining and panting.
"All good, baby boy, I'm gonna give you what you want," he coaxes at a whisper as he pulls his fingers out, swallowing the whimper that falls from Shayne's lips. "I'm cool either way, condom or no condom?" Damien asks, level as anything as he holds the condom between two fingers to show it to Shayne. Shayne blinks at him for a second, reorienting himself before taking it from Damien's hand, throwing it vaguely in the direction of the bag from whence it came. Grinning and giving a quick nod, Damien pours more lube onto his fingers and coats his dick with a mostly perfunctory stroke, too aware of how quickly the sight and sound of this, the warmth of Shayne's skin, the promise here, could make the touch of his own hand more than enough to finish this before it ever gets started. He lines himself up but hesitates before pushing in, flicking his gaze up to make eye contact, an eyebrow raised.
"Fucking hell, Damien, if you don't-" Shayne starts, but Damien interrupts him with a shallow thrust of his hips, making Shayne's head fall back against the pillows. It makes Damien smile, but that goes slack quickly when he bottoms out, taking a moment to get his bearings with his dick inside of his best friend before he even tries movement. Pressure points of pain ground him, Shayne's fingertips digging into his skin, sure to bruise but so needed in this moment. He presses his face into the side of Shayne's neck, scattering kisses on his throat, his collarbones, his Adam's apple. They stay like that for a minute or so, still but connected, quiet but close. Then it seems impatience comes for Shayne after all in the form of a roll of his hips, a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. Damien chuckles, low, and pulls out about halfway, thrusting back in immediately. Shayne's little gasp, though not quite as loud as Damien would like to make him, is gratifying.
The desire to make him beg is hot in the back of his throat, staggering in its intensity. Unable to do anything but follow the hand of that impulse, Damien thrusts in again, freeing Shayne's hand to wrap both of his own around the back of Shayne's rib cage, gripping his lats to hold him in place as he works to find a rhythm.
"Bein' so good for me Shayne. Fuck, baby. You feel so fucking good," he mutters into Shayne's shoulder, holding him in such a manner that they're chest to chest, almost too close for comfort. Shayne pulls at his hair, actually getting a grip and pulling this time, using the force to move Damien up to kiss him. Damien concedes willingly, allowing Shayne's tongue in his mouth in the same second as fucking into him again, bringing moans from them both. He stays motionless in the cradle of Shayne's hips like that for some time, kissing Shayne instead of fucking him. There's something about just being inside of Shayne, the connection of it, that is just as good as the pull and friction of it all. Getting off feels very second priority when being this close to Shayne is an option. He wants to sink into this like the sea, let love wash over him and let the salt burn his eyes, let the sand abrade his skin.
Let love take him out to sea. Let love fill his lungs. Let love.
Shayne lasts an admirably long time before he starts expressing a desire for things to progress, as it were. He rolls his hips, just the barest little motion before Damien is sliding his hands down and grabbing them, pressing Shayne into the mattress to keep him still. Shayne breaks the kiss to look up at him, eyebrows furrowed, before trying it again. Damien grins at him, pulling out maybe an inch or two before fucking into Shayne again. He stills again, still grinning, and kisses Shayne. Despite pressing into the kiss, Shayne gives a little irritated noise, nails digging into Damien's obliques.
"Goddamn it, Damien. Fuck me!" Shayne says, frustration clear as he tries his damnedest to roll his hips down again despite Damien's grip on them. The desperate little movements make Damien feel fucking insane, watching Shayne want him so bad he's nearly angry with it. Holding back from fucking Shayne stupid is just as much a tease for him as it is for Shayne.
"Ask me nicely," Damien says, equal parts teasing and tentative. Relief hits like a party drug with the fire that lights in Shayne's eyes, turned on and so fucking beautiful with it.
"Please, Dame? Can you please fuck me? Make me feel good. Please," he says, sweet as he looks up at Damien, just this shade of mischief on the tip of his tongue. Damien kisses him because he can't help it, he kisses him because he can, he kisses Shayne because every time Shayne has ever looked at him with that false innocence, it's all he's ever wanted to do, and now he fucking can. Shayne smiles against his lips but doesn't break the kiss, instead just pulling Damien closer, urging him into giving him more. "Please, Damien," he says, just a little bit of real desperation lacing his words, and even so much as Damien would like to pretend he's in control right now, he can't deny Shayne when he looks like that. He's pretty and pouty and Damien is putty in his hands, going directly from still to fucking Shayne in earnest, gone with his pausing and waiting. Shayne's head falls back against the pillows and the noise he makes is music, pretty boy softness melting down into the sheets.
"So- so fucking good, Shayne. Taking me so well. Such a good boy," he lets slip. He only thinks about stopping for a split second before Shayne's making a high noise, rutting up against Damien's stomach. Grinning, Damien bites a kiss into his mouth.
"Please, Dami," Shayne whines, hitching his leg up around Damien's waist. He gets even louder when Damien hits a particular angle, one that he replicates to the best of his ability from those sweet little noises forward. He kisses his way from Shayne's jaw to his ear, pausing in biting at his throat to speak.
"What, baby? You want me to tell me how good you look taking me? How you're being such a good little slut for me? That you look so pretty on your back and whining for my dick?" he teases, dark and low and only growing in confidence as Shayne's grip on him gets more desperate. When they get back to LA, he's going to take Shayne apart right, figure out every little thing he likes and give him everything he wants. Now, he does as much as he can, sucking more marks into Shayne's shoulders, where a shirt might cover them if Shayne doesn't roughhouse with anybody for the entire trip, but that's unlikely. He's beautiful and bullheaded and begging, words spilling out of his mouth water quick and incoherent, breathless. Good boy, Damien thinks, and maybe he says it, because Shayne's catching his lips in a kiss that's more naked need than it is finesse. He can't say he terribly minds the difference. He likes Shayne like this, feeling so good he's not thinking about anything else.
Damien doesn't even realize that Shayne is reaching for his cock before he's pinning that hand down, biting Shayne's bottom lip. He presses Shayne's wrist into the sheets and moves that newly freed hand down himself, wrapping it surely around Shayne.
"Mine," he says, gratified in the way it makes Shayne shiver. Biting down on the junction of Shayne's throat and shoulder, Damien rubs his thumb over the head of Shayne's cock, gathering his pre-cum before rubbing into his slit, making him keen. His hips snap first forward then back, like he can't decide which is better, Damien's hand around him or Damien's cock inside of him. He's whining a little every time he fucking breathes, and Damien wants to swallow him whole, fuck him stupid, make him cry with it.
"Yours, Dami, please, please, please, please, please," he says, repeating the word like a mantra, but it's that first one that has Damien drilling into him, fucking into him rougher and faster. Shayne sounds so pretty when he begs, when he says he belongs to Damien, when he says Damien's name. Damien wants to keep him safe for the rest of their lives. He wants to ruin him for anyone else.
"My good boy, Shayne, so good for me, you can cum. Go ahead and cum for me, baby," he coaxes, pumping Shayne's dick faster, his grip probably just barely edging on too tight. Shayne doesn't seem to mind at all, groaning as he spills white in Damien's hand, sticky and warm. He bears down on Damien's cock in the process, and between that and his nails digging into Damien's skin again, Damien cums as well, filling Shayne right up. Shayne holds him close, arms around his shoulders and face tucked into the sweaty hollow of his throat.
"I love you," Shayne says, half broken but sure. Damien smiles loosely, lifting Shayne's head up to pepper kisses on his face, grin broadening as it sends Shayne into giggles. The laughter makes him move, though, and they're both groaning at the reminder that they haven't separated yet. Strangely enough, Damien doesn't really... want to. Separate, that is. That point of connection is still getting him, that feeling of being closer to Shayne than he's ever been before. There's something about love and consumption here, the desire to take and to be taken, but sleep is pulling at Damien's temples, and they need to clean up before they crash.
"I love you," he whispers, running his nose along Shayne's before bracing himself against the mattress, gentle as he pulls out. Shayne whines anyway, his head back against the pillows, making the column of his neck absolutely irresistible, open for the taking. Damien kisses his Adam's apple, rolling out of bed and to his feet, pausing.
"All good?" Shayne asks, reaching out to hook his first two fingers with Damien's. God, he's cute.
"We're in a hotel," Damien says, unable to make himself elaborate. He gets like this sometimes, the executive dysfunction that comes when he doesn't know exactly what to do next. Shayne hums, quietly amused but not making fun of Damien, which he can admit to being grateful for.
"Yeah, baby, I know," he says, low and fond as he smiles up at Damien. Though he appreciates the calm, Damien can't return the smile.
"Shayne, I am not physically able to clean up cum with a towel that some poor employee is going to have to wash. I can't do it," he says, stimming in wide arcs of gesticulation. Shayne gazes at him with warm affection like Damien is being adorable instead of neurotic, and it's sweet, but it doesn't help. Damien's about to continue when Shayne pulls at his fingers, grabbing back his attention.
"I have wet wipes in my bag. Tissues are in there too," he says, his voice taking on that calming steadiness that pulled Damien to him in the first place. Still, he raises an eyebrow.
"You have tissues in your bag?" he asks, though he's already crossing over to Shayne's bag to procure both. Shayne hums in the affirmative.
"Well yeah, I knew we were going on a road trip," he says. Damien waits a moment, but he does not elaborate.
"I am not connecting these dots, baby," Damien says, standing up with the wipes and tissues in hand. He wipes off his own hands before turning back to the bed. Shayne is laying back on the pillows now, looking up at Damien with a fond, sleepy gaze that makes Damien feel far more domestic than a hotel room should allow.
"You have nosebleeds, dipshit. I don't get in a car with you without tissues," Shayne deadpans, obvious in the fact that this should be obvious. He reaches for the wet wipes but even flustered, Damien bats his hand away.
"I love you," he says, climbing between Shayne's spread knees.
"Love you too," Shayne says, the last word going up in octave as Damien wipes at the cum leaking out of his hole with a tissue. Snickering, Damien follows with a wet wipe, running it along Shayne's neck, his chest, using it to wipe the sweat pooled in the dip of his hip. Shayne just lets him do his thing, smiling up at Damien and absolutely relaxed beneath him, radiating that affection that makes Damien feel like he's going to fucking explode. He does a perfunctory swipe of his own sweat, throwing away the used wipes and tissues and putting both packages back in Shayne's bag. Shayne is reaching for him when he turns back around. Damien couldn't stop his responding grin if he tried. He does not try.
"Shouldn't be surprised you're a cuddler," he comments, holding back laughter at the immediate suspicious noise he gets.
"What does that mean?" Shayne asks, falsely put upon with a barely suppressed grin. Damien rolls his eyes, climbing over him into bed but rolling onto his back, pulling Shayne to his chest. Shayne, despite his attitude, does not protest this in the slightest but rather relaxes into Damien's chest like he's always wanted to be there, like Damien could have had him like this a long time ago. No point in lingering, though.
"I mean that you're sweet, baby boy. Perfect. Mine," he mutters that last part, pressing a kiss to Shayne's hairline. Shayne sits up a little, getting onto his elbows so he can look Damien in the face.
"I am, you know. Yours, I mean," he says, swallowing thickly, his throat clicking. Damien leans up to kiss him, soft and slow. Shayne melts into him, comfortably lax again.
"Can I tell you a secret?" Damien asks, whispering soft and playful. Shayne smiles, dipping to kiss Damien again, sweet and quick like he just can't help it. He nods when he pulls back. "I'm yours too, dude. Totally gone on you. It's crazy embarrassing," Damien says, conspiratory as if this is not something everyone knows, maybe. Shayne's smile goes soft and his eyes go a little wide like this really isn't something he knew for fact, and Damien kisses him again, just to really make the point. Shayne snorts and tucks his face down against Damien's throat, huffing laughter on his neck. Damien loves him so fucking much.
"I love you," Shayne says again, quiet but sure. Damien kisses the side of his head.
"I love you too."