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The knock is expected, the timing isn’t. The clock on Assad’s nightstand glares an accusing 4:48 a.m., seemingly conscious of the alarm set to go off in less than two hours.
He rolls out of bed and opens the door without looking through the peephole. There he is. Eric, a backpack on one shoulder and a duffel on the other, hair mussed like he just rolled out of bed.
“I could have been asleep.” Assad says in lieu of greeting.
Eric smiles at him. “I would have knocked louder.” He raises his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for Assad to let him in. For a second, he considers shutting the door. He’s wearing the same jacket that he was wearing in most of the pictures that came from Comic Con. He feels a little crazy, jealousy spiking in his stomach. It’s been nearly 48 hours since he last slept, crazy filming schedules and anxiety fighting a war to keep him from resting, and apparently, rational thinking.
But the door still opens all the way, Assad still steps to the side because who is he trying to fool? He’ll always let Eric in.
Eric drops his bags and jacket by the entrance and flops facedown on the bed, kicking his shoes off like he belongs there.
“That flight was hell on my knees.” Eric’s voice is muffled by the pillow. Assad brings his vape up to his lips, surveying the rise and fall of the older man’s back with even breaths.
Eric turns to him, watching the gust of grape flavored smoke that leaves Assad’s mouth with his quiet confession.
“I can feel my blood sugar levels rising just smelling that.” Eric tells him. He stretches, turns onto his back. Fixes Assad with a look that sends a frisson of heat shooting down to his toes. “I missed you too. Come here.”
Assad pads over to the bed, socked feet silent against the carpeted hotel floor. He offers his vape to Eric, unsurprised when he pulls a face.
“That’s actually insulting, you know.” Eric says. “I take offense at that.”
Assad absently nods, pretends to listen as Eric launches off on one of his many anti-vape tirades while he slides into bed next to him.
“I’d rather eat my own feet than suck on a USB drive. I haven’t smoked in nearly fifteen years but really, Assad, sometimes watching you with that thing makes me want to start again just to offset that bad energy, you know?”
Assad unceremoniously grabs Eric’s dick over his clothes.
“What, you got a vape-specific degradation kink now or something? Or is it the cigarette talk? Marlboros get you going?” Eric laughs, turning towards him.
“Mostly just trying to shut you up.” Assad retorts, squeezing. “Can I blow you?”
Eric gestures magnanimously like sure, go ahead, no problem. If Assad was a little more alert, he’d roll his eyes or something but as soon as he gets the all clear, he gets straight to business. He clumsily pulls Eric’s sweats down, pressing his face against his boxers and inhaling his musky scent.
“You’re crazy.” Eric says, half groaning. “I literally just got off a plane too.”
“I kept up with you.” Assad tells him, swallowing a moan at the feeling of Eric’s dick swelling up against his mouth, only shielded by a thin layer of fabric. He sucks at the cloth, his nails digging into Eric’s thighs. “You barely talked about me.” He bites, gentle but still hard enough for Eric to jerk in surprise.
“I barely talked, period.” Eric tugs at his hair. “And I did talk about you but you know how they edit stuff out.”
“Funnily enough, I have a hard time believing they’d cut anything of the sort out, isn’t that like clickbait heaven for them?” Assad pulls back, quirking an eyebrow at him. “But it’s cool. I’m not like, upset or whatever. Just curious.”
“Right.” Eric says slowly.
“Yup.” Assad glances down at Eric’s tented boxers. “I’m actually kind of tired.” He smiles apologetically, shrugging. He doesn’t wait for Eric’s answer. He gets out of bed and pulls at his shirt, taking extra care to flex his back muscles as he yanks it over his head.
“Uh, what?” Eric blinks at him. “Like… sure, what? You know, blue balls could literally kill me at my age.”
“Are you telling me I have to suck your dick?” Assad asks innocently. He pulls his shorts off too and gets back into bed, clad only in his boxers and socks. “I will if you really want me to. But I’m so tired.” He punctuates this with a yawn.
“No, of course not.” Eric says quickly. “I was just kidding. You’re sleeping?”
“I have to be up at 6:30.” Assad says, positioning himself as the little spoon. He grabs Eric’s arm and tugs until he falls into place too, pressing against him from behind. He’s still hard, and Assad has to bite his lip to keep from smiling, a little too pleased.
“Okay.” Eric mumbles. He drops a quick kiss to Assad’s neck and falls quiet.
Assad isn’t letting him off that easily. He shifts under the guise of getting comfortable, but after a few seconds, it’s painfully clear that he’s basically just rubbing against Eric’s dick. Eric still doesn’t say anything.
Assad rolls onto his back, frowning at him. “I can’t sleep.”
“You’re not even trying to.” Eric says. “Count sheep or something.” He pulls his phone out and Assad glares at the offending object. A few minutes pass like this, Eric tapping away on his phone and Assad laying quietly, inordinately jealous of an inanimate object.
Finally, he sighs. He cups himself over his boxers, slowly rubbing himself to hardness. He luxuriates in his solitude for a few moments, keeping his eyes firmly closed, not looking to see if Eric is watching. It doesn’t take long for the fabric to get uncomfortably tight around him. He opens his eyes, carefully pulls himself out of his boxers.
“What are you doing?” Eric asks. Assad rubs his thumb over his slit and arches a little bit into his own hand before turning to the older man. Eric’s phone is tossed to the side, forgotten, his eyes fixed only on Assad.
“Trying to sleep.” Assad says. “A good orgasm usually knocks me out.”
“Let me help.”
“Hmm, no.” Assad starts to slowly stroke himself and he lets his eyes fall shut again. “I’m good.”
He knows he looks good. He can practically feel Eric’s eyes on him and he moans, arching into it.
“Fuck, Assad. Please let me…” Eric trails off, his words strangled. “I’m sorry about Con. I was under strict orders, you know. I was specifically told no less than maybe a million times to say as little as possible about anything of any important. You know me.”
Assad does know him. He brings his hand up to his mouth, licking a wet stripe and then spitting into it, moaning again when he grips himself. “It’s fine, Eric.”
“I thought about you the whole time, baby.” Eric groans and Assad’s eyes fly open to see him slipping a hand into his boxers.
“Don’t do that.” He snaps.
“Uh, what?” Eric’s hand stills.
“I said, don’t do that.” Assad repeats, nodding towards his hand. “No hands. Stay still.”
Eric’s mouth twitches at the corner but he (wisely) tamps down the beginnings of a smile. “Okay. Sorry. Should I be quiet?”
Assad glares at him, unwilling to say no but too proud not to. And Eric knows how much he loves his voice.
“Okay, okay.” Eric does smile this time. “Fuck, I want to touch you so bad Assad. I missed you so much in San Diego.”
“Good.” Assad huffs. He continues stroking himself, waiting for Eric to keep talking.
“It was weird, my first Comic Con and everything, but I wanted you there. We would’ve had so much fun doing the photoshoots and everything.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Assad says before he can stop himself. “You looked like you were having a blast with Jacob and Sam.”
Eric laughs. “Assad, come on.” He seems to know he misstepped when Assad doesn’t reply. “Oh, fuck it. Assad, let me touch you.”
Assad doesn’t have it in him to resist anymore. He copies Eric’s go ahead gesture from before but it feels petulant coming from him, a child throwing a fit. His face heats up but Eric hardly gives him time to fester in that feeling, immediately rolling on top of him.
He kisses Assad hard and messy, licking into his mouth until he has to pull away to catch his breath. “I don’t have eyes for anyone but you, baby. You know that.”
Assad nods even though it’s obviously a lie and they both know it. Eric kisses a line down his neck and chest, flicking his tongue against his nipples. Assad grabs Eric’s hair, threading his fingers through the soft white curls.
“Tell me.” He mumbles.
“I thought about you every second.” Eric says into his skin, punctuating each word with a kiss to his nipples. He bites, then moves down to his stomach, sucking at the skin under his belly button. “I jerked off in my hotel for the first time in forever when you sent me that selfie from set. You and those nails… god.” He bites gently, then moves down to Assad’s dick, licking up the side like it’s a popsicle. “I’ve been thinking about this, about you, nonstop for the last five years. You don’t even know, Assad.”
“I really don’t.” Assad says.
Eric starts to jerk him off, bringing his other hand up to cup his balls. “Cum for me now, okay? Do me a favor and paint my face white like a good boy, and then we can go to sleep.”
Assad bursts out laughing even as his dick jumps in Eric’s hand. “Jesus.” He says, craning his neck to look down at him.
Eric squeezes him a little too tight. “That’s the third man’s name you’ve said while you’re in bed with me.” He says. “I’m beginning to think I should be the jealous one here.”
Assad rolls his eyes. “Okay, well use that jealous rage to get me off then. I’m growing a beard up here.”
“Brat.” Eric grumbles, but he starts to move his hand again. He kisses Assad’s thighs, twisting his hand on the upstroke and generally driving him insane. Soon, too soon, Assad pulls Eric’s hair in warning.
“Fuck, Eric, coming.” He bites out, writhing in place. Eric taps Assad’s dick against his mouth and Assad makes good on Eric’s demand, coming with a groan a little too loud for this time of night, all over Eric’s face.
Assad lays back, panting. “Fuck.” He breathes. “Eric, you look crazy.”
“You’re the crazy one.” He says, wiping his face. “Okay, tired? Is it sleepy time yet or do I need to sing you a lullaby now?”
“Oh, I wish you would.” Assad laughs, getting comfortable again. “You’re still hard.”
“I’ll take the loss on this one.” Eric says. “As long as you get me back tomorrow.”
“I’ll think about it.” Assad says. He smiles at Eric, pressing a soft kiss to Eric’s cheek. “No but seriously, go shower. You smell.”