So I finished that ImagineYourOTP piece I started yesterday, which is great, because I haven’t finished much of anything lately even though I’ve done plenty of starts and stops.

I can’t let go of things that are going on in my life. The anger over them pops up unexpectantly and just takes over my mind. It makes me incapable of writing; it makes me incapable of doing anything, and it sucks. I want to stop feeling angry. I want to write. But I can’t make myself write, either, when I catch myself in that loop. It’s awful, and I hate it, and I’ll find a way to break it, one of these days.

Until then, here’s part of the smut I wrote. Enjoy:

***

 Savin’s jaw dropped again, the heat in his face returning tenfold. “You — “ He cut himself off, almost grinding his teeth together as Mitchel’s words filtered through his brain. “You think you’d be the one to top?”

“I’m older,” Mitchel stated, as if it were that simple.

“I’m taller,” Savin muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Mitchel snorted. “By maybe two inches at best,” he said, putting the knife down on the counter. He gave Savin a sly smile. “Would you like to test this theory, Bates?”

Savin’s arms tightened over his chest, his eyes unable to leave Mitchel’s hands as they began to deftly undo the knot of his tie. “You’re not suggesting we –” A lump formed in his throat, forcing him to clear it. “– we fuck, are you?”

Those fingers never stopped their motions, pulling the tie away from Mitchel’s neck with practiced ease. Mitchel’s sly smile never faltered, not even as he approached Savin, effectively backing him against the counter. “And if I am?” Mitchel asked, leaning in close. His breath was hot against Savin’s neck, their bodies not quite touching.

“Uh — I have a boyfriend…?” Savin mumbled, refusing to meet Mitchel’s eyes. A boyfriend who might be home any time. A boyfriend who’d probably flip his shit if he saw Savin pinned against the counter like this, Mitchel dangerously close and moving even closer.

“I think Callahan wouldn’t mind watching us, should he walk in at any time,” Mitchel breathed, his lips brushing against Savin’s neck. Savin leaned as far away from Mitchel as he could, almost sliding on top of the counter just to get away.

“You are seriously fucked up if you think I’m gonna cheat on Jazz just because you think he’d be okay with watching us fuck,” Savin muttered, pushing Mitchel away from him. He slid away from Mitchel as best he could, making sure to keep his front to the older man the whole time.

Except those hands wrapped around Savin’s wrist, preventing him from getting away. Mitchel’s strength surprised Savin as Mitchel pulled Savin back to in front of him. Mitchel’s free hand ghosted along Savin’s bare thigh and slid under the apron. “So?” Mitchel countered, smirking at Savin. “I thought you said you would top, Bates? So far I’m the only one making any advances…”

Savin grit his teeth together, wishing he didn’t feel a familiar warmth moving through his body as Mitchel’s fingers continued to drag themselves along sensitive skin. Instinctively, he spread his legs, letting Mitchel move between them. “That’s because I don’t want to make any ‘advances,’” he groaned, a quiet gasp escaping him as Mitchel kissed along his neck and shoulders.

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