Pressure

Mitchell won the first round.

“No,” he said firmly, pointing at Cam the way he used to point at Lily when she was about to do something disastrous. “We are staying right here. We are finishing this bottle. We are not getting involved. Sit.”

Cam sat. He even managed to look mostly obedient for almost four whole minutes.

They passed the wine back and forth in tense silence. Every so often another sound drifted down the stairs - Gloria’s low, throaty laugh, the distinct creak of the dresser, Claire’s voice breaking on a moan that was impossible to misinterpret. Phil’s name, muffled but clear enough.

Mitchell stared very hard at the wall. Cam’s leg bounced.

Then the noises changed.

A sharper cry from Claire. The unmistakable buzz of a vibrator kicking on. Gloria’s voice, clear enough to carry: “That’s it… take it for him. Good girl.”

Cam made a small, strangled sound and pressed the heel of his hand against the front of his pants.

Mitchell glanced over, then immediately looked away. “Don’t.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Cam whispered, voice already rough. “I’m just… sitting. Responsibly.”

Another long, shaky moan filtered down. Then the sound of skin on skin. Phil’s voice, low and strained. Gloria giving another order.

Cam’s composure cracked.

He set his glass down, turned on the couch, and swung a leg over Mitchell’s lap in one smooth motion, straddling him. Mitchell’s hands flew to Cam’s waist on pure reflex.

“Cam…”

“I tried,” Cam said, already rolling his hips down so Mitchell could feel how hard he was. “I really did. But they’re up there with toys and Gloria Pritchett is giving orders, and I can hear Claire coming undone, and I am only human, Mitchell.”

He kissed him - deep, hungry, a little desperate. Mitchell made a protesting noise into his mouth that turned into a groan when Cam ground down harder. The wineglass nearly tipped. Cam’s hands were already under Mitchell’s shirt, nails scraping lightly up his stomach.

“They’re going to hear us,” Mitchell managed between kisses, even as his hands slid down to grip Cam’s ass and pull him tighter against his own growing erection.

“Good,” Cam panted, reaching between them to pop the button on Mitchell’s jeans. “Maybe they’ll invite us up. Or maybe we just stay right here and give them something to listen to for a change.”

He got Mitchell’s cock free, wrapped his fingers around it, and stroked once, twice, while the sounds from upstairs grew louder - Claire’s voice breaking on a clear, helpless cry, Gloria’s satisfied murmur, the wet rhythm of whatever Phil was doing to her.

Cam lifted up just long enough to shove his own pants down, then sank back onto Mitchell’s lap, guiding him in with a shaky breath. Both of them groaned at the same time as Cam took him to the hilt.

Upstairs, something thumped hard against the dresser.

Cam started riding him in earnest, forehead pressed to Mitchell’s, breath hot against his mouth. “Fuck… listen to them. Listen to how filthy your sister sounds right now.”

Mitchell’s hands tightened on Cam’s hips. He thrust up to meet every roll of Cam’s body, the couch creaking beneath them, no longer trying to stay quiet.