"Yeah?" Trent was saying, and Lucas could hear the man moving around. "You want to meet for a drink, Luke?" And that was... yeah. That was good. Luke. Trent only called him Luke when Trent was wanting, which seemed promising.

"We could do drinks," Lucas answered, even though he was thinking something more along the lines of doing each other. Still, a drink couldn't hurt. Might even help him to calm down and not explode, because the closer he'd gotten to the hotel, the more his body had been priming itself, and...

"Good. So I'll meet you," he heard, but the elevator was slowing down and it was only on the twelfth floor, which meant... Lucas shifted the jacket he'd been gripping, holding it carefully in front of him. The last thing he needed was some random guest -- or worse, hotel employee -- stepping onto the elevator and being confronted with just how excited Lucas was to be in the same building as Trent.

He wondered sometimes whether he'd lost his mind, because God knew he'd barely even looked at anyone since he'd gone back to L.A. Then again, nothing had changed there. He was still Lucas Merrifield; still supposedly straight. And it had been a couple of years between the last guy in Los Angeles and Trent, so he supposed it made sense that he'd been... careful. He'd always been careful. It was just easier when he knew he would at least be having phone sex on a regular basis. Easier still when he'd realized Trent would be at MichiCon.

Lucas shifted a little, stifling a moan when the small movement had him nearly aching, because the doors were opening with a soft, dinging noise, just a bit louder than when it passed each floor, and... "Gotta go," Lucas murmured, closing his phone.

"Really," Trent murmured, as he stepped onto the elevator, and Lucas felt those hot, dark eyes on him like a physical touch. "Because you look more like you need to come, Luke. I heard the elevator over the phone," the man went on, still talking softly and keeping as much distance between them as the small confines would allow.

And thank God for those few feet, Lucas decided, because Trent looked... really, really good. Any closer and Lucas probably wouldn't care about there being other people in the hotel. Wouldn't care that flinging himself at Trent might end with someone discovering that Lucas Merrifield wasn't actually the kind of stud everybody thought he was. "One more floor," Lucas muttered. "And I'm guessing you wouldn't say no to coming, either."

"Never have," Trent nodded, licking his lips, and Lucas couldn't do anything but let out the moan he'd swallowed earlier. "Of course, I like to think that's because I'm smarter than I look..."

God help him, Lucas begged, because he was actually saying what he was thinking. Out loud. "I think you're going to look pretty fucking brilliant with your lips wrapped around my cock, man. You always did before."