Wheels Up (Out of Uniform 4)

“Three it is.” Wes bit at his ass again. And oh fuck, fuck, that burned, the extra finger stretching him open, forcing its way in.

“Fuck. Wes. I need to come.” Dustin was shamelessly riding his hand now, but the friction wasn’t nearly enough on his cock, and the pressure in his ass, while glorious, wasn’t enough to tip him over. “Please. Touch me. Fuck me. Something. Please.”

Wes shifted, moving. Dustin cried out at the loss of the warmth against his legs, but then it was back, Wes’s denim-covered legs right against his own naked ones, a reminder of how powerless and exposed he was, and even better was Wes’s voice in his ear. “You can come. Anytime. And then I’m going to come all over your back. Right where I bit you and all over your tied hands.”

“Oh fuck.” The filthy promise and the full-body press of Wes along his side was almost enough. Almost.

“Any. Time.” Wes worked his fingers back into Dustin’s hole, stretching as he nailed Dustin’s gland again. The angle had to be hell on Wes’s wrist, but he sounded collected. Calm even. Like he could take all day to turn Dustin inside out, make him into this quivering mass of nerve endings.

“I’m not sure I can.” Dustin panted. “I want...”

“Yeah? Tell me.”

“Fuck me. I don’t even have to come. I just need...more.” God, he wished he knew, and he was trusting that Wes did know, that Wes could put him out of his agony.

“I know.” Wes’s teeth grazed Dustin’s shoulder. His jeans-covered cock rubbed against Dustin’s ass, making him hump the couch that much harder. “Get ready.”

“Ready?” Dustin’s mind was cloudy with pain and pleasure and the strange, wonderful place where the two mingled. Wes’s free hand snaked under Dustin’s torso, fingers brushing the binder clip. “Oh fuck. Please.”

He didn’t even know what he was begging for, just that he needed something, and Wes would know, Wes could give it to him.

“Come.” Wes released the first clip, making lightning zip through Dustin, making him cry out and curse. “Now,” Wes ordered, releasing the second.

His fingers somehow found some new, deeper spot inside Dustin, and it was all connected—the pressure in his ass, the friction against his cock, the pain in his chest muscles, and it was all too, too much. He shuddered, orgasm finally finding him with a hard smack, like hitting the open water after a jump, a solid wall of sensation that gave way, dragging him under and rearranging every truth he’d thought he’d known about himself. Who he was. What he liked. What he needed. All of it. In that instant, as he came, everything made sense for possibly the first time in his life.

“Fuck. Wes.” The fabric covering his eyes was wet, either from sweat or tears, he wasn’t sure, and he was far beyond caring.

“Yes, baby, I know. I’ve got you.” Wes was still rutting against Dustin, jeans abrading his already-sensitized skin.

“Come on me,” Dustin begged.

“Yeah?” Wes’s zipper made a wrenching noise, like he might have just busted something opening it. But Dustin was too distracted to laugh, because Wes was rubbing his dick against Dustin’s ass, teasing the tips of his bound hands with what they couldn’t have.

“Untie me,” he demanded.

“Not. Yet.” Wes’s voice was strained after all the control he’d shown earlier. “Close.”

Dustin loved knowing the effect he had on Wes, knowing that he could make all his careful plans and composure fall apart. “Do it. Come on me.”

“Ungh.” Leaning forward, Wes pulled Dustin into the world’s sloppiest kiss right before warmth hit his back.

“Oh fuck.” Somehow they both tumbled down onto the floor in a messy sprawl. Wes undid Dustin’s arms and removed the blindfold in between more sloppy, but tender kisses.

“Don’t worry, I’m cleaning your couch before I go.” Wes laughed, then pressed another kiss to Dustin’s neck, then one to his red and puffy nipple.

“I’m holding you to that,” Dustin groaned. The awful word go was in there, looming over both of them, but for a moment, at least, everything he needed, mess and all, was right there in his arms.

* * *

Dustin was an after-sex cuddler, even if the guy would never own up to it, and Wes let him snuggle close while Wes massaged the circulation back into Dustin’s hands and arms. He used Dustin’s discarded shorts to mop up the worst of the mess on their stomachs and Dustin’s back. He’d yanked off his shirt right before he’d come. And hell, that had been the single best orgasm of his life, all white-hot rush and frantic finish that left him weak-kneed.

“Fuck. I’m gonna need a second shower.” Dustin laughed, but didn’t move away from embracing Wes.

“Yeah, you really are.” Wes pressed another kiss to the side of Dustin’s head. “I’d offer to join you, but I’ve got a couch to clean.”