Wheels Up (Out of Uniform 4)

“God, look at you.” Wes stroked down Dustin’s back, short nails dragging against Dustin’s already sensitive flesh. “So ready for me. So eager.” He stopped to squeeze Dustin’s ass. “And this ass... Fuck. All mine.”

“Yes.” Dustin wanted that. Wanted to be all Wes’s. Only Wes’s. Only with him could he show this side of himself. He expected Wes to get right to it, so he jumped when it was Wes’s tongue, not his cock, which traced down his crack.

“You’re not begging yet.” Wes’s voice had more than a little smirk to it right before he attacked Dustin’s rim with a voracity that had Dustin moaning from the first contact. Fuck. Wes was incredible at this, and as much as Dustin had liked this last week, over the couch, there was an extra layer tonight, knowing that he was going to get fucked, and he didn’t think he was imagining the new edge to Wes’s intensity either. Wes worked two fingers back in, even as he continued to lick and tease.

“Please. Fuck.” It wasn’t enough. Dustin needed more. More pressure. More penetration. More stretch. More Wes.

“Can’t hear you.” Wes pulled his face back, but his fingers went deeper, finding Dustin’s gland. Still not enough.

“Fuck me. Now.” Dustin rocked his ass, shamelessly seeking more.

“You’re awfully insistent.” Wes scissored his fingers, the stretch exquisite and exactly what he craved and yet nothing at all what he needed.

“Please, Wes. Now.”

Wes shifted, withdrawing his fingers, and the loss made Dustin keen, but then Wes was back, legs firmly against Dustin’s thighs, and the pressure on his rim wasn’t fingers.

“Yes.” It was all Dustin could think to say as he rode backward against the cock that Wes was holding steady. His body resisted, not quite caught up to his brain’s eagerness.

“That’s it, baby. Take what you can.” Wes encouraged him, hand stroking Dustin’s lower back and ass.

“More.” The pressure was more than fingers, more than the couple of toys Dustin had played with over the years, and it was perfect. Well. Almost. “Move, damn it.”

“So impatient.” Wes’s voice was chiding, but there was a strain there that hadn’t been a minute ago. He pushed forward, and okay, that burned. But Dustin welcomed the stretch, huffing out his next breath with near-relief that this was actually happening. Wes kept up the steady pressure, the slow thrust forward, and Dustin willed his body to relax.

“Oh,” Wes breathed, voice dropping in timbre.

For the rest of his life, Dustin was going to remember that sound, the exact pitch and duration, as his ring of muscle gave way and Wes slid deep. I did that. Wes was so damn hard to rattle, always insisting on keeping control, not letting Dustin as close as he craved. Hearing him take a series of shaky breaths thrilled Dustin even more than the insistent pressure against his rim.

Wes’s cock was a far different sort of experience than his fingers. His fingers had pressed right into Dustin’s gland, an unerring strike to his inflamed nerve endings. This was more of a slow, steady slide, the contact less direct, but the added pressure lit him up even more. Dustin breathed into the sensation, soaking in all of it—the stretch, the glancing rub against his prostate, the feeling of Wes pressed up against him, Wes’s firm grip against his side, fingers digging into his hipbone.

“More,” Dustin requested, eyes squishing shut, voice low and thready, a sound he didn’t recognize.

“Need to go faster. Think you can handle that?” Wes’s voice was every bit as wrecked as Dustin’s.

“Give it to me.” Dustin pushed back, meeting Wes’s next thrust, and holy hell, that was good. He moaned. On his own, he wasn’t usually noisy, but Wes always managed to inspire him to get loud, to let go and let whatever sounds his throat wanted to produce escape.

They found a rhythm together, and Dustin let his body take over, rocking back to meet each thrust. Wes bent forward, lips coasting over Dustin’s spine. The change in angle pushed Wes’s cock more firmly into Dustin’s gland.

“Oh fuck. Like that. Exactly that,” Dustin babbled.

“God, you are so fucking hot.” Wes’s hand snaked around, found Dustin’s throbbing cock. “Think you can come this way? Not everyone can—”

“Fuck yes.” Wasn’t even a question really. His body was hurdling there, close yet not, more sensitive than it had ever been, stripped raw. Even without Wes jacking his cock, his muscles coiled tight, seeking.

“Good.” Wes stroked him as his thrusts became harder.

“Please. Please. Please,” Dustin chanted. Then, just as his moans changed from frantic pleas to incoherent sounds, Wes pulled back.

“Flip over. I need to see your face when you come.”

Yes. Dustin hadn’t realized he was waiting for this until Wes gave the order. I need. Wes was always all about Dustin’s needs, so hearing him start to unravel, give voice to his own desires, thrilled Dustin every bit as much as the hand on his cock. And Dustin needed this too, needed to see Wes, needed to share this on some primal level. Wes pulled out, moving away to give Dustin room to roll.