“You were sucking me. But you wouldn’t let me come.” Dustin’s voice came out closer to a whisper, as if the walls might judge his desires.
Wes’s answering laugh was a dirty, dirty thing and went a long way to relaxing him. Here he was safe. Here he wasn’t judged for wanting these things. “You know it. Love making you wait. Where were we?”
“My place. On the couch. My hands...behind my back.”
“Yeah?” Wes sounded more interested now. “Bound or was I just making you keep them there?”
“I...” Dustin’s heart tripped over itself.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t pack rope. Just tell me the fantasy the way it happened.” Wes’s voice was soothing as ever, but even though Dustin had admitted similar thoughts to Wes in the dead of night, this was different, and Wes was the only person in the world who knew what really turned Dustin on.
“Bound. Something silky, like a tie. Tight enough to feel it. Straining against it as you suck me.”
“That’s right.” Wes huffed out a breath. “I’d want you to feel it. I’m good with knots. You’d have to take it, and you better not come until I’m good and ready for it.”
“I won’t.” Unbidden, Dustin’s hand stroked down his torso. He pressed his palm hard against his aching erection.
“Nuh-uh.” Wes made a clicking noise. “Did I say you could touch yourself yet?”
Well, hell. Dustin had forgotten that Wes could see him. Still though, he didn’t open his eyes, wanting to keep this going. He fisted his hands at his sides. “Sorry.”
“That’s better.” Wes had this way of making Dustin feel validated, handing out warm praise for little actions of compliance, making Dustin want to give him more and more. “Touch your wrists for me, pretend there’s a tie there.”
Dustin moaned, almost louder than had he been allowed to touch his cock. Crossing his hands, he gripped his wrists hard enough to feel the pressure he craved.
“Just like that. Imagine me wrapping them up tight. Spread your legs a little, pretend I’m in front you.”
“Oh fuck yes.” Dustin’s thighs spread with zero input from his brain.
“Now...let’s get creative...”
“Yesssss.” Dustin fucking loved when Wes got creative. Over the months, he’d shown himself as more than adept at improvising using ordinary objects along with his words to drive Dustin out of his head.
“Sit on your right hand. Use the left to undo your belt.”
Luckily, Dustin had plenty of experience on missions needing to do things wrong-handed, and though awkward, this wasn’t an impossible task. Still, he felt the need to push back. “I usually do myself right-handed.”
And holy fuck, if that wasn’t an admission that they were about to jerk off together, right here in the same room. His eyes might be closed, but his body knew exactly where it was, who he was with, how this was inherently different from all the times in chat.
“I know. The left will feel more like it’s someone else. Trust me.” Wes laughed, a dark chuckle. “And besides, we both know that you coming fast isn’t the point. You need me to make you wait.”
“Yes.” Dustin sighed softly as he finally got the stupid belt open and his fly unzipped.
“That’s better right? Little breathing room. No touching yet though.”
“I won’t.” Dustin nodded vigorously, the urge to please Wes building.
“Can you pull off your shirt for me? I wanna see your chest.” Wes’s voice was seductive, but it gave plenty of room for him to say no.
“Yeah.” He was usually shirtless when they did this online, and he more than liked the idea of Wes watching him. Shifting to release his right hand, he made quick work of the T-shirt, shoving his hand back under his ass quickly.
“Good. That’s real good.” Wes’s voice washed over him. “God, you’re hot.”
“You are too,” Dustin said without thinking.
“Yeah? You want to see me? Want me to get my shirt off?”
“Yes. Please. Yes.” He still didn’t open his eyes, waiting for permission.
“Open your eyes,” Wes commanded.
Dustin blinked hard against the lights. Wes had lowered the room lights at some point, but the soft light was still momentarily painful as his eyes adjusted. Then his gaze linked with Wes, and holy fuck, this was something new, having Wes’s face right there.
He was still fully clothed, lounging on his bed like torturing Dustin was no more exerting than flipping channels. “Doing okay?” Wes’s expression was wary, eyes cautious.
“Yeah.” Dustin forced himself to take some deep breaths. Fuck, he swore he could smell Wes—the same classic aftershave scent he’d picked up on earlier, different from his own citrus body products, and unmistakable proof that he wasn’t alone here, that another guy was in the room with him, that he really was doing this.
“Okay if my shirt comes off?” Wes levered himself up.
“Do it. Pants too.”
Wes laughed and his drawl deepened. “Who’s in charge here, Corporal?”