“Thanks.” Wes leaned into the embrace even as he continued to work. “It’s just steak, salad and potatoes—”
“Real potatoes,” Dustin said reverently, spying them bubbling away on the stovetop. “So tired of the powdered stuff.”
Wes snorted. “My dad will ban y’all from the house, you go trying to bring in that crap. He taught me how to do basic potatoes back before I was even allowed to do the stove on my own.”
“Well, color me impressed.” Dustin nuzzled the back of Wes’s head, wallowing in his scent and nearness. “Dylan can cook some, but it was never something I was that into. Too busy with sports and after-school stuff.”
“Better go rescue the steak.” Wes ducked out of Dustin’s embrace. “Can you drain the potatoes and then I’ll doctor them up while the meat rests?”
“Sure.” The task centered Dustin, made his jangly nerves and cluttered thoughts slow down. It was hard to keep replaying the jump in his head while juggling a pot full of boiling water and the strainer.
Wes came back with a platter of steaming meat and rescued the potatoes from Dustin, dumping in butter, sour cream, and some neatly diced green onions. He clearly knew what he was doing, using the pots and utensils that Dustin’s mom had gifted him far better than Dustin’s few fumbling attempts, and that competence was strangely sexy. As was the flex of his biceps as he mashed it all together.
“You’re pretty amazing.” Dustin wasn’t sure he’d said the words aloud until Wes grinned at him.
“Yes, yes, I am. Now help me carry the plates to your coffee table?” Wes dished up large servings of food. He’d set the coffee table with silverware, water glasses, napkins from Dustin’s last party with friends, and...two tightly rolled ties.
“What’s that?” Dustin pointed.
“That is me still not packing rope.” Wes’s smile was utterly unrepentant. “But I figured we could put the ties my mom made me buy for Sam’s graduation to better use than hanging in my closet. Thought I’d give you a little...incentive to eat fast.”
“You’re awfully damn presumptuous,” Dustin grumbled as he sat next to Wes on the couch. “And I really should get a dining table.”
“You should.” Wes cut his steak into precise bites. The food was amazing—perfectly seasoned, medium-rare meat, tangy salad, and pillowy potatoes—but Dustin was having a hard time focusing on it with those ties on the table.
“So your dad does most of the cooking at your house?” Dustin asked, trying to pace himself and resist the urge to gobble down the food so that they could get on with what Wes had planned.
“Yeah. Mom can cook, but she hates it. Dad reads cookbooks as therapy.” Wes laughed, a tender sound. Dustin’s heart hurt for how much Wes missed his family. “He’s even done some local barbecue contests.”
“Well, he certainly taught you well. Wish...” Dustin trailed off because wishes were dangerous. Wish you could cook for me every night. Wish you could teach me how to grill. Wish you could give me a reason to buy a real dining set. Wish. Wish. Wish. Not happening.
“Me too.” Wes didn’t flinch from the direction of Dustin’s thoughts. Dustin liked that about him, liked how he never ran from this...whatever it was between them that even Dustin himself had a hard time acknowledging. “And if you don’t stop looking so much like our old dog when we didn’t take him with us somewhere, I’m going to blindfold you before we’re done eating even.”
“Blindfold?” Dustin gulped hard enough to need a sip of water.
“Yup.” Wes continued on eating, grin still firmly in place. “Then I’d have to feed you.”
“I’d bite your damn fingers,” Dustin grumbled, mainly because he liked the image too much of sitting, or maybe even kneeling, close to Wes, being slipped little pieces of food...
“You wouldn’t.” Wes’s voice was way too damn smug.
“You think you know me so well?” Dustin speared his steak forcefully. “And why do you always act like it’s... I don’t know, normal or something, the stupid shit that gets me going?”
“Hey. It is normal.” Wes patted Dustin’s leg. “And this is a judgment-free zone. Always. Trust me, it’s equally bizarre that ordering you around gets me off. But there is nothing stupid about liking to submit—it doesn’t make you any less a man or less a SEAL or less anything. You’re one of the strongest people I know. Hell, I don’t have the kind of bravery it takes to give up control—I’m in awe when I get to watch you let go.”
“I guess.” Unsure what to do with the praise, Dustin looked down at his food, skin heating. “Still. Being treated like a...pet or something shouldn’t get me hard. Shouldn’t feel so...”
“Right? Because it is right. And no one ever has to know what things are like between us in private. Here.” Setting his plate aside, Wes reached for one of the ties. “Let me show you?”
Chapter Fifteen
Let me show you. Dustin’s heart clattered like an old washing machine—boom, thud, thud. Wes didn’t wait for Dustin to nod before gently wrapping the tie around his head, firmly covering his eyes, but not so tight as to pinch. “How’s that?”
“Weird as hell.” Dustin had had plenty of low-vision training—learning how to do basic tasks with low-to-no visibility, but this felt different than all the other times he’d had his vision compromised. His lower back clenched, anticipation gathering in an electric ball that sent sparks up his spine.
“Now...” Wes scooted closer until they were thigh-to-thigh, shoulder-to-shoulder, his warm body a decided contrast to the weirdness of the blindfold. “Open your mouth.”
Dustin complied, relying on Wes’s presence next to him as an anchor for his racing heart. Wes popped a bite of steak into his mouth, and strangely, it tasted different this way. Meatier. Saltier. Something. More intense.
“Again. And guess what this is.” Wes fed him another morsel. Something fruity. Tangy.
“Dried cranberry from the salad,” he guessed.
“Good.”
They continued like that for several more bites, Dustin sinking deeper and deeper into relaxation with each piece of food, and Wes crowding closer and closer until Dustin’s senses were overflowing with the herbal scent of his soap and the rasp of his clothes against Dustin’s bare skin.
“Full?” Wes whispered, and Dustin was surprised to realize that he was.
“Yeah.” His voice sounded strange. More husky than usual.
“Good. Can you stand?” Wes shifted around, then guided Dustin upright and a few steps away from the couch. Hell. Which direction were they moving? Toward the patio? His bedroom? Dustin was all twisted around, when usually he prided himself on keeping a sense of direction at all times.
“Shh. Don’t think. Let me lead.” Behind him, Wes started rubbing his shoulders. “The patio door is shut. Trust me to take care of you, okay?”
“Okay.” Dustin relaxed into Wes’s grip. Fuck, but his strong fingers felt amazing, discovering knots that Dustin hadn’t even been aware of. He was so intent on following the massage that he almost missed it when Wes hooked his fingers in the waistband of his shorts, tugging them down.
“I want you naked before I bind your wrists. You are so fucking hot right now, you know that?” Wes’s voice was full of admiration that made Dustin stand a bit taller. After helping Dustin step free of his shorts, he gently guided his hands behind his back. “Now, ready for the rules?”
“Rules?” Dustin’s brain was foggy with the remnants of his long day mingling with the high of being blindfolded and pampered.
“You’re not going to be able to touch your dick.” Wes deftly bound Dustin’s wrists with the other tie, which was slippery and cool against Dustin’s heated flesh. “And I’m not going to touch it either. But you can come whenever you want, and you can rub against whatever you can reach. And red means stop, same as a
lways.”
“Rub...” Dustin honestly wasn’t sure he could get off that way. Being denied Wes’s hand on his already aching dick made him groan, even as his adrenaline pumped, wanting to know what other dirty plans Wes had.
“Yup. Trust me.” With a firm grip on Dustin’s upper arm, Wes led him a few steps. Toward...
Dustin struggled to make sense of the garbled sensory input for his brain. His thigh hit the slick leather of the couch, but instead of being guided to sit down, he was positioned over the back, which hit him right below groin level. It was an awkward position, bent knees, torso supported by the overstuffed couch, Wes shoving some throw pillows up under him too so that his head wasn’t dangling. Ass firmly on display.
He’d never felt more exposed. Or, weirdly enough, more surrounded. Supported. He was naked and bound, put on show, and yet, power thrummed though him.
“Fuck. Look at you. All for me.” Wes stroked his hand down Dustin’s back. “Look at how gorgeous you are. And strong. So strong, letting me do this, tie you up, strip you down.” Wes’s words washed over Dustin, more potent than a shot of scotch.
“And look at this ass.” Wes squeezed his ass with a hard, almost punishing grip. Was he behind Dustin? Next to him? Dustin tried to lock in on the sensory clues—Wes’s jeans against his bare calves, smoky voice coming from behind him, but...lower?
Then a kiss landed on the middle of his back. Soft and fluttery where he’d been bracing for rough. Something hard, plastic maybe, trailed down his flesh, following the kiss down his spine. “Remember this?” Wes tapped the object against Dustin’s shoulder blade. It was small with defined edges. “Remember the fun we had on cam with this?”
“Oh.” A binder clip. Understanding hit him a moment before Wes reached under him, tweaked his nipple hard.
“Grabbed these from my desk drawer. You’re going to look so hot for me, spread like this, clamps on, nipples throbbing, ass all mine.” Wes’s low chuckle went straight to Dustin’s balls. “Ready?”
Dustin wasn’t, but he groaned his assent anyway, desperate to see what Wes had planned. His careful choreography here did something to Dustin’s insides, made him feel warm and cared for. Wes plucked at Dustin’s nipple, hard pulls that made the sensitive flesh pebble up right before the bite of the clamp against his pec. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
“Breathe.” Wes stroked down his sides. “Stay with me.”
Not letting Dustin have much respite, Wes trailed his fingers to the other side of Dustin’s chest, repeating the sequence. “Ow. Hurts.”
“I know,” Wes soothed. “But you’re doing so good for me. So hot. Now don’t wiggle too much.”
Like Dustin needed the reminder. With the clips trapped against the couch, every moment was torture. But telling Wes that it hurt, moaning, acknowledging that pain, sinking into it, wallowing almost in the sharp edge to the pain, was among the most freeing sensations he’d ever had.
“Stay. Still.” Wes’s hair tickled against Dustin’s back a fraction of a second before his lips slid down his spine. And down, heading to the small of his back. The kisses were gentle, right up until Wes sucked hard right above his upturned ass. It was the sort of bite that Dustin craved—a flinch of sharp teeth followed by a soothing tongue and gentle suction. Wes followed with another, inching lower.
“Oh.” Dustin groaned out the word, lost to some dark pressure inside his head. Wes’s destination wasn’t exactly a mystery, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel embarrassed or even exposed—this was Wes’s ride with Dustin along for wherever the adventure led.
Even though he was expecting it, the first lick of Wes’s tongue down his crack made Dustin cry out and thrash, making the nipple clips pinch all over again. “Fuck. Wes.”
Already without his vision, his whole world seemed to tunnel in to just his aching chest and waiting ass, everything zeroing on the sensations that Wes was providing, especially the slow descent of his tongue. When he found Dustin’s rim, he teased with little flicks and flutters before pulling back to laugh softly. “You like?”
“Fuck. Yes.” Dustin had played with his ass plenty. It felt good, amazing even when done with patience and care, but nothing compared to someone else—a mouth—playing with him, all sensations magnified by the blindfold.
“You’re so sexy, laid out for me like this.” Wes’s shirt rubbed against the back of Dustin’s thighs. “Ass so damn eager. I’m going to eat you until you’re begging me to stop.”
Oh fuck. The threat alone was almost sexier than the action. “Please.”
“That’s right. Beg me.” Wes laughed wickedly before spreading Dustin open with his hands, resuming his torment. His tongue fluttered over Dustin’s rim, finding every hidden nerve ending, every spot that made Dustin gasp. And every time he gasped, his chest dragged against the couch, little sparks of pain that went straight to his throbbing cock.
“Oh God. Wes.” His hips rocked, no longer taking input from his brain, ass looking for more of Wes’s exquisite attention, cock searching for any relief it could find. It rubbed against the slick back of the couch, but it wasn’t nearly enough. “I want...”
“Yeah, baby? You want something?” Wes didn’t wait for an answer before diving back in. His tongue lapped and sucked, teeth deliberately scraping before retreating, then his tongue...pushed. Like pushed in. Like penetrated. It fucked its way into Dustin, and he lost his ever-loving mind over it, howling like he’d been speared, thrashing even though it made his bound wrists ache and his nipples scream.
“Fuck. My chest hurts. Wes. Hurts so much.” Dustin was babbling with each fresh wave of sensation now.
“I know. And you’re doing so good.” Wes pulled back and there was the snick of something opening. Trying to follow the sound, Dustin turned his head before remembering the blindfold.
“I wanna come.” His words came out a plaintive whine, which he fucking hated, but damn, he needed.
“You will. You can. Anytime.” Wes’s voice was low and soothing.
“Now,” Dustin demanded. “Please.”
“Now what?” Wes chuckled.
“Fuck me,” Dustin whispered. He’d groaned the words while getting off before, but not actually meant them until that instant. “Fuck me.”
“I will.” A slippery finger teased his spit-slick rim. “But not tonight.”
“I want it.” Dustin could almost cry at the denial. He wanted Wes that badly.
“I know.” Wes pushed one—no, two—fingers in, slow and steady. “But tonight is all about you. You being so good for me. So open. Letting me tie you up, blindfold you, rim you senseless. And now you’re going to come on my fingers.”
“Fuck. I’m not sure I can,” Dustin groaned even as his ass moved to meet Wes’s questing fingers, his cock rubbing against the couch, which wasn’t anywhere close to the relief he sought.
“Yes, you can,” Wes said firmly before biting at Dustin’s ass. His fingers curved, seeking Dustin’s prostate, lighting it up. “Just let go. Let it come to you.”
Easy for Wes to say. He wasn’t the one all trussed up like this, chest on fire, dick throbbing and leaking, more with each swipe of Wes’s talented fingers. “More. God. I need more.”
“Yeah? You think you could handle three?”
“I think I could handle your dick, damn it,” Dustin snapped, which he instantly regretted, because all the blood was already rushing to his head as it was.
“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.
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