“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.”
“Screw the couch—”
“I think you already did.” Wes couldn’t help laughing like a teenager at his own joke.
“Screw you. And come on. We’re both showering.” Dustin tugged him up, apparently sliding back into commander mode.
Even though he really needed to get back to base, Wes couldn’t stop his feet from following Dustin down the hall, to a surprisingly large bathroom with an oversize tub/shower combo. Dustin was seemingly oblivious to his own nudity, moving around easily, grabbing towels and starting the water. But Wes paused. He’d never been completely naked with Dustin, and it felt...momentous somehow. And far more exposed than he was strictly comfortable with. He liked the balance of power best when Dustin was the one stripped down and he was the one in control, managing every second of Dustin’s pleasure, coaxing out his responses.
“You coming?” Dustin asked as he stepped into the shower. The hesitation in his voice, like he didn’t quite trust Wes not to head out, made Wes go ahead and get his shoes and jeans off. The last thing he wanted for this evening was Dustin nervous or on edge.
“Yeah, yeah. Hold your horses.” It didn’t help that Dustin was built like an action figure—all broad chest and thick thighs with arms that bulged even when relaxed—while Wes was built like the hero’s sidekick. Skinny. Less substantial. Probably cheaper. He laughed to himself at that last thought.
He slid into the shower, pulling the glass door shut behind him, like that might help with this too-exposed feeling. Then there wasn’t much room for thoughts as Dustin claimed his mouth in a kiss that was as achingly tender as it was urgent. Dustin seemed to have seized the initiative, wandering into the territory that Wes usually manned, and Wes bit at his lips, licking his way into Dustin’s mouth with hungry strokes, reminding Dustin who was really in charge.
“Soap.” Dustin pulled back, breathless. “I’m supposed to be getting you clean.”
“We’ll get there.” Wes tugged him back down, reluctant to let these last few moments together go. Soon he’d have to head out, soon there wouldn’t be any more kisses, no more whispered words, no more so-close-I-might-die feelings. It was that last bit that really got to him—he’d never felt this kind of connection with another person, never been so awed and humbled at the same time as he’d been watching Dustin let go in the living room, never wanted to spend an eternity in a single kiss.
“Show me how you like it,” Dustin whispered when they both finally came up for air again, his big hand finding Wes’s cock with a sure grip.
Oh hey now. Wes’s brain wasn’t any too sure how he felt about this. He was the one supposed to be doling out the good feelings, not Dustin, and he didn’t like how...open this made him, how much he was undoubtedly revealing with each gasp and groan and kiss. But on the other hand, his cock was all in favor of Dustin’s strong fingers working him like they’d done this a thousand times.
Their height difference was just enough to make it a challenge to line up for the sort of mutual jacking of both cocks together that Wes liked being in charge of. Groaning with both pleasure and frustration, he reached for Dustin’s cock. “Bet I can get you off first,” he growled, clinging to some semblance of control.
“You’re on.” Dustin’s deep laugh rumbled through the small space before he captured Wes’s mouth again. The warm water pounded them, and Wes almost forgot about the bet as he got lost in the kiss. Dustin’s mouth was soft and oh-so-giving, and he had this way of sighing when Wes deepened the kiss that went straight to Wes’s balls.
But he was not going to lose. He exploited everything he knew about what Dustin liked—tight grip, fast rhythm, extra attention to the head on each upstroke.
“Fuck. That’s...good.” Dustin huffed even as his own hand sped up. Bastard seemed to have already deduced that Wes liked it looser than him and had added the rub of his thumb against Wes’s balls.
Despite having recently climaxed, Wes’s body tensed, orgasm far closer than he wanted. With his free hand, he pushed Dustin into the tiled wall, then ducked his head, licking at Dustin’s tender nipple, still slightly bruised from the clamps earlier.
“Fuck. Fuck.” Dustin’s whole body vibrated, and Wes could taste victory. He sucked hard while increasing the tension of his strokes.
“Come on,” he whispered against Dustin’s chest before renewing his efforts.
“Oh no you don’t.” Dustin growled, using his bigger size to pull Wes back upright for another bruising kiss. His hand felt both familiar and far better than anything Wes had ever conjured up. Dustin angled himself so that he could use his free hand to tease Wes’s balls even as he still plundered his mouth, and there he was, back on the precipice of coming.
Two could play that game. Wes tweaked Dustin’s nipple while sucking hard on his tongue. It felt less like making out and more like a battle, for what he wasn’t quite sure. Their movements and kisses were urgent, like their bodies were counting down to an invisible timer, one where they were both going to lose big, no matter who won this game. All his frustrations about the impossibility of their situation came out in the kiss, in the way he grabbed at Dustin. He needed him, needed this, and wasn’t sure how he was ever letting it go.
“Together. Together,” Dustin panted against Wes’s mouth. His hips were frantically fucking Wes’s fist. “Come with me. Please.”
Wes wanted to remind him that a tie wasn’t the point of the game, but that broken please got him closer than any touch. “Together,” he agreed.
Dustin’s mouth found Wes’s neck, the unexpected contact enough to make Wes gasp.
“Now,” Wes ordered. “Now.”
“Oh God. Yes.” Dustin trembled, body straining. Watching him struggle to comply undid the last of Wes’s resolve and he tumbled over, giving in to the pleasure, right as warmth hit his fist from Dustin’s orgasm. Unlike the crazed climax in the living room, this one was softer but no less all-encompassing. Their mouths met in another kiss, soft and lingering and more than a little sad, all that frustration and anger of the sex giving way to resignation and bitter reality.
They kissed until the hot water started to peter out, then kissed some more while toweling off.
“I’m not sure we ever found the soap.” Dustin’s voice was soft, a disappointment to his tone Wes wasn’t sure he’d heard before.
“It’s all right. I won’t tell.” Wes kept his voice light, kept close to Dustin, tried to block out what was coming next.
“You have to leave.” Dustin licked his lower lip as he wrapped the towel around his waist. It wasn’t really a question either, more a sad statement of reality.
“Yeah.” Wes pulled him close for one more kiss, one more chance to memorize his taste and scent and those little sighs he couldn’t get enough of. He pulled on his pants with jerky motions, shirt still back out in the living room.
“I hate this.” Dustin followed him back into the living room.
“I don’t.” Wes was defiant, each word coming out with a barbed edge. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. And not only the sex. You had a shit day. You didn’t need to be alone. I’m not going to apologize for being your friend. For caring.”
“I care too.” Dustin’s voice was ragged, like the tear in Wes’s jeans from where he’d darn near busted his zipper, like Dustin was one thread away from unraveling. “And I hate that I care. Hate that I can’t seem to send you away.”
“Then don’t.” Wes finished pulling on his shirt, then pushed Dustin into the wall by the door, kissing him with a hard reminder of how deep they were both in this thing.
“Not alone.” Dustin traced Wes’s lips with his thumb. “Fuck. How am I supposed to let you go?”
“I don’t know.” Wes bit at his thumb. “Maybe we don’t have to decide right this minute? It’s not like anyone else knows. We just keep being careful with our messages...”
“Careful isn’t going to be an excuse if we’re caught.” Dustin’s eyes were dark. “But you’re right—we’re not going to settle anything tonight. And I don’t want you driving mad.”
“Not mad,” Wes said softly before he claimed his mouth for one last kiss. This was fucked-up, no question, but when Dustin was kissing him, it was hard to remember why because everything felt so damn right. It’s you. It’s always been you. There was something in his body that recognized Dustin on a deep, cellular level, and he wasn’t ever going to get over that, no matter how wrong these feelings were. No. Not the feelings. The feelings were real, and anything this fucking potent couldn’t be wrong. Fuck the regulations.
I can’t let go. He kissed Dustin thoroughly, making new memories to chase out the dark thoughts until finally Dustin pushed at his chest. “You need to go before I drag you to my bed and forget my damn head completely.”
“I’m going.” Wes swallowed hard. One more kiss, this one hard and fast and he was slipping out into the night, wind whipping at his thin T-shirt.
He hadn’t been lying about parking discreetly, but he made the trek back to his Jeep quickly, then drove in silence back to the base, unable to even stomach the radio competing with his jumbled thoughts.
He wasn’t sneaking into the barracks, not really, but he walked fast through the halls, eager to get to his room where he could collapse and stew further. But luck was not on his side, and Curly’s door opened right as he was about to pass.
“Oh there you are, man.” Curly gave him a broad smile. “Came looking for you earlier to see if you wanted to game, but you weren’t around.”
“Yeah.” Wes forced himself to breathe normally. “Went out for a while. Back now, but I might be too bushed to play.”
“You seeing someone in the city?” Curly’s speculative gaze made a shiver rush up Wes’s spine.
“What? No,” he sputtered.
“No biggie.” Curly’s eyes stayed narrowed, but his mouth was an easy smile when he tapped the side of his neck. Oh fuck. Wes must have a mark there—he flashed back to the shower, and Dustin’s mouth against his skin as they’d climaxed. Hell. And he’d been so careful. Curly dropped his voice. “But you need me to cover for you any time, all you have to do is say the word. You know I’ve got your back.”
Wes nodded. “Appreciated. I’m good though,” he added, trying to end the conversation without more speculation on Curly’s part. He was a good guy, but no way would he be so understanding if he knew who Wes was fucking around with. As far as Curly knew, he was a semi-closeted guy trying to stay that way, not a lovesick idiot over one of their commanding officers.
I’m not lovesick, he lectured himself, even as he knew it was a lie. He was so tangled up over Dustin that now it was all about self-preservation and damage control. Eliminating risk in life-or-death situations was part of his job. How fucked-up was it that his personal life had become some kind of messed-up time bomb—one he’d made himself, but that he seemed to have zero control over and zero desire to defuse.
Chapter Sixteen
“That wasn’t so bad.” Dustin’s father grabbed a beer from the open bar at the reception for Dylan and Apollo’s wedding at a downtown San Diego hotel. “Tasteful.”
“Ceremony was nice.” Dustin grabbed a beer of his own. His dad had made a lot of comments like that the whole week they’d been visiting—he tried to be supportive of Dylan, but it was rather clear he wasn’t the most comfortable with either Dustin’s brother or his newly-minted husband.
“Sure is something, seeing Apollo in his dress uniform. Back when I was in the service, never thought I’d see the day...”
“Yeah.” This was one of a hundred little moments when it might be a good time to have that heart-to-heart with his dad that was years overdue. But then his dad would go make a comment like the “tasteful” remark, and Dustin’s teeth would clamp together, no confession forthcoming.
“Girls asked if they can call me Gramps.” His father gave a lopsided smile. “Didn’t ever expect Dylan to give me grandkids first. Speaking of, why don’t you have a date here? You need to get on with having a family. Can’t put it off too much longer or else you’ll be forty with a newborn—and we did that with Dylan—you don’t want that, trust me.”
Yup. That talk might be a long time coming, but hell if he could make his voicebox work. “I...I don’t really want kids,” he admitted, giving his dad half the truth, testing the waters. He wasn’t lying—kids weren’t really in the cards for him. Apollo’s kids were cute and all, but also rather exhausting in anything more than small doses.
“What? Of course you do.” His father clapped him on the back. “Everyone says that before they have kids. But trust me, you meet the right girl, and you’ll be thinking babies in no time flat.”
“Maybe I’m just meant to be an uncle,” Dustin mumbled. Right girl, indeed. And what if he’d met the right guy who just happened to be all wrong for him? Just tell your dad. Wes was right that his family could adjust to him being bisexual. And he was sweating, burning up with the need to tell someone about Wes.
“You are not. I’m counting on you.” His father gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze before his uncle came up to them, ruining Dustin’s chance to say more.
I’m counting on you. For what exactly? To be the big tough military guy? To be a SEAL? To be the guy who married the girl, had the babies with the last name his dad put way too much stock in? And it wasn’t that his dad didn’t love Dylan. He did. But for some reason, Dustin had always borne the brunt of his pressure. Maybe it was being the oldest, like Wes said, and that sucked. Felt like only Wes
knew how he felt—
And there he was thinking of Wes again. Wishing he were here, which was stupid, but he couldn’t seem to stop. All week he’d thought of Wes at the most inopportune moments, wondering if he’d like the food or how he’d charm Dustin’s mom. They’d messaged some over the week when they were off duty, but Wes had seemed more distant somehow, and they hadn’t had another clandestine meeting, which was good and sane and the right thing, and still Dustin wished they had managed to get together before he’d had to deal with this wedding stuff.
No one could get him out of his head like Wes, and Wes would know what to say to make this family stuff more bearable. Dylan and Apollo had made a big deal about how this was a “small” wedding, but the crowded room made them both liars. Their whole immediate family had come down from Eugene with other farther-flung relatives using this as a chance for a reunion. And it felt like half the base was there to boot.
Not Wes. God, Dustin’s friends would roast him on a spit if they knew what he was up to with an enlisted man under his command. Which sucked because other than that, they would love Wes. He’d fit right in, gaming with Zack and Pike, talking cooking with Maddox, quietly listening to Apollo and Ben bicker, joining in on Dylan’s jokes. Too bad that was never going to happen.
“Dance with me?” Allie, one of Dylan’s friends, tugged him away from his father and uncle before he could answer, away from a conversation he hadn’t been following anyway.
They’d danced earlier, before Dustin had pled the need for a drink refill. He’d said yes to her to make up for saying no to Isaiah who still saw way too damn much and had asked him to dance with a little wink. She was nice and cute, if a bit too young, but that didn’t stop Dustin’s dad from giving him a big thumbs-up as he let her lead him to the dance floor.
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