Wheels Up

by Annabeth Albert

  “Oh yeah.” Dustin went predictably boneless as soon as Wes got the lube and condoms out. Man, he was so much fun to rile up. “Should I flip?”

  “Love that you asked for permission.” Wes gave him another quick lick on the head of his cock. “But no, not yet. Want to see your face while I finger you.”

  “Then I want to look at you too.” Dustin pointed at Wes’s pants. “Come on, give me some motivation here.”

  “You need motivating to get fucked, reckon I’m doing something wrong,” Wes grumbled even as he went ahead and shimmied out of his pants. The nakedness was probably unavoidable if they were going to fuck, but that didn’t make him like it any more. Dustin reached for his cock, but Wes batted his hand away. “None of that.”

  He moved between Dustin’s spread legs, grabbing the lube bottle. Then because he couldn’t resist, he bent forward, licking Dustin’s balls before allowing his tongue to wander farther south.

  “Oh fuck. Love that.” Dustin’s voice was hoarse. He was the only guy Wes had rimmed, but he already knew he fucking loved doing this. The sounds Dustin made were unreal—little moans and whines, strangled sounds like he just couldn’t help himself. He lapped at Dustin’s rim, teasing and sucking, getting him soft and slick before he added a finger to the game. He’d seen in porn sometimes guys fucking a finger in alongside their tongue, and he wanted to try that. The angle was a bit difficult to figure out, but the more he licked, the more Dustin writhed, making Wes bolder and more confident.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Feels so good,” Dustin panted once Wes finally got finger and tongue coordinated, working the finger in deeper while his tongue continued to flick and dance.

  “Ready for two?” Wes pulled back from his oral assault, getting his fingers slick with lube.

  “Ready for you,” Dustin countered, pupils large and glassy, like Wes was a drug and he was desperate for his next hit. Fuck. Wes could drown in that look. Dustin fumbled around with his hand until he connected with the condom box, shoving it at Wes. “Come on.”

  Asking if Dustin was sure was only going to piss him off, but the question hung on Wes’s tongue nonetheless. The moment seemed to loom large between them, a new line they were about to cross. Or maybe that was just him. He’d never been here before, never had a guy all splayed out before him, begging for Wes’s cock, never felt this powerful and vulnerable at the same time.

  “First time for everything.” Dustin grinned at him, and it hit Wes how this really was a first for both of them.

  We’ll always be able to share this. No matter what happens, we’ll have had this. Somehow, knowing that settled him. They were in this thing together.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dustin’s head spun, and the tightness in his abs was making it hard to breathe, but he’d never wanted anything more than Wes’s nod. And when Wes said, “Roll,” Dustin felt the command all the way to his balls.

  Wes was nervous, that much was clear from the tension around his eyes and mouth and the way he’d been reluctant to tell Dustin that this was his first time topping. However, his nerves didn’t seep into his voice, which as always just did it for Dustin, all Southern and bossy. He loved the way Wes gave orders, like he was giving Dustin a privilege, trusting him to meet his requirements, like Dustin was lucky to get his commands. Which he was. So damn fortunate to be here, even if he was going to have to pay for it later.

  But he wasn’t going to think about that. Wasn’t going to think about anything other than how badly he wanted Wes. He’d meant it when he said that he wanted Wes to be the one—he couldn’t imagine being here with anyone else.

  Wes fiddled with the condom box, and Dustin hesitated before rolling. “You want me to show you—”

  “I’ve got it,” Wes said curtly. “Now flip or I’ll think you’re the one changing your mind.”

  Dustin considered protesting—now that he knew this was Wes’s first time too, his fantasy had shifted from hard, fast, and filthy as fuck to something softer, something where he could watch Wes’s face. But then Wes slapped his thigh playfully, and electricity zoomed up his spine. He wanted more of those possessive, aggressive touches. Filthy it is.

  He rolled to his knees, letting his head hang forward. Just like when Wes had had him over the couch, there was nothing quite like being bent over and displayed for chasing every other pesky thought out of his head. Rustling sounded behind him as Wes opened the condom, then a curse as he undoubtedly discovered just how fiddly they could be to roll on. Still though, Dustin trusted him to get it right, and he waited, drifting on a cloud of anticipation.

  “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 digg
ing 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.

  When he returned between Dustin’s legs, it was as if a switch had been flipped on changing the tenor of the fuck. Everything hotter, more intense, more connected. His body felt tighter this way as Wes pushed inside again, more sensitive, and linking eyes with Wes as he entered him was one of the single best moments of Dustin’s life. Wes made that sound again—joy and wonder and relief and possession all tangled together—and Dustin moaned right along with him.

  “Fuck. You’re tight. Still with me?” Wes’s hand returned to Dustin’s cock.

  “Yeah. Love this.” Dustin shoved a pillow under his head so that he could look up at Wes easier. “Go as hard as you need to. I can take it.” I want to take it. God, please give it to me. Dustin’s body thrummed with a need he’d never known before.

  He hitched his legs up around Wes’s waist, tilting his body right as Wes adjusted his angle. Electricity shot up his spine and his cock leaked, not coming, but awfully damn close, from nothing more than the exquisite pressure. “Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

  “God, I love it when you go crazy. Love listening to you.” Wes thrust faster now, eyes never leaving Dustin’s.

  Dustin had had sex before, good sex even, but nothing so freaky intense as this. It should have been weird, feeling someone inside him, but nothing—nothing—had ever felt so right in his life. And it wasn’t simply about their bodies and how amazing they felt joined together. It was every conversation they’d shared, every confidence and late night secret, every connection they’d made, all intensified by this moment, brought together into something he didn’t quite understand other than that it was big, more than he could hold alone. But he didn’t have to. Wes was right there with him, every stroke, every look, every moan.

  “Can you get there?” Wes’s hand sped up, his pulls stronger now. His face and neck muscles were taut and sweat gleamed on his chest. “Need to see you go.”

  “Want this to last forever.” Dustin was far past playing coy, bald truth all he was capable of.

  “Ha.” Wes gave a strangled laugh. “Me too, but you’re too fucking hot. Got me right on the edge.”

  “Yeah?” Dustin loved knowing that. He arched up into the touch, taking Wes deeper than before. “Fuck. Me too.”

  “Dustin...” Wes’s voice shook. It was the first time he’d moaned Dustin’s name, and it undid something long bound up in Dustin’s chest. “I need...”

  “Take it. Take me. Harder.” Dustin’s body vibrated, coiling tighter, waiting, for what he wasn’t sure. More bone-rattling thrusts. More moans and gasps from Wes. More strokes on his needy dick.

  “Dustin. Fuck. Never thought...” Wes’s eyes shut and his teeth dug into his lip.

  That. That was what Dustin was waiting for. His name, spoken in such reverent tones. Wes lost to his pleasure. Sharing this between them—this first. This only. This everything.

  “Gonna...don’t stop.” His own eyes slammed shut as the orgasm started to take hold. And fuck. This was different. It started in his ass, undulations of sensation, one right after the other, so hard it almost hurt, the way his body was clenching. Then it spread to his dick, momentum carrying the climax with it, larger than he could control, huge shudders as he came more than he’d ever had before. Felt like he was wrung out, limp in the best way possible.

  “Oh my God.” Wes’s voice broke right as Dustin sagged against the mattress. Another thrust, two, and Wes was shaking, primal sounds coming from his throat. And Dustin could feel him pulsing deep inside him, and wasn’t that the best, weirdest sensation ever, someone coming in him. He hated the condom at that moment, wanting to feel all of Wes.

  “Oh fuck. You broke me.” Wes panted as he pulled out. And okay, that wasn’t exactly pleasant, the first really uncomfortable sensation in this whole endeavor. “Sorry. Sorry.”

  After discarding the condom into the trash can next to the nightstand, Wes collapsed next to him, pressing kisses to Dustin’s shoulder, then neck, and finally his mouth. It wasn’t sexual, not with them both so newly spent, but it was sensual in a way he’d never known kissing to be. A celebration almost. Gratitude for what they’d shared. He tugged Wes close, leaving no gap between their bodies.

  “You making me your blanket?” Wes’s smile was so tender that Dustin’s heart pinched—he wanted this for every damn night of his life. He wanted so much more than his sorry ass deserved.

  “Don’t go. Not yet.” He wasn’t ready for this to be done, wasn’t ready for the inevitable goodbye and avalanche of guilt.

  Wes didn’t answer, smile turning sad and aching, before he kissed Dustin again. And everything was in that kiss—all the feelings they dared not give name to, all the longing, all the wishes and regrets and needs, all piled together.

  “I can stay awhile,” Wes whispered against his lips. It wasn’t enough, wasn’t ever going to be enough, but the boulder in Dustin’s throat wouldn’t let him speak, would only let him pull Wes even closer, kiss him that much more desperately.

  * * *

  The middle of night was still, almost spooky, as Wes crept out of Dustin’s bed. His chest was strangely hollow. No wonder, given that his heart was lying there, all sleep ruffled, hogging the middle of the bed like he hadn’t ever shared a bed before. They’d kissed for a long time after the sex, then cleaned up before Dustin had coaxed him back into bed with more kisses and touches. The man was a major cuddler, and Wes was a serious sucker for his need for touch and connection.

  He knew the right thing would be to wake Dustin up before he headed out, but he couldn’t handle that right now, couldn’t handle the idea of this being the final goodbye, not after how amazing the night had been. It wasn’t just the toe-curling orgasm that had ripped through him like the wind of a HALO jump. It was what he’d felt deep inside himself when their eyes had met. The trust. The emotion. The sense that he wasn’t ever going to find this with anyone else.

  If Dustin woke up, he’d be tempted to say the words that had hovered on his tongue the whole time Dustin had dozed next to him. And he couldn’t do that, could only ghost a kiss across Dustin
’s sleeping head before heading out.

  If they gave voice to it, to this thing between them, he might never recover. This wasn’t just sex, hadn’t ever been if he was being honest, but at some point over the past few weeks it had passed infatuation, deepened and changed into something that scared him even as it consumed him. And it didn’t matter how fucking impossible it was, how doomed—his heart wanted. Needed.

  The streets were all but empty on his drive back to base, the checkpoint guards looking decidedly sleepy as he showed his ID. The barracks were similarly desolate, a few lights on for the guys working overnight or early morning shifts, but otherwise quiet. He’d almost made it to his room when Curly wandered out of the communal bathroom, big water cup in hand. His eyes went wide as he took in Wes—and despite cleaning up at Dustin’s, his rumpled clothes surely gave his choice of evening activities away.

  Fuck. Not again. Wes nodded, trying not to invite conversation.

  “You out again?” Curly yawned. “Fucking kidney infection has me pissing like a racehorse every hour.”

  This Wes really didn’t need to know, but he tried to look sympathetic. “That’s a bummer. We’ve got a heavy week planned too. You going to be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine.” Curly waved off the concern. “And same could be said for you. You ever sleep?”

  Wes flashed back to the utter pleasure of dozing next to Dustin, breathing in his scent and nearness. “I sleep.”

  “Still not gonna tell me what you’ve got going on?” Curly gave him a shrewd look.

  “Nothing. Was just out,” Wes lied. Curly was a nice guy, but he was way too up in Wes’s damn business.

  “Hey, you got someone, I’m happy for you.” Curly held up his hands. “Hate to see you distracted though.”

  “I’m not.” Wes put a hard edge to his voice. He wasn’t, right? Couldn’t afford to be. This thing with Dustin felt all-consuming, but he couldn’t let it interfere with his duty. That was how guys ended up hurt—or worse. And he’d segmented his worries for years with Samantha’s health stuff, so this shouldn’t be any different. But even as he said the words, doubts crept in. It was getting harder and harder to see Dustin as simply his commanding officer, just another SEAL.