Chapter 11
ELEVEN
The depths of winter hit hard, then they hit harder, less sexy spanking session, more polar vortex.
Snow weighed down on the solar panels quicker than Wyatt and Jesse could clear them. Froze up the turbine to the point of uselessness. Made their breath fog inside without a fire burning pretty much constantly.
Not that Jesse was complaining, though.
Because the weather meant lazy hours spent in front of the fire, sampling the full sexual smorgasbord, a tasting menu that consisted of grinding and frotting and humping, of handjobs and thighjobs and assjobs, of any and all variations of sucking and blowing.
Man, if Jesse could tell the Jesse of the before times that he’d spend a winter getting fucked through an intra-apocalyptic sexual awakening by a super sexy old guy, then he’d blow Before Time Jesse’s vanilla little mind.
Except…
Except Jesse wasn’t getting fucked through anything. Jesse wasn’t getting fucked at all.
In Jesse’s sexy cabin of silver-fox-induced sexual revelations, there was no meeting of buttholes and dicks. Most specifically, no meeting of Jesse’s neglected hole and Wyatt’s hugeass schlong.
Wyatt never mentioned it. He didn’t suggest it or even hint at it. He fingered Jesse, he watched Jesse finger himself — man, he really watched that — but fingers were all Jesse got.
And it was driving Jesse legitimately insane.
He made the invitation really fucking crystal clear. So many times in so many horny ways. Angled his butt just right. Spread his legs real wide. Cracked open the right supply closet and lubed up his hole so enthusiastically that he could rival pussy for the slip and slide.
And Wyatt had taken all that as invitation to ruthlessly fingerfuck Jesse until Jesse was coming for the third time, dry, and whining deliriously.
Jesse was still whining, still twitching through the aftershocks, when he buried his sigh in the sheets. Point taken, in the most sexually frustrating way known to horny mankind.
If Jesse wanted to progress the tasting menu to an entree of butt stuff, then he was gonna have to start bussing those damn tables himself.
* * *
Weeks past. Blizzards blizzarded. Fires fired.
Wyatt took advantage of a break in the snow to go do some wilderness preparation shit. Jesse took advantage of Wyatt’s absence to do some equally important prep of his own.
It was way past sundown when Wyatt finally made it back to the island. Jesse opened the door for him, but Wyatt didn’t pay Jesse any attention, didn’t even turn around, too busy staring out at the water and the forest beyond.
“Lake’s icing up,” Wyatt said.
He wasn’t lying. The lake was icing up fast, big pockets of ice starting to join together into larger sheets, the water in between growing even more cloudy, gone washed out and gray in the moonlight.
“And that’s… not a good thing?” Jesse guessed.
Wyatt shook his head. He didn’t look around still, just stared out at the lake, a line forming between his eyebrows. “I’ll take the boat out again at first light. Break what I can. Don’t wanna give the undead any kind of access route.”
“The undead?” Jesse was suddenly supremely unconcerned. “Jeez, dude, when was the last time you even saw a zombie?”
“Doesn’t hurt to be prepared, dude.”
Wyatt swung around, but whatever shit he’d planned on giving Jesse stuttered to a stop when he saw what Jesse was wearing — and what Jesse wasn’t.
“Fuck,” Wyatt whispered.
Jesse’s smile grew. “You like?”
“Like?” Wyatt echoed. “Jesus, bud.”
The panties, realistically, had only one possible use case. In Maddie’s war against men as fundamentally stupid as Jesse, they were the ultimate weapon. They were way too delicate for anything else, not even slightly practical.
He’d washed them more times than he could count, in water hot enough to scald, but this was the first time he’d worn them.
And truth was, the panties didn’t fit him at all. The fine, pale pink lace barely covered him soft. But half-chubbed, Jesse was already testing the limits. He could feel that, the constriction pressing in, holding the growing swell of his dick snug against his hip crease.
He could feel it, but he looked down anyhow, just to see what Wyatt saw: the shadow of his neatly trimmed pubes, the painfully obvious line of his plumping cock, the tidy mound of his tucked balls, none of any of them even slightly camouflaged by the little embroidered cherry blossoms that covered the lacy front of his panties.
Wyatt toyed with the thin waistband, tucking his knuckles under, letting Jesse feel skin. “These are pretty.”
“Wore them for you,” Jesse said, stating the horny obvious.
Wyatt’s eyes warmed anyhow, fresh-brewed coffee. He kicked the door shut and let his pack thud to the floor. “That was sweet, bud.”
“I can be sweet.”
“Oh, I know.” The warmth grew.
And so did Jesse’s hard-on. “I can be slutty too.”
“That I definitely know.”
Jesse bit his lip, hard. “Wanna see anyhow?”
Wyatt’s thumb pressed to Jesse’s bottom lip, right where his teeth had to have left an mark. “An offer like that, how can I refuse?”
“Be pretty worried if you did.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Absolutely.” Jesse pulled Wyatt further into the cabin. Pushed him down onto the couch and clambered into Wyatt’s lap, circling his hips as he settled, a mindless motion that he couldn’t help. “I’d have to perform a mental state exam. In fact, who’s the current president?”
Wyatt’s laugh rumbled through him. “The president’s a zombie, bud.”
“Vice president then?”
“Also a zombie.”
“Queen of England?”
“Zombie.”
“Jeez, that’s a whole lotta zombies.”
“Guess that’s why they call it the zombie apocalypse.”
Jesse snorted his laugh against Wyatt’s flannel-clad shoulder. Wyatt was hot under him, hard too, getting harder, a long, thick line of heat that spread Jesse’s cheeks like butter if Jesse ground down hard enough. So Jesse ground down hard enough — and that made Wyatt groan.
“Looking for something?” he asked, eyebrow eyebrowing.
Jesse grinned. He loved it when a plan came together, and his plan was rubbing one out right on schedule. “Your cock, mostly.”
“That’s your angle, huh?” Wyatt reached up to cup Jesse’s cheeks — his facial cheeks, not his butt cheeks, sadly — thumbs stroking soft over Jesse’s heated skin. The look on his face was a little guarded, as visibly hesitant as Wyatt ever got. “It would be a lot for you, bud. A lot to take.”
More than Jesse ever had. Double it, at least. But, “I can take it. I know I can.” A shiver ran through Jesse, too strong to fight, an achy shudder as Wyatt’s gentleness took Jesse the fuck apart. “Want it bad,” he whispered.
“I know, bud.” Wyatt’s hands journeyed south for the winter.
Found fertile feeding ground fondling Jesse’s cheeks — the butt version now, thank god — pulling them apart a little ways, snugging the string of Jesse’s panties tight against his hole, making Jesse clench.
“But if you’re gonna take it, we gotta open you up first. Get you wet, sweetheart. Make it easy for you.”
Jesse was already easy. Slutty and easy and desperate.
He rocked up against Wyatt, grinding their dicks together, whining at the crush, the scrape of lace and denim.
“Want you,” Jesse gasped out, gone stupid with the force of his need, that want burning deep.
He tugged at the hem of Wyatt’s shirt, pulling up. “Want it. Fuck. Please.”
Wyatt lifted Jesse clear. He stood, stripped out of his shirt and kicked out of his jeans and his boots.
He laid Jesse out on the rug in front of the fire and then he laid himself out over Jesse.
He was too heavy and it was way too much, and Jesse wanted to lay there forever, hard and crushed and aching.
Fuck, it was perfect. Everything was perfect.
Just like the rock of Wyatt’s hips, and the weirdly good scratch of the little lace flowers rubbing over the head of Jesse’s dick.
Just like the slow, exploring twist of Wyatt’s tongue in Jesse’s mouth, the hot puff of his breath making Jesse’s nipples hard and tingly, making goosebumps spring up and spread despite the kinda overwhelming heat coming from the fire.
They were both sweaty already, panting, but Wyatt didn’t let up. It was like he knew just how much Jesse needed this, how badly — to be held down and weighed down and taken the fuck apart.
Still, Wyatt barely moved. He kissed Jesse and he rocked his hips in slow, lazy shifts. He let Jesse have all of it, the thick, heavy line of his dick and the perfect weight of his balls dragging slow up and down the length of Jesse’s lace-wrapped cock.
The tight snug of Jesse’s panties holding him in place was its own kinda thing, until Wyatt ground down just right and the head of Jesse’s dick popped clear, then the rest of him, panties rucking down.
“Fuck.”
Jesse hissed out a breath at the touch of bare skin, at the easy rub of his dick all along Wyatt’s, at the teasing scratch of Wyatt’s happy trail against the underside of his cock.
Wyatt nipped at his jaw. “Feel good, bud?”
Jesse tipped back his head and sighed with it. “Feels so good.”
It did. Wasn’t like anything Wyatt did to Jesse ever felt anything other than good.
But with his eyes closed, everything was Wyatt, Jesse’s only point of buzzy focus.
They were both sweaty in the flicker of the fire and Jesse was spilling precum, and everything was getting slick and kinda sticky, Jesse winding up from a background hum of pleasure to a full-force rush of it.
Wyatt sucked a kiss against Jesse’s collarbone, the scrape of his teeth making Jesse hiss out a needy whine. “You gonna come, sweetheart?”
Jesse nodded. He hummed out his yes, too pleasure-gone to coordinate anything more coherent.
“Good. That’s good, Jess. You’re doing so good for me, bud.”
Wyatt rocked his hips harder, gave Jesse just what Jesse needed, got Jesse so close that one last thrust would be all Jesse needed to spill messy into the press of their bellies — and then Wyatt lifted himself up and off and clear.