Chapter 11 #2
Jesse’s eyes flew open. “What the fuck?” he yelped. He grabbed for Wyatt’s shoulders, but Wyatt shrugged him off. “Dude! What the literal fuck!”
“Manners, bud,” Wyatt said, mild, as he toppled Jesse over onto his belly and dragged Jesse up onto his knees.
A real dirty play. Because even when Jesse arched his back as deep as he could, when he spread his legs just the same, there was no friction, nothing to reach for except the too-far-away rug, and nothing to grind against except thin fucking air.
Jesse made a wild noise of frustration. His cock kicked desperately, the shining strand of his spilling precum lit gold by the roaring fire. His skin prickled with the heat and with the desperation rushing through his veins. He needed to come so badly it physically hurt.
“Fuck you,” Jesse ground out. “Oh my god, Wyatt, fuck you so much.”
A whacking slap to his ass sent Jesse rocking forward. “Manners,” Wyatt reminded him, still diabolically mild.
“Fuck your manners,” Jesse spat, already rocking back, the anticipation liquid-hot in his belly.
He got what he wanted. Another smack to the same cheek, harder, the sting making Jesse cry out.
“I’d rather fuck you,” Wyatt said.
“Then how about you fucking do it!” Jesse’s pulse was a beat of want. Please, please, please.
Wyatt soothed a hand over Jesse’s butt, from the small of his back all the way down to the crease of Jesse’s thigh, like he was sizing Jesse up, picking the next landing spot. “Do it, huh?”
“Yeah,” Jesse said. “Do it.” He heard it happen to his own voice, the shift, that slide toward something not so demanding, not so fucking bratty.
Something a whole lot more like pleading instead.
“Make me,” Jesse said — Jesse begged. “Make me behave.” He bit at his knuckle, the second he needed to lock in, to make himself brave enough to say it. “Please, make me.”
A slap, right to the meat of Jesse’s butt, real low down, so close to his tucked-up balls that Jesse almost flinched. Only almost though, because this was Wyatt, and Wyatt wouldn’t. Jesse knew that like gravity. Nothing was gonna hurt in a way Jesse didn’t want.
And fuck, he wanted this so bad.
Wyatt smacked him again. He let Jesse have it where Jesse’s ass was fattest, where Jesse could take it hardest. He smacked Jesse until Jesse was wordless and whining and shaking.
Then he stopped like he’d started, so sudden that the only sound in the cabin was that new constant: the wet pant of Jesse’s breath and the crackling hiss of the fire.
“Fuck,” Jesse whispered, and his voice was as shaky as he was. “Fuck, god.”
Wyatt sank his hand into Jesse’s hair. He tugged, firm enough that Jesse couldn’t do anything except what Wyatt wanted him to do — arch up, Jesse’s back pulled flat to Wyatt’s front, Wyatt’s huge, hard, heavy cock resting snug between the heat of Jesse’s stinging cheeks.
“You done, bud?” Wyatt asked, all up in Jesse’s ear.
Jesse sucked in a shaky breath as he nodded.
“Gonna behave now?” Wyatt pressed, his voice a kind of steady that had to be intentional. “Gonna say please and thank you? Gonna play nice?”
Jesse nodded again, more than the stutter of a second ago, but Wyatt’s grip in his hair was still tight, and the sting flared the fire in Jesse’s belly. “Gonna be good,” he whispered. “I promise.”
“Good.” Wyatt’s teeth scraped along Jesse’s jaw. His tongue curled around Jesse’s ear. He bit gentle at the shell of it. “Good boy.”
He let go. Jesse fell. Wasn’t anything left in his noodle limbs to hold himself up.
So he let himself fall, belly down, ass up.
He pressed his hot face into the rug and didn’t think about the megacolony of dust mites he was inhaling — then he didn’t think about anything at all when Wyatt gripped Jesse’s hips tight and pulled Jesse back, straight onto his face.
“Oh god.”
The soft scrape of Wyatt’s beard. The blunt nudge of his nose. Then the firm, slick drag of his tongue, the lace of Jesse’s panties in between, as Wyatt traced a line up Jesse’s taint to flick across his hole.
An honest-to-god sob tore outta Jesse’s mouth. Nothing sad about it, though. Just the twisty, shocky pleasure inside breaking free. “Wyatt, god.”
Wyatt pulled back, but he didn’t pull away. He held Jesse spread open with his huge fucking hands, pulling Jesse’s cheeks apart, not gently, nothing gentle about any of this.
He left Jesse completely exposed. Jesse was too close to the fire to feel cold, but he shivered anyhow.
He just couldn’t help it, spread open like that, so helpless and on display.
And he couldn’t help the instinctive clench either, the hot pulse of it under the pink floss of his panties, and Wyatt had to see, had to know what he was doing to Jesse.
He had to.
He did. “Fuck,” Wyatt breathed, and Jesse felt that breath, the unsteady gust of it, a little cool where he was so freaking hot.
It was too much. It was already too much. All of this was too much.
Jesse whined and buried his face in his hands, his cheeks burning hot to the touch. He was shaking, fuck. Really shaking. Wyatt’s hands on him were the only thing holding him steady.
“God,” Jesse whispered, rocking up a little ways into Wyatt’s grip. No give.
Wyatt’s hands tightened, holding Jesse through it. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” Jesse managed on a strangled breath. “Yes. Fuck. God, fuck. Please. Please, Wyatt.”
Wyatt wasn’t into begging, seemed like. Didn’t make Jesse wait, not a single second longer. Just spread Jesse’s cheeks a little more, pulled Jesse’s panty string aside, and then Wyatt’s mouth straight up fucking engulfed him.
Soft and sucking. Hot and wet.
Fuck, so wet.
It was this crazy avalanche of sensation and Jesse was tumbling through it, head over ass, ass over head, tongue up his ass. He couldn’t find the right way up. He was lost in it. Deadass fucking gone.
The feel of Wyatt’s breath, there, still. The press of his lips. The suction behind every one of those hot kisses. The force of them, god, slicking Jesse up, making his hole feel used and kiss-sore.
Jesse moaned, loud and more than a little shaky, just like he was still shaking, still relying on Wyatt’s strength to hold him still and steady — and Wyatt.
Fuck, god, Wyatt.
Still those perfect kisses sucking against Jesse’s hole, but now the spread of Wyatt’s tongue lapping there too, again and again, a crazy sensation that Jesse couldn’t put words to, because it was so beyond anything he’d ever experienced before.
And it was so addictive that Jesse couldn’t help pushing his hips back, but that made the crash of feeling even more intense — too intense, too soon, and his dick let him know all about it.
“Fuck,” Jesse said, hiccuping it out. He tried to wrench himself away from Wyatt’s mouth, his hips stuttering forward, but Wyatt didn’t let him. He hooked his arms around Jesse and dragged him back.
The bar of Wyatt’s forearms across Jesse’s lower back deepened the dip.
Wyatt hauled Jesse in with real intent, completely flush to his face, bullying Jesse’s cheeks apart and going to town with his tongue, going downtown, pressing relentless against the tight flex of muscle and pressing past it, hot and twisting and crazy good.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Jesse chanted, “oh my fucking god.”
Wyatt’s tongue was in him. Inside of him. That genuinely took Jesse apart, in a way that left him shaky. Even more shaky.
Because Wyatt had been three fingers deep. What was the difference between a tongue and a finger? Not much, objectively, but that not much was so hot that Jesse’s brain was about to melt out of his ears.
Maybe it already had. Maybe his brain had dripped and sizzled and evaporated away in the heat pumping from the fire, because when Wyatt reached around to cup Jesse through his panties, Jesse had no words. None. Just a wild, cracking moan.
“You feeling good, bud?” A satisfied smile in Wyatt’s voice.
A smile Jesse could feel. “Please,” he whispered, and his whisper collapsed into another moan. “Please, I— I need— You gotta—”
Wyatt’s big, hot hand squeezed Jesse’s aching dick, tight pressure from root to tip, and Jesse cried out.
Wyatt was tongue-fucking him, and Wyatt was rimming him, and Wyatt was jerking Jesse off in his own damn panties — with his own damn panties — the cheap lace rough and dragging.
It was so much, fuck.
Wyatt licked hot across Jesse’s hole. Pressed a kiss to Jesse’s butt cheek. “Come for me now, Jess. Be my good boy.”
It was so much and it was too much, but Jesse could still be good. That was the only thing left — being good for Wyatt. Jesse could do that. It was all he wanted to do.
He fell into the heat racing down his spine. His cock jerked in Wyatt’s hand. He couldn’t escape. Didn’t want to. Didn’t even fucking try.
He did what he was told. He was good. He was good.
He came for Wyatt.