Chapter 18 #2
Now, however, Wyl wished it were a little wider because he wanted to lay Robbie down on it and spread him out across the sheets and stroke his hands over every inch of his husband’s body before finally taking him into his mouth.
There definitely wasn’t room for Robbie to spread out, and the sheets were the slick, scratchy kind, and the mattress had long since lost its elastic qualities, so dispersing his weight wouldn’t make him much more comfortable than he already was.
Still, undressing him was fun if a little concerning.
Robbie had been awake for over seventy hours at this point, not the longest he’d ever gone without sleep but certainly harder to handle when he had to be on edge that whole time, always looking over his back and checking to see who might be coming up to stab him in it.
And that was when he wasn’t worrying about Wyl, which …
No. Just no. Robbie didn’t need to know the details of what was coming.
With luck, Wyl would manage the confrontation well enough that he could spend a minute or so in a tank to take care of superficial wounds and come out as good as new.
It didn’t have to be a big, scary, dire thing.
It didn’t have to worry Robbie any more than he was already worried.
Wyl stroked his hands through Robbie’s graying hair, then down his neck and over his shoulders as he kissed him. Robbie responded to the intent in Wyl’s kiss, the fervency in the press of their bodies, but his touch was gentle, clumsy, and a little slow, like he was already half asleep.
“No, babe, no,” Wyl chided him even as he pushed him back onto the bed. Robbie couldn’t stretch out, but just the act of his head hitting the pillowy part of the mattress seemed blissful to him if the groan he made was any indication. “No sleeping yet, c’mon.”
“Act now, or hold your peace until morning,” Robbie said, the sentence breaking on a yawn in the middle.
He might be tired, but he was still hard, and so Wyl dispensed with the foreplay, stripped out of his own clothes in a rush, and slid between his husband’s legs.
Robbie unconsciously moved to accommodate him, letting him in close without a moment’s thought.
It still fucked with Wyl’s head sometimes, how close he’d come to never knowing Robbie this way.
How near he’d come to losing him, not just back when they first met but over and over again, always pulling it out somehow in the eleventh hour.
It was humbling, for someone who had come so near ruining his entire life, that Robbie trusted Wyl like this, in close, with everything he had.
Wyl wouldn’t let him get hurt. He wouldn’t weigh him down any more than he had to.
“Wyl?” He almost jumped when the back of Robbie’s hand trailed down his cheek. When he looked up, Robbie’s expression had gone from soft to serious. “You okay?”
“I’m good,” Wyl said, honestly enough. “I’m fantastic, actually; let me prove it to you.”
“I believe you; you don’t need to—oh, fuck.” Nothing like a well-timed deep throating to give his husband just the distraction he needed. “Mmm, Wyl, fuck.”
And it might be stupid, but Wyl loved that Robbie was a babbler, he loved that he opened up and let go more and more when they had sex.
Robbie was so closed off so much of the time, stern, almost severe; it was an intense and private pleasure to see him lose control of himself in their room.
If that pleasure happened to belong only to Wyl, so much the better.
Wyl kept his mouth soft on Robbie’s cock, his suction gentle. Robbie smelled like stale sweat, a clear sign he’d been in uniform too long because those things kept you odor free for at least sixty hours before you had to clean them.
As soon as they were done with this, Wyl was going to book them onto a pleasure cruise and keep Robbie in bed for a week.
He would fuck his husband in every configuration he could think of and some he would have to look up; he would take away his senses and gift him with new ones; he would edge him and toy with him and let Robbie possess him completely and do whatever he wanted to him, but now …
right now … this was perfect. Just what they both needed, intimate and quiet and close, Robbie was already so close, his breath hitching as Wyl rubbed the calloused pads of his fingers over Robbie’s perineum, stroking the tender skin and curling his thumb over his sac.
Robbie stiffened, went perfectly still, and finally came in long, slow bursts, like his body was simply too tired to fight that hard against the artificial gravity.
Wyl swallowed and lapped at the head of Robbie’s cock for a moment, just enough to make Robbie start to curl up from oversensitivity, then pulled off, reaching down to touch himself.
He could stroke off fast; it would only take a moment—
“No, c’mere.” Robbie’s hands gripped Wyl’s shoulders, clumsily pulling him up Robbie’s body to lie flat against him, his hard cock pressed to Robbie’s still-slick, softening one. He wrapped his legs around the backs of Wyl’s calves and slowly pushed his hips up. “Like this.”
“Fuck,” Wyl said succinctly, because yeah, okay.
This would be quick. He put his forehead down on Robbie’s shoulder and started to thrust, rutting hard and fast into Robbie’s groin, both of them sweaty now, but it was fresh and clean, and Robbie moved just enough to give Wyl the friction he needed, just enough to make it easy to come all over his husband, arching his back and gasping despite himself.
“Mmm, babe.” Wyl finally lifted up his head to grin at Robbie, who was—
Passed out. Completely passed out, clinging to Wyl like a fucking barnacle out of long habit but so unconscious that Wyl could already see his eyes swimming under their bruised lids.
Wyl sighed. So much for the afterglow. On the other hand, now that Robbie was sacked out, and Wyl’s own nervous energy was finally spent, he could dedicate some time to fixing up the device he’d need to get to Tamara.
He leaned forward and kissed Robbie gently on the lips.
“I’ll just clean us up, then,” he murmured and gently picked his way out of his husband’s embrace, then headed for the bathroom.