Chapter Ten #2
Elliots’s stomach jumped. Dustin’s eyes held his, and the air squeezed so hot and tight around him Elliot felt like he would ignite. There was definitely something weird going on here, right? It wasn’t just him. Was it?
Was it?
Dustin’s lips parted to say whatever he was going to say next–
And Elliot stepped forward and kissed him.
He didn’t mean to. It was more like an out-of-body experience than a decision. His hands came up and grabbed the leather jacket – he didn’t know why, he couldn’t stop them – and pulled Dustin in. His chest came first. Then his mouth. Crashed in.
Dustin’s hands were in his hair immediately. Pulling him closer, mouth opening, tongue pushing back hard. Like he’d been waiting for this to happen.
Elliot moved in and felt Dustin jolt up against the side of the car, and Dustin’s fingers went so tight in Elliot’s hair that he yelped into his mouth.
Dustin didn’t seem to care, his hands were already moving, urgent, clumsy, fisting in Elliot’s collar, pulling him even closer, harder, his beard rough, his tongue in the back of Elliot’s throat, teeth catching Elliot’s lip – on purpose or by mistake, Elliot didn’t know or care.
Dustin’s thigh went between Elliot’s as he pressed in, and Elliot ground into him. Just impulse and heat and the low sound that came from Dustin’s throat. The car rocked once under their weight.
Dustin broke the kiss.
“Stop. Stop.” His hands fisted in Elliot’s shirt and his forehead pressed hard to Elliot’s as they clung to each other, breathing. “What’s happening?”
Elliot lifted his head and stared into his wide, dark eyes. No answer but the roar in his ears. Neither of them moved. Then Dustin let go of his shirt and fumbled for his keys.
They climbed into the back seat in a frantic scramble.
Elliot’s knee banged the door and Dustin’s head smacked the roof liner.
A short, rough laugh broke out of both of them – awkward, stupid – and Dustin’s mouth was on Elliot’s before the sound was all the way out.
Elliot fumbled to close the door as Dustin pushed him down into the seat.
He straddled him and shoved his hands under Elliot’s shirt as he kissed him, and Elliot whimpered at the heat of his hands – the fucking hands he couldn’t stop staring at – on his bare skin.
Apart from that tiny, desperate sound, it was quiet.
Just the wet sound of their mouths and breath, the rustle of fabric, the creak of Dustin’s leather jacket.
Their mouths were still sealed as Dustin’s hands went to Elliot’s belt, unbuckling, then yanking.
Elliot lifted his hips, dizzy, as he helped Dustin tug down his jeans and his cock sprang free, already hard, flushed and dark.
Dustin dropped to the floor, jamming his knees into the carpet between the seats, wedging his shoulders between Elliot’s spread thighs.
The space was tight as hell – Elliot’s left knee was crammed against the back of the driver’s seat and Dustin’s broad back filled what little room was left.
Then Dustin’s mouth closed around him.
Madre de Dios. Dustin Bennet was sucking his cock.
Elliot couldn’t even groan. He couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t move. He just stared at the top of Dustin’s head as he went to work.
No hesitation. No finesse. Just raw, uncontrolled enthusiasm.
Hot. Wet. Tongue flat and broad, sliding down the shaft, lips stretching wide.
His teeth grazed – clumsy, accidental – and Elliot’s hand shot up and braced hard against the roof.
“Cabrón,” he whispered. “Eres un bellaco.”
Dustin’s hand went to the inside of Elliot’s knee, forcing it open, while the other worked his own zipper down and reached inside.
Elliot whispered again as Dustin’s cock unfurled, thick and hard, and his fist began pumping in rough strokes.
His head bobbed. Spit soaked Elliot’s balls and the wet sounds of everything filled the car.
One of his hands was still braced on the ceiling, and the other found the back of Dustin’s neck and held tight. Not guiding. Just holding on.
Dustin sucked him off like he was starving for it. Had he done this before? Was this something he did? Elliot’s chest began to heave as his breath became shorter and tighter and pressure coiled low in his spine. It built fast. Too fast. His balls drew up. He tipped his head back.
And the reality of what was happening hit him. Holy shit he was about to come. He was about to come in another guy’s mouth. In Dustin Bennet’s mouth. He snapped open his eyes and looked down as he pounded Dustin’s shoulder, frantic.
“Fuck, fuckstopstopstop!”
Dustin pulled off, lips shiny and swollen, as Elliot’s cock jerked hard and a thick rope shot across the narrow space onto Dustin’s chest. Heavy streaks soaked his shirt, and the sight – Dustin on his knees with come all over his shirt, eyes wide, still stroking himself – was too much.
Elliot moaned and shut his eyes as another pulse came. Another.
“Holy shit,” murmured Dustin. And then, “Oh fuck, fuckfuc–”
Elliot opened his eyes as Dustin stood up on his knees, pumping furiously and spurting over his fist, eyes shut tight, breath ragged.
Elliot watched him spill all over the floor and the seat between Elliot’s thighs, and when it was done, Dustin knelt there with his eyes closed, squashed into the tiny space with his shoulders trembling.
Elliot stared at him with one hand still braced against the roof and the other pushing hard against the seat beside him like he was trying to escape. The car smelled like sweat and whiskey and come and the only sound was the scrape of his breath against Dustin’s.
After what felt like minutes with neither of them moving, Dustin put himself away. He looked at the mess on his hand, then at the mess on his shirt, and apparently figuring both were fucked, wiped the hand on the shirt.
When he looked up, his face was flushed and his eyes were bright. He met Elliot’s gaze, and Elliot was so overwhelmed with embarrassment, he wanted to look away. When Dustin spoke, his voice was rough.
“Why don’t I just drive you home,” he said.
Swallowing, Elliot nodded. It was about the only thing he could manage.