Chapter 7 - Catch #2
It didn't take long at all before Ashton cried out with the force of it; his hips jerking, body seizing, an avalanche rolling through him, spilling over Dylan's tongue and down his throat.
Dylan worked him through it, swallowing fast. Felt like he was milking every last drop and then some — until Ashton finally shied away, his cock too sensitive to withstand any more.
"Dylan?" Ashton rasped out, feeling broken, feeling complete. His grip on Dylan's shoulders was the only thing keeping him up just then, his legs like jelly — what he could still feel of them, anyway. "I…"
"It's okay, Ashton," Dylan murmured, steady and strong as he leaned his head against Ashton's thigh; heavy, but reassuring. "You're okay."
I'm okay.
"You did good."
I did good?
"I knew you had it in you."
I've got you in me.
But not for long, Dylan's finger was already sliding free from Ashton's hole, leaving a strange hollowness in its place.
Ashton's mind swirled around like a flurry of dry leaves, wisps and pieces flowing here and there as he watched Dylan pull a bandana from his back pocket. He held still as Dylan cleaned them both up.
When the job was done, Ashton pulled his pants up with nerveless fingers. He didn't bother with his belt. Didn't even zip himself away before slumping bonelessly to the ground. Legs sprawled in front of him, Ashton braced his forearms on his knees, bent his head, and just —
Breathed.
"You okay?" Dylan asked softly, moving to sit across from him.
Ashton's laugh came out ragged and husky. Dragging his eyes up, he met Dylan's concerned expression, rasping out as honest an answer as he could give just then.
"I don't know."
Dylan frowned, abruptly reminding Ashton that, well —
We're only half done here, aren't we?
"What do I do?" Ashton asked quietly.
"Do?" Dylan echoed, an uncertain expression swooping over his face.
"Yeah?" Ashton gestured vaguely at Dylan's crotch. "For, uh — for you."
But Dylan only waved him away. "Oh. I can take care of it. I figure you already have enough to deal with tonight."
Like hell you can. And have you go around telling folks I'm selfish or something? If I can do…that, then I'm not gonna let myself be scared off by a…a cock.
"Stop being an idiot," Ashton said out loud, hoisting himself up with a wince to sling a knee over Dylan's lap, straddling those thick, firm thighs between his own.
He didn't stop there, either, greedily swallowing up Dylan's gasp as Ashton's mouth crashed into his; body still humming, still hungry, still needing —
Him.
It felt so different like this, perched on Dylan's legs.
Like Ashton might unbalance at any time.
Against him, Dylan moaned, arching, surprisingly powerful hands gripping Ashton's waist, pleasingly firm.
It surprised Ashton how much he already craved this, how easy and natural it had felt to have those hands all over him.
How much he already wanted that again.
Dylan's jeans were half-open, though when he'd unfastened them, Ashton had been too distracted to say.
It worked in his favor now, giving him a chance to burrow into Dylan's boxers before either of them could fully think it through. Hand slipping in to cup Dylan’s hard cock, the heaviness familiar yet straining at such an unfamiliar angle, Ashton froze, startled at his own boldness.
"Don't be a tease," Dylan huffed, obviously less impressed. "You don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with, but — get to it, or let me take care of it."
"Who's teasing?" Ashton replied, giving Dylan a hesitant squeeze, and then a few experimental strokes.
Oh, this is strange.
Not bad, just… new. Very, very new.
Hrm.
"Oh, f-fuck," Dylan moaned as Ashton's palm slid experimentally up his shaft, a little furrow creasing his brow that was oddly endearing.
"This angle sucks," Ashton decided, his thumb circling the head of Dylan's cock like he remembered Dylan doing to him.
"You're the one — "
Dylan broke off with a very satisfying gasp as Ashton leaned in to kiss him again.
See how you like it.
"Shut up. You're distracting me," Ashton told him, pulling the band of Dylan's boxers down to free his cock and give himself more space to work.
"Fuck," Dylan grunted, hips arching as Ashton's found a rhythm, keeping his fist slow and steady and firm as he jacked Dylan off.
"Like this?" Ashton asked curiously, trying something he liked; stroking up, twisting a little at the head, and then sliding back down.
Kind of fun, being on this side of things.
"You could go faster," Dylan urged him, eyes locked onto the sight of his dick disappearing and reappearing in the clench of Ashton's fist.
"You're assuming I'm trying to get you off." Ashton chuckled, enjoying their reversal.
Dylan blinked up at him; eyes bright, cheeks adorably flushed. "Aren't you?"
"Maybe," Ashton taunted him. "Maybe I just want a turn to mess with you a bit first. Seems only fair."
Lightning-quick, a scowl flashed on Dylan's face, twisting his features. But Ashton was already moving faster, his fingers curling tighter.
If Dylan had a response to that, he didn't make it. His mouth fell open, eyes rolling back in pleasure.
And that point goes to me.
Leaning back on his forearms, Dylan merely grunted, his hips canting up as he chased the clench of Ashton's hand.
"Siente tan bien," he groaned, the line of his throat capturing Ashton's attention. "S-so good. Yeah, just like that, Ashton, don't fucking stop."
"Can't believe how sexy you look right now," Ashton growled, the heft and warmth of Dylan's a thing of glory in his hand.
"Y-yeah?" Dylan grinned up at him, eyes glinting through dark lashes. "Do something about it then, I d— "
But his dare was swallowed up by Ashton's mouth, tongue probing between Dylan's lips and licking up all his words.
When Ashton finally released him from their kiss, Dylan's cock was leaking in Ashton's grip, his breath coming in harsh gasps.
"Oh, f-fuck, yeah. Yeah. That’s… that’s real g-good," Dylan panted. "Ashton I'm gonna..."
"Already?" Ashton blinked, surprised.
Dylan just grinned lopsidedly up at him. "You have no clue how sexy you were, gasping and grinding on my finger, huh?"
He think's I'm sexy?
Ashton grinned, shifting experimentally.
"Feels like you're still in there," he blurted out; distracted for a moment from the mission at hand.
"Oh fuck," Dylan hissed, face contorting into the most interesting shapes, his cock solid steel in Ashton's hand. "Oh fuck. Ash."
Ash?
Ashton shivered, warmth spreading through him at the sound of that in Dylan's mouth.
"Give it to me then," Ashton murmured, licking his lips and shifting closer. "Show me how it's done."
And with a husky, broken-off laugh, Dylan gripped the back of Ashton's neck. Yanking him down to crash their lips together, Dylan laid claim to Ashton's mouth just as he came all over Ashton's hand.
^^^^^
That was…
Ashton blinked as the star he'd been watching climbed higher and higher, until the plane's light finally drifted out of view.
That was…
Beneath his head, Dylan shifted slightly, the softness of his stomach and steady rhythm of his breathing making him an ideal pillow as Ashton tried once again to collect his thoughts.
That was…
Both of them lay crosswise on their backs, Dylan lazily playing with Ashton's hair, which felt…
That was…
Squeezing his eyes shut against the scant handful of partial constellations twinkling determinedly despite the haze of the city lights, Ashton breathed slowly; clenching and re-clenching around the ghost of Dylan's touch, the memory of him playing with Ashton's —
Hole. His hole. The hole in his ass, his asshole.
That was…
Ashton had let someone — a guy, Holy Fuck, he'd let a guy fuck his ass, even if it was only a finger. And —
And he'd liked it.
Neither he nor Dylan had said anything after tucking themselves away and just kind of…
winding up entangled together. It was nice.
Make no mistake, it wasn't anything like comfortable.
Gravel would be Ashton's last choice of mattress, and December in San Morado might not be a winter wonderland, but it was still pretty cold.
But Dylan was warm and solid against him, his fingers kept gently scratching across Ashton's skull. Ashton's brain still hadn't come fully back online either, so…
Yeah. Ashton wasn't moving unless he absolutely had to.
Unfortunately, it seemed his phone had other plans.
When it dinged, he almost didn't check it. In hindsight, Ashton wished he hadn't. Had rolled over and gone back to kissing Dylan some more, maybe. Or pulled him up to go grab some food someplace. Whatever Dylan wanted, whatever was still open at this hour.
The habit was too deeply ingrained though; hear the sound, check the time.
Like old Pavlov and his pooch.
Ashton frowned at the message for a moment, before the penny finally dropped.
[ Mom ]:
Who are you bringing to the party?
Building security needs the name of your plus one
She's up late. Must still be taping holiday segments to air on Christmas Day.
Who…
Every year, Abuela organized a big celebration the day after Christmas. Barring any news-worthy emergencies, the station would still be shut down, and the whole ninth-floor studios turned into a winter wonderland according to whatever theme she'd picked out that year.
…are you bringing…
All of Ashton's family would be there — well, almost all — along with anyone Abuela considered worthy of an invite.
Elliot Hart had shown up one year, straight from the recording studio on the third floor where he'd been working on his latest album.
And Matthew Greene always made an appearance, in between his charity drives.
…to the party?