Chapter 12 #3
Jesse’s legs gave out on him somewhere in the middle of it all, but Wyatt didn’t stop.
He fucked Jesse down onto the rug and kept on fucking him, holding Jesse down with all his weight, pinning Jesse there, his hands tangled up with Jesse’s.
And he was barely moving, just the subtlest hitch of his hips driving his cock home, slo-mo ramming Jesse full.
Jesse twisted and grabbed at Wyatt’s hair. He hauled Wyatt into a kiss. The angle was crazy awkward, an off-center drag of lips, but it was still so good. Everything was still so good.
“God, bud.”
Another unsteady breath to trace the tremor in Wyatt’s voice. His hands around Jesse’s tightened. Then his cock pulsed, deep, and he filled Jesse up in the hottest kinda way.
Goosebumps sprinted across Jesse’s skin, his nipples pebbling hard even with the crazy heat pouring off the fire.
He rocked his hips back as best he could, fucking himself on Wyatt’s cock, chasing the edge and moaning pitifully with the surge of his desperation.
Then moaning even more pitifully as Wyatt drew back and out.
Jesse flailed, reaching back blindly. “Don’t stop. Please. I need—”
“I know what you need.” Wyatt hushed him, kissed Jesse quiet. “Just lay still, bud.”
He shouldered Jesse’s legs apart, lay down on his belly between them, and before Jesse even had a second to read the play, Wyatt’s mouth was right there — there — lapping at Jesse’s tender, fucked-out hole, licking up the spill of his own cum.
“Oh my fucking god.”
A throb of feeling lanced through Jesse, white-hot. His mind was a white-hot blank too. He found enough coordination to try and grab at Wyatt’s hair again, but Wyatt was so sweaty that Jesse just couldn’t get a grip. All he could do was lie there and take it, and whine and whine and whine.
“Bud.” The gravel in Wyatt’s voice was so warm, a freaking hot rock massage.
Jesse was taffy as Wyatt turned him. He was caramel, fresh butterscotch. He was all the important food groups. And he was achingly, endlessly hard in his panties.
“God.”
The word rushed out of Jesse on the shaky breath that carried it, but he couldn’t help it.
The way he felt, the way he looked — lace stretched tight with the desperate curve of his blossom-covered cock, gone dark with the spill of his precum, and his flushed, throbbing dick beading out a glistening line that puddled on his belly as Wyatt eased him free.
“Oh fuck,” Jesse breathed. He had to lay his forearm over his eyes for a second, just to hold it all together.
Almost lost it in the next second, when he opened his eyes to the sight of the head of his dick resting on Wyatt’s tongue, and Wyatt’s eyes so warm with the only question Jesse knew how to answer.
“Please,” he whispered.
All that Wyatt needed to hear. He wrapped his lips around the head of Jesse’s cock.
And Jesse hissed. Couldn’t help it. Too much. He’d been grinding his dick while Wyatt ate him out, and now he was so close to coming and so sensitive with it. Too sensitive to last, but Wyatt was taking him so gentle now, watching Jesse the whole time.
Jesse watched him back. Didn’t, honestly, want to look anywhere else.
He traced his fingers over Wyatt’s face, following those weathered lines.
He scuffed his touch across the shining silver of Wyatt’s stubble, carded his hands into Wyatt’s sweaty hair, and fed Wyatt his dick one slow inch at a time, until Wyatt had him swallowed all the way down, lost and gone and taken.
“Holy shit,” Jesse whispered on an aching little sigh. Everything was quiet and slow, and everything that wasn’t Jesse’s dick was so, so soft.
Just like Wyatt’s eyes, dark and flickering gold in the firelight, and filled with a warmth that felt a whole lot like reverence or adoration, like all those stupid thesaurus words. A warmth that felt a whole lot like — fuck, god — like love.
Jesse didn’t know what to do with that or with the feeling inside of him that throbbed the exact same beat, in time and in sync.
So he didn’t deal with it. He packed it away and brushed his thumbs across Wyatt’s hollowed-out cheeks and whispered, “Taste good?”
Wyatt made an affirmative noise around Jesse’s cock. The buzz of it made Jesse shiver, and it was that shiver that finally took Jesse apart.
His breath went in a shaky exhale. He came down Wyatt’s throat on that same breath, silently but gently, no fireworks or earthquakes.
Soft heat instead, flooding him and buoying him up.
Wyatt stayed between his legs for Jesse didn’t even know how long, just suckling and licking at Jesse’s softening cock, until Jesse’s belly jumped as the edge of overstimulation sparked through him.
“Wyatt, fuck. You gotta—” He pressed his hand flat to Wyatt’s sweaty forehead and pushed.
Wyatt went easy. He took Jesse’s hand in his and pressed a kiss to Jesse’s palm, then another to Jesse’s lips. “Time for bed, bud.”
Jesse didn’t argue. There wasn’t a single atom left in his body that had the energy to be a brat about it. He was back in the candy store, a squished-up butterscotch just waiting for a wrapper.
Wyatt’s big arms lifted him up and onto the bed, tucked him in and pulled him close.
Jesse didn’t open his eyes for any of it. Just fell into the feel instead.
And that feeling told him that his ass would be aching in the morning. He’d feel that ache deep. Feel it in his hips too, from being pretzeled so long. And in his ankle, because his ankle always ached a little these days.
But right then, curled up into Wyatt’s side, curled up under the weight of Wyatt’s arm, made small in that space, and held, Jesse couldn’t feel anything else except safe.
It lulled him like the heat of the fire did. Made him boneless and lazy. Left him with only enough coordination to burrow in closer, to find that one last minuscule hint of space left between him and Wyatt, and to wriggle it away.
“You good, bud?” Wyatt asked, amusement in the rumble.
Jesse smiled against Wyatt’s skin. “Never been better, big guy.”
* * *
It wasn’t morning, not yet, when Jesse stirred awake to a weird, outta pocket rush of adrenaline.
Wasn’t morning, but it wasn’t the middle of the night either. Wasn’t completely dark at least, maybe a little ways off dawn.
So it wasn’t the light that woke Jesse or the faint hiss and pop of the dying fire. Wasn’t Wyatt’s steady breathing next to him. Wasn’t even Jesse’s own breath fogging in the suddenly freezing cold air.
It was the zombie standing at the foot of the bed.
That’s what woke Jesse.