Chapter 19 #2
John seemed to realize this and glanced heatedly over his body. He tried to step back, but Wyatt followed, wanting to stay close.
“Steph mentioned you’re leaving?” John said gruffly.
“Yeah, gonna head home for a bit.”
John’s averted gaze swept to his, stiffening.
“Apparently, all it took was a near-death experience for me to finally realize that I need to go home, say my goodbyes.” Wyatt, deciding to be honest, said softly, “And you. Everything that you told me about your brother made me realize that I want one more moment with my dad. Even if he doesn’t.”
Emotion passed over John’s face, but before he could decipher it, he turned his back on him, busily checking on something covered in tin foil on the stovetop. “When are you leaving?”
“Flight leaves tomorrow morning.”
John’s gaze snapped to his, and he saw it—the emotion swirling, on the brink of losing control. He hoped, prayed to the gods in the universe, that it would result in one of those crushing, soul-searing kisses John was so fucking good at.
“Why are you here, then?” John asked, his tone curt.
“I think you know why.”
“I do, but I can’t talk about that right now.”
Wyatt pressed his lips together in frustration, forcing himself to release the constricted breath in his chest. What the hell would it take for John to break and finally pursue what he wanted?
To chase the horse, him, who had been running after him this entire time.
Wyatt thought back to the first night he seduced him and how much he didn’t need John to chase him, that he was happy to gallop after him, tail fucking wagging.
Now, too much had happened between them, and he needed more.
Because he was tired and angry, needing the storm to come after him.
But John’s entire demeanor was standoffish and unyielding, once more closing him out the way he had done countless times before.
“I interrupted your evening,” Wyatt stepped back, heart sinking. “Your family’s beautiful, John. Olive is a spitfire. You have your hands full with that one.”
John, rooted to the spot, watched him with dark eyes. “You’re leaving.”
He nodded, leaning down to pick up his helmet. “Yeah. Sorry again for interrupting. I’ll… I’ll see ya.”
He made a hasty retreat, too afraid that he wouldn’t be able to stand his ground and would fold the second John swayed close enough to him.
Wyatt headed to the front door, wondering if he was making a mistake.
If he was putting too much on John. If this stupid game he was playing was even fucking fair.
But what choice did he have? He couldn’t keep backing John into a corner.
That wasn’t fair to him, either. John needed to make this decision for himself.
And if he truly wanted this to be over, he’d let Wyatt walk out that door and out of his life for good.
He fisted his hand onto his helmet, wanting to crush it when he didn’t hear footsteps following. He reached for the door handle, heart breaking in his chest and hating himself for how hard this was.
John’s hand slammed the door shut and roughly spun him around.
Wyatt saw the fury in his gaze.
The storm had finally broken, and it was a glorious, raging sight.
“That’s it?” John hissed through clenched teeth. “That’s it?”
Caught in the lightning strike of John’s emotion, Wyatt sucked in a breath, forcing himself to hold to his resolve. “I won’t—can’t—keep chasing you, John. I fuckin’ can’t. This horse is tired.”
John exhaled, his breath warming the space between them, strain pulling at the lines around his eyes. “Stay,” he whispered so low Wyatt almost didn’t hear it.
Tonight? Tomorrow? Forever?
He wanted to ask, but instead clamped his jaw down into a tight squeeze.
“Stay.”
That wasn’t enough, and they both knew it. Wyatt reached for the handle again and John moved, pinning him against the door with an arm and pressing his chest against his.
“I don’t know how to do this,” John murmured.
“You do,” Wyatt drawled softly. “You’re just scared.”
John swallowed, eyes briefly closing, fighting himself. “I am,” he admitted. “I’m terrified of the hold you have on me.”
He sucked in a surprised breath.
“I’m terrified that if you walk out this door, I will never fucking recover.”
His heart slammed into his chest.
“It’s the same feeling I had when I saw that knife at your throat,” John rasped.
“…when you were losing all that blood…” his hands moved, gripping the front of Wyatt’s jacket, clinging to him.
“I know I can’t stop death, but I’m a coward, and I can’t bear to see it and the pain that comes to the people I care about. ”
The floodgates of John’s emotion had finally opened.
John’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “I couldn’t save my brother.
I can’t save my dad from his brain deteriorating.
I can’t save my mom from watching the love of her life fade away.
And for a moment, I thought I was going to lose the only person in my life that made all of that go away…
” John released him, tears sliding down his cheeks.
He scrubbed his face. “I don’t know if I can give you what you need, because all I want to do is take from you. I want to take everything you give me.”
Wyatt reached for him, framing his face and raking his fingers through his beard.
“Did it ever occur to you that you give me the same thing? It’s supposed to be like this—giving and taking.
All you have to do is look at me, and I can feel myself calm or spark.
You haven’t taken anything from me that I didn’t want to give.
And until recently, I was okay with that.
But I need more from you, John. So much fucking more. ”
John stared at him, uncertain and vulnerable. “Me too. I need you so much. I never felt like this, Wyatt.”
Thank fuck!
Relief swelled inside him as something broke and ignited in the space between them, and without another word, they collided like a storm at sea, crashing and fighting together.
John pushed him against the door and Wyatt went willingly, their kisses assaulting and powerful.
He moaned in the back of his throat as John pinned him with his hands and hips, grinding into him and sending flashing hot sparks down his back to the tips of his toes.
John’s hand reached between them, stroking him roughly over the denim of his jeans and causing Wyatt to buck against his hand.
They shouldn’t be doing this here. Not with John’s entire family a room away.
“John…” Wyatt groaned between his fiery kisses.
John’s touches grew more frantic, more powerful. “You’re gonna stay here. You’re gonna have Thanksgiving with my family. I want them to meet you. And then, you’re going to move in with me…”
Wyatt gasped, tilting his head back, shaking. His words struck at his heart like an arrow, slicing away all the final barriers he had attempted to erect against this man in the last week.
“But first,” John pressed, drawing his lower lip into his mouth. “You’re gonna cum for me.”
Wyatt gaped, mouth unhinging as John ruthlessly stroked him over his jeans, his other hand pinning him to the door roughly.
“I have to apologize, baby,” John said in the sexiest stern-daddy-doctor tone that sent electrical currents through his entire being. “And the only way for me to do that is to ruin you the way you ruined me.”
He suppressed the urge to moan loudly, John’s touch unraveling him as he unbuckled his belt, and shoved his hand into his jeans and beneath his briefs, fisting his cock.
Wyatt’s head thumped back against the wood of the door and he surrendered instantly to him.
John growled, watching his body give into his touch, one muscle at a time.
“Good boy,” John murmured.
“Ah, fuck,” he cursed in a smothered gasp between his lips, precum leaking down his shaft.
John hummed approvingly, dipping his face against the side of his neck now, his beard scratching his neck beneath his collar as he began to kiss and suck, hard. Wyatt jerked against him, not wanting to sport a fresh hickey if he was about to have Thanksgiving with John’s family.
“John…” Wyatt protested weakly, hands digging into his shoulder and hips bucking against his unrelenting fist.
John grazed his teeth over his neck, unfazed.
“Don’t fuckin’ give me a hickey,” he whined, sounding pathetic even to his own ears. And on any other occasion, he would love to be marked by John.
John ignored him, ruthlessly sucking on his neck and pressing the pad of his thumb into the tip of his cock, smearing the precum over his fat tip. He released a strained breath, legs tensing.
“I like you like this,” John husked gravelly. “I never thought I would like taking so much…”
John pressed his body against him now, humping into his side and letting Wyatt feel the bulge of his own erection. Blinding desire gripped him as he reached for John, kissing him brutally hard. They humped and ground themselves against the door, kissing frantically, knowing time was short.
Wyatt was close, the orgasm overwhelming him.
John sensed it, pumping him, pushing him to the edge. “That’s it, baby…” he said in a thready, sexy voice, ravishing his neck some more and sucking the same spot.
Wyatt’s cock twitched, “Please…”
“Please, what?” John breathed.
Oh god.
Wyatt nearly came right then and there, but he wanted to see John’s face when he said it. “Please, daddy…” he panted out, thrusting into John’s hand, letting him feel his cock throb at the word and how it affected him, too.
John’s deep, lustful groan echoed low from his chest, “Fuuuck.”
His eyes were nearly black as he reached for Wyatt’s throat and gripped.
Wyatt’s eyes rolled back, “Yes… daddy.”
John let out another weak, needy sound.
This went on for several panting moments, finger digging into his neck and cock, John’s intent gaze on him, watching it all.
“Do you know how sexy you are right now?” John growled. “Dressed like this? Looking like a fuckin’ dream—my dream. God, I want to fuck you, baby…”
Wyatt’s legs buckled beneath him, pressing himself against the door to keep himself upright, feeling the sweeping crash of the orgasm build to the tip of his dick.
“I’m gonna…” he whispered frantically.
“Cum in your pants,” John commanded. “I want you to feel this. Feel us smeared on your dick all fuckin’ night.”
Oh Jesus.
He erupted, spewing hot, endless streams of cum into his pants and against John’s fist. And John continued to milk his pulsating cock without mercy. “Good boy…”
Wyatt’s entire body seized, another wave crashing over him at the feel of John’s collaring grip.
“That’s it,” John panted. “Keep coming, baby.”
Wyatt emptied himself until there was nothing left, collapsing into John, chest heaving for oxygen. John pushed him back against the door, forcing him to watch as he dragged his hand out of his pants.
“Open your mouth,” he commanded.
“Ah fuck,” Wyatt gasped, lips parting instantly.
“So eager,” John murmured, smearing his cum over his lips and tongue. Something dark and haunting slid over John’s expression, and he kissed him, sliding his tongue into his mouth and tasting him. “You make me want to do the craziest things…” John confessed.
Wyatt smiled, blissed out of his mind and still trying to catch his breath.
“Unbutton your shirt.”
Curious and with trembling fingers, he unbuttoned his black flannel, revealing the black undershirt beneath. John wiped the rest of Lawson’s climax off his hand and onto the shirt, staining it.
He almost laughed until John's hand proceeded to roughly push upward, palming his pec and pinching the nipple above the shirt. His desire was evident through his possessive touch. He then buttoned Wyatt’s jeans and clasped his belt, paralyzing him.
John was in full control, touching where he wanted, taking what he wanted.
Wyatt had given him permission to be selfish, and John's transformation was fucking incredible.
“I like you like this, too,” Wyatt admitted in a rush.
John’s dark eyes slid to his.
“Taking control,” Wyatt said, relaxing against the door and eyeing the bulge pressed against John’s pants. “Using me however you like. The number of times I’ve imagined you just like this… Dr. Donnelly making me cum in my pants before he bent me over and fucked me raw.”
It was John’s turn to gasp.
“Collaring me with those big fuckin’ hands, riding me until there’s nothing left,” Wyatt whispered. “I want you unhinged. Wild. I want that storm inside you to break me the fuck apart.”
John dropped his forehead into his temple, sucking in a hard breath. “Jesus Christ, Wyatt…”
“We can save all that for later…” Wyatt nipped at his jawline and pushed him backward, sliding off the door, heart fucking glowing. “You have a turkey to cook.”