6. Diego #2
Wylie’s eyebrows knitted together as if trying to recall.
“Ah, Swallows, you mean?” Diego nodded. “Well, I was a hyperactive kid, that was before I got my ADHD diagnosis, so my mom always had me in some kind of sport, even though I was mid at best. But I did have thing for other boys, so it wasn’t all bad.
” Wylie huffed, shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain this without it sounding kinda bad. ”
“You don’t have to.”
“Nah, it’s whatever. The TLDR is, I sucked a lot of dick in high school. My palate was pretty indiscriminate. A lot of them were athletes. Word got around. Hence the nickname.”
Diego’s eyes widened. Swallows. It was crude, and Diego felt bad for him, of course he did, but he also couldn’t stop himself from imagining it, which did nothing to help with his growing erection.
His dick throbbed at the thought of Wylie on his knees, head between his thighs, working him over.
What his face might look like while sucking him off, and after…
“I’ve changed my ways, though,” Wylie said into the silence.
Diego cleared his throat, trying to refocus. “Have you? Devoted yourself to God?”
The other man’s laugh was more like a snort. “Hell no, but I’m pickier now. Still really good at it though, in case you’re wondering.” He turned those devastating eyes on him, sparkling with mischief. And promise.
Diego was definitely wondering, and considering, and fantasizing... “Probably not the worst thing to be known for,” he said with a deliberate nonchalance.
Wylie shrugged. “I guess, but that was all they ever wanted, you know? Like, it was just a bunch of closeted bros, some with girlfriends, looking to get off. None of them wanted to, like, date me or even be seen with me in public. That shit really fucks with your self-esteem.”
“You seem to have recovered,” Diego said, unless his confidence was just a front.
“Yeah, well, I’ve been working on myself.”
Diego smiled. His honesty was alluring, as was his clever sense of humor and the playfulness that belied a true cunning. There was probably not another person like Wylie Fox Sommers in the whole wide world. “Are you taking meds for your ADHD?” Diego asked.
“During school, yeah. Helps me lock-in, but there are some side effects I don’t love. No appetite, insomnia. I get pissy when the medication starts to wear off, and my personality overall is a little, like, blah. I don’t feel things as much, which kind of sucks.”
“Is that hard for you, managing it?” Diego asked. It sounded like a bit of a rollercoaster to him.
Wylie pursed his lips, head tilted, as he considered the question.
“Honestly, it’s probably harder for the people who have to deal with my scatterbrained ass.
But I have a lot of strategies I’ve developed over the years.
Setting alarms, giving myself deadlines, trying to stick to my routines.
Some of my exes have complained about it, though, like how can I be so smart and so fucking stupid at the same time? ”
That was pretty harsh and a shitty thing to say, besides. “Your exes sound like assholes,” Diego grumbled.
“Yeah. Hannah says I have a type,” Wylie said ruefully and took another swig of his drink. That would definitely explain some things.
“Are you with someone now?” Diego asked, trying to sound casual about it. He didn’t think so, especially with all the flirting between them, but maybe Wylie had a situationship or two.
“Nah, haven’t you been listening? Men ain’t shit,” Wylie countered.
Diego laughed. “I’d have to agree.”
“How about you? You seeing someone?” Wylie’s tone was neutral, but his eyes were focused and expectant.
“Haven’t you heard? I just got outta prison.”
“Some guys work fast. Or maybe you have someone on the inside?”
“Nope,” Diego assured him. Wylie had been brave enough to share something personal, so he might as well do the same. “Truthfully, I’ve never been in a relationship before.”
“With a guy?” Wylie asked.
“With anyone,” Diego confirmed, feeling a little out of his depth. At least Wylie had some experience, even if it was with assholes.
“Are you gay?”
Diego shrugged. “Probably. I’ve only ever wanted to get with guys. I wouldn’t rule out women completely, but none have ever really done it for me. Be a hell of a lot easier if they did.”
“Honestly, same. So then…are you out?” His eyes searched Diego’s face with an intensity that Diego was coming to understand was just part of his personality. Wylie’s attention was focused and full-on, which made avoiding the question damn near impossible.
“I guess so, but I’m not very showy about it.
And I definitely wasn’t out in prison.” He’d managed to avoid conflict by keeping to himself and acting tough.
If certain other men had known he was open to that sort of thing, it may have gotten out of hand quickly.
Luckily he’d been assigned early on to the kitchen crew, and they tended to not be harassed.
Folks didn’t want their food tampered with or poisoned.
“Did you…um…” Wylie licked his lips, seeming to consider his next words. “What was prison like?”
Diego appreciated that he was trying to be sensitive.
“It fucking sucked, was boring as hell, but I wasn’t, like, raped or anything.
I did get jumped a couple times, but that got sorted out once I found my people.
” His workout routine in the yard had been a lifesaver, mentally and physically.
A way to form community without having to share too much of his personal life.
Some of his crew inside were lifers, but others might get out in the next few years.
Diego would like to get a drink with them and catch up.
Anything more than that, he’d have to see.
“So, the whole time you were in prison, did you ever…” Wylie made a lewd motion with his hands to simulate fucking. Very classy.
“No, too risky,” Diego answered.
“What about handjobs? Head?” Wylie persisted.
“Nope. Just me, myself, and I.”
“Fuuuuuuck, man.”
“Yeah.” Diego took another sip of his drink and marveled at his own abstinence. Seven years. Seven long years of living like a monk. Well, a monk who jerked it.
“So, you’ve had a bit of a dry spell,” Wylie said.
Diego’s laughter was so unexpected that he almost spat out his Gatorade. “Guess I have,” he admitted, wiping his mouth.
“I could break that for you,” Wylie said with an easy grin. “I have the right skillset.”
“Might need to see your résumé.”
“I can be discreet too, if that’s your hold-up.” Diego gave him a dubious look, to which Wylie insisted, “What? I totally can, I swear. I’ve matured.”
Diego smirked and waved it off. “I don’t care about that.
I did when I was younger, but not anymore.
” He reached down and adjusted his fully erect dick, now pressing against the seam of his fly.
His balls were full and definitely in need of draining.
Wylie tracked the gesture with his eyes and licked his lips, then caught the piercing between his teeth and played with it a bit.
He had a nice mouth–full, pink lips, a little chapped.
It’d be easy–so easy–to accept what he was offering, but he’d been used for that sort of thing in the past. Whatever this might become, Diego didn’t want to start out like that.
Didn’t want it to feel so… transactional.
“I’ll think about it,” Diego said, and hoped Wylie didn’t take it as a rejection. They were silent for a few minutes, just staring at the rooftops of the other houses and the street lights along Gulf Boulevard. In the distance, Diego heard the waves crashing on Indian Rocks Beach.
“I should tell you, I know what you were in prison for. I saw your mug shot and read your arrest report online,” Wylie said.
“I figured with you being an almost-lawyer, you’d done your research.”
“You can tell me about it if you want. Or not,” Wylie said.
There was a beat of silence, during which time Diego contemplated getting into all that.
It was painful, still, and it revealed a side of himself he didn’t like to face.
Sharing it meant they were going to be friends, because Diego didn’t open up about that shit with just anyone.
Instinct told him Wylie was worth the risk and that he could be trusted to keep his confidence.
“I was a bad kid. Didn’t listen, didn’t like school, didn’t join up with any clubs or sports.
My mom tried, but we’ve always had a difficult relationship.
By the time I got to high school, I was really sick of it all.
Skipped class more than I went, which lasted until junior year.
Then I dropped out to work full-time. I’d already gotten into some stuff–weed, whippits, LSD–but the guy who hired me to lay flooring, he’s the one who introduced me to the coke and the pills.
” Diego paused there, remembering the first time Todd had brought out the little baggie of cocaine and the credit card he used to cut lines, so casual about it, like having a beer after work.
“He offered me a bump one day during our lunch break. I was seventeen at the time and didn’t give a shit about anyone but myself.
So, I said yeah, why not, and it was like an epiphany for me.
Like seeing God or some shit. That shit felt so good.
Too good. Dangerously good. One time and it was like, I’d fallen in love.
” Diego figured that was what love must feel like, an all-powerful cocktail of endorphins and desire, one that erased everything else, or at the very least, relegated it to a category of less importance.
Both love and cocaine made you say and do some crazy shit.
He turned to Wylie. “You ever tried coke?”
“No, too broke. That’s some upper middle-class shit right there.”