10. Diego #4
“There it is,” Wylie said with a smug little chuckle. Diego was only a little put-out by how well Wylie could read his every movement, how he seemed to know his body better than him. “I’m going to make you feel so good. Just breathe now and let me take care of you. Can you do that for me, baby?”
Baby this, baby that. Diego wanted to hate it, but he didn’t.
Couldn’t. Wylie could get him to do any manner of things just by using that sweet, soothing voice.
Diego made a conscious effort to stop holding on so tightly, and eventually his body surrendered.
Wylie cradled him in his arms, despite his bulk, and set an easy rhythm between them, slow to start, then faster as their mutual urgency began to build.
Diego felt raw wherever Wylie touched him, the pleasure almost too much to bear.
His body had never been so open and receptive before, and every sensation felt like it was multiplied somehow.
When Wylie started pegging his prostate with surgical precision, Diego knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold on for much longer.
“There,” Diego said even though Wylie knew already.
Slick with sweat and riding the friction, Wylie lit him up from the inside with every stroke.
His skin felt too tight to contain him, his pleasure to big to hold.
He was depending on Wylie to bring him to the peak of their pleasure, which made his fingers dig deeper into Wylie’s ass cheeks, likely leaving bruises, just in case the man tried to quit or abandon his mission.
“I’ve got you,” Wylie said to him while pistoning his hips like a demon. Wylie groaned deeply, then shuddered, the sensation reverberating through Diego too. “You feel so good. So warm and thick, my little honeypot. How’s it feelin’ for you?”
“I’m close,” Diego managed to grunt. Hearts and flowers would have to wait because all Diego could think about was the white hot flame of desire licking up his spine and his painfully hard cock rubbing against Wylie’s sweaty navel.
Wylie’s eyes landed on Diego with an intensity he recognized.
He’d made the man come enough times to know his tells–that focused look, the concentrated slant of his brow, the shape of his mouth and the slight tremble of his lower lip.
Wylie fucked into him like a machine, and he said with gravity, “Jerk yourself, baby, I’m gonna blow. ”
Diego grabbed hold of his cock and stroked it furiously, the warmth and friction a perfect complement to the ball of intensity building inside him. Wylie slammed into him with purpose, again and again, and his cock grew thicker in size as he stuttered out his final thrusts.
“Fuuuuuuck,” Wylie groaned, long and loud, as he bathed Diego’s inner walls in an explosive warmth.
Diego’s prostate throbbed and his cock pulsed in his hand as his climax barreled through him with a seismic tremor that made him feel like he was levitating off the bed.
A cry of ecstasy was torn from his lungs as Wylie pulled out of him in one smooth motion and bowed down to clamp his mouth around the head of Diego’s dick, sucking the cum straight from the source.
Diego gripped both sides of Wylie’s head, trying to orient himself while feeling as if some sexual exorcism had just taken place.
He took a breath, and then another.
Wylie rose to a kneeling position above him, threw back his head, and swallowed Diego’s cum, working the substantial load down his throat with gusto.
Then, in his typical dramatic fashion, he howled, long and loud, while thumping his own chest. Diego watched him with amusement, hoping none of the neighbors could hear.
“Goddamn,” Wylie shouted when he’d finally finished his performance. Bright-eyed and manic he said, “Will you marry me?”
Diego grabbed a pillow and smashed it into his face, then wrestled him on the bed until he had the man pinned underneath him with his knees locked around both Wylie’s arms because he didn’t want him to go anywhere or think that his ridiculousness would be tolerated.
“Kiss me,” Wylie demanded, lifting his head to be serviced.
“You probably taste like cum and ass.”
“Uh huh,” Wylie confirmed, eyes twinkling. “Kiss me anyway.”
So, Diego did. It was filthy and wonderful and Diego never wanted it to end. He attempted to infuse all of his gratitude into that kiss, including all the words of appreciation that died on his lips before he had the courage to actually say them.
Eventually, they both had to break away and tend to their own needs.
Diego’s thighs and ass were streaked with drying cum, which Wylie noticed and commented on.
“A work of art,” he said, then slapped his ass again before heading to the bathroom to retrieve a warm wash rag along with drinks for them both.
“Did you like it?” Wylie asked afterward when they were both lying beside each other in bed, him with his vape, Diego with his intrusive thoughts.
Wylie asked him in a way that told him he wasn’t necessarily looking for praise but wanted to make sure Diego really had enjoyed it.
Diego elected not to be rude or snarky and just be honest.
“I did like it. A lot. Probably the best sex of my life.”
“Really?” Wylie asked with unabashed glee, and Diego worried about the size of that already bloated ego.
“I haven’t had a ton of sex, mind you,” Diego said.
“Would you do it again?” The edge of Wylie’s mouth tilted upward like he knew the answer already.
“Maybe, if there was a foot rub involved,” Diego conceded. He’d at least have to make the man work for it.
“I’ll rub every part of you, top to bottom,” Wylie promised, and Diego didn’t doubt the man’s devotion. “You’re staying the night.”
“I know. You told me that already.”
“Just making sure. Come on and get under the covers. Cuddle time.” He set his vape on the bedside table and pulled back the top sheet for Diego get underneath.
“Wait, are you trying to make me the little spoon?” Diego asked.
Wylie only looked at him expectantly and tilted his head at the space in front of him. Diego obliged, and Wylie reached back to turn off the lamp on the bedside table. He threw his arm around Diego and rubbed his chest in a soothing motion.
“You’re a good bottom,” Wylie whispered into his ear while holding on tightly, probably so that Diego couldn’t squirm away.
“Shut up,” Diego said, but he was smiling.
“My sweet little honeypot. If we lived together, we could do that every night,” Wylie said.
“Wylie Fox Sommers,” Diego said sternly, using his full name for effect. What an auspicious name for the man, as if his mother had known from the start exactly what she was getting.
“I know, too soon. But that did feel really incredible. You were so responsive. I never would have thought someone as tough as you could be so soft and squishy on the inside.”
Diego didn’t know if he meant that literally or figuratively, and he decided that it didn’t really matter.
One thing was for certain, Diego had never, ever revealed that side of himself to another person–too risky, too dangerous.
But it was becoming more and more regular with this man, and what might that mean for Diego when Wylie inevitably went away?
Or when he woke up one day and realized he was way too good for him?
Sex was fine and good, but a real, lasting relationship?
Rather than let those fears surface into an actual conversation, Diego simply said, “Thank you for showing me how good that could feel.”
“Thank you for trusting me,” Wylie said with sincerity. “And don’t try to sneak out of here tomorrow morning before I wake up. I got eggs and bacon to make you breakfast. Lots of protein.”
Diego snorted but inwardly warmed at his thoughtfulness. “I have to be to work at ten,” he reminded him.
“Perfect. After a performance like that, you deserve to sleep in.”
They settled into a comfortable silence.
Soon after, Diego heard Wylie breathing softly, his warm breath ghosting against his neck.
That was good. He needed some privacy to process everything that had just happened–the tender vulnerability Wylie had brought out in him, the complete trust he’d had in the other man to take care of him.
It was terrifying to be that dependent on another person, even if it was only sex, but it gave Diego a glimpse of who he might be if the walls came down.
Not an isolated, impenetrable fortress, but a human being who craved love and connection.
Not that this was love or anything. Too soon. Way too soon.
And he didn’t want to use Wylie as a crutch. The problem was, Diego couldn’t tell the difference. Were his feelings for Wylie normal and healthy, or was this the beginning of some toxic co-dependency where he used Wylie to chase some elusive high?
Behind him, the man in question stirred in his sleep, hugging Diego to him in a possessive way. Diego didn’t hate it. Shouldn’t that concern him?
One day at a time, Diego reminded himself.
But deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was standing at the edge of something massive, the shape of which he couldn’t quite comprehend, something that he might not be able to come back from.