Diego #3
“I’ve been thinking about it too,” Wylie said, voice low and husky. “How good you felt and how well you behaved.”
Wylie’s words had a way of getting right under Diego’s skin.
Probably because he’d always thought of himself as a bad kid, something about the way Wylie praised him hit on a very elemental level.
As if Diego could reshape his past and actually be a good person, or at least, one who obeyed orders.
He could feel it healing something inside of him.
“Do you like being good for me?” Wylie persisted.
“Yeah,” Diego rasped slowly, while a low heat ignited in his belly and his asshole fluttered with anticipation.
“Want me to get inside you again?” Wylie asked, sucking on his earlobe now and kissing along his neck.
“Yes,” Diego said, one word because there was no further embellishment needed. Diego could practically feel the slow, smug smile that stretched across Wylie’s lips, but the other man didn’t tease him for it.
“Turn around and let me get your front now,” Wylie demanded and Diego obeyed, pressing his back against Wylie’s chest so that he could reach around to soap him up.
The spray of water hit his shoulder as Wylie’s hands skated across his pecs, pausing to twist and tug at his nipples, making them stiff and ultra sensitive.
Wylie had mentioned him piercing them, and Diego wasn’t opposed to it, not if Wylie liked it.
But, and Diego had to remind himself, this was only temporary.
“I like your big, hard pecs,” Wylie said in a low, sultry voice while massaging the mounds of flesh. “Perfect for titty-fucking,” he added with that filthy mouth of his. “I could oil them up and fuck your tits, then spray your face with my cum.”
Diego tried to muster up some clever response but all he could do was push his ass back into Wylie’s groin and beg, silently, for more.
“You like that, huh?” Wylie murmured, giving him what his asked for in the slow slide of his hard dick along his ass crack. “You like it when I talk to dirty to you?”
“Yeah,” Diego answered, voice ragged with longing.
“Or do you like it when I tell you what to do?” Wylie asked, always trying to get at the root of things, chiseling away at Diego’s defenses until he was able to expose his tender, needy core.
“Both,” Diego admitted, somewhat reluctantly, for every piece that he gave was something that might eventually be taken away. But this was about self-discovery, he had to remind himself.
Wylie’s hands dipped lower, skating across Diego’s abs, and then he was scooping up his balls in one hand and gripping his stiff cock in the other.
He squeezed Diego’s sac while stroking, all the while kissing along his shoulder and murmuring things like, “Mmm, that’s nice.
So hard for me. Such a good boy…” Diego didn’t understand this power Wylie held over him, how it only took mere minutes for him to completely surrender to the other man’s touch.
His body had never been so cooperative, not even with himself.
Diego groaned deeply and pressed back against him, body to body, hitching his ass a little higher to catch the tip of Wylie’s dick against his hole.
He couldn’t make his desire any more obvious, and he felt only a little bit embarrassed by that.
Wylie had a way of breaking down his inhibitions and encouraging him to express himself in every way possible.
“Yeah, I’m becoming less mad at you,” Wylie said softly.
He anchored his mouth to Diego’s neck and sucked a bruise there, still jacking his cock at an aggravatingly slow pace.
Diego thrust lightly into his firm grip, rocking back on every stroke to feel Wylie’s erection pressed right up against the seam of his ass.
The sensation was driving him mad, too much and not enough.
“Thought you were going to suck my dick,” Diego practically slurred, trying not to sound desperate for it.
“But have you earned it?” Wylie purred in a voice of pure sex and desire.
“I did haul a shit-ton of boxes today,” Diego reasoned and hoped that was enough.
Wylie turned him around and guided him backward until there was enough room for him to kneel in the shower.
The other man didn’t waste any time with warmup, merely swallowed Diego’s dick straight down his throat like some kind of python.
“Jesus Christ,” Diego uttered, going up on his toes as Wylie took to deep-throating him in earnest. At this rate, he wasn’t going to last another sixty seconds.
Bracing one hand against the tile wall while the other gripped Wylie’s shoulder, Diego rocked his hips, driving his dick deep into the other man’s throat, aroused even more by just how much Wylie seemed to enjoy it.
Wide blue eyes stared up at him with worship, but just as Diego found his rhythm, Wylie pinched the base of his dick and stood.
“The fuck?” Diego asked, panting from holding his breath.
“Stew on that for a bit, sexy.” Wylie let go of him completely to reach for the soap. Diego watched him in a stupor as he washed himself, making a production of it. Diego’s balls ached and his dick throbbed. It was a mean thing to do, and Wylie definitely seemed to enjoy his torment.
“Should I?” Diego made a motion of grabbing his own cock.
“No, I’ll finish you off later, after you’ve had the chance to tell me what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours,” Wylie said.
“Asshole,” Diego said with grudging respect for the man’s methods.
“Think of it as motivation.”
Wylie was setting the tone by deciding when he could come, kind of like when he told Diego to wait for him. Diego wrestled with that for a moment, asking himself if he could really submit to Wylie’s demands, but he also knew the reward would be worth it.
The rest of the shower was pure agony, with Wylie rubbing his junk against him at every opportunity and “accidentally” brushing against his aching dick.
There was more kissing and some frotting, but nothing that came close to either of them getting off.
This was all part of the game, and Diego marveled at the other man’s restraint, lording his orgasms over him as incentive.
Even more astonishing was the fact that Diego liked it.
Once out of the shower, they dried off, and neither of them redressed, simply walked naked and still slightly damp into the bedroom.
At least he had a frame for his queen-sized bed and comfortable bedding.
That was a must-have after sleeping for seven years on a wafer-thin prison mattress.
Wylie pulled down the covers and climbed in like he owned the place.
Naked and stretched out like a lion at rest, he patted the bed beside him.
“Are you inviting me into my own bed?” Diego asked incredulously.
“Yes, get your fine ass over here so we can get back to the good stuff.”
Diego did as he was told, and Wylie turned to his side so that they were now facing each other.
He rested one hand on Diego’s waist, a point of connection for what promised to be a difficult conversation.
Diego laid his hand on top of Wylie’s and stared back at the man, patiently waiting for him to begin.
“So, the thing happened, and I got into law school,” Wylie said.
“Congratulations,” Diego said, belatedly, because he’d somehow forgotten that part of it. “That’s huge, Wy. I’m really, really proud of you.”
“Thank you. I’m excited to start. But more importantly, I wanted to remind you that the school is in Gainesville, which is only two hours away from here by car or bus.”
Diego knew what Wylie was hinting at. How could he explain his reservations, which were not only due to his own physical limitations but emotional ones too? “The rules of my probation are strict. I can’t leave the county without filling out paperwork and having my PO sign off on it.”
Wylie nodded but didn’t seem fazed by it. “I can come back on the weekends, as often as we like.”
He just wasn’t getting it. Diego had to make him understand.
“How is that going to work with your schoolwork and possibly a job?” Diego asked.
He knew that Wylie had saved up some money from working at the pit but not enough to forgo work entirely, not if he wanted to keep his student loans at a minimum.
“That’s for me to figure out,” Wylie said stubbornly.
“Okay, but let’s be real for a minute, since we’re figuring this out together,” Diego said, emphasizing that last word. “This is your chance to follow your dreams. Law school isn’t easy. Everyone says that it’s really demanding. Isn’t that right?”
Frowning, Wylie admitted, “Yes, that is what they say.”
“Then isn’t that what you should be focused on? Not some…” Ex-con, recovering addict with a dead-end job and no prospects to speak of.
“Some, what?” Wylie asked, eyebrows quirked with suspicion.
“Some man,” Diego finished.
“You’re not just some man, Diego. I really like you, possibly love you. I think I might already love you, in fact.”
Those damn blue eyes bore into him, mining him for the truth.
Wylie was brave to admit to what had been building between them.
Diego had been skirting around the idea for a while now, but to confront those feelings would be too much, too…
definitive. What could he do then? And why was Wylie making this so much harder?
Everything in Diego’s heart was telling him to be selfish, to take what Wylie was offering, but the risk was simply too great.
“If it’s meant to be, then it’ll all work out,” Diego said at last.
Wylie sat up fully and gestured wildly with both hands, putting fire behind his words.
“I just told you I loved you, and that’s your response?
Some vague-ass bullshit? If it’s meant to be, then we both have to work at it and fight for it.
What pisses me off is that you don’t even seem willing to try.
You just want to throw your hands up and–” He gave a helpless, exaggerated shrug.