CHAPTER 19
WYLIE
Diego was acting weird, and by “weird,” Wylie meant that Diego was calling him all the time.
Not just texting, but calling, as if they were already in a relationship, as if they were boyfriends.
Or maybe Diego was just conducting regular mental health checks.
Wylie honestly didn’t know if he should be flattered or offended, but as his mother always told him, you don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
It started a couple days after Diego had swooped in on his rescue mission, which was how Wylie was referring to it in his mind. He’d been at absolute rock bottom, pitiful and weak, but Diego hadn’t been scared off by it. Didn’t seem that way, what with him calling all the time.
Sometimes, when Diego got really into the details of his day, Wylie would zone out and just listen to the cadence of the other man’s deep, sonorous voice, a kind of quiet lulling sound that soothed his soul.
He’d lie there in bed with a silly smile on his face and watch Diego pontificate over Facetime.
Occasionally, Diego caught him at it and called him out.
“What did I just say?” Diego asked him during a rather lengthy account of his workout session that day.
“Arms day, big weight, sexy muscles, hubba hubba,” Wylie summarized, and Diego’s resulting laugh told him that he’d passed the test.
“Have you figured out what’s causing that smell yet?” Diego asked regarding the persistent funk that plagued his apartment.
“No, I’ve asked the neighbors about it too, and no one knows,” Wylie said.
“Maybe you should think about living somewhere else next year. There are some nice two-bedrooms off of University Avenue that are less expensive than where you’re at. Fenced-in too, in case you want a dog,” Diego said.
Wylie had mentioned getting a dog exactly once, more as a thought experiment than an actual plan, and he was surprised Diego had remembered it. “Have you been looking at places?” Wylie asked, deliberately deciding not to read into it.
“Yeah. I don’t think that apartment is the right spot for you,” Diego said.
“You’re probably right,” Wylie agreed, thinking it was sweet that Diego was looking out for him. “You hear about that storm?” he asked, referring to the weather system brewing off the coast of Africa.
“Yeah, no name for it yet.”
“They say it might head toward the Gulf.”
“Too early to tell. But I’m keeping an eye on it, so don’t worry. Stay focused on school.”
Hurricane season always brought with it some anxiety, especially with so many of his loved ones living in a trailer park so close to the beach.
But just knowing Diego was monitoring the storm as well made him feel better.
“All right. I better let you go to bed. But before I go, can I get proof of that workout?”
Diego grinned, a little bit bashful. “What do you want me to do, take my shirt off?”
“God, yes,” Wylie practically begged, sitting up in bed, suddenly invigorated by the prospect. “I will Venmo you $100 dollars for a full frontal.”
“Save your money,” Diego said and stood up to strip the shirt from his back, revealing his sculpted eight pack and big, juicy pecs, the cum gutters that disappeared into the waistband of his sweats.
Diego did a slow turn, showing off his shoulders and that sexy tramp stamp.
Damn, the man was mouthwatering, especially with that backwards ball cap and shy grin.
Boy next door meets WrestleMania, Wylie was instantly hard.
Huge, raging boner. Wylie wanted to ruin the man so badly.
He grabbed the t-shirt he’d stolen from when Diego had visited and put it to his nose, inhaling deeply.
“Is that my shirt?” Diego asked with incredulity, leaning toward the camera on his phone to get a better look.
“Yeah,” Wylie said and wrapped the fabric around his neck as his other hand reached for his junk.
“Are you grabbing your dick right now?” Diego asked, practically clutching his pearls.
“Maybe,” Wylie said innocently.
“Let me see it,” Diego said in a low, strained voice. Wylie angled the camera lower so that Diego could get a good look. “Fuuuuck,” he said.
“Miss me?” Wylie asked, squeezing his prick so that a little of the juice dribbled out.
“Yes.” Diego dropped down onto his bed, mouth partway open, staring at Wylie with ravenous eyes.
“Remember the first time you sucked me off?” Wylie reminisced, thinking about how sexy Diego looked down on his knees, loving every second of having a dick lodged deep in his throat. “God, you were so good.”
“It had been awhile,” Diego said.
“Didn’t matter. You’re a natural. Born to bottom, born to give premium head, born to drive me absolutely insane.”
Diego sucked in a sharp breath, and Wylie watched him for another moment, clocking his reaction before deciding to go for it. “Take off the rest of your clothes and get back in bed. But leave the hat on.”
The phone dropped onto the matress and five seconds later, Diego was back in front of him on screen, naked, wearing only his backwards ball cap and sucking on his lower lip in anticipation.
“Let me see yours,” Wylie said and the camera angled down, to where Diego’s sturdy cock stood straight as a flag pole. Diego grabbed onto it but didn’t stroke. “Good boy. You want it dry?”
“Yeah,” Diego said, licking his full lips and staring blankly back at Wylie, already getting into the right headspace for obeying his commands.
“You want me to lead?” Wylie asked because he didn’t want to make any assumptions.
“Please?” Diego answered.
Wylie felt a surge of power then, one that was unique to their dynamic, and he told Diego exactly how many strokes he was allowed to give himself. “I’m going to count them out for you. Keep time with me,” he said.
Diego nodded and started pumping his cock, matching his strokes to the cadence of Wylie’s voice. His eyes were focused intently on Wylie during the first round but by the second, they started to flutter and eventually close as Diego leaned back against his pillows, surrendering control.
“Now stop,” Wylie commanded, now at the end of their third round.
Diego raised his head, pouting adorably, and gave him the sad eyes. “Wy, come on,” he said pitifully, squirming on the bed because he wasn’t allowed to stroke himself anymore and he wanted—needed—the friction.
If Wylie could be granted one single wish, it would be to teleport to Diego’s bedroom so he could finish him off himself, preferably with his mouth around that gorgeous cock, but he had to content himself with orchestrating Diego’s every move.
“It’s like a workout, babe, you gotta see how many sets you can do. Consider this dick day.”
Diego huffed out an exasperated sigh. “Sometimes I hate the way your mind works,” he grumbled.
“I know, I’m the worst. Can you go again without coming?”
“I mean, if I have to.”
“You have to. Now, show me.”
They started again. Diego’s chest was flushed and his abs clenched from the tension. Those pecs were distracting as hell and Wylie kept glancing up from his dick to see them jump. The vein in Diego’s neck was popping and his jaw was clenched, revealing just how much of an effort this was for him.
“Stop,” Wylie said.
“Wylie Fox Sommers,” Diego groaned.
“So much self-control. So disciplined. So good at following directions. I know it’s hard, baby, but you’re almost there,” Wylie crooned. “Take a deep breath now and relax you shoulders. This time, I’ll let you come.”
“Will you?” Diego grumbled.
“I will, I promise.” Diego’s nostrils flared and he searched Wylie’s face for the truth. “Have I ever lied to you?” Wylie asked.
“No,” the man answered with a hint of petulance.
“Then trust me. Start again, slow.”
Diego did as he was told, long, slow pumps from root to tip using only the slickness of his precum. Wylie counted them out, accidentally thrusting his own hips on instinct. He had to squeeze his dick at the base so that he didn’t accidentally combust in the middle of the show.
When Wylie picked up the pace, Diego did too, matching the rhythm of his voice stroke for stroke.
Wylie wanted to praise him, but he didn’t want to break their stride or his promise, so he kept counting, higher and higher until at last, Diego froze, shoulders hunched, muscles tight, having a private moment to himself as his cock suddenly pulsed and shot long ropes of cum onto his chest and abs.
A small, helpless moan slipped out of Diego’s mouth, and Wylie savored it, as he did all his lover’s sounds, locking them away in his spank bank to be used for later.
“That’s it,” Wylie said when Diego started to come down again, lying back against his pillows with a glazed look in his eyes.
He hadn’t even bothered to wipe himself down, his skin still splattered with cum and glistening with sweat.
“That was so good, baby. You did exactly what I told you to do, and I loved watching you. Wish I was there to lick you clean. Where’s your water? ”
Diego tossed his hat somewhere across the room and located his discarded shirt to wipe himself down, then reached for the glass of water by his bedside and drank the whole thing in one go. By then it was nearing two in the morning, and Diego had to be up soon for an early shift.
“Did you come?” Diego asked as an afterthought.
“Later. Lean the phone against my pillow so I can watch you fall asleep.”
“Alright,” Diego said, always so agreeable after sex. Not bothering to redress, he fixed the phone on Wylie’s side of the bed and pulled the sheet up to his waist. As soon as his head hit the pillow, his sleepy eyes drooped and he blinked back at him slowly.
“I really needed that,” Diego said.
“Yeah, me too.”
“I didn’t take a shower,” he murmured, probably thinking about the cum drying on his stomach.
“That’s okay, you can keep it as a reminder.”
That earned him a small smile. “Talk tomorrow?” Diego asked, as he always did right before they ended the call, as if making sure it was okay for him to keep calling.
“I’ll be waiting,” Wylie assured him.