John stiffened, uncomfortable with the idea of—what? Asking for help? This had been his problem the last six months, and it took the people around him to remind him he wasn’t supposed to do everything on his own.
“Okay,” he released a hard breath. “Samuels isn’t going to be thrilled, possibly sharing shift time with Walsh.”
Wyatt frowned, “Did you catch what he said earlier about no one special back home?”
John stood and nodded. “You think he was lying?”
“If I had a you back home that I was in love with and couldn’t have—I would have to leave.”
Goosebumps erupted over his arms and he swallowed, envious of how easy it was for Wyatt to be so vulnerable with his feelings, and how the word “love” continued to roll off his tongue in reference to him.
Wyatt shook his head, “I feel bad for him. Something must have happened that made him move all the way across the country to avoid his, Dr. Donnelly.”
He blushed, “You think so?”
Wyatt’s pale blue eyes locked with his. “I know so.”
They walked back inside the house and Wyatt set their glasses down, slipped his hand into John’s, and led him to the bedroom. John was oddly nervous as Wyatt flipped on the bedside lamp and began to pull off his sweater and the shirts beneath, revealing his beautiful chest, all soft skin and hard muscles.
“I want that ride, Dr. Donnelly,” Wyatt husked in that seductive voice, and John released the breath in his chest.
Fuck yes.
Wyatt stood before him, slipping off his buckle, eyes heated and low, chest panting already with desire as he stripped before him.
“Do anything you want to do to me,” Wyatt said almost pleadingly. “I fuckin’ need it, daddy.”
John nearly groaned, realizing what he was asking. He was asking for the command—the authority of Dr. Donnelly that was steady and sure, confident and—him.
He went to him, hand collaring the base of his throat and tilting him back, watching the excitement blaze up at him, hungry and needy.
Wyatt wanted to be dominated, and John wanted that, too.
“Undress me,” John ordered coolly.
Wyatt’s breath exhaled from his nostrils, and he complied instantly, hands trembling as he did so, slipping under his sweater, dragging it off his body and revealing his naked chest as he started to reach for him. He let his cowboy explore his body, trailing grasping hands over his shoulders, pecs, and downward to his jeans, unbuttoning him quickly with an eagerness that was felt all the way down to his toes, filling his cock.
He slipped off his shoes, helping Wyatt with his jeans and briefs, and stood naked before him, his cowboy resting on his knees, hands cupping the backs of his legs and slowly moving upward.
John shook his head, knowing how much Wyatt loved to suck his dick, but not tonight—tonight he was in charge. He moaned at John’s denial and defiantly grazed his face against his thickening cock, hands traveling upward to palm his ass. John nearly choked out a gasp at the sight of Wyatt’s needy expression as he bypassed his dick, clearly wanting it but reluctantly getting to his feet, pouting.
He reached for his throat again, liking the feel of his leaping pulse beneath his grasp as he glared at him. “Do that again, but don’t open your mouth.”
Wyatt let out a rush of air and instantly dropped to his knees, brushing and burying his face against John’s cock and the hair nestled around it. He’d never seen something so dirty—so sexy. His cock was straining and beginning to leak as Wyatt desperately fought the urge to open his mouth, his lips tightening as he nuzzled and pushed John’s cock over his chin and lips, pressing hard and urgent kisses beneath his shaft, against his balls, into the hair. Wyatt continued to push and press. The sensation he was creating was both arousing and frantic, and he liked watching him squirm with desire.
John lifted his leg onto the bed, widening his stance, and Wyatt didn’t wait to be told what to do as he pushed his face under him, hands opening his cheeks and kissing his tight entrance.
“Use your tongue,” John rasped.
Wyatt moaned and did, burying his face into his ass, tongue spearing hotly into his hole, and he rewarded him with a deep groan. Wyatt instantly reached for his jeans, unbuttoning them and grabbing the bulge that was tenting against the denim.
“Both hands on me, baby,” John ordered, and Wyatt didn’t protest, hands on his cheeks, widening him again, tongue lapping and thrusting.
John’s cock thickened between his legs, slapping against his thigh as he began to rock his hips over Wyatt’s tongue. This would’ve been easier on the bed, but he didn’t want to lose his position of power. He wanted Wyatt to be the one on his knees or back.
John reached behind him, grasping Wyatt by the back of his head, and arched into his face, shoving him deeper into his ass. The tantalizing sounds of wet sucking and groans filled the air as John felt nothing but his cowboy’s tongue and mouth devouring his entrance.
“Fuck, you do that so fucking good, baby.”
