Thank fuck!
Wyatt growled in triumph, practically jumping on top of him, pinning him to the bed and furiously fucking his fist. Donnelly gasped, mouth open and… waiting.
Oh-fucking-yes.
He maneuvered his hips upward, and the orgasm slammed into his back and out his dick like a fucking rocket, spewing messily all over Donnelly’s lips, beard, and neck. The sight of his captain's face covered in cum only unhinged him more as he chased the second wave of his climax, demanding more from his body and smearing his pulsating red tip over those slutty fucking lips.
“Fuck,” Wyatt breathed as he watched Donnelly suck in the tip of his messy cock, licking him clean.
His entire body trembled and he could barely hold himself above him. He felt a sweat break out on his brow as he watched Donnelly’s tongue slowly, lazily lick his sex like the tastiest lollipop imaginable.
“Fuucck…” he said again, this time dragging the underside of his cock over Donnelly’s bearded chin, intentionally making more of a mess for his captain to lick up. Which he did, all the way down to his balls.
Both of them were breathing hard, staring at one another, and Wyatt wanted to capture this moment—to remember every line of Donnelly’s face and the way he looked, soaked in his cum. It was the sexiest fucking thing he’d ever seen.
Wyatt dropped down and kissed him thoroughly. Tonguing his bliss into Donnelly’s wet lips and feeling their tongues clash. He clasped his hand over his sticky beard, digging in the moisture, wanting to somehow mark him—claim him like a fucking dog.
Donnelly moaned into his mouth, and after several long, glorious minutes of kissing, he finally broke away. Donnelly’s lips were red and bruised from his rough kisses, and he smiled down at him.
“So… what are you doin’ tomorrow?” Wyatt drawled huskily.
Donnelly blushed. He fuckingblushed. It was adorable.
He was tempted to kiss him again but resisted, waiting for his answer.
Donnelly paused, searching his face, “You’re serious?”
“Absolutely.”
“I just—” Donnelly stopped short, looking self-conscious.
“What?”
“I just had an existential breakdown in front of you, and you want to see me again?”
Wyatt smirked, leaned down to his neck, licking the cum off with the slow trace of his tongue. “Fuck yes.”
Donnelly sighed, and after a long minute finally pushed him away, slipping off the bed looking thoroughly ruined as he stumbled to the bathroom to clean up. When he returned, dark bags hung beneath his eyes and Wyatt knew that there was no way they could continue this conversation in the exhausted state he was in.
“I need sleep,” Donnelly gruffed out before climbing into bed and practically collapsing.
Wyatt went to rinse off in the bathroom next, and when he came back, Donnelly was asleep. He hesitated, wondering if he should leave, but he didn’t want to. Not yet. He climbed back into bed beside Donnelly and within minutes, fell asleep too.
The early morning sunlight streamed through the curtain windows, illuminating the handsome contours of Donnelly’s face. Wyatt, now fully dressed and sitting in the chair by the window sipping on hotel coffee, couldn’t take his eyes off him. His dark brown beard matched the thick hair on his chest, which Wyatt was mildly obsessed with, wanting to rub his face in it like a cat. But he didn’t want to wake him.
The smattering of rich chest hair traveled down his stomach and over his navel to the epitome of his masculinity, which was an impressive fucking dick in his opinion. He wondered if he’d ever get a chance to ride it, because Wyatt enjoyed it both ways—top and bottom.
He liked Donnelly’s body, liked even more how perfectly they seemed to fit together. He swallowed, imagining all the ways he’d like to taste, take, and ride this man… because last night wasn’t nearly enough, and a part of him feared it would never be enough. That he would always want more from this vulnerable, strong man.
But he could sense that Donnelly was guarded. Last night proved it. He refused to show his emotions, even when he was sobbing. Some men were like this, he understood that. And yet, he hadn’t expected Donnelly to be ashamed of his sensitivity. It was what made him such a good doctor.
“I never did ask you…” Donnelly’s groggy voice said, cutting through his thoughts. “Do you prefer Lawson or your first name?”
Wyatt’s eyes shot to his, and he saw that Donnelly’s dark blue eyes were focused on him, the tangle of white bedding hiding half his face. Donnelly had complimented him last night, but the truth was, he thought Donnelly was the sexier one.
“Honestly, I don’t mind it,” he admitted. “Friends call me Wyatt—you can call me Lawson.”
Donnelly perched his head on his hand, lying on his side, “Lawson it is, then.”
