John reached for him, a soft curse under his breath.
“That doctor stole his hope. And sometimes, that’s all we’ve got,” his throat bunched. “I realized that if I had been Mateo’s doctor, I would’ve given him hope, given him something to fight for. That’s when I knew what I needed to do, and I haven’t looked back since.”
John pulled Wyatt’s hand from his lap. He hadn’t realized his fingers had balled into a tight fist until he gently pushed his fingers through, drawing them up to his lips and kissing him. “You’re a good man.”
Needing more than words, he leaned forward and captured his lips, tasting the wine off his lips. “So are you.”
John deepened the kiss, fingers grasping the back of his head, and they fell into one another. Wyatt was on top of him, straddling him on the wide couch, feeling their bodies brush and burn together.
He trembled.
Mateo had opened him to the possibility of something more during a time in his life when he didn’t have much. John gave him something else entirely—thespace to make mistakes and, in the same breath, be forgiven, and the courage to be more vulnerable, the permission and reassurance to stay the course even when everything looked bleak.
John, without saying it, gave him love.
Because that had to be love.
He grasped John’s bearded jaw, opening it to slide his tongue inside as his hips undulated into him, the couch dipping beneath their combined weight.
John arched into him, his cock straining against him from beneath the thin fabric of his sweatpants. Thank God for easy access, Wyatt thought wickedly, as he reached between their bodies and pulled John’s erection free, sliding his hand down the elongated, throbbing cock and stroking it root to stem. John’s face pinched with desire, lips parting and back arching once more off the couch.
“Fuck, you are so goddamned sexy,” Wyatt hissed, doing the same motion again and watching nearly the same reaction from John, but this time his dark gaze locked with his.
“So are you…” John whispered breathlessly.
His jaw clenched and he sat back, quickly tugging off his shirt and tossing it to the floor. John did the same thing with Wyatt’s help. Their naked chests touched, and Wyatt raked his fingers through his glorious chest hair and over his nipples. They hardened, and Wyatt grazed his lips over one, sucking it into his mouth and biting, drawing it upward to a pointed peak.
John let out a long breath, rubbing against him. “Fuck… your mouth feels so good, baby.”
Baby.
That word again. He used it in the alleyway behind the Hot Dog Palace, and they never talked about it. And they certainly never brought up ‘good boy’.
Wyatt’s cock hardened ruthlessly between his legs, and he yanked his belt off and opened the button and fly to his jeans, granting himself relief from the strain of the material over him.
He then went to work on the other nipple, doing the same thing, hand stroking between John’s legs. “Tell me what you want…” he demanded, pressing the pad of his thumb over John’s leaking cock.
John bucked wildly beneath him, shuddering.
“Tell me what you want, daddy…”
John gasped, staring right through him and into his soul.
“Suck my cock,” he rasped. “I wanna see me in your mouth.”
Trembling, Wyatt moved down his body and between his legs, licking his lips before drawing the tight, hard flesh into his mouth, tonguing the precum off his tip.
John watched him work his shaft with his hand and mouth, his dark gaze on his mouth bobbing up and down over him. He quickened the pace, heat spilling in his veins at the angry, almost hungry way John was looking at him.
“That’s it. Suck me down your throat, let me feel how much you want me.”
Wyatt smothered a wet moan over his cock, so hard he thought he would burst. Instead, he took all of John’s lengthy member down his throat, his muscles convulsing and tightening around him. John cursed, grabbing him with both hands at the back of the head and arching upward, spearing into his mouth.
Wyatt choked, gagged, and swallowed, his own cock spurting more precum, making a mess on John’s nice couch. He liked the mess. The chaos. The authority. The power. All of it.
“Uh…” John gasped, hips bucking beneath Wyatt, fucking his mouth. “Good… fucking… boy…!”
Wyatt felt his release coming and wanted more—wanted total fucking annihilation. He pulled back, eyes locked with his. “Fuck my face until you come, and when you're about to, sit up.”
