CHAPTER 6
Jacket
"Told you," Dylan whispered when they finally broke apart. His voice was husky and low, sounding about as wrecked as Ashton felt; breath whispering over Ashton's neck, andoh—
Ashton shivered.
Dylan's forehead was an uncomfortably hard weight where he leaned heavily against the join of Ashton's shoulder. Right then, he welcomed it; the only solid thing in his rapidly unraveling world.
"I'm not," Ashton forced out, and — God. It felt like there wasn't enough air in the world to feed his lungs as he protested, as he pleaded, as he protected what last wisps of his carefully constructed self as he could muster. "Not like… you."
"Awesome at kissing? I know, I'm pretty great," Dylan taunted. And Ashton couldn't even argue; lips still tingling, traitorous hands still clutching onto Dylan tight; those words a lighthouse cutting through the excuses fogging Ashton's mind. "But hey — don't sell yourself short, fresa; you ain't that bad. In fact, it might be the one thing you don't suck at."
"Screw you," Ashton huffed, swallowing back a laugh threatening to bubble up, born more of madness than mirth.
"Kiss me like that again, and maybe we'll see."
Ashton shuddered, shoving down the surge of purewantDylan's words sent erupting along his skin.
"I'm not gay," he said, as much to himself, the half-truth ringing hollow and thin in his ears.
Semantics. You may not be gay, but what about bisexual? Pan? You might like chicks too, but can you really say you didn't just enjoy that? The way he's still pressed up so close against you? The way the curve of that smile makes you want to lick it from his mouth?
"Of course not," Dylan smirked.
His hand slid rough and slow down the length of Ashton's inner thigh, making him groan, making him want. Ashton grew hard under the attention. He knew he should say stop, should pull away — just as he knew he could do nothing of the sort. Just as he knew he shouldn't press into the warm curve of that hand, let Dylan explore the shape and size of him, the way he roused at the other man's command.
Knew it, knew it all, and ground himself into Dylan's palm anyway, breath hissing tight between clenched teeth.
"Your cock's just rock hard because of all the women dancing naked up here in the warm tropical breezes of mid-December," Dylan said into the meager space left between them. "Nothing like the bracing chill of winter to get a man going, is there?"
"I'm not into guys," Ashton repeated, even as he rocked shallow little thrusts into Dylan's hand, squeezing his eyes shut as Dylan rubbed at Ashton's cock through his jeans. "It doesn't matter how good it feels, or – or how good you look, or — "
"Or?" Dylan prompted, tugging wider the collar of Ashton's polo shirt and sucking —oh God— a white hot kiss into the revealed skin.
"Or… or what I want to do with you," Ashton whispered, whimpered,whinedas Dylan laid into him with teeth and tongue, before mouthing up the column of his —mmm— his neck…
"What do you want to do with me, Ashton?" Dylan purred between kisses, cupping Ashton through his pants. "You wanna choke me with this monster?Make me swallow every inch of this fat cock of yours, until I'm stuffed so full of you I can't remember my own name?"
Ashton's hips jerked, his body shuddering as he groaned in answer.
"What if I said I want you to fuck me? Bend me over and put me in my place?" Dylan asked him, pressing hard against Ashton’s cock. "What if I told you to pound my ass until I can't walk?"
Ashton let out a noise halfway between a growl and a plea, his hips rocking harder into Dylan's palm. Reaching for Dylan's jaw, he urged Dylan up; ducking his head to claim Dylan's mouth and grunting in frustration to find himself denied at the last second.
"I'd be so tight and hot and slick for you. You'd love it," Dylan teased as he bit up Ashton’s neck instead. "And I'll make all these gorgeous little noises for you. Just for you, Ashton. Only for you. And when you've filled me with your cum, d'you know what I'll do?"
"W-what?" Ashton asked breathlessly, mind filling with so many possibilities it left him unable to pick just one.
"I'll return the favor, Ashton," Dylan promised, and Ashton jerkedhardinto his hand at that. "I'll make you sit on my cock, ride me until your legs are like jelly and your throat is hoarse from howling."
Dylan's fingers had found the button of Ashton's jeans, popping it open with an ease that spoke of experience and the most wicked strain of promise. It was hotter than it had any right to be, up here where someone could see them, getting fondled and teased by a guy. Dylan saying all these things, that he — that he'd make Ashton take —
Oh God.
"Until you are just completely ruined for anyone else but me, as I make you come and come and come…"
The"Oh"escaped him before Ashton could swallow that down with the rest; picturing it, wondering how it would feel. Could he let Dylan do that to him? Did he want that?
