Page 114 of Wingmen

“Please, Viejo,” he gasped, “oh God, you gotta stop.”

“In a minute,” said Dustin. Elliot wondered if it was possible to detect via your asshole if someone was smirking. It definitely felt like he was.

Dustin kept going until Elliot was thrashing like a fish and yelling that he wasdefinitely, definitely, definitelygoing to come, and he wasreally serious this time Viejo, and that if Dustin didn’t stop he was never going to fuck him again, and oh God, it’s really coming, it’sreally really reallygoing to happen now – and just before it did Dustin pulled out his tongue and rolled off him and onto his back. He smacked Elliot on the ass, panting.

“Alright. Take a break.”

“Take abreak?” Elliot gasped.“I nearly just came you fucking dick.”

“Right, well was just the first one.”

“The firstwhat?” He sat up, chest heaving. “Oh God, how long is this gonna take? I have to eat! I have tosleep!”

Dustin bent an arm behind his head and pursed his lips at the ceiling. Then he squeezed Elliot’s thigh. “I guess that’s true.” He lifted his head to look at him. “Do you wanna finish up so we can eat?”

Elliot did not. What he actually wanted to do wasthisfor the rest of his life. He’d never leave this room. He’d have to quit hockey. Fine.

“Well…I mean…we did onlyjustget started…” he said.

Dustin’s face got a look that reminded Elliot of the purple devil emoji, and then he launched himself across the bed and they were at it again.

It went like that for fifty minutes. It was completely unfair – Dustin had like twenty pounds on him and Elliot was alreadydestroyedfrom the game. He didn’t stand a chance. He started to think Dustin reallywaspunishing him for whooping his team, because he kept pinning him down and bringing him to the brink over and over and over and then denying him every time, until Elliot was so straight upangryabout how horny he was that he was just verbally abusing him. Dustin seemed to think this was hilarious.

“What does that one mean?” he said, as another string of Spanish expletives fell out of Elliot’s mouth.

“It means fuck you cocksucker,” Elliot gasped, “you goat, motherfucker, you son of a big whore, I shit on everything, I shit on God, I shit in the skull of your mother.”

Dustin laughed his head off and put another finger in his asshole.

Eventually, Elliot lulled Dustin into a false sense of security by pretending to need a glass of water, and when Dustin turned his back to get off the bed and get it, he pounced. He managed to wrestle him onto his back on the pillows and then leaned on his chest with his forearm to hold him there while he felt around with the other hand on the nightstand for a condom. He found one, and the lube, and sat up, straddling Dustin.

“Put this on right now.”

Dustin put his hands behind his head, looking amused. “You do it, you little brat.”

Glaring, Elliot tore open the packet with his teeth and seized Dustin’s dick harder than he needed to and rolled it on. He grabbed the lube and squeezed it with both hands like a ketchup bottle, dumping an unholy amount of it all overDustin’s cock, then threw the bottle across the room and stood over him on his knees to get into position.

Dustin watched all of this with an infuriating little smile. “Look at you.”

“Fuck you,” said Elliot, and sat on his dick.

Dustin’s hands shot to Elliot’s thighs and squeezed as he pushed up into him. His back arched and his eyes closed, and Elliot was very pleased to see the smirk disappear.

“Fuuuck, Roddy,” he growled.

“You like that?”

“Yes–”

“¿A puñeta, de verdad?”

Dustin grit his teeth. “What does that one mean?”

“Means if you’re lucky, maybe I’ll make you come.”

He started to move.

Dustin swore and dug his fingers in, watching him. His face was pure lust, and the thing that turned Elliot on even more than lust: pride. Dustin watched him not like he couldn’t believe Elliot was this person, but like he couldn’t believe he got to bewiththis person. Sometimes Elliot couldn’t believe it either.