Page 115 of Wingmen

He braced a hand on Dustin’s chest, feeling him so deep it was like they were made to fit that way, and a strange, sharp sadness hit him. He wondered what it might have been like if he was ten years older, or Dustin was ten years younger, and they had played on the same team. What they could have pulled off on the ice.

Dustin covered Elliott’s hand with his, and Elliot picked it up and kissed his palm, sloppy and sideways. He let Dustin push his thumb between his lips and sucked it all the way in, staring him down as he wrapped his tongue around it. He could’veneverdone that six months ago. Withanyone.It wascrazy.

Dustin growled and Elliot pulled his thumb out andsmashed his lips against Dustin’s palm again. “Tell me you like it.”

“I fucking love it. I love–” Dustin swallowed. “I love it.”

Elliot felt his breath catch. Was that the same thing he’d been almost saying for weeks? That kept getting stuck on the way out? Because he didn’t want to say it down the phone? Could he say it now? Maybe. He mustered up the same courage he’d used to send Dustin all those dick pics and managed, “Me too. I love it too.”

Dustin’s eyes sparked, and he smiled, and laced their hands so Elliot had something to brace on. Elliot had to close his eyes because he was getting close, and Dustin smiling at him was too much.

“Look at me,” said Dustin, so low and rough and quiet that it had the effect of immediately snapping them back open. Their eyes locked and Elliot felt another wave that put him dangerously close to the edge.

“Fuck– I’m so close,” he whispered.

“Me too.”

“I – I love it.”Dammit, no that wasn’t it.

Dustin smiled again. “Me too.”

He pulled Dustin’s hand to his cock. Because if he couldn’tsaythe thing out loud he could at leastcomewhile it was in the room with them.

“Now?” said Dustin. Elliot nodded, and he began to stroke him. “Fuck yes, kid, come for me.”

Elliot moaned, squeezing Dustin’s other hand in his as his head tipped back. “Are you coming with me?”

“Yes. Yeah, I’m right there–”

“Are you sure?”

“Jesus, yes, you’re gonna make me come, don’t fucking worry. You’re doing so fucking good, Roddy.”

“Ay– Shit–”

“Let me see you do it. Show me how good you do it.”

“I am. Fuck. Oh fuck, I am, I’m coming–”

He shouted, and looked down. He knew Dustin wanted to see the literal geyserthat was about to come out of him and soak probably everything in the room – but he just wanted to watch Dustin’s face.

To his surprise, when he looked at Dustin, Dustin was looking right back. Not at the mess he was making. At him.

When he got his shit together afterward enough to make words, they wouldn’t come out in English. He was shaking, and Dustin pulled him down by the back of the neck and held him with his forehead against his shoulder until he stopped. When Elliot sat up, he looked down at his chest and stomach and the sheets, and Dustin’s chest and stomach and…forearm and shoulder and eyebrow and…hair?And the pillows?And thewall?

Jesus, it waseverywhere.

They staggered to the shower, where Elliot sat on the floor because he was too exhausted to stand up. Dustin sat on his haunches and washed him, then heaved him onto his feet and wrapped him in a towel and steered him back to the bed. They lay with Dustin propped against the headboard and Elliot’s head in his lap. His fingers slid into Elliot’s damp hair, and Elliot sighed and closed his eyes and felt like he could finally breathe.

“You were right,” he mumbled. “It was worth waiting.”

Dustin chuckled and smoothed his cheek with his thumb.

“You didn’t even watch it come out, though,” Elliot yawned. “I thought that was the whole point.”

“I think you know that wasn’t the point,” said Dustin.

The thing he’d almost said roared up inside Elliot again. He had a go at saying it, but disappointingly it came out as, “I loved it,” again.