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“I’ve never even talked about it with anyone, not really. I had a woman once ask me my fantasies, but then she shared first, and it was really clear that she wanted to be the one tied up and overpowered. And why doesn’t that work for me—pretty, sweet woman wants to let me do whatever I want to her, and I’m the one needing to think about the feel of rope to get off with her?”
Wes hated the anguish in Dustin’s voice. “You like what you like. Nothing to be ashamed of. And no one has to know what you like behind closed doors. It’s between you and the person you’re with.” A nicer guy than Wes would probably encourage Dustin to try baby-steps in the kink pool, visit a leather bar or try another hookup, considering that he wasn’t supposed to be doing anything with Wes. But Wes couldn’t bring himself to say anything like that. He wanted to be the one showing Dustin what he liked, exploring together, as impossible as that dream was.
“And why does it have to feel so good talking about these things with you?” Dustin rubbed the back of his neck. “Fuck. Look at me unloading when you’ve got so much on your plate—”
“Don’t be sorry,” Wes said quickly. “I like talking to you. Kinks. Family stuff. Whatever. And I needed my mind off Sam for a bit, so actually this helped.”
“I wish...” Dustin trailed off, and Wes had a feeling what he was going to say. I wish I was there. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part, because he really wanted Dustin here with him, squeezed into this too-small bed, not getting it on, just talking after a long day. Holding him, letting Dustin’s bulk warm him all the way through. And his family would love Dustin—well, apart from the whole shitload of trouble even their friendship could cause, let alone anything else. But his mom had waited so long for him to meet a guy like Dustin. Why did it have to be you? his brain howled.
“I wish too,” Wes said, voice rough. “I wish so much.”
Chapter Thirteen
I wish things were different. Dustin fingered his phone for the zillionth time that day. Wes was on his way back to California, and the sane thing would have been to end last night’s phone call on the melancholy note of acknowledging how much they both wished things weren’t like this. But no, he’d talked to him for another hour about stupid stuff, just wanting to keep Wes on the phone. And instead of ending with a reminder that they had to stop these messages, he’d told Wes to message him when he was back safe.
“What’s with you?” Dylan bumped Dustin’s shoulder as he passed him his beer. They were out for his and Apollo’s bachelor party, which was really just an excuse for beer and arcade games.
“Shouldn’t there be strippers or something?” he grumbled, ignoring the question. “I feel like I’m falling down on the best man duties here.”
“Ha.” Dylan snorted. “We didn’t want you feeling uncomfortable.”
“And I’m too old for a bar crawl,” Apollo added, wrapping his arms around Dylan. The two of them were so in love it almost hurt to look at them.
Didn’t want you feeling uncomfortable. This, like dozens of other chances over the years, would be the perfect moment to just casually put it out there that male strippers weren’t a turn-off for him, but Dustin’s lips refused to work. Besides, he would be not the most comfortable at the Hillcrest gay bars, for a whole host of reasons that he refused to take out and examine right then.
“Yeah. Wouldn’t want to fend the dancers off you all night.” Isaiah, who had been Dylan’s roommate for a short time, gave him a speculative look. He was an attractive guy, one Dustin had once been guilty of looking a little too long at, and who always seemed to see far more than Dustin wanted him to.
“This is more fun.” Maddox came over to the table, his boyfriend, Ben in tow. God, when had everyone in Dustin’s social circle gone and coupled up? “We got more quarters.”
Maddox set a little bucket of coins in the center of the table. The arcade-and-cocktail bar had an airplane-hanger vibe, with high, open ceilings, and long rows of games. They’d grabbed the tables in the center of the room for their group, which was pretty damn big—Apollo’s friends from the base, Dylan’s work friends and friends from the rec league soccer team he was on. It was only a taste of how crowded the wedding would be in a few weeks.
Dustin wasn’t sure when he’d gone from the guy who could make any gathering a party to the guy who really just wanted this over with, the guy who always managed to feel like the third wheel now that everyone other than him seemed to have a long-term partner of some kind. And the guy who felt more at home with his online chat-buddy than with guys he’d known for years. His very off-limits chat buddy. A few of Apollo’s friends might be enlisted men, but they weren’t under Apollo or Dustin’s direct command—no way would the top brass look the other way at his friendship with Wes.
