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“Breathe.” Wes stroked down his sides. “Stay with me.”
Not letting Dustin have much respite, Wes trailed his fingers to the other side of Dustin’s chest, repeating the sequence. “Ow. Hurts.”
“I know,” Wes soothed. “But you’re doing so good for me. So hot. Now don’t wiggle too much.”
Like Dustin needed the reminder. With the clips trapped against the couch, every moment was torture. But telling Wes that it hurt, moaning, acknowledging that pain, sinking into it, wallowing almost in the sharp edge to the pain, was among the most freeing sensations he’d ever had.
“Stay. Still.” Wes’s hair tickled against Dustin’s back a fraction of a second before his lips slid down his spine. And down, heading to the small of his back. The kisses were gentle, right up until Wes sucked hard right above his upturned ass. It was the sort of bite that Dustin craved—a flinch of sharp teeth followed by a soothing tongue and gentle suction. Wes followed with another, inching lower.
“Oh.” Dustin groaned out the word, lost to some dark pressure inside his head. Wes’s destination wasn’t exactly a mystery, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel embarrassed or even exposed—this was Wes’s ride with Dustin along for wherever the adventure led.
Even though he was expecting it, the first lick of Wes’s tongue down his crack made Dustin cry out and thrash, making the nipple clips pinch all over again. “Fuck. Wes.”
Already without his vision, his whole world seemed to tunnel in to just his aching chest and waiting ass, everything zeroing on the sensations that Wes was providing, especially the slow descent of his tongue. When he found Dustin’s rim, he teased with little flicks and flutters before pulling back to laugh softly. “You like?”
“Fuck. Yes.” Dustin had played with his ass plenty. It felt good, amazing even when done with patience and care, but nothing compared to someone else—a mouth—playing with him, all sensations magnified by the blindfold.
“You’re so sexy, laid out for me like this.” Wes’s shirt rubbed against the back of Dustin’s thighs. “Ass so damn eager. I’m going to eat you until you’re begging me to stop.”
Oh fuck. The threat alone was almost sexier than the action. “Please.”
“That’s right. Beg me.” Wes laughed wickedly before spreading Dustin open with his hands, resuming his torment. His tongue fluttered over Dustin’s rim, finding every hidden nerve ending, every spot that made Dustin gasp. And every time he gasped, his chest dragged against the couch, little sparks of pain that went straight to his throbbing cock.
“Oh God. Wes.” His hips rocked, no longer taking input from his brain, ass looking for more of Wes’s exquisite attention, cock searching for any relief it could find. It rubbed against the slick back of the couch, but it wasn’t nearly enough. “I want...”
“Yeah, baby? You want something?” Wes didn’t wait for an answer before diving back in. His tongue lapped and sucked, teeth deliberately scraping before retreating, then his tongue...pushed. Like pushed in. Like penetrated. It fucked its way into Dustin, and he lost his ever-loving mind over it, howling like he’d been speared, thrashing even though it made his bound wrists ache and his nipples scream.
“Fuck. My chest hurts. Wes. Hurts so much.” Dustin was babbling with each fresh wave of sensation now.
“I know. And you’re doing so good.” Wes pulled back and there was the snick of something opening. Trying to follow the sound, Dustin turned his head before remembering the blindfold.
“I wanna come.” His words came out a plaintive whine, which he fucking hated, but damn, he needed.
“You will. You can. Anytime.” Wes’s voice was low and soothing.
“Now,” Dustin demanded. “Please.”
“Now what?” Wes chuckled.
“Fuck me,” Dustin whispered. He’d groaned the words while getting off before, but not actually meant them until that instant. “Fuck me.”
“I will.” A slippery finger teased his spit-slick rim. “But not tonight.”
“I want it.” Dustin could almost cry at the denial. He wanted Wes that badly.
“I know.” Wes pushed one—no, two—fingers in, slow and steady. “But tonight is all about you. You being so good for me. So open. Letting me tie you up, blindfold you, rim you senseless. And now you’re going to come on my fingers.”
“Fuck. I’m not sure I can,” Dustin groaned even as his ass moved to meet Wes’s questing fingers, his cock rubbing against the couch, which wasn’t anywhere close to the relief he sought.
“Yes, you can,” Wes said firmly before biting at Dustin’s ass. His fingers curved, seeking Dustin’s prostate, lighting it up. “Just let go. Let it come to you.”
Easy for Wes to say. He wasn’t the one all trussed up like this, chest on fire, dick throbbing and leaking, more with each swipe of Wes’s talented fingers. “More. God. I need more.”
“Yeah? You think you could handle three?”
“I think I could handle your dick, damn it,” Dustin snapped, which he instantly regretted, because all the blood was already rushing to his head as it was.
