Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“My hotel is walking distance,” Wes said, gesturing down the street. “But how about we move the car into the hotel garage?”
We. Dustin kind of liked the sound of that. It was probably that Wes didn’t quite trust him not to bug out if he went back to the car alone, but it was nice, walking together. They passed a number of couples, men holding hands with each other, women pushing fancy strollers. Dustin had seen plenty of same-sex PDA between his friends and his brother, and it didn’t make him uncomfortable per se, but it always made him a bit...wistful. Like he knew that was never going to be him.
Part of him wanted to take Wes’s hand, just to see what he’d do, but the saner part of him, the more pragmatic part, jammed his hands deep in his pockets. “It’s chilly,” he said, reduced to commenting on the weather.
“Don’t worry.” Wes wiggled his eyebrows at Dustin. “I’ve got plans to warm you up.”
“That sounds promising.” There. See. He could flirt.
They reached the car, and Wes slipped into the passenger side. Right before Dustin pulled out, he reached over and patted his thigh. “Trust me, okay? We’re not going to do anything you don’t want to do. And whatever you do want is fine.”
“I don’t know what I want.” Dustin managed an uneasy laugh.
“Then we’ll find out together.” Wes’s hand remained a calm, steadying presence on Dustin’s leg as he gave directions to the hotel garage entrance.
Trying hard not to shake like a sixteen-year-old on prom night, he followed Wes into the hotel—it was a chain place, nicer than some, but not super fancy or boutique. He hadn’t thought ahead to getting his own room in the city. Admitting that he wasn’t going back to Annapolis for the night had made his stomach churn so he’d told himself on the drive in that he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. Out in the field, he always rolled with a plan, but he’d also made a name for himself improvising solutions, and in his personal life, a lot of times it was easier to deal with hurdles as they happened rather than invite new worries. God knew he had enough of those.
The hotel room was almost identical to the one near the Academy where he’d stayed last night—two beds with tastefully neutral floral spreads, beige carpeting, and large windows concealed by heavy curtains. A backpack lay on the edge of the far bed, and a plaid shirt was tossed over the back of the desk chair. The little signs that Wes had been in here earlier were vaguely reassuring.
To his surprise, Wes didn’t immediately come on to him, the way Dustin would have expected back in his one-nightstand days. He might be feeling totally out of his depth with Wes, but he knew how these things usually worked. However, Wes didn’t seem to be on any sort of agenda, heading over to sit next to his backpack and unlacing his boots.
“Sit,” he said to Dustin, pointing to the other bed. When Dustin hesitated, he added, gentler, “Told you, I’ve got a plan. Promise I’m not gonna jump you.”
“Not sure I’d object to that,” Dustin admitted, drawing in an uneven breath.
“Good.” Wes gave him a heated look. “We’ll get there. Now sit.”
Following the order was easy, and he imitated Wes, taking off his sneakers before he sat back on the bed, waiting to see what Wes had in mind. Wes flipped on the TV that was positioned in front of the two beds, scanning until he found one of those nature documentaries he always seemed to have on in the background when they chatted—
“You wanna pretend it’s Saturday night?” he asked, starting to catch on.
“It is Saturday night. And we’re both off.” Wes stretched out, back against the headboard. “And we’re usually good at finding things to occupy us.”
A part of Dustin was a bit disappointed that Wes wasn’t over here trying to kiss him like he’d expected him to, but another larger part of him was relieved. This was comfortable and familiar, and like always, he trusted Wes to drive the show.
“Yes we are.” He stayed sitting, but he could feel his muscles relaxing. “What’d you have in mind?”
“Close your eyes,” Wes ordered. “And tell me a fantasy or a story you haven’t before. Make it filthy enough and I’ll give you a reward.”
Oh, Wes had come to play. Dustin’s blood rushed south, cock pulsing. Wes knew exactly which words to choose to get him worked up. And he was right—especially with his eyes closed, this wasn’t that much different from voice chat, all the dozens of times he’d let Wes’s voice work its magic over him.
“I did have a fantasy the other night. After we got offline.”
“Yeah? Tell me.”