Ian and Wes Pt. 01

"Oh Wes," I uttered the words quietly, but I bit my lip to stop myself from saying anything more. I definitely didn't want to bring attention to what I was doing in my room. I'm a dirty talk guy, through and through-- hearing it, saying it, sign me up for all of it. But I just couldn't risk it with Mom and Sarah home. Those nights I had the house to myself though... Lets just say anyone who overheard would probably never look at me the same way again.

My teeth drove into my lower lip as my hand picked up speed around my cock. My other hand reached down to fondle my nuts. I tickled my perineum and considered ringing around my rosy, but ultimately decided now was not the time.

Don't get me wrong, I love the feeling of something sinking into my ass, but I was not prepped at the moment. Plus, the mental picture of Wes licking my shaft up and down was getting me close already.

I had to cover my mouth with my arm as the jizz started to shoot from the tip of my dick. The aftershocks hit me as I worked to catch my breath. Panting hard, I threw my ruined shirt off my back and into the laundry basket across the room.

Whew. That one came up on me quick.

I should be embarrassed to admit this, but I laughed aloud at my own pun.

I cleaned up in the shower and was putting the finishing touches on my hair when I heard my mom's voice. Well, I thought it was hers, but it sounded extremely fake and way too nice. "Ian, honey! Your friend is here!"

Oh god, she's so embarrassing.

I took one last look at my tight baby blue t-shirt and light wash jeans. Casual, but still showing some sex appeal.

I hope.

I rushed over to the entryway, eager to save Wes from whatever incoherent babbling was coming from my mother and sister.

He caught my eye as I rounded the corner and smiled warmly at me.

I quickly realized that Wes Houston must be devoid of any sense of mercy. A skin tight black tank top was painted on the curves and ridges of his huge pecs and visible abs. Black cargo pants completed his spot-on impression of a solider or assassin. His hair was trimmed close on the sides and left longer and perfectly messy on top. The dark ever-present 5 o'clock shadow enhanced the shape of his chisled jaw and strong chin. He looked like a drill sergeant ready to whip my ass into shape.

Yes please!

I bit my lip to hold in the groan building in my chest. I hoped that my mom and Sarah's sad excuse for banter gave me enough time to really drink in the sight of the young stud before me. Hopefully unnoticed.

My eyes lifted to Wes's face once again. He cocked an eyebrow in what appeared to be amusement.

Yeah, he definitely noticed.

I cleared my throat, "Um, ok, well we've got to get going to work on the project. Um I'm not sure when I'll be back but uh, I'll be in touch."

Sarah snorted at my unease. My mom gave me a hug (as if this couldn't get any more embarrassing). She whispered softly in my ear, "Remember what I said. Be careful..." And she pulled away, a tight smile on her lips, eyes switching quickly between Wes and I.

It wasn't until I buckled my seatbelt in the Jeep that I let out the breath I'd been holding.

Wes started to back out of the driveway, "You know, you can always try relaxing."

I blinked at him for a second then shot back, "Huh. Yeah. Why didn't I think of that?"

He chuckled, leaning into his seat casually. He was the picture of cool. One hand on the wheel, the other on his meaty thigh, legs spread. His elbow rested on the open window, breeze blowing through his hair sending his masculine scent straight to my face. Which sent a ripple straight to my dick.

"Grocery store first, then back to my place for assembly. Sound good?"

I nodded in response, remembering that we had a project to work on. This outing was for school. Its not like it was a date.

My dick throbbed again at the mere suggestion of a date with the hunk next to me.

As we walked up to the store, Wes grabbed a shopping cart. He gestured to me then to the baby seat of the cart, "So you want to walk, or do you wanna get in the basket?"

Without thinking, I threw a playful right hook and socked him gently in the arm.

He wore a shit-eating grin and rubbed his bicep (as if I could wound him even if I tried). "Ooh fiesty!"

I rolled my eyes at him and paced past him into the store.

"What do you think about a watermelon for the base? Like the cell membrane and cytoplasm and stuff? Then we just cut a section out and add the other stuff?" I offered, actually trying to do well on this assignment.

"Yeah definitely." He lifted a huge melon from the display box with no effort at all. He caught me oogling and flexed. My face felt hot from the blushing. He gave me a knowing smile.

He lifted a big bag oranges, "Segments could be the mitochondria?"

I smiled broadly in agreement. He saw the humor in my eye and we both exclaimed in unison, "The powerhouse of the cell!!" doing our best impression of Mrs. Smith.

"You know, I think that's the only analogy that exists for the mitochondria. Every school I've been to, it's always the same thing."

We placed a few more items in the cart while I kept the conversation going, "Have you been to a lot of different schools then?"

He shrugged, "A few. This is my fourth year at a new high school." He chuckled, "Well, that's not right. This is a repeat, of course."

The deep timbre of his laughter almost broke through my concern. Almost. "Yeah I guess, but that's a lot of moving. That's gotta be tough, always having to make new friends."

Wes swatted my concerns away, "Not exactly. High schools are surprisingly consistent. If you're good enough at football, you never have to worry about friends." He had a point there, that's for sure. "Besides," Wes continued, "I doubt I'd have much trouble attracting people anyway."

I laughed, "Well aren't you mighty full of yourself?"

He winked at me, "When you're good, you're good."

I bit my lip and continued on to the dessert and baking aisle. I held up a jar of sprinkles, "Ribosomes?"

"Sure." He looked just past me, "Grab a can of whipped cream too."

I looked back at him, confused, "What for?"

Wes's eyes darkened, "That's not for the project. That's just for fun."

I gulped and reached for the can. Suddenly the innocent task of grabbing a can of Reddi Whip felt like I was reaching for a giant obscene dildo with a flashing neon sign over my head.

Wes continued to stare at me, aware of how nervous he was making me. He went further, "It's just cream, man. I'm sure you can handle it."

I couldn't help it, I stared into his eyes, pleading silently for him to stop teasing me. He smirked and folded his arms over his bulky chest, not giving me an inch of mercy.

"Whatever," I muttered and threw the can into the basket. My face was as red as a tomato.

Wes slapped me on the back and guided me over to the checkout. His large hand drifted down and rested for a few moments on my lower back before he pulled away. My skin felt tingly where his hand had been.

Once I got a taste of the contact, I only craved more.

"Hey, let m--" I tried to insist on paying half the total, but a sharp look from Wes stopped me before I could even get all the words out. "Right, I forgot you're swimming in that sweet department store money," I joked, recalling the first time I saw him since his return to town.

"I'll have you know that was a decent summer job. I'll take commissions from lonely housewife purchases all day long."

"I'm sure they'd let you take more than that from them," I snorted.

He raised an eyebrow, "Jealous?" My shocked look must've been pretty good because Wes's deep belly laugh rang out through most of the store.

We chatted easily during the ride back to his place. He lived a few doors down from Kevin, so I was very familiar with the neighborhood. But it all felt very new and exciting, travelling through the area with Wes. It was like I was seeing everything for the first time.

His house was positively unremarkable. There were dozens of others like it on this street alone. To me, it was sacred ground. This is where the man of my dreams laid his head.

"My parents will be gone until late tonight. We've got the place to ourselves," he informed me.

It was all I could do to keep my hands from shaking as I removed myself from the Jeep. Wes carried our purchases into the house and plopped them down onto a large dining table.

"Well let's get to work," I said simply, removing the items from their bags.

Wes grabbed a large chef's knife from the kitchen and cut a section out of our watermelon. His knife may have been a little dull because he made a show of putting some muscle in sawing through the melon. His muscles rippled. Or he may have been teasing me again.

Either way, my dick didn't care to know the difference. It was pretty hot watching him maneuver the unwieldy melon.

Some juice dripped onto him. He held my gaze as his licked the liquid from the back of his hand.

I gulped, my mouth suddenly very dry. A sure smirk rested on his lips as he got me a glass of water.

We worked diligently on the project for the next hour or two. There were a few very exciting moments of legs grazing against each other under the table, or fingers touching briefly while we grabbed for something. But Wes wasn't acknowledging it.

So I sure as hell wasn't acknowledging it either.

Sexual fantasies aside, I was having a lot fun. Wes had a lot of great stories from his time living in different places. He was charismatic as hell. And for god knows what reason, he was interested in hearing about me just as much. We talked about my family, my friends, lots of different stuff.

My nerves were on high alert though. To my inexperienced body, I'd basically been engaged in foreplay for the entire afternoon.

My heart was racing and my balls were blue.

"Ian," Wes said. A shiver raced up and down my spine. Please keep saying my name.

He smiled at me, "I think we're finished." He gave his best game show model impression by sticking his arms out wide, gesturing to all sides of our watermelon "cell." His eyes were alight with sincere boyish joy. It was infectious. I actually applauded.

I have to admit, we did good work. We wouldn't be getting the Nobel Prize or anything, let's be honest. But it was really nice and neat. We added meticulous labels to all the different parts and every structure we had learned about was represented in the model.

And I was extra proud of it because it was a product of Wes and I together.

Yes, I've got it bad. I know. I'm well aware.

"So do you wanna stay for dinner? We could... Hang out...for a while longer?" Wes's dark eyes met mine.

I reached my arms up and stretched my upper body in an attempt to keep myself from shaking with excitement. Casual interest-- I was aiming for "casual interest", not blatant desperation. When I looked back at Wes, his eyes were focused on the small section of my lower abs that was uncovered as my shirt rose from the stretch.

His was not a look of casual interest. It was purely predatory.

Just as before, the last time we were together, several pieces of information hit me at once: 1) I wanted him so so bad (Ok, I know, we knew this already. But it bears repeating). 2) Wes was at least in some way attracted to me. 3) My body affected him. Maybe not as much as his affected me, but still.

Time to cash in on all that teasing he's been doing to me all afternoon. This will be fun.

If he was a predator, I could definitely be his willing prey.

"Yeah," I said softly, running my palm up my chest to my shoulder. I started rubbing the sides and back of my neck, working out the pretend-stiffness. "Whatever you want."

He just grunted at me.

I decided to push my luck. I can't help myself.

I sauntered over to the kitchen sink, the cup of water that'd he'd given to me before was empty. In full view of Wes, I leaned over slightly as I turned on the faucet. It was enough to highlight my jean-covered ass without being too overt. I glanced over at him. The look on his face-- I swear in that moment a bomb could've dropped outside and he'd barely notice. He was laser-focused on my ass. I was happy to continue the display for as long as I could.

I turned back to him when the cup was full, "What do you have in mind?" I took a sip of the water. He was still lost in thought.

Dirty, raunchy, rough sex thoughts, I hoped.

But I had to keep this going. "Wes?" I said louder. He finally looked up at my face. "I SAID," letting him know he had been zoned out too long, "What do you have in mind? For dinner?"

He gave me a shaky grin. It was fascinating to watch. He was clearly warring with himself. Maybe over whether to take me right here on the table or to keep up our charade of just two regular dudes just hanging out. Just two bros. No funny business. Nope, nothing to see here.

I wonder how long he can keep this up?

Well jokes on me. On some level, he must have felt the control of the situation transferring to me. When he looked back at me, the lust was gone. He was back to friendly charm, a warm smile on his lips.

The predator was sleeping. For now.

Or so I thought.

"There's a great pizza place nearby. We ordered it a lot during unpacking. You good with plain?"

And just like that, all flirtation and double entendres left the building. He kept the friendly vibe going as he ordered and we waited for the food.

I hated it.

I was getting increasingly desperate to get back to our little teasing game. He gave me a tiny peek at his predator side then cruelly ripped it away from me.

Meanie.

The more I tried to tempt him, the more he seemed to double down on his casual demeanor. I tried to stretch again to show skin, he looked away. I made a comment that could be taken in a flirty way, he responded innocently.

Even when we were eating pizza, I tried to do some sexy things with my mouth and tongue. No reaction from Wes.

Ok to be fair, eating pizza "sexily" isn't really a thing you can do. Trust me, I've tried. Give it a shot, you'll see.

Either way, I was consistently striking out with all of my efforts. It was frustrating as hell.

Wes asked if I wanted to see his room and I nearly jumped out of my chair. I followed him up the stairs and had to contain myself from grabbing his luscious ass. Muscular, round, much bigger than a handful.

My mouth watered.

His room was nice, if a little sparse. A function of their frequent moves, he explained. He had a queen sized bed with black sheets. A black futon sofa sat in the corner. A desk with a computer took up the remainder of the room. He motioned for me to sit on the sofa. I complied.

He sat at the computer chair. He showed me a string of funny YouTube videos. Little kids falling, people wiping out on skateboards, animals doing dumb stuff. I laughed my ass off. My sides were starting to hurt.

He started telling me about this show that he sometimes watches. A crime drama or something. Honestly he looked so handsome while excitedly describing the setup to me that I couldn't even focus on what he was saying. I just nodded along dumbly.

He started playing a scene from the show.

It was dark and rainy and two guys were in some sort of alleyway arguing about something. This went on for a bit then their faces get closer. And closer.

And they start making out. My eyes widened and my mouth went dry.

It was fucking hot. Their lips and tongues were all over each other. I think I started panting. I glanced over at Wes, but he was focused intently on the screen. The two guys start ripping each other's jackets off.

I'm convinced I'm about to have an aneurysm.

Gunfire rings out and the guys separate, going into a long and actually really well-done fight scene. Bullets are flying, punches thrown, the rain adding to the dramatic flair. It was good, I had to admit.

When it was over, Wes turned to me, "So what'd you think?"

"I liked it. The fight scene was really cool. The beginning was...interesting."

He cocked an eyebrow at me, "'Interesting,' hmm?" A devilish grin danced on his lips.

Goddammit. He was teasing me again.

Two can play that game.

I ran a hand through my dark blond hair, messing it up a little for effect. "Yeah. I mean, there was clearly a lot of passion." I lowered my eyelids slightly and met his eyes.

He scratched his jaw, the sound of fingernails on rough stubble breaking the silence. He widened his legs. I think it was an invitation.

Now, I probably should've dove for his crotch right there, but something held me back. Like I said, I had no real life experience with guys and to my knowledge, I'd never even met another gay person. My mother drilled into my head not to ever mess with straight guys. So there was years of psychological shit holding me back from actually going for what I wanted.

Wes would have to make the first move.

And I really wanted him to.

He gave me a long, hard look and pointed at me with a thick finger, "You're trouble."

I laughed and ran another hand through my hair, "What makes you say that?"

His eyes tracked my hand that was swiping through my hair. He grunted at me, the deep sound seemed to echo in my ears.

My dick throbbed.

I adjusted my jeans.

I felt the harsh tug of hands pulling my hair before my eyes realized that Wes had sprang from out of his chair. His hot breath was on my face, his mouth an inch from mine. His huge body towered over mine as he crouched before me. His dark brown eyes were staring wildly into mine. The predator was back.

He tightened his grip on my hair the slightest amount.

I moaned loudly.

His mouth met mine and I was lost. I was an absolute goner. Our lips crashed together, tongues massaging each other. My hands raised to finally touch the stubble that was rubbing the skin on my cheeks. I couldn't care less about the pain. It was just another sign of his manliness consuming me. Dominating me.

My hands wandered over his body, wherever they could reach. His back muscles rippled. His biceps were so big. He continued his assault on my mouth. He drove his tongue deep into my mouth as I grazed my fingernails across a nipple. I sucked on his tongue, bathing it with my own. I worshipped it as an extension of his cock.

I continued rubbing and pulling his hard nipples.

He broke away from my mouth and trailed kisses and bites across my cheek to my ear. "Ian," he growled roughly into my ear, "I want you so fucking bad."

The cum shot out of my dick before I could comprehend what was happening. My whole body shook with the force of the orgasm. A scream ripped from my lips and I held on to Wes's broad shoulders for dear life. I pumped my hips as I came down from what had to have been my most powerful orgasm of my life.

Wes ran his tongue from my Adam's apple up to my ear and patted the side of my face with his large hand. I breathed heavily.

He stood up. "That was fucking hot, Ian." He unbuckled his black pants. "Now, I'm not gonna force--"

I cut him off, "I want it." I stared at him with all the heat and intensity I could muster. I ignored the wetness in my lap as my hands reached to pull his pants down.

He wasnt wearing underwear. To say his cock was huge would do his glorious appendage a serious disservice. It was perfect. It had to have been about 8 inches long. It was thick, oh so thick. But more importantly, the head was shiny and wet with precum, just inviting me to have a taste. I complied.

I swiped my flattened tongue across the tip of the head, eager to taste him. Fuck, it was good. I moaned loudly around his dick at the taste. It was musky. And heady. And I wanted more. I enclosed his dick with my mouth. I wanted to fit as much of him in my mouth as possible. I wanted him to know how much I wanted him.