Ian and Wes Pt. 05

"He woul—" I started.

"Don't you dare fucking say it! You have no fucking clue what this kid would do!" The rage was rolling off of Wes in waves.

Suddenly I wasn't so sure that it had been the right move to provoke him.

"I...." The word started to come out of my mouth but I quickly realized I had nothing to say. There was no reply I could offer him that would take away the pain he felt from his perceived rejection with the whole bracelet thing at the meet. Or the fear he felt at the idea of Brian (or his family) making a case against him.

We were both wrong.

Both of us.

Two damned idiots.

I took a few deep breaths, looking over his face. He had bags under his eyes. He must've slept like shit. He busted his ass all morning cleaning up after a party that he didn't even get to attend. His chocolate brown eyes were hard right now, but I could see in my mind's eye when they sparkle with laughter. Or melt with care.

Wes had been there for me to listen about every dumb test or practice I had. He came to almost all of my games, supporting me unequivocally. He waited around for me when I was too busy for him.

Sure it was my first relationship, but it was his, too. We were both bound to fuck it up one way or another. But he was there for me in every single way that mattered.

And when he was feeling uncharacteristically insecure and needed me to be there for him? I brushed him off.

I brushed him off and told him he was crazy and refused to listen to him.

So he freaked out.

I knew that what Brian did wasn't my fault. That guy clearly had serious problems that probably had very little to do with me and actually had more to do with years of suppressing his identity.

But the whole thing did show me that despite me telling Wes that I trusted and respected his opinion, that obviously wasn't always the case. And he was right, when there was ever a hint of me needing him, I was quick to point out that I had been just fine without him, thank-you-very-much. What kind of message does that send to my boyfriend? The whole concept of not being completely independent and on my own was still taking some getting used to for me.

And when he showed signs of insecurity, I criticized him in my mind for not living up to the pedestal of confidence that I'd put him on.

I was holding him to an invisible standard that I'd made up for him.

We were both wrong.

Two damned idiots.

I knew that Wes was the best thing that could've happened to me. He forced me to believe in myself. He pushed me out of my comfort zone. He was my rock. He was the reason I felt confident enough to let loose at the party with Stephanie (even if the beer helped quite a bit too). He was the reason I finally let myself march both feet solidly out of the closet.

They always teach you that two wrongs don't make a right. We had to get out of this downward spiral of hurting each other somehow. I had to break us out of this pattern. I had to be strong enough for the both of us.

What we had was too damn important to let fall to pieces over some high school bullshit.

I took a deep breath and looked my boyfriend square in the eye. I let him see all the emotions written all over my face. Then I said the only thing that was left to say.

"I'm sorry."

His brown eyes softened and he let out the breath he must have been holding, "I'm sorry too." He reached for my hand, "I love you, Ian. So much that it really messes with my head sometimes."

I offered him a warm smile and stepped closer, our bodies only inches away.

I looked up at him, the heat building between us. "I love you, Wes. More than I ever thought possible."

He captured my mouth in a kiss, telling me all the words we both wanted to say with the movement of his tongue. I reached my hands under his shirt and caressed his muscular back, dying to close the space between us. I needed to show him with my body how much he meant to me.

The sound of a throat clearing forced us out of the passion of the moment, "Uh... guys.... Um, I hate to interrupt... I'm sorry, I'm just really fucking thirsty...." Steve was standing in front of us, gesturing that we were blocking the entrance to the kitchen.

Wes and I tilted our heads back in unison and let out some of the deepest belly laughs we'd had in a while. Wes grabbed my hand and walked me to the front of the house, past Steve and past Jared and Lindsay who were still laying in the sleeping bag, but were now vigorously making out. Kevin was bounding down the stairs and met us near the front door.

Wes turned to Kevin, "Hey, we're going over to my place. Let me know if you need me to come back to help with anything else."

Kevin shook his head, "No way bro, you've done enough. Thanks again for everything. And Ian, man," He clapped a hand on my back, "I'm glad you're ok. For real."

"Thanks, Kev. Sorry about your party," I smiled back at him.

Kevin sighed, "Yeah, well. Maybe the level of awesomeness I had planned was just too much for this world to handle. We'll try again someday..."

We all shared a laugh and Wes and I walked out the door and headed just a few houses down. Wes never let my hand leave his.

Unsurprisingly, neither of his parents were home. Jesus, those people really did work a lot.

Wes led me up to his room and told me to wait there for him. I didn't know what he was up to, but I did as instructed.

I sent a quick text to my mom to let her know I was alright then used the time to look around Wes's room. The first time I'd been in there, he hadn't bothered to hang anything on the walls or personalize the space in any way. A function of their frequent moving, he had told me. There were no photos of anyone either. He had never been able to set down roots in any one place, so he didn't bother with the idea of long-term friendships.

Looking around now, he had posters on every wall and lots of little keepsakes on his dresser and desk. And a frame with two photos was next to his bed. I looked over at the familiar pictures from our Homecoming Dance—one of just Wes and I alone in the traditional "prom pose" and one of our entire group of friends, all smiling like we were on top of the world.

I knew that being with Wes had changed me, but I never stopped to think of how much it had changed him, too.

After a bit, Wes returned and sat down on the bed next to me.

"Everything ok?" I asked cautiously.

"Absolutely perfect," He replied. Just before moving in for a delicate kiss, he muttered against my lips, "Now where were we?"

Well, the kiss started delicate anyway.

Eventually the heat started to build from our mouths molding together, hands reaching and caressing any part of the other's body that they could manage. Wes lifted my shirt, then I reciprocated with his. He rubbed my chest, massaging the muscles. He reached over and grazed over one of my nipples. I grunted at the sensation. He replied by lightly tweaking my other nipple.

They do say symmetry's important.

I reached my hand down and felt his package through his jeans. I maneuvered myself onto my knees, between his legs. I wordlessly unbuckled his jeans and slid them down and off of him, bringing his boxers too.

The naked man before me was the picture of power and masculinity. His chest hair was dark, but not overly dense. His muscles were large and showed proudly the hard work he'd put into achieving his cut physique. His square jaw with the dark stubble. His long and erect cock, pointing at me as if choosing me for the task.

But even if physically speaking he was basically a god among men, I had come to realize that Wes was just that—just a man. He had wants, hopes, and fears, just like anyone else. And sometimes he did the wrong thing, or said the wrong thing.

He was imperfect.

And so was I.

And I loved him all the more for it.

I enveloped his dick in the warmth of my mouth. I licked and sucked up and down his shaft, feeling the hardness beneath his smooth skin. I alternated with my hands, moving my mouth to lap at the heavy balls at the base of his dick. I roamed my tongue over every single inch of his manhood, determined to honor him.

He laid a hand on my head. He didn't roughly grab my hair like usual. He simply let the weight of his hand rest there, touching me while I touched (and sucked) him in the most sensitive of places.

Soon, he placed his hands around my shoulders and pulled me up level with him. He kissed me sensually, letting his tongue collect the taste of his own precum and musk from my mouth.

He laid down gently and reached for the lube. He grabbed the bottle and squeezed a sizeable amount into his hand.

But he didn't put it onto his dick.

His hand traveled lower.

Wes was lubing up his ass.

I could only watch. I had absolutely no words.

Wes had always been insistent that while he'd never actually tried bottoming, he just knew for sure that it was not his thing. I never pushed the issue because frankly, I loved taking his dick. I can't say I'd never considered the idea of topping him, but it seemed like such an unlikely scenario that it rarely even occurred to me.

And now here he was. Offering his virgin ass to me.

I can't even lie, the emotions hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt the tears prick at the corners of my eyes but I was determined not to let them fall. It wasn't that I was ashamed to cry—I just didn't want to take this very big moment for him and turn it into something about me. So I held it together.

Barely.

But I did it.

He added more lube onto his hand then reached for my cock. He caressed it lovingly. I wanted him to take his time to ensure it was slick enough. When it looked like what I estimated to be probably twice the actual amount of lube necessary, I lined up my dick at his asshole.

I looked up at his face. His eyes looked determined. Like this was a mountain that he needed to climb.

I needed to make sure he knew he had an out, just like he had done for me my first time. "We don't have to—" I began softly.

Wes cut me off, "Kiss me. Please." The words were sharp, almost desperate.

I reached down and offered my mouth to him, letting my tongue dance with his. As our mouths moved together, Wes wrapped his legs around me and inched my pelvis closer to him, forcing my dick to breech his hole.

It was incredible. It reminded me almost of the first time he'd given me a blowjob, but so much fucking tighter. And warmer.

My body was demanding to thrust forward.

I held as still as a statue.

He grunted at the pressure. We took a long pause after the initial penetration of the tip. Luckily, I'm very average in the dick size department, so it wouldn't be obscenely difficult for him. Still though, I knew he had to be feeling discomfort.

After the pause, he pulled me deeper into him. I let Wes set the pace, and I pretty much just kept my balance.

Eventually, little by little, I felt myself bottom out inside of him.

His ass was like a vise grip on my dick. A vise grip made out of velvet and wetness and heat, but a tight as hell vise grip nonetheless.

I started working towards a rhythm. I knew I couldn't be a power hammer like Wes, but that was probably okay anyway. This wasn't the time for that.

This was slow. And intimate. And really emotional.

We didn't say much of anything, which was unusual for us. Instead, we had our eyes locked on one another, breaking only for passionate kisses.

I was pleased to learn that Wes can also be a bit of a moaner. I tried to really concentrate on the direction of the tip of my dick while thrusting inside him. I was rewarded with a deep and throaty moan from Wes when I hit the right spot.

I tried my best to hit it on every stroke.

I was starting to get very close. He must've been able to tell because he reached down and started to pump his fist in his hand. I looked down at him, feeling the sweat bead on my forehead and the flush on my cheeks. He looked like he was equally close to unraveling. His dark eyebrows pulled together and his mouth opened in ecstasy.

I launched down for a kiss and came with a scream of his name directly against his lips. I felt the splash of his cum between our bodies and knew he had met his own powerful release.

My arms gave out and I lowered my body onto his and wrapped my arms around him, bringing us physically even closer together. I knew we'd have to separate eventually to clean up the mess, but that could wait.

Everything else could wait.

I had my man in my arms and there was absolutely nowhere else I'd rather be.

"I love you," I heard him whisper against the side of my neck.

I pulled him just a little bit closer to me, "I love you, too."