Intoxicating, page 17
The idea had merit, but there was only one problem. I’m not allowed to do that without permission. And I’m not waking him up for that. He needs his rest.
Charlie: OMG. You kinky little fucks. I can’t help you, young Padawan. Go play one of your dumb video games you love so much. Just not Fallout ‘cause I like to watch you play that one and we were in the middle of a game. Now stop bothering me so I can go get laid. Byeeeeee.
Bitch, he thought to himself before setting down his phone and sitting up. He poked Linc twice in the chest to see if it would disturb him. Linc made a strange guttural noise, rubbing his forearm over his face before throwing it over his head, the other hand twitching where it lay on his belly. There was a moment of silence, and then Linc’s snores went nuclear, the sounds falling from his lips causing Wyatt to collapse with laughter. He considered recording Linc’s snores for Charlie but then thought better of it.
He snagged his shorts from the floor where he’d dropped them earlier, closing the door behind him before padding barefoot into the living room. He flipped on the television, cueing up his PS4 and flopping onto the sofa, tucking his legs beneath him as he waited for it to boot up. The title page faded into view. Call of Duty 4. He hadn’t played in weeks.
Wyatt’s finger hovered over the button as he gazed toward the hallway. He’d avoided his games for a reason. There were bombs and grenades and machine gun fire. He didn’t want to trigger another of Linc’s attacks. Wyatt chewed on his bottom lip. Linc was sleeping, dead to the world for all intents and purposes. Wyatt would just keep the sound low.
He adjusted the volume and settled in, losing himself in the game. It was easy to free his mind when he had a mission with specific tasks to complete. It quieted the voices in his head, helped loosen the knot that seemed to live in his throat.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been playing when he caught something out of the corner of his eye. He sucked in a startled breath at the sight of Linc silhouetted by the dim light of the hallway. He jabbed his finger down on the pause button, jerking to his feet. “Hey, sorry if I woke you.”
Linc said nothing, didn’t acknowledge Wyatt, just stood with his hands fisted at his side, motionless. Wyatt’s heartbeat skyrocketed as he crept toward Linc, stomach churning. How long had he just been standing there?
“Linc?”
Wyatt stood beside him but far enough away he could avoid his reach if he had to. Linc didn’t seem to even see him at first, his sharp gaze darting around the room, like he was scanning for something in the distance, seeing something Wyatt couldn’t.
“Linc?” Wyatt said for what felt like the hundredth time.
Linc’s gaze snapped to him. “Keller. Where’s Robins? Where’s Martinez? We gotta move. We gotta get out of here,” he said in a harsh whisper. He pointed upward. “They’re on the roof. Stay with me, and stay quiet.”
Wyatt could do this. He’d read about this. He just had to remind Linc where he was, remind him it wasn’t real. “Linc. It’s me. It’s Wyatt. We’re at the penthouse. Remember? Can you hear me?”
Linc snagged his upper arm. “There are too many windows. Fuck, they’ve got us pinned down. Let’s go. Let’s go,” he muttered.
Wyatt allowed Linc to drag him deeper into the hallway, away from the sliding glass doors. A sheen of sweat coated Linc’s skin as he scanned his surroundings once again with glassy eyes. Wyatt could only try again. “Linc. It’s me. It’s Wyatt. We’re at the penthouse. Do you remember? Can you hear me, baby? Please, can you hear me?”
Wyatt racked his brain, trying to recall every word, every article, anything he’d read that could bring Linc back to him. There was so much information on Google, he couldn’t know what was true, so he stuck with the information that overlapped. Say his name. Orient him to where he was. Do it as many times as necessary. So, that’s what he did. He reminded Linc over and over until his voice sounded hoarse and the words made little sense. Linc still had a death grip on Wyatt’s arm. It would definitely leave more bruises tomorrow, but Wyatt didn’t try to pull away. He gripped Linc’s wrist, startled to feel the rapid, uneven pulse beneath his fingers.
Suddenly, Linc’s face crumpled, eyes wide with horror. “Oh, fuck. No. Is that…is that Robins? Oh, fuck. He’s… Jesus. No. He was…” Linc dropped suddenly, yanking Wyatt down with him. “Oh, fuck. Martinez was with Robins. Where the fuck is Martinez? Shit. Are they all dead?”
Linc wasn’t talking to him or even Keller, whoever that was. Linc was talking to himself, some kind of running monologue in his head. He was drenched with sweat now, his hands shaking as he pulled his knees to his chest, dropping his head into his hands.
“What am I going to tell his father? Shit. Shit. Shit.”
Now free, Wyatt knelt before Linc, doing something the articles said never to do. He grabbed his head, forcing Linc to meet his gaze. “Linc. Please. It’s me. It’s Wyatt. We’re at the penthouse. Okay? Okay?” A sob escaped, but he bit down on his lip. He couldn’t afford to fall apart. This was about Linc, not him. He had to be strong for Linc. “Can you hear me? We’re at the penthouse. You’re okay. We’re okay. You’re here with me. Fuck. Come back to me. I’m right here. Just…just come back. Okay? I don’t want to do this shit without you. Okay?”
Wyatt wasn’t sure how long he sat there, repeating those words and phrases in various forms. It felt like hours, but it was probably only minutes. “Wyatt?” Linc’s voice was raw, steeped in confusion.
Wyatt smiled at him, gripping his face. “Hi. Hey, you’re okay. You just… I think you had a flashback. You’re safe.” Linc blinked the sweat and tears from his eyes, staring at a spot over Wyatt’s shoulder like he was waiting for his brain to come back online. “Can…can I touch you?” Wyatt asked.
Linc gave a wobbly smile, gaze meeting his. “You are touching me.”
Wyatt dropped his hands. “The stuff I read online said you’re only supposed to touch somebody in crisis with their permission, but I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to…violate your space or whatever.”
Linc yanked Wyatt against him, hugging him tight like he was his own personal security blanket. “I’m sorry, baby,” Linc whispered against Wyatt’s hair. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me.” Linc clearly didn’t believe him. He thrust Wyatt away from him to run his hands over Wyatt’s throat and arms, zeroing in on the red handprint on his bicep, his nostrils flaring. Wyatt shook his head. “I swear, I’m fine. It’s nowhere near the bruises I’ve begged for. You didn’t hurt me.”
“I could have. Jesus, Wyatt. I could have killed you.”
Wyatt shook his head, steeling himself for whatever came next. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have been playing that game. I knew the gunfire could trigger you, but you were snoring so loud and I had closed the bedroom door. I just didn’t think you might wake up and come looking for me. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Linc grunted, cradling Wyatt against him in an iron-like embrace. “This is on me.”
Wyatt couldn’t let Linc take the blame for this too. “No, I knew better. All the articles I read, the videos…everything said that things like loud noises and fireworks could cause an attack… I knew better and I did it anyway because I was selfish and I was bored and I knew I wasn’t allowed to jerk off.”
Linc snorted out a laugh as Wyatt’s cheeks turned pink. “Please. Stop.”
Wyatt snapped his mouth shut, waiting for Linc to say more, but he didn’t. Wyatt pressed his ear to Linc’s chest. His heart was still a drum, but no longer a frantic rhythm, just a dull, heavy throb.
“You read up on PTSD?” Linc finally asked, voice thick, his chest vibrating below Wyatt’s ear.
Wyatt flushed, grateful Linc couldn’t see his face. “Well, yeah. After the last time, I worried it might happen again, and I didn’t know how to help you. Sometimes, you have nightmares, and I wanted to make sure I knew what to do. I felt so stupid, especially since I turned it into a sex thing last time.”
Linc laughed low. “Lots of people turn their trauma into sex things. It’s just sort of the human condition. Besides, I was there too, you know. I could have stopped you. Probably should have, even. I don’t think the proper apology for attempted murder is mutual orgasms. I wanted what happened that night, minus almost killing you.” He pressed a lingering kiss to Wyatt’s temple.
It was a strangely intimate and entirely unfamiliar gesture, like something a boyfriend would do. It tightened something deep inside, intensifying that oozy feeling in his belly. His chaotic thoughts tumbled from his lips. “I did too…want it, I mean. Even your hands on my neck, just you know, with you awake,” Wyatt finished lamely, at a loss for what came next.
“Yes, I definitely prefer to be awake enough to enjoy my hands on you,” Linc assured him. “Let’s go back to bed. I’m exhausted, and you must be too after all this.”
Linc got them both on their feet in one graceful move. He threaded his fingers with Wyatt’s, drawing him back toward their room. The thought had Wyatt tripping over his feet. When had he started thinking of his room as their room? He shook the thought away before it could grow roots. None of it mattered.
He let Linc take charge, let him strip his shorts off and pull back his covers. Once he was on his side, Linc slipped in behind him, wrapping his arms around him from behind. Wyatt closed his eyes, the tension finally leaving him. “Shouldn’t I be spooning you?” Wyatt asked, only half joking. “You’re the one who had a rough night.”
Linc was quiet for so long, Wyatt thought he wasn’t going to answer him. “I need to hold you. Holding you makes me feel safe. Like you still trust me to take care of things…of you.”
Wyatt’s heart felt like it exploded in his chest. He twisted, wiggling in Linc’s arms until they were nose to nose. Linc looked worn down. Wyatt’s breath caught in his chest as he cupped his cheek. “Don’t be stupid. Nobody takes better care of me than you do. Nobody but Charlie has ever even tried.” Wyatt kissed Linc. “Nothing you do will ever change that.”
Linc opened bleary eyes, feeling like he’d been hit by a truck. Without looking, he knew Wyatt wasn’t beside him. The bed felt empty. He sat up, noting the setting sun as his hand searched the side table blindly.
“If you’re looking for your phone, it’s charging in your room,” Wyatt said. He sat in the chair in front of his lighted vanity table, which was scattered with colorful tubes and bottles of makeup. Wyatt was covered in makeup too and watching Linc in the mirror’s reflection.
“What time is it?” Linc asked, voice raw.
Wyatt swiped a small plastic applicator over his lips. “Almost seven.”
“At night? How…”
He smacked his lips together. “You had a rough night. You needed rest. I put your phone in your room. I texted Charlie and Graciela not to come by today and I made sure my father was still out of town. I knew nobody else would bother us. I’ve been checking your phone though, just in case Ellie called about your dad.”
Linc grunted, digging his fingers into his eyes before stumbling naked into the bathroom to relieve himself and splash some water on his face. He felt hungover. He’d never had a flashback while he was awake. Just nightmares while he slept. Maybe he’d been sleepwalking. He just couldn’t remember, and that thought left his insides cold. What if he’d hurt Wyatt again?
Wyatt. His name was like a grenade detonating in Linc’s chest, leaving him scattered and destroyed in its wake. This kid…he was constantly surprising Linc. Wyatt had taken care of him last night. He’d researched how to deal with Linc’s flashbacks, had sat there for who knew how long waiting for Linc to come back to him. He’d protected him last night, watched over him all day, and even kept the other people in their lives at a distance…all for Linc. He’d thought of everything, even Ellie and his dad. Shit. Linc didn’t know what the fuck to do with that information. He ran a hand over his scruffy face, suddenly feeling a hundred years old and more confused than ever.
When he returned to the bedroom, he wandered over to Wyatt, who wore a bright pink hoodie and a pair of short white shorts that left his long legs exposed. He leered at Linc’s naked body in the mirror, a smirk on his face. “Hey, Daddy,” he said in a singsong voice, clearly amused with himself.
The way Linc’s dick responded to that word falling from Wyatt’s lips was Pavlovian, his blood rushing south. He slowly spun the boy’s chair away from the mirror, pressing a lingering kiss to Wyatt’s mouth. He tasted like strawberries but smelled like suntan lotion, and Linc wanted to bury himself in his scent. He wanted to bury himself in Wyatt.
Wyatt’s expression morphed into concern, narrowing his eyes at Linc. “How do you feel?” he asked, running his soft hands along Linc’s scruffy jaw.
Wyatt’s worry had a knot forming in Linc’s chest. That was a loaded question, one Linc didn’t want to deal with, so he just pulled Wyatt in for another kiss, dirtier this time, letting his tongue explore as he guided Wyatt’s hand to his half-hard cock. “How do you think I feel?”
Wyatt moaned against his lips, tightening his warm fist around Linc’s arousal. “Good, so fucking good.”
Linc pulled back enough to cup Wyatt’s face. He’d clearly spent the day playing with his makeup. He’d pinned his curls off his face with a chunky black clip, and his already perfect creamy skin now shimmered like a prism when the light hit it. He’d painted his eyelids a glittery silver-blue and his full lips a frosty pink. He looked like some virginal sprite from a faraway land, and Linc wanted nothing more than to dirty him up. He unclipped Wyatt’s hair, mussing his curls. “You’ve got your war paint on,” Linc whispered, biting down on Wyatt’s lower lip. “Feeling brave?”
Wyatt’s cheeks flushed, and he glanced away. “I can take it off,” he muttered.
Linc hated that look, the shame somebody—probably his fucking father—had drilled into him over something Wyatt clearly loved. Linc caught him under the chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Oh, no. No way. Daddy’s got big plans for you. I want to see those pretty pink lips wrapped around my cock.” Wyatt’s pupils dilated, his tongue darting out to lick over his lower lip. “Get me hard, baby… I wanna fuck you.”
Wyatt stared at Linc, like he worried Linc was teasing him. He wasn’t. Linc didn’t know when he’d made the decision to give them what they both wanted, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it was true. He needed to be inside Wyatt, needed to possess every part of him.
Wyatt slipped from his chair and slid to his knees, his eyes locked on Linc as he took his cock to the back of his throat and swallowed. “Jesus. Yeah, that’s it,” Linc muttered as Wyatt’s muscles constricted around him. Wyatt still had no technique, just sloppy enthusiasm and no fear… Oh, fuck. And no gag reflex. His boy had zero gag reflex. “You look so good on your knees for me. So pretty with my cock in your mouth.”
Wyatt pulled off with a pop, his gaze searing into Linc’s soul. “Imagine how pretty I’ll look with your cock in my ass,” he teased before hastily adding, “Daddy.”
Linc laughed, shaking his head. Wyatt made a move like he was going to swallow Linc down once more, but Linc gripped his hair, pressing the head of his cock against Wyatt’s lips. “Open.”
Wyatt complied, moaning as Linc ran his length along the velvet softness of Wyatt’s tongue.
“So fucking perfect. God, you were born for this.”
Wyatt’s lips closed around him, sucking hard, his hands gripping Linc’s ass, urging him deeper. He gave his boy what he wanted, fucking into the wet heat of Wyatt’s mouth, only stopping to hold himself deep inside until Wyatt choked, tears streaming from his eyes, causing black tracks to run down his otherwise beautiful face. It shouldn’t have been so hot but it was.
He pulled out, tugging Wyatt to his feet before giving him a filthy open-mouthed kiss. “Who do you belong to?”
“You, Daddy,” Wyatt promised, his shimmery pink lips wet and swollen, dirty face flushed and his eyes bright with tears.
Linc stroked his cock, pushing Wyatt toward the bed. “Who makes the rules?”
Wyatt stumbled as he rushed to comply. “You do, Daddy.”
Linc turned Wyatt away from him, his voice a low rumble. “You going to be good for me?”
Wyatt’s head bobbed. “So good, Daddy.”
“Good boy. Arms up.” Wyatt complied, allowing Linc to pull his hoodie off and toss it away. He pressed between his shoulder blades. “Bend over,” Linc murmured.
Wyatt folded himself onto the mattress, burying his face in the comforter, already panting. Linc peeled Wyatt’s shorts down to mid-thigh but left them in place, nudging Wyatt’s legs apart and fondling his hard cock. Wyatt gave a startled cry, knees buckling.
“Uh-uh. Get that ass in the air where it belongs,” he chided, spanking his bottom hard enough to leave one perfect handprint.
He wished he could photograph Wyatt like this, show him the beautifully debauched picture he made. He shook the thought away, turning to flip on the light in the darkening room and grab the lube and condoms he’d stashed in Wyatt’s drawer. The boy’s gaze followed him now as he moved around the room, but Linc pretended not to notice. He dropped the supplies within reach.
“Daddy,” Wyatt moaned, rocking his hips against the sheets. Linc slapped his ass once more, harder this time. “Ow,” Wyatt whimpered, breathless.
“Behave.”
Wyatt made a frustrated noise. Linc laughed low, but he wasn’t faring much better. He was hard enough to hammer a nail through a board. He just wanted to forget all the foreplay and drive himself into Wyatt’s willing, hot little body until he was painting his insides, but they weren’t there yet. Wyatt needed attention.
“Please, Daddy.”
Linc yanked Wyatt’s head back, sealing their mouths together for a quick kiss. When he pulled back, Wyatt chased his lips. Linc shook his head. “I love it when you beg. But I’m just getting started, baby boy. Color?”
