Wes’s hands to the blanket. He rode Wes with long, deep slides up and down his cock, until Wes was groaning and thrashing, biting his lips and squeezing his eyes closed. Justin wasn’t far behind. He let go of Wes’s hands and raked his fingers down Wes’s chest, bracing himself against Wes’s hard six-pack.
“I want to feel you come inside me.” He stroked his cock with one hand, leaning forward until Wes’s cock dragged over his prostate with each thrust. Lightning sheared through him, and he didn’t know if it was the fireflies he was seeing or if his mind was scattering fireworks.
Wes keened. He grabbed onto Justin’s ass and squeezed, drove himself up into Justin hard and fast and deep, and then exploded with a long, ragged shout. Justin gasped, his ass filling with a warmth that ran right up his spine. He was slicker than before, too. He kept bouncing on Wes’s cock even as Wes whimpered, clenched his fingers into Justin’s ass cheeks, tried to speak and only managed broken syllables.
Justin’s hand flew over his cock, and he came with a shout of his own, crying Wes’s name as he flew face-first into his orgasm. He squeezed around Wes, and Wes curled forward and kissed him as the world faded away.
He came back to himself on his side, tangled in Wes’s arms and legs, with the midnight breeze cooling their skin. Wes panted beside him, his hands threaded with Justin’s, his lips pressed to Justin’s knuckles. He hadn’t passed out, but it had been close, and he barely remembered tipping over or Wes wrapping Justin in his arms.
“Wow.”
Wes grinned. “There needs to be a better word invented to describe what that was.”
“Perfect.”
“Still not enough.” Wes kissed his wrist, the inside of his arm. “That was more than perfect.”
He smiled. “Yeah, it was, cowboy. It was.”
Chapter Seventeen
For Wes’s second away game, Justin took a road trip. He didn’t follow the buses, exactly, but he left when Wes and the rest of the team did. It was an eight-hour drive to the stadium in Louisiana, and he couldn’t text Wes and drive at the same time, so he listened to the playlist Wes had made for him on Spotify. Wes liked Western music, and when Justin asked if he liked Garth Brooks and Florida Georgia Line, Wes had given him a look of horror. The next day, Justin had a Western playlist curated just for him. “Western music comes from cowboy ballads,” Wes explained. “Country is that Nashville noise. Western is what they played on the frontier. A guy and his guitar and his horse, sitting around the campfire.”
“Which one sings about trains?”
Wes had sneaked a kiss on his cheek as Justin laughed. Listening, he had to admit: the music was very Wes. He could almost imagine Wes singing these songs, if it weren’t for the fact that Wes’s singing sounded like a camel being strangled. Turned out, there was something he wasn’t good at. In fact, he was downright awful.
Justin had made a playlist for Wes, too, so he could listen to something other than a hundred guys farting and snoring and belching on the bus for eight hours. His was an eclectic mix of pop and hip-hop and blues and ballet scores. When they moved in together, they were going to have one hell of a Spotify mix.
He was one of the early birds at the stadium, and he had a tailgate for one in his little Honda. He texted with Wes again for a bit. When they opened the stadium, he found his seat and watched both teams warm up.
Louisiana was supposed to give Wes and the rest of the team a challenge, enough so that the coach had them working extra hard the week before.
I’m not worried, Wes texted. I promised I’d win every game this season for you. I don’t break my promises.
He was early enough that Wes was able to find him in the stands during the team warm-up. Now I know exactly where to look.
Justin texted his dad when Wes and the team headed to the locker room. They’d been texting more and more, sometimes every day. It was nice, and he was getting to know his dad in a whole new way. His dad was funny, and insightful at times, and he really loved his Texas football. He was shocked Justin was at an away game—and, more than shocked, jealous. I need to meet this guy that has you going to