It wasn't just that Dylan knew now what Ashton was packing, either — although if he couldn't get Ashton to fuck him with thisbeast, it really would be a waste of a good dick. No, there was something about the way Ashton curled into him, that thread of need slipping beneath his soft panting. Dylan had been wanted, desired, and just plain fucked loads of times.
No one had everneededhim.
On God, Dylan thought he'd just been talking earlier. Spouting whatever nonsense he felt would calm Ashton down, get him in the mood. It’s what Dylan did, though he’d been told off for it more than once; running his mouth, controlling the show.
But Ashton was hanging onto Dylan’s every word. Each little gasp and moan egging him on, stoking the fire until it was roaring away inside his chest; yearning, craving, demanding. Building into something that would not be satisfied until he’d made those words as real and true as Ashton's cock in his hand was now.
Ashton buried his face in Dylan's neck. "What if someone comes up here?" he panted against Dylan's skin.
"They won't," Dylan assured him; his thumb stroking over the crown of Ashton’s cock, spreading the pre-cum there. "It's eight thirty at night on a Friday. Everyone's at the game, or partying. No one’s ever up here this late. It's just you and me, Ashton. Just us."
"But — "
"Trust me. If someone opens the door at the bottom of the stairwell, we'll hear it echoing all the way to the top and have time to hide. They'll think we're up here smoking or something. Unless… You want to stop?"
Ashton shook his head no.
"Words, Ashton. Use your words like a big boy."
Ashton huffed a laugh. "Fuck you."
"Man, I amtrying," Dylan told him earnestly. "But you gotta work with me here, right?"
"I…don't want to stop," Ashton said, his palm cupping Dylan's jaw, thumb brushing just under Dylan's eye, and…
Dylan ducked away from his hand, unable to deal with the gentleness in Ashton’s touch right then. That way lay danger and feelings and heartache; Dylan did not have time for all that. He cleared his throat roughly. "Keep going then?"
Hesitantly, Ashton nodded, watching Dylan intently. He didn't try that hearts and flowers lovers shit again though, and that was good enough.
"Alright," Dylan considered their options. "You like my hand, or want me to blow you and stuff?"
"Oh holy fuck." A wide-eyed Ashton gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Um.Wouldyou?"
Dylan grinned, already sinking to his knees and enjoying the way it made Ashton's eyes go even bigger.
"Are you kidding? Just look at this cock. I'll bet you taste so good," Dylan told him; trying to find a spot where the least amount of gravel could stab into his shins — but eh, he'd had worse — and tugging a stunned Ashton's pants down to his knees. "You're big enough to wreck my throat, make it ache for days. Maybe I'll even let you. But you'll be good and hold still for me until I say, won't you?"
"Yeah," Ashton moaned as Dylan took hold of Ashton's cock again. “What’s uh, mmm. What’s ‘stuff’?”
“Hmm?”
“You s-said ‘blow you and stuff'… W-what’s that mean?"
Dylan licked his lips. “You tell me,” he said; Ashton’s hands coming up to slide through the cropped buzz cut at the sides of Dylan's skull, and —
"Don't," Dylan warned sharply, and Ashton's entire body froze.
Good strawberry.
"I don't like having my hair played with," Dylan told him. "Grip my shoulders and brace against me instead."
And oh, the way Ashton’s cock hardened in Dylan's hand at that? The speed at which he, without questioning, simply obeyed?
Oh God in heaven, this was what Dylanlivedfor; some big bad hombre showed he ain't the boss after all, ready and begging for Dylan to take control.
