Dylan worked him through it, swallowing fast; milking every last drop and then some, until Ashton shied away.
"Dylan, I…" Ashton rasped brokenly, clutching hard at Dylan's shoulders as if he were the only thing keeping him up just then.
"It's okay, Ashton," Dylan murmured, letting him; leaning his head against Ashton's thigh and eagerly drinking in each ragged pant. "You're okay. You did good. I knew you had it in you."
Slowly, he slid free from Ashton's hole, pulling the bandanna from his back pocket to clean them both up.
Look, there was a reason for the classics.
Ashton pulled his pants clumsily up, but he didn't even bother to zip himself away before slumping bonelessly to the ground, his expression flickering oddly as he sat. Legs sprawled artlessly in front of him, his soft cock peeked out from the nest of curls, framed by his open fly as Ashton braced his forearms on his knees, bent his head, and just —
Breathed.
Heart clanging around in his ribs like a trapped bird, Dylan told himself it was only from being worked up, from the exertion; it had nothing to do with how utterly, adorably wrecked Ashton looked just then.
"You okay?" Dylan asked softly after Ashton didn't move for a bit, moving to sit across from him and give his poor knees a rest.
Ashton laughed, ragged and husky, but he drug his eyes up to meet Dylan's as he rasped out an honest, "I don't know."
Dylan frowned, unsure what to do next. Did Ashton expect, like… cuddles, or…?
"What do I do?" Ashton asked quietly.
"Do?" Dylan echoed uncertainly.
"Yeah. For, uh — For you?" Ashton gestured vaguely at Dylan's crotch.
"Oh. I can take care of it," Dylan waved him away. "I figure you already have enough to deal with tonight."
Ashton looked disappointed, then determined. "Stop being an idiot."
Surprised, Dylan flinched back as Ashton lunged for him, slinging a leg across Dylan's lap and straddling him with thick, firm thighs. He didn't stop there, either, making Dylan gasp as abruptly Ashton's mouth crashed into his; still eager, still hungry, still needy.
For him.
Dylan moaned, arching, gripping Ashton's waist as his hand slipped into Dylan's open jeans, unfastened from where he’d been trying to stave himself off, to concentrate. Now, it gave Ashton a chance to burrow into Dylan's boxers before either of them could fully think it through, cupping Dylan’s hard cock with a startled expression on his face at his own boldness.
"Don't be a tease," Dylan huffed. "You don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with, but — get to it, or let me take care of it."
"Who's teasing?" Ashton replied, giving Dylan a hesitant squeeze, and then a few experimental strokes.
"Oh, f-fuck," Dylan moaned as Ashton's palm slid up his shaft.
"This angle sucks," Ashton frowned, his thumb circling the head of Dylan's cock.
"You're the one — "
Dylan broke off with a gasp as Ashton leaned in to kiss him again.
"Shut up. You're distracting me," Ashton said, pulling the band of Dylan's boxers down to free his cock and give Ashton some space to work.
"Fuck," Dylan grunted, his hips arching as Ashton's fist began to move, slow and steady and firm as he jacked Dylan off.
"Like this?" Ashton asked curiously, stroking up, twisting a little at the head, and then sliding back down.
"You could go faster," Dylan replied, transfixed by the sight of his dick disappearing and reappearing in the clench of Ashton's fist.
"You're assuming I'm trying to get you off." Ashton laughed, his hand still steadily pumping away.
