Greg’s hands returned to his hair, gentler now. Trembling a little.
Fuck.
Dustin relaxed his throat, took him deep, and held him there.
It didn’t take long for Greg to come apart. He tumbled over the edge with a long, shaky breath, fingers tightening once in Dustin’s hair. His whole body went still.
Then loose.
Dustin’s name fell from his lips, soft and almost questioning.
Dustin stayed where he was for a moment, forehead resting against Greg’s hip, while Greg tried to remember how to breathe.
“Hey,” Dustin said eventually. “You okay?”
A pause.
“I don’t know.”
Dustin lifted his head.
“I’m not hurt,” Greg said. “I just don’t know what that was.”
“Which part?”
“Any of it.”
Dustin huffed a laugh and let his forehead drop back against Greg’s hip.
“Does your mouth still burn?” Greg asked.
“Not really.”
“Mine does.” A pause. “I mean, not my mouth.”
Dustin swallowed another laugh. “Okay. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“To get milk.”
“...Milk.”
“It’ll help. Trust me.”
Greg went very still. “You’re going to put milk on me?”
“It neutralizes the chili.”
“Your mother is downstairs.”
“It’ll be fine.”
Greg exhaled audibly. “This is undignified.”
“Much of mortal life is.”
“Noted.”
