Coming out of the shower, he wrapped himself up in a big fluffy towel that felt like utter luxury after a week in the same uniform. He supposed he should think about food before falling into bed. He was leafing through a stack of delivery menus when his phone buzzed.
He wasn’t signed into chat, but he had an offline message. Wes. His pulse started to gallop even before he clicked open.
Surgery went south. On transplant list. Losing my shit.
There went Dustin’s appetite. He hit reply. You okay? Need to talk?
Nothing. Long minutes passed, and then he tried again. Talk to me. It’ll help.
Still nothing. Dustin wanted to tear over to base, find Wes, make sure he wasn’t falling apart or on the verge of doing something stupid. But he couldn’t do that.
Finally, a message back. Nothing will help.
Fuck. Dustin hated feeling this powerless. Come over, he typed, heart shaking like he’d just survived a blast. I’ve got beer. Come over and we’ll talk.
Another long wait. I should say no. But got anything stronger than beer?
Dustin should pull the offer, get some sense, but instead he fired off his address. This was a quiet little complex on the water. Lot of retirees, not many people who worked at the base, and no SEALs that he was aware of. Risk was low, but it wasn’t nonexistent. He was crossing a line here, big time, but he couldn’t let Wes suffer alone.
Knowing that Wes liked pizza, he made an order for a large pie and some breadsticks while he waited for him. If Wes was in a drinking mood, Dustin needed to get some real food in him too. Oh and get clothes on. Those would be good too. He threw on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt right before a knock sounded at the door.
Wes looked wrecked—his hair was damp and he was in clean jeans and a T-shirt, but his eyes were red and haunted and his shoulders slumped. In all Dustin’s fantasies about Wes in his space, it had never been like this.
He held the door open, letting Wes in, then the second it shut, he did the only thing that made sense and gathered Wes into a tight hug. Which Wes didn’t seem to be expecting—his body stayed tense, arms at his sides. His torso shuddered, and it took Dustin a moment to realize that he was fighting tears.
“Hey. You’re here now.” Dustin wrapped him up tighter. Wes was just enough shorter to fit perfectly against him, and finally he relaxed into the embrace, burying his head in Dustin’s shoulder. Wes smelled like woodsy soap and his hair tickled Dustin’s neck and face and Dustin wasn’t sure how he was ever going to let him go again. They stood like that for ages, Dustin helplessly rubbing his back and muttering nonsense words, and probably would have kept him there half the night if the pizza guy hadn’t shown up, startling them both apart with a loud knock.
“Fuck. I’m a mess.” Wes scrubbed at his face before heading to the couch while Dustin paid for the food.
“Do I owe you anything?” Fishing out his wallet, Wes still looked like he might collapse any second.
“Nope.” Dustin set the food on the coffee table. “Sorry. We’ll have to eat in here. I don’t exactly have a dining room set yet.”
“You don’t exactly have a lot of anything.” Wes offered him the ghost of a smile. It was true—big living and dining room open to the kitchen area and all Dustin had was the couch, a coffee table, single bar stool, and a light. A deck opened off the living room, and out there next to the grill he’d stuck a plastic chair he’d found near the recycling bins when he moved into this place.
“Decor isn’t my thing.” Dustin got the plates and two beers from the kitchen. “I mainly bought this place as an investment. And to get off base.”
“That your boat down there?” Wes had walked to the glass door leading to the deck and was looking down at the boat slip below them.
“Yeah. Little thing, but it’s fun.” Dustin wanted to offer to take him out in it, wanted that in the worst way, but it was an impossibility, one best stamped down quickly. “Come eat.”
Wes came back over to the couch. “Not hungry. Sorry.”
“You want me to crack open the scotch, you’re at least going to eat some bread.” Dustin kept his voice firm.
Wes managed a rusty-sounding laugh. “You think you can give me orders here?”
Heat licked up Dustin’s spine. They both knew that giving orders wasn’t what Dustin wanted behind closed doors, and while he was more focused on making Wes feel better, he couldn’t deny that Wes’s look had a certain promise to it.
“I think it’s been days since you had real food, and if you think I’m letting you drive wasted, think again. Eat.”
“Fine.” Wes pulled off a breadstick while Dustin opened their beer bottles. “And thanks.”
“No problem. So, you talked to your mom?” Dustin wasn’t sure whether avoidance or talking would be better for Wes, so he gingerly tested the conversational waters, trying to read Wes’s signals.
“Yeah. And I am pissed at her.” Wes bit off a large chunk of bread, then followed it with a sip of beer. “She didn’t even try to get me a message. We could have been gone weeks.”
“She didn’t want to distract you,” Dustin guessed. “My mom kept the news of our old dog dying for a whole six-month deployment. Not the same thing, but I think it’s typical mom behavior.”
“Yeah, well, she and Dad shouldn’t have to be going through this by themselves. It’s not right.” Wes thumped the couch cushion next to him.
“Try again for leave,” Dustin urged. “I mean, I can’t do anything to guarantee it, but we should be stateside for a spell. Maybe something can be worked out.”
Wes took another angry bite of bread before answering. “The transplant could take months. And there’s a good chance a donor won’t come up. So what am I supposed to do? I don’t have a huge stockpile of leave, so I can’t go wait it out, much as I want to. Feels like if I go now...”
“What?” Dustin set down his slice of pizza, patted Wes on the leg.
“Feels like it would be to say goodbye,” Wes whispered. “And I both want to be there—all the time—and I don’t want that. I’m not ready for that. Not ever going to be ready for that.”
“I wish hearts were like kidneys,” Dustin mused. “Then there could be a drive, try to find her a match—”
“Hell, I’d give her half my heart in a heartbeat. Kidney too. Whatever she needed. Just say the word. People don’t realize how awesome Sam is.” Wes grabbed another breadstick.
“Tell me,” Dustin urged. Wes seemed to eat more the more he talked, which was good.
“She’s the reason I’m a SEAL.” Wes got a far-off smile on his face, one tinged with more than a little pain. “See, back in high school, I set out to race a triathlon for heart disease awareness. I found all these SEAL exercises online, and I really dug them. Did them every day. And Sam told me I should try for real. I told her no way, but the more school went on, the more I didn’t have a plan for afterward. And I kept working out, doing more races. Got in the paper for it, even.”
“That’s awesome.” Dustin passed him a piece of pizza while Wes was distracted enough to take it. “You raise a lot of money?”
“Fair bit.” Wes shrugged. “Anyway, this navy recruiter came to one of the races, said I should go talk to him if I was interested. Sam told me to at least go listen. Told me...” His voice broke a little. “Told me I could be a hero for her.”
“And you are. I know she looks up to you.” Dustin rubbed Wes’s shoulder. Putting his arm around him felt way too damn natural. “Your whole family’s proud of you. Don’t be too mad at them for not telling you what was up. And don’t beat yourself up for not being there—I think you’re where they want you to be.”
“Yeah.” Wes didn’t sound too convinced, but he did take a bite of pizza. “My mom wears her ‘Navy Mom’ sweatshirt for good luck at the hospital. Poor thing i
s all threadbare now. I mean, maybe I can’t be a doctor like James is going to be, but I can do this job, right?”
“Right. And you’re damn good at it.” Still reluctant to move his arm, Dustin gave him a squeeze. “You’re making Sam proud. I bet she told you that on the phone too, am I right?”
“You’re not wrong.” Wes gave him a weak smile. “She doesn’t want me to come. Says this is all a lot of drama. But I know my folks are freaking out—we’ve tried to avoid transplant for years, and now they’re saying it’s her best option.”
“What’s wrong with her heart? I mean, you’ve mentioned it before, but I’m not sure I understand.” Dustin wanted to keep Wes talking like this. Watching him relax slowly, eat the food, made warmth uncurl in Dustin’s stomach.
“She has hypoplastic left heart syndrome—she was born with it. It means her heart has trouble squeezing enough blood through. She had her first surgery as a tiny baby, and two others as a kid. Each surgery restores function, but the only real cure is a transplant. This most recent surgery didn’t have the success they wanted to see, so the doctors at Duke convinced her and my folks to do the paperwork to get on the list for a transplant.”
“But that’s good, right? Proactive. Gives them time to come up with other options too. I’ve heard it can take a long time to get a match.”
“Yeah. And they’re in consultation with a group at Johns Hopkins too about maybe getting her into a trial for a device to help while they wait. I just wish there was more that I could do other than running the races to raise funds and just praying she pulls through.”
“She’s your sister. I’ve got no doubt that she’s a fighter,” Dustin said firmly. “And you feel free to tell the team what you’re raising money for. I bet Curly and Bacon would run with you, and they’ve got a lot of friends you can hit up for donations.”
Dustin wanted to be able to volunteer himself to run, but he’d need more of the team doing it too, so that his involvement could look like generic support and not favoritism. Fuck, but he hated this.
“That’s a good idea. I’d probably feel less helpless with a fund-raising project.” Wes polished off that slice of pizza and reached for another. “And the cookies were a good idea. My folks liked that. Maybe I can work with James, get her something to do while she’s in the hospital—they’re not sure when she’ll be able to leave.”
“Loaded tablet?” Yet again, Dustin wished he could just volunteer to do that for Wes. Wouldn’t be any hardship for him to buy it.
“I can do that. You have good suggestions.” Wes’s tentative smile made Dustin wish he could do so much more. He never thought he’d be the type to pine for going to the Apple store with his guy—
No. Not his guy. And he couldn’t afford to think like that, even for a night.
“When my brother’s fiancé had back surgery—you met him at the bar—we all got him gift cards so he could get all the apps and upgrades he wanted. He ended up reading a lot, I think. Being confined to bed would suck.”
“I know it. I’d go crazy. But Sam just takes it all in stride. Still, gift cards would work. She’s nuts about music. Wants to be a DJ or a producer someday.”
“She just needs better taste,” Dustin joked. “Feeding you all that country.”
“Says the guy who secretly likes Ariana Grande.” Wes bumped shoulders with him, leaning into Dustin’s arm more.
“I never should have confessed that,” Dustin groaned. “Any of the guys ask, I’m into the same hip-hop and rap as them.”
“What’s the LT into? German funeral dirges?” God, it was so nice to hear Wes laugh, warm and rich like maple fudge.
“I’m not telling.” Dustin squeezed Wes closer, mainly because this felt so damn right.
Pizza done, Wes reached for one of the wrapped mints that the delivery guy had tossed on top of the box. Huh. The only time Dustin ever ate one of those sickly sweet things was when he was with a woman and kissing was on the horizon.
Wait. Was kissing on the table?
He’d honestly asked Wes to come over just for conversation. Nothing else on the agenda. Except here they were sitting in a distinctly not-just-friends way. Maybe...
“You’re thinking again,” Wes accused. “You’re rather loud, you know.”
“Sorry.” Still not sure what the hell he wanted, Dustin grabbed the other candy. Maybe sometimes a mint was just a mint.
“You about to kick me out, or could we maybe watch a movie?” There was an edge of vulnerability to Wes’s expression, a hint of softness around his eyes that made Dustin nod.
“Yeah. A movie would be good. Get your mind off things.” Dustin framed it like he was doing Wes some favor, instead of the truth, which was that he desperately wanted Wes to stay. Arm still around Wes—apparently it had a new favorite spot and wasn’t leaving it—he grabbed the remote with his free hand.
“That one.” Wes pointed to a recent blockbuster, not their usual classic sci-fi. “I’ve been wanting to see that one. The main guy reminds me of you.”
Dustin’s skin heated as he clicked play. He wasn’t sure what to do with that compliment. He liked knowing that Wes thought about him way too much. He shouldn’t be encouraging whatever this was, should tell Wes...what? To think about other guys? Not a chance.
Using Dustin as his pillow, Wes put his feet up on the end of the sectional, getting himself all arranged like a dog about to nap as the opening sequence unfolded. Dustin was way too distracted by the armful of Wes to pay attention to who the bad guys were.
“Comfortable?” Dustin’s other arm came around Wes, holding him close.
“Very.” Tipping his head back, Wes brushed his lips over Dustin’s chin. Huh. Guess that answered the kissing question. “You’re a good friend,” Wes whispered.
“I’m really not,” Dustin said softly. A good friend wouldn’t lead Wes on. A good friend would be able to give him everything he needed, everything he deserved.
“Yeah, you are. You knew what would help tonight.” Wes stretched, eyes telegraphing his intent long before his head moved, and Dustin had plenty time to pull away.
But he didn’t.
God, he’d waited years to know what this was like, wanted Wes for months, wanted his first kiss with another guy to be him. No way was he pushing him away now, even if that would be the sane thing to do.
Wes’s mouth was as soft and lush as it looked. But firm too. Commanding. An edge there that wasn’t present in other kisses Dustin had had, and oh, he liked that. Very much. Wes’s chin was bristly against Dustin’s, and the rasp of stubble made Dustin shiver. Wes took ownership of Dustin’s mouth painstakingly slowly, little brushes of his lips, a flick of his tongue against the seam of Dustin’s mouth, little sips and soft sighs that completely undid Dustin.
The angle was awkward, and Wes spun in Dustin’s arms, chests colliding. Dustin loved how warm and strong Wes was, how...substantial he felt in Dustin’s embrace. Solid. Something Dustin could cling to even as he came apart. It felt both new and foreign, entirely out of his prior realm of experience, but also like he’d been kissing Wes for years. This kiss said, “Hello, I’ve missed you, I need you,” all at once, a language and rhythm that felt as familiar as his favorite pair of jeans.
When Wes deepened the kiss, tongue searching for Dustin’s, he moaned. Yes. This. This was what he’d waited for. This was the answer to every question he’d had about himself.
“Like that?” Wes’s blue eyes sparkled, earlier sadness gone, replaced by an almost palpable desire.
“You know I do,” Dustin growled.
“Good. Don’t want you freaking out.”
Wes kissed him again, this time more forcibly, tongue fucking its way into Dustin’s mouth, lips sucking and claiming. Dustin felt like one of Wes’s explosives, just waiting for the right spark to set him off, and c
ompletely dependent on Wes’s whims. Which seemed to be more kissing. Dustin was used to kissing as an entry point. A way station along the path to other, more fun activities, but Wes’s mouth made it clear that he was going to stay awhile and that Dustin was just going to take it.
Wes’s hand snaked under Dustin’s tee even as he continued to plunder Dustin’s mouth. Pushing him back against the couch, Wes made a possessive little noise that made Dustin’s dick throb.
Fuck. They should not be doing this. And he should not be loving it. He groaned in frustration, both at Wes for making him wait through endless kisses and at himself for loving this. He needed to put a stop to this. Now before they went further.
“Wes...”
Wes pulled back, brushed a hand down Dustin’s face. “Don’t say no,” he whispered. “Please. Not tonight.”
Chapter Eleven
Wes could tell by the determined set to his jaw and the weariness around his eyes that Dustin wanted to pull away. And Wes wasn’t going to go for the hard sell, but he also was loath to stop. Kissing Dustin was the only thing that had made sense since his phone call with his mother.
He fucking loved how Dustin kissed—like Wes was an amusement park ride and he was strapped in, waiting to see what Wes had in store for them both. He wasn’t passive, exactly, but he was pliable in a way that went straight to Wes’s dick—and his head. And he wanted more.
“This is a bad idea,” Dustin muttered, which wasn’t a no.
“The worst,” Wes agreed, dropping quick kisses along his jaw. “But I’m already here...”
Laughing, Dustin still didn’t push Wes off. “Pretty sure I used that line when I was sixteen.”
“Me too.” Wes ran his hand farther up Dustin’s torso.
Wheels Up Page 10
