An accidental brush with Slade leaves Wintergreen consumed by an irrepressible fantasy.
For the sake of his sanity—and his relationship with his best friend—he needs to recreate it, get the association out of his system, and move on.
Unfortunately, for that, he only knows one person…
Warnings : 18+, selfish sex, riding, Wintergreen acts like an asshole and just takes what he wants.
Stupid accident. Slade had tried to get up to grab his jacket from the opposite seat… bad luck—he lost his balance and ended up plopping right down on Wintergreen’s thighs. Ouch. The other guys at the table burst into loud, rare laughter; Slade muttered some excuse before grabbing his jacket—clearly a bit annoyed by the over-the-top teasing—as one of the guys handed it to him.
And Wintergreen… Wintergreen had immediately pressed his still-burning cup of tea to his lips, trying to come up with a more acceptable excuse for the sudden flush in his cheeks.
Outside the restaurant, Wintergreen comforted himself as best he could.
If Slade had felt anything while slipping across his crotch, he had the decency not to mention it.
A few days passed, and the trace—no, the memory—of Slade’s weight on his lap, the way the curve of his backside had accidentally brushed against his erection… all of it proved stubborn. Like a parasite that made Wintergreen feel even more dishonest than usual. It seemed to him that the way he looked at Slade, the desire he felt for him… everything had only grown worse.
He hated himself for objectifying the younger man so much, more than ever—so much that he found himself summoning the memory of that accidental friction just to reach orgasm.
And then, finally… an idea to vent his turmoil came to him, in the form of a small scrap of tablecloth he found crumpled in a pocket, bearing a number the Englishman had deleted from his phone months earlier.
Wade’s voice was slightly muffled; there was a low rumble all around him—shouting, or music, maybe both.
“Well, I’ll be damned… Didn’t reckon you’d call me back this quick. Hell, didn’t reckon you’d call at all. So what’s got you hurtin’ bad enough to come cryin’ for comfort, huh? Lemme guess… Slade already gone and knocked her up?”
Wintergreen didn’t flinch at the young man’s provocation. He’d heard sharper jabs during their late-night phone calls. Wade never lacked humor when it came to emasculating, ridiculing, teasing, or unsettling people…
“Adeline is pregnant, yes. Four months. But I took the news remarkably well—I’m actually quite happy for them.”
A brief silence opened on the other end of the line, giving Wintergreen a moment to better take in the steady background noise still pouring through.
“Shit… so I’m gonna be some kinda uncle now, huh? Well I’ll be fucked, that’s news to me. World sure as hell didn’t need another Wilson runnin’ around, but hey… somebody’s gotta feed the dirt with manure, like our big bastard of a daddy used to say.”
There wasn’t any particular anger in Wade’s voice. Just the usual poison—maybe a hint of jealousy at other people’s happiness and… perhaps a touch of pain.
Wintergreen didn’t have time for that. Not beyond whatever relief Wade might offer him, knowingly or not.
“Charming. As always. Where are you right now?”
“Gotham city. Why? Miss my sweet ass that much you’d actually travel all this way just to get a piece of it?”
“Why do you always have to make everything about sex? Have a little dignity. I just want to see you, that’s all…”
The lie had barely left Wintergreen’s mouth before it already left a bitter taste on his tongue.
It wasn’t the first time he’d lied. And a little prick like Wade hardly deserved much more consideration than that, but… the silence on the other end of the line made him hesitate for a moment. Then Wade burst out laughing.
“Your balls must be reeeal blue if you’re insisting on traveling all the way to Gotham just to fuck some guy… But pulling out rom-com lines on top of that? That’s kinda cute, in your own way I guess.”
Wintergreen cut off the younger man’s mocking tirade:
“Wade, I don’t have the patience for this. I asked where you were and whether you were free so we could meet. No? Fine. But don’t paint me as some kind of pervert, or you’re going to make me regret being stupid enough to worry about you.”
Wade blew sharply into the phone, so hard Wintergreen could easily picture the young man deliberately pressing his lips against the microphone. He could almost feel the warm air against his ear. The sensation was strange. Somehow a bit arousing too.
Then, finally, with feigned resignation, Wade gave in:
“Relax, old man. You got a pen and paper?”
Wintergreen had rarely felt as stupid as he did while boarding a plane at four in the morning bound for Gotham, all just to chase a grotesque fantasy about his best friend’s half-brother out of his head… It all sounded so terrible.
The address Wade had given him led the taxi deep into one of Gotham’s rougher neighborhoods. The streets were littered with trash; some people wandered aimlessly, shaking from withdrawal or with bloodshot eyes.
It was late, after all. There weren’t many families out.
The driver stopped in front of a tall gray building that rose about ten stories high. The balconies lining the façade seemed almost alive beneath the warm breeze that made the hanging clothes sway back and forth.
Wade had been waiting for him outside his door on the seventh floor. He wore a T-shirt and shorts, his hands wrapped in bandages and his left cheekbone decorated with a nasty bruise still dark purple in color. Wade had grinned like an idiot when the Englishman, out of simple politeness, asked where it had come from.
“That? Occupational hazard.”
Then he ushered him into the tiny apartment without another explanation.
Contrary to what Wintergreen had feared, it wasn’t especially filthy. A few takeout boxes from various places, a couch patched up one too many times…
But the state of the floor made it obvious Wade had swept recently. Which was, at the very least, surprising.
Wintergreen was about to ask whether Wade lived alone when noises from a nearby room told him otherwise.
“My roommate, Jim. He says he’s an escort, but I think he’s just a good old-fashioned whore,” Wade explained in an especially unpleasant tone as he lounged across the dubious-looking couch.
Before Wintergreen could reply, said Jim strode into the room in a few long steps, headed for the fridge, and grabbed himself a beer. He looked around Wade’s age, maybe a little younger… and utterly exhausted, muttering a distracted “hey” to the stranger his roommate had brought home.
Wade straightened slightly on the couch, resting an arm along the armrest, grinning from ear to ear.
“Jim, buddy, perfect timing—I was just sitting here thinkin’ you oughta quit half-assing it. Hell, even I’m hookin’ more than you these days.” He gestured toward Wintergreen with one hand.
Jim shot his roommate a dark look before turning tired amber eyes toward Wintergreen.
“I dunno what he told you, man, but don’t let him fool you. He’d strip you naked, beat the shit outta you, and rob you blind if he felt like it.”
Then he disappeared back into his room, beer can in hand.
Wintergreen sighed before turning toward Wade.
“What exactly do you have against him?”
Wade shrugged before sinking back into the couch.
“Dunno… the guy just gets on my damn nerves. Comes home at all hours of the night, sometimes he’s cryin’ at like three in the mornin’. I can’t stand whiny types like that. And if one of his johns ever stabs him or somethin’, that’s gonna screw me over on the rent and all that shit.”
Wintergreen shook his head. Wade’s disgust toward any display of vulnerability reminded him a little too much of another young man.
A slightly older one. Blonder.
“Careful, Wade. Swallow any more compassion and you might choke on it,” he said dryly as he sat down on the edge of the couch, carefully avoiding a few suspicious streaks of grime.
Wade looked up at him, the pale blue of his eyes suddenly much darker beneath the apartment’s poor lighting.
“Whatever man. So—did you bring any condoms or what?”
“Real classy, Wade. No, I didn’t bring any. Why are you in such a hurry that you can’t manage five minutes of actual conversation? Not that anything you’ve said so far has been particularly brilliant.”
Wade narrowed his eyes, smiling just enough for the wariness radiating off him to show through.
“You know, Wintergreen… you might wanna be careful playin’ this little game. ‘Cause it’s startin’ to make me wanna play too. It’d be real fuckin’ funny to me if I had you sittin’ on a plane for six hours for nothin’ and then sent your ass right back home all frustrated… You’re lucky I actually feel like getting laid.”
And with that, before Wintergreen had the reflex to pull away or answer back, Wade grabbed him by the hips, shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket… and with his left hand pulled out one of the condom packets hidden inside.
The Englishman cursed inwardly, blushing a little at having his dishonesty exposed so ridiculously easily—and even more at the complete lack of surprise on the younger man’s face.
“So that’s what the ‘actual conversation’ was about? Well, good news, I already know how those go. C’mon."
Jumping up from the couch in one smooth motion, he led the older man to his bedroom. Messy, like the rest of the apartment, but not disgusting.
No pictures of anyone, no decorations. Just clothes scattered everywhere, though the bed itself had, strangely enough, been made.
Wade started undressing, tossing the condom he’d already taken out of its wrapper onto one of the few uncluttered spots on his nightstand. He spread his legs, far less tense than the last time. Proof enough: that cheap smug grin still hadn’t left his face.
Wintergreen figured he must enjoy this. Watching him invent excuses to come all the way here, watching him sink deeper into it… all those complications for nothing, since Wade wanted him too anyway.
He was a bastard. But Wintergreen couldn’t quite suppress a flicker of admiration for his brutal honesty.
“Still ain’t gettin’ undressed?”
Wade asked when he saw Wintergreen still standing there, fully clothed in his suit jacket, hands on his hips. For now, Wintergreen was only watching.
Wade had put on a bit of weight since last time—mostly muscle, more build. Not enough to become bulkier than him, but just enough to shrink the physical gap between him and Slade a little more. There was something even more familiar in the width of his shoulders, the still-lean but defined swell of his chest, the way his abs tightened in clean, regular lines.
And whatever he might claim with his impatient attitude, Wade loved the attention. His cock was already starting to harden between his thighs, and quite obviously, he shifted his stance slightly from time to time just to give the older man a better view.
Still without making any move to undress, Wintergreen sat down next to Wade and tapped his thighs, signalling for him to climb on.
Wade rolled his eyes before complying, climbing onto him. Wintergreen soon closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy the sensation—so familiar to the one that had obsessed him for months.
“Come on, move a bit. Rub against me,” he ordered the younger man after a while.
Wade didn’t take long to comply. He ground himself against Wintergreen, lifting slightly with each movement, a bit hindered by the fabric of his trousers stretched tight over the British man’s erection.
“It’d be a whole lot easier if you just took ‘em off, y’know… I swear, if you just end up finishin’ in your damn pants while I’m rubbin’ up on you, I might actually end up provin’ Jim right.”
Wintergreen groaned before placing a hand over the younger man’s mouth.
Objectively, Wade’s body fit the role of Slade’s perfectly. But when he talked this much… sometimes that sharp mouth of his was almost intoxicating. Not now though. Right now, Wintergreen just needed him to shut up and do what he wanted.
In response, Wade arched slightly, his ass pressing more firmly against the other man. Wintergreen let out a satisfied groan before slowly removing the hand he had been holding over the young man’s mouth.
“There. That’s better. Good boy…”
He tightened his large hands around Wade’s waist, guiding his movements as the younger man kept doing his best to grind against him as fully as possible. Eventually, he kissed Wade’s neck hard enough to leave marks.
“You still want more, hm? Nod if yes.”
He couldn’t see Wade’s face, his expression… but the rapid, almost frantic movement of the young man’s neck as he nodded was enough to suggest an open mouth and a forehead already damp with strands of hair sticking in small, sweat-slick clumps from arousal.
Wintergreen finally removed his trousers and boxer briefs and placed the condom into Wade’s palm.
The way the young man’s hand slid the condom onto himself in a single attempt, the small habit of pinching the reservoir at the tip… made it obvious to Wintergreen that if Slade’s half-brother had once lied about his sexual experience, he had more than made up for it in the meantime.
Wintergreen grabbed his arm to position him over his lap. He wasn’t worried about losing his erection while preparing Wade and risking making the condom unusable. He knew very well that with what he was seeing right now, that was extremely unlikely.
Fortunately this time, Wade wasn’t impossibly tight, and Wintergreen was able to ease two fingers inside him without too much difficulty, lubricated only with the saliva he had gathered earlier by pushing them into the mouth of the young man currently sitting on his lap.
Wade handled it well, too. He no longer groaned in pain or twisted from discomfort trying to find a better position. The newfound looseness in his body told its own story… and Wintergreen had too little interest in him to take the time to listen to it. He slipped in another finger the moment he was able to, barely waiting until Wade was open enough for it.
Wintergreen had never been a selfish lover, but now…
There was no exploration. No attempt to coax any particular sound from the young man’s throat.
As soon as he judged him ready, Wintergreen gripped his waist again, this time guiding him down onto him, Wade’s back still pressed against his chest.
Wade protested a little physically, perhaps not entirely comfortable moving on to that stage yet…
But while the younger man had gained some build, he remained supple and pliant beneath Wintergreen’s strong hands.
The Englishman held back something like a sigh of relief as he finally felt himself pushing into the still-tight opening.
He closed his eyes, resting his jaw in the crook of the younger man’s neck while, arms wrapped around his waist, he helped him move.
The sensation of truly being able to go back in time—to fuck Slade on that damned restaurant booth—was almost perfect.
Almost, because every now and then Wade would let out a moan or some remark, and Wintergreen would correct him, covering his mouth again or giving him a firm slap against the thigh.
“Go on. Good boy. Move on your own now.”
After a few minutes, he let his hands fall to either side of the bed.
Wade, nearly silent despite his ragged breathing, began moving by himself, lifting and lowering himself along the older man’s cock, the wet friction producing an almost obscene sound.
“That’s it… keep going like that… good boy… move your hips a little more.”
Wade was completely lost in the sex. Maybe he had taken something before meeting him, too. Once again, Wintergreen didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to him was that Wade kept moving like this above him.
Fucking himself down onto his cock. Back pressed against him while he thought about someone else.
Soon, Wintergreen felt himself getting close enough to climax that he gripped Wade’s shoulders more firmly.
“That’s good… don’t move now…There, just like that, stay all the way down, take it all, darling… that’s it…”
Wade had gone looser now, his body relaxing slightly around the Englishman’s length. Warm, but less tight.
Wintergreen didn’t mind. It felt good to stay just stimulated enough while riding out his orgasm, still kissing the young man’s neck, brushing aside the bleached strands of hair to leave darker marks against sun-browned skin.
There was a kind of silent gratitude in those kisses. He would never tell Wade what he had truly helped him with… but he could reward him for it.
Still inside the younger man though softer now, he reached a hand around to finally grasp the cock he had so cruelly ignored until now…
He couldn’t resist the temptation to mock him when it took Wade only a few rough strokes to spill into his fist.
“My God, how do you act so tough when you come in a few seconds, hm? You’re so desperate for a little attention you fall apart over almost nothing, darling…”
Wade let out a low grunt in response… but he was still far too weak and dazed to really protest.
Wintergreen guided him onto his side, still kissing the back of his neck, this time no longer just as a reward but simply because he simply wanted to do it.
Wade remained strangely calm, his broad chest rising in uneven motions, trembling faintly with lingering pleasure.
Eventually, he found his voice again, rough and breathless:
“Well now… if you ever run your mouth like that to anybody, I swear I’ll mess you up... But damn it all, truth is, ain’t nobody fucks me like you do. I feel your cock more than I’ve ever felt anybody else’s.”
Wintergreen couldn’t suppress a small laugh, pausing his kisses.
“I know.I know exactly what you want.”
Wade muttered an insult before pulling away to sit up on the bed.
Wintergreen asked if he was alright. Wade shot him a dark look before getting up with a sharp movement of his hips and heading out to smoke on the tiny balcony. He came back without offering any explanation for his sudden mood swing.
Without perhaps fully realizing it, Wintergreen was beginning to think, that’s just Wade. He’s like that. He was getting used to this boy who let him fuck him and then stormed off without warning, without transition.
He glanced at the used condom he had tossed into the small bedroom trash bin just as Wade climbed back into bed beside him, pointedly turning his back to him.
“Now either you sleep right here, or you go do the dumbest thing of your whole life and wander ‘round Gotham at night. Your call, old man.”
Wade shrugged. Wintergreen’s hand drifted over the young man’s shoulders, where the bleached blond strands were beginning to give way to his natural brown again.
Despite how tense he was, curled in on himself, Wade still allowed the touch.
“You know your bleach job’s growing out?” Wintergreen asked thoughtfully.
Wade gave a broad shrug before switching off the bedside lamp.
“Yeah, I know. I’ll probably redo it in September. Maintenance.”
“Suit yourself… but I think it suits you better when you’re brunette. It feels more… like you.”
Wade pulled away from Wintergreen’s touch.
The next morning, waking with the weight of the younger man’s head resting on his chest, everything suddenly hit the Englishman at once.
origamiaround
annaxmalina
vaporwave
kianamaiart
discoholicmusic
andulkaphoto
janainaart
romaincrisis
