Archive of Our Own

"You seem nervous," Wes points out as Fred sits beside him on the bed in the hotel room, his big, brown eyes looking the vocalist straight in the face. To Fred, they have always been infinitely more alluring than the renowned black contacts: pretty, warm, and deep. Fred swallows and fights the urge to look away. 

"I am nervous," he admits quietly, chewing on his lip. 

How is Wes not nervous? Maybe he doesn't want this as badly as Fred does. Or maybe it's less personal to Wes, and Fred is just a way for him to get off. Or, he reasons, maybe Wes is simply Wes, and isn't fazed by things of this nature. Wes has always been so unabashedly himself, adamant and open about what he wants and what he likes. Fred has always admired this about him, as someone to whom shame is second nature, as much as he has always tried to act like that isn't the case. 

"Why? You don't need to be," Wes assures softly, placing a warm hand on Fred's thigh just above the knee, his touch feeling gentle yet intense, and his sight remaining on Fred. "It's just me."

 Fred's silent for a moment, trying to think of how exactly he should answer. 

"Well. It's been awhile, first of all," he starts, his voice markedly steadier than he thought it was going to be. "But also, I never thought we would be seeing each other, uh, under these circumstances. And also, you’re..." 

"I’m what?" Wes slowly starts moving his hand up Fred's thigh, blinking coyly at him, his eyelashes long and dark. 

Fred feels a twist of arousal in his groin, already wanting Wes so much that he can't think straight. Fred realizes that there are numerous things that should be taking precedence when it comes to interacting with Wes, too: their inability to get along, the shared animosity that’s been present between the two of them since Wes left, and how much Fred hurts. Right now, though, all he can focus on is how much he yearns for Wes—how much their bodies are so obviously drawn to each other. 

"You’re just hot," Fred breathes, his tongue darting out between his lips to wet them, his cheeks heating. God, this shouldn't affect him so much. It's Wes. “I don’t know.” 

"If only you were always this sweet to me," Wes teases, his tone lighthearted, breaking their eye contact to look him up and down. He smirks ever so slightly and scoots closer to Fred, the hand on his thigh moving to his hip. 

"You're sure you wanna do this?" Wes clarifies, his hand steadying on Fred's waist, meeting his gaze again heatedly. "If you wanna back out, now's the optimal time." 

Fred swallows again, deciding to push his apprehension away from the forefront of his mind and focus on Wes and how much Fred wants this. He leans in closer to Wes, heart pounding, and presses his lips softly against his neck, just under his ear. 

"Sounds like you want me to back out," Fred whispers with faux confidence against his skin, breathing in his scent. Wes has always smelled so good to him, even when he was drenched in sweat after a show. Fred places a palm against Wes's chest, curling his fingers gently into Wes's t-shirt. 

"Mm, no, never. Just making sure we're on the same page before we do this, that's all," Wes replies boldly, shuddering slightly as Fred begins kissing his neck. He brings his other hand to Fred's hip, his fingers gripping it tightly. "I plan on making good on all of the things I said I'd do to you, you know." 

Fred's breath hitches, and he remembers the promises Wes had breathed into the phone while Fred had touched himself, drunk and aching. He'll probably never admit this to Wes, but he’s fairly certain that he'd come harder than he ever had in his life that night, and Wes wasn't even there to so much as touch him. Fred can only imagine how it will feel now that they're together physically. Unsure how to respond, Fred opts to stick his tongue out and run it down Wes's neck, his free hand moving to fumble with the button on Wes's jeans. He briefly thinks that it may seem like he’s being overly forward, but he figures that he might as well not waste any time.

Wes tightens his grip on Fred's hips and, to the vocalist's surprise, pulls him roughly onto his lap, scooting back a bit on the bed to give Fred more room. Fred straddles Wes's thighs, mouth retracting from his neck in favor of planting a sloppy kiss on his lips, desire burning hot and low in his gut. He's desperate to know how Wes's actions will compare to his words, desperate to know what it'll feel like for Wes to touch him, fuck him, and make him come. The guitarist's lips are soft and his mouth is hot and wet against Fred's, tasting faintly of toothpaste and cigarettes. Wes quickly draws Fred's lower lip between his teeth, biting down hard enough to sting but not to break skin, and sucks. 

"Ah-hhh," Fred gasps, leaning into the kiss that becomes filthier by the second and dedicates two hands to unbuttoning Wes's pants. 

"Doesn't take much to get you hot, does it?" Wes teases, moving his hands to Fred's ass, squeezing, and trailing little kisses down his jaw and neck, making Fred shiver. Fred feels himself flush, embarrassed, because Wes is absolutely right; with him, it really doesn't. 

"Not with you," Fred says, because at this point, he isn't going to lie. Not when Wes has him like this. Not when Fred wants him so badly, dick already getting hard in his sweats. He gets Wes's jeans open and Wes tilts his hips up for Fred to pull them down, gripping Fred's waist again and lifting him enough for the guitarist to kick them off onto the floor. 

"What do you mean?" Wes asks with feigned innocence, eyes setting on Fred's mouth, moving a hand up from Fred's waist to softly stroke his cheek, and Fred leans into the touch immediately. He knows exactly what he does to Fred and almost certainly just wants the ego boost of hearing Fred admit it aloud. Or maybe it turns him on to think about the profound effect he has on Fred. Probably both. 

"I have never wanted a guy the way that I want you. As much as I want you," Fred admits truthfully, though he's perhaps not entirely forthcoming; part of him knows that he's never wanted another person the way he wants Wes. Shit, he doesn't even truly know how to wholly describe the exact nature of his desire for Wes, just knows that it's deep-seated and carnal.

Wes's eyes glitter at Fred's admission and he grabs Fred's jaw to bring their mouths together again, slower and softer this time, almost savoring, Wes's hand lowering to rest gently on Fred's neck. Fred pushes his hand into Wes's hair, fingers twisting into his inky curls, the kiss tender and languid for a few fleeting moments before Fred remembers that he's in the process of getting Wes's dick out, and he grabs it through his boxers with his other hand. It's half-erect and hardening rapidly, and Fred is already past the point of feeling shame and trepidation; he just wants. 

"Can't believe this is the first time I've ever gotten a hand on your dick," Fred breathes against Wes's lips, rubbing it through the thin layer of cotton. Even without being completely hard he feels so big, confirming what he really already knows from the photo Wes had sent him.

"Mm, next it'll be your mouth on it," Wes replies hotly, making Fred's cock twitch in his pants and his heart rate increase, and he can't help but breathe out a soft whine. 

Fred spits in his palm before kissing him again and slips his hand into Wes's underwear, wrapping his fingers around the base of Wes's cock and pulling it out over the top of the elastic. He gives it a few passes, running his thumb over the head, and fuck, it feels so thick and hot in his hand. Fred imagines getting his lips around Wes’s dick and Wes looking down at him, pupils blown, as Fred sucks it. 

"I don't know why it's turning me on so much, touching your dick and thinking about you choking me on it," Fred admits between kisses as he strokes Wes's dick, partially because it's true, and partially because he wants to see how Wes will react. 

"Fuck, yeah?" Wes moans softly against Fred's mouth, his cock throbbing in Fred's hand, both of those things arousing him way more than they have any right to. Knowing that he's giving Wes any sort of pleasure is a type of thrill that Fred fears he could truly become addicted to. 

"Yeah,” Fred replies on a shaky exhale, tilting his head and nosing at Wes’s cheek. “I wanna taste you.”

Wes leans in, his lips just shy of touching the shell of Fred's ear, and whispers, "Think you can show me what a good little cock sucker you are, Fred?" 

Fred flinches, letting out a high pitched noise that would have embarrassed him in any other scenario, the back of his neck heating, feeling a jolt in his stomach. Wordlessly, he pulls back, letting go of Wes's dick and slipping off of his lap to lower himself onto the ground, steadying himself on his knees. Wes shifts forward to the edge of the bed and plants his feet on the ground, resting on either side of Fred's knees. 

"You're so eager to please me," Wes observes as he looks down at Fred, pushing his boxers off and throwing them aimlessly. 

He spits in his hand, wraps his fingers around his cock, jerks it lazily, and Fred can't help but stare, transfixed, his lips parting. He's never even considered anyone's dick to be attractive before this, and what he thinks of Wes's is so beyond that. It's long, cut, thick, and curved upward, veins jutting out, a bead of precum glistening at his pink tip. Fred is almost surprised that he isn't drooling. Wes slips the index finger of his left hand under Fred's jaw to tilt his head up, looking into his eyes. 

"Look at you," Wes breathes, splaying his fingers out on Fred's jaw and thumbing his cheek, and Fred swears he hears a hint of something like reverence in his rich voice.

"What about me?" Fred asks coyly, blinking a couple times, his voice shaky. 

"Practically salivating while you watch me touch my cock," Wes says with condescension, and fuck, Wes talking to him like this really does it for Fred. Fred's convinced that Wes could have him on the edge of an orgasm simply from his words. "Dropping to your knees without even being told to. Pretty slut." 

"Wes," Fred whimpers, the last two words out of Wes's mouth ringing in his ears like a bell. 

Without even thinking, Fred slowly turns his head and draws Wes's thumb into his mouth, running his tongue over the pad and sucking while maintaining eye contact. Wes inhales sharply and Fred watches his pupils dilate, and Fred is so fucking hard but right now all he cares about is getting his mouth on Wes.

"Fuck," Wes sighs, pushing his thumb further into Fred's mouth and pressing down on his tongue. 

He hastens the strokes of his cock and Fred can't help but look away from Wes's face again in favor of watching him jerk off, slowly raising a hand toward Wes's dick. To Fred's surprise, Wes rips his thumb from Fred's mouth to slap his hand away and stands. 

"Put your hands behind your back and don't touch me or yourself unless I say you can," Wes demands firmly, returning his thumb to Fred's mouth and sliding it to the back of his tongue, pushing down. Fred gags but does as he's told, resisting his body's urge to recoil, fearing that Wes would be displeased if he did so. 

"Good boy," Wes praises, his voice beginning to develop a gravelly quality. He tilts his hips toward Fred, gripping the base of his cock and rubbing the wet tip against Fred's cheek. Fred feels filthy and debauched already, mouth forced open wide, spit dribbling down his chin, Wes's hot, hard dick mere inches from where Fred wants it. Wes's eyes possess an almost crazed quality to them as he stares down at Fred, pupils blown, the pretty brown a thin ring around the black.

"You're already such a mess and I haven't even started fucking your throat yet," Wes muses, slapping his dick against Fred's cheek a bit roughly but not enough to sting, eliciting a staggered whine from Fred. He pulls his thumb out of Fred's mouth and brings it to his own, licking it, and it takes every ounce of self-control Fred possesses not to turn his head and take Wes into his mouth right now without preamble. Everything Wes is doing to him is making him burn and need.

"Lemme suck it first, please, Wes," Fred begs shamelessly and easily, looking up at Wes with wide eyes, his head becoming increasingly hazy with lust. "So I can show you how much I want it. Make you feel so good." 

"Hmmm," Wes hums, looking up as though he really has to consider it, but Fred gets the feeling that there's no way Wes is really thinking of denying him this. Why would he? Wes has to love how hot Fred is for his cock—surely it must be an ego boost.

"Since you asked me so nice and sweet," Wes reasons, looking down at Fred again and sitting back down on the bed. He spreads his legs as Fred shuffles closer to him on his knees, letting go of his cock so that Fred has full access. "Go ahead. But I want you to look at me while you do it."

"Can I use my hands, too, please?" Fred asks, arms still behind his back. 

He's really trying to behave for Wes, partially because he just wants to please him, but also because he is eager to see what rewards he will be met with if he's good. 

"Yes, yeah, you can," Wes nods, his cock flexing in front of Fred's face, and Fred swallows. 

It feels like he's been waiting forever for this, and there’s still an air of unreality surrounding the concept of Wes’s dick in his mouth. He sits back on his heels, braces his left forearm on Wes's thigh and wraps his right hand around his cock, looking up at Wes as he sticks his tongue out and licks up all of the precum leaking out of his slit. Wes is hot and firm against Fred's tongue and the guitarist groans as Fred swallows and begins a slow trail of open mouthed kisses down his length. Fred's hand squeezes his shaft and he throbs beneath Fred’s fingers.

"Your. Cock's. So. Perfect," Fred gushes, kissing it after each word, batting his eyelashes at Wes. 

Wes moans, parts his lips, and pushes his palms down on the bed behind him to steady himself, leaning back slightly.

"Yeah? You like it, baby?" Wes groans, watching Fred intently, and Fred nods.

Fred's mouth reaches his balls and he sucks one into his mouth, stroking Wes's cock as he does it, watching Wes's every reaction to his ministrations, feeling like he's getting drunk on Wes's pleasure. He moves onto the other one after a bit and he's drooling all over Wes's sack, moaning and sloppy. 

"I love it," Fred breathes before running his tongue up the shaft and swirling it around the head. "So fucking big and hard, Wes, can't wait to taste your cum."

Fred sticks his tongue out and taps the head of Wes's cock against it a few times before taking it into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks, and swallowing around him when it hits the back of his throat. 

"Fuck," Wes moans, drawing out the vowel, eyes rolling back, and Fred would do anything to make Wes feel like this. He could practically live on it. 

Fred strokes the bottom of Wes's shaft where his mouth can't reach, pulling back to suck on just the head for a moment before starting a rhythm, his head bobbing in time with his fist. Wes is periodically letting out little moans and curse words, his voice soft and deep, and Fred thinks he's so fucking hot, couldn't shift his gaze away from him if he wanted to. Wes's eyes are full of fervor, locked on Fred's, and Fred thinks that this might be the most intimate thing he's ever experienced in his life. 

"Oh my god, I didn't know you were so fucking good at this, Fred," Wes admits after watching Fred blow him for a few minutes, breathing heavily, moving a hand to cup Fred's cheek. "I want your mouth on my cock every day for the rest of my fucking life. Jesus, I wish I would have known you could do this years ago.”

Fred glows at the praise, humming around Wes's dick. He’s glad that it feels good for Wes; he’d been nervous because he’s never done this before. He’s simply doing what feels right based on instinct coupled with what he knows feels good from his own experiences. Wes shoves his thumb into the corner of Fred's mouth, letting his spit-soaked cock rub against it as it slides in and out, and shudders. 

"Fuck, enough, I wanna fuck your mouth," Wes groans hotly. 

He moves his other hand to the back of Fred's head, holding him down on his cock as he stands and Fred straightens his back, lifting himself up off of his heels. Wes begins to rock his hips against him, pushing his dick as far as it will go into Fred's mouth. Fred lets go of Wes's shaft and puts his hands on Wes's ass, matching his rhythm as he fucks Fred's throat, his eyes watering a bit every time he gags. 

"You fucking love this, huh?" Wes says, that cruelty that Fred adores so much creeping into his voice, and Fred genuinely can't discern whether he prefers that or Wes's praise. 

"You're filthy, if only you could see yourself right now, choking on my cock and drooling. So. Fucking. Pretty," Wes punctuates the last three words with a thrust after each one, and Fred whimpers, face burning. 

Without consciously meaning to, Fred pushes Wes back and pulls his mouth off of his cock, gagging and coughing and panting.

"S-sorry, fuck, need a sec." 

Wes slaps Fred's face, his palm cracking against his cheek, and Fred gasps. Fred knows that Wes certainly could have hit him harder, but it stings nonetheless, and Fred feels his underwear dampen slightly from his cock gushing precome. What the fuck. Fred completely forgot that Wes had said he was going to do that, and really didn't think he would like it this much. 

"You okay?" Wes asks, stroking Fred's cheek where he hit him, his eyes softening slightly, but Fred can see how turned on Wes is and thinks he has to be close. Fred nods, digging his nails into Wes's ass. Wes's cock twitches, leaking, and Fred takes it into his mouth. They quickly find their rhythm again, Wes's hands on either side of Fred's head this time. 

It doesn't take long before Wes is pulling out, jerking his dick vigorously in front of Fred's face, his other hand twisted into the collar of Fred's shirt. Fred's hands fall to his sides and he sits back on his heels, sticking his tongue out and closing his eyes, feeling more like a chick from a porno than he has throughout this entire interaction with Wes.

"I'm gonna come," Wes breathes roughly, and Fred can't help but open his eyes to look at him. Wes is gritting his teeth and his brow is furrowed, a few strands of hair in his face. 

"Please, want your cum, give it to me, Wes, let me taste it," Fred begs, reaching a hand up and wrapping it around Wes's cock, lacing their fingers, their joined hands stroking it together.

"Oh, fuck," Wes groans, eyes rolling up, tossing his head back.

Fred gets his mouth over the head of Wes's cock right as he comes, spilling all over Fred's tongue and tugging on his shirt. Fred swallows it all immediately, the liquid very slightly salty but not at all unpleasant to him, sucking him through his orgasm, their joined fingers slowing but still moving over Wes's dick.

"Ugh, feels so fucking good, good boy, yeah, suck my fat fucking cock, shit," Wes moans, his dick pulsing in Fred's mouth, and Fred's not sure if he's ever seen anything as hot in his whole fucking life as Wes Borland coming. 

Wes's hips stutter a few times and he's panting, bringing a hand up to gently trace Fred's swollen lips. He stills after a few moments, opening his eyes and pulling out of Fred's mouth, throwing himself back onto the hotel bed and pulling Fred with him. Fred stumbles and ends up on top of him, straddling Wes's hips, palms pressed against the mattress on either side of Wes's shoulders. Wes takes Fred’s face in his hands and pushes their foreheads together. 

"You're fuckin' incredible, you know that?" Wes pants, and Fred feels Wes's eyelashes flutter against his. 

"You sound so surprised," Fred says, his tone feigning offense. 

"Oh, very," Wes teases, moving his hands from Fred's cheeks and grabbing the bottom of Fred's shirt, pushing it up his abdomen. Fred sits up for a second and raises his arms, letting Wes take it off and toss it on the floor before repositioning himself to hover over Wes. "If I had known you could suck cock like that maybe we'd have gotten along a lot better in the past."

Fred scoffs, rolling his eyes, and dips his head to nip at Wes's neck. 

"Yeah, yeah," Fred says dismissively, fisting his hand into Wes's shirt over his chest. "You know, I'm surprised that you got my shirt off before yours. If I remember correctly, you hate doing any physical activity with clothes on." 

"I had other priorities, I'm sure you can understand," Wes chuckles, grabbing Fred's waist and pushing him over, onto his back. Wes sits up and pulls his shirt off, dropping it next to where Fred's is. "Take off your pants." 

Fred swallows, stomach quavering in anticipation, and obeys, pushing his sweats down and kicking them off onto the floor before sitting up next to Wes, looking him up and down. Wes's body is all lean muscle and smooth skin, and Fred's dick pulses in his underwear. God, he wants to put his hands and mouth on every inch of Wes. There's no way he's always looked like this, right? 

"Your body is ridiculous," Fred sighs reverently as Wes grabs his hips to pull Fred back on top of him, lying back down, and Fred presses his forearms against the bed on either side of Wes's head, holding himself up.

"Says you," Wes breathes, pushing his thigh between Fred's, and Fred flinches when he feels Wes against his dick. "Mmmm, you feel so hard. You must be achin' for it, huh? You been hard this whole time?" 

"Pretty much, yeah, ah," Fred admits in a breathy whine, grinding on Wes's thigh on instinct, looking down at him. "H-hey, Wes?" 

"Yes, baby?" Wes asks sweetly, a certain warmth in his eyes that Fred doesn't think he's ever seen. With the way he sounds, you'd never guess that he'd just fucked Fred's throat and come in his mouth less than five minutes ago. It thrills Fred that he never knows which side of Wes he'll be met with: soft and saccharine, or cold and condescending. He doesn't know which he prefers. 

"Can you—well, uh," Fred stumbles on his words, and he doesn't know why he's feeling embarrassed all of a sudden, after all of that. His cock is throbbing, has been hard for what seems like ages without a single touch, and he shouldn't care. Fuck, after what he just did to Wes, he should be past the point of feeling shame around the man ever again. 

"What is it?" Wes asks gently, genuine, kissing his cheek, and Fred's heart swells but he tries his best to ignore it. "If you want something, I need you to ask me for it."

Fred continues his slow rut against Wes's thigh, pressing his forehead down against the bed between Wes's head and Fred's forearm. Shit, he could probably come from this with a few filthy sentences from Wes. 

"It's just, well… I want you to fuck me, but I know you just came, and I don't know if you're done, you know. If you can again. Or if you wanna stop, um, I don't want you to feel like you have to get me off, y'know?" Fred mumbles shyly, knowing that he isn't really making much sense, knowing that if Wes wanted to stop he wouldn't be acting like this. 

Asking for Wes to give him pleasure feels distinctly different from asking to give Wes pleasure—makes him feel too vulnerable. It's still hard for him to believe that Wes would want to, and he doesn't want Wes to get him off just because he feels obligated. In the past, Fred has had no issue telling Wes what to do and what he wants from him, but this is distinctly different, and he doesn't really know where he and Wes stand relationship-wise as it is. 

"Hey, stop it," Wes scolds, his tone still gentle. "Are you insane? You're hard as a fucking brick and just gave me the best blow job of my life, I wouldn't leave you like this." 

"Best blow job of your life?" Fred squeaks, and Wes uses his grip on Fred's hips to push him down harder on his thigh, increasing the pressure on Fred's clothed dick. Fred thinks that there's no way Wes is being truthful, but he isn't going to argue with him.

"Definitely, but that's not my point," Wes says dismissively. "I'm not just gonna leave you like this. Also, give me 20 minutes max and I'll be able to get it up again. I'd fuck you all night if I could." 

"Mm," Fred whimpers, and he shudders imagining Wes fucking him for hours and hours, the two of them kissing and licking and biting each other's bodies in between orgasms, and Wes letting Fred worship his cock. 

"Tell me what you want," Wes orders softly, slipping a hand between his thigh and Fred's groin to rub him through his boxers. "God, you're leaking so much. Your underwear is all wet like a girl’s." 

"Ah, Wes, please," Fred pleads, turning his head and pushing his forehead against the side of Wes's face, not letting himself think about the last thing Wes said. "I wanna come. I-I want you to make me come."

"How do you want it?"

"Um, fuck I can't think," Fred whines, not thinking that Wes would give him the option. He'll take anything that Wes offers and doesn't want to ask Wes to do something he doesn't want to do. "I want you to pick, please. Want you to do whatever you want to me." 

"Whatever I want, huh?" Wes muses, thumbing at the waistband of Fred's boxers, snapping it against Fred's skin. "Part of me wants to make you come just like this, humping my leg like an animal. But I'm not gonna do that to you. Maybe I'll use my mouth on you, what do you think about that? Suck your dick until I'm hard again and I'll put my cock in you?"

Fred inhales shakily, pushing his hips hard against Wes. "I want it, yeah, please, b-but only if you wanna. You don't have to." 

"Oh, I do want to," Wes assures, squeezing Fred's dick. "Okay, get off me, baby, I want you lying on your back with your legs off of the edge of the bed." 

"Mhm," Fred mutters, doing as Wes says, propping himself up on his elbows and watching Wes's every move as he slips down to the floor, positioning himself between Fred's legs and sitting on his heels. 

Wes slips his fingers under the elastic of Fred's underwear, pulls them off, and tosses them away, Fred's hard dick drooling on his lower abdomen. Wes leans over and spits on Fred's cock, saliva thick, Wes's head hovering a couple of feet over it, looking at Fred while it falls from his lips.  

"Ask for it," Wes breathes, reaching a hand up and petting Fred's stomach, mere inches from where his cock rests. "Tell me what you want."

"A-ah, t-touch my dick—suck it, please?" Fred begs, his voice whiny and his cock twitching.

Wes wraps a hand around him and Fred's breath hitches. Fred throws his forearm over his forehead, watching Wes intently as he strokes Fred's cock, his hands big and the calloused tips of his fingers rough against the sensitive skin. 

"Your dick is so cute, Fred, don't you think? You like how it looks in my hand?" Wes asks, and it feels like a punch to the gut because yeah, Fred really, really does. 

When Wes's hand is at the base little more than the head is visible, and it isn't as if Fred's dick is necessarily small, it's just Wes's hand is so large and okay, yeah, in comparison to Wes's, Fred's dick definitely does seem slight. Fred wonders how different it’ll look with Wes lips wrapped around it from how Wes’s cock looked in Fred’s mouth. He then imagines how their dicks would look pressed against each other and starts to feel lightheaded. 

"Uh-huh, yeah," Fred nods. "Shit. Wanna see how it looks in your mouth."

"Yeah?" Wes asks, leaning in and putting his mouth on Fred's thigh, sucking and biting down while he strokes Fred. 

Fred lets out a whine, nodding again and reaching a hand into Wes's hair, pushing it out of his face and holding on. Wes releases Fred's flesh from his teeth and licks the bite mark, trailing his tongue over Fred's thigh all the way to his cock, licking up to the tip.

"Oh-hhh," Fred gasps, Wes's tongue feeling hot and wet, lapping at his slit while his hand moves up and down Fred’s length. 

"You like that?" Wes whispers, breath warm on Fred's cock, and he kisses it softly just underneath the head.

"Feels good," Fred replies, and Wes takes Fred into his mouth, his thumb and forefinger holding Fred's dick at the base. 

Fred moans as Wes's eyes close and his cheeks hollow, head bobbing. It feels fucking insane, and Fred can't believe Wes is sucking his cock, easily fitting all of it in his mouth. Fred moans and Wes opens his eyes, looking up at him. Fred thinks that Wes is so gorgeous like this, unlike anything he's ever seen, and he would do anything to have him this way. Wes takes his hand off of Fred's cock and moves it down to rub Fred's taint with his thumb. 

"Whoa, what?” Fred moans, and sucks his lower lip between his teeth, biting down because it feels so good. "Oh." 

Wes pulls off of Fred's cock and asks, "Does that feel okay?" 

"Um, yeah, more than," Fred says, dedicating every ounce of his self-control to not using his grip on Wes's hair to pull him down onto his cock and rock his hips against his mouth, assuming that Wes would absolutely not appreciate that. As Wes draws Fred back into his mouth and rubs his perineum, Fred remembers something that Wes had proposed while on the phone, and he's so turned on that he's got no reservations in sharing it with Wes.

"Wes," Fred breathes, looking into his brown eyes intently. 

"Mm?" Wes hums around his cock, swallowing around Fred and making the singer involuntarily snap his hips up against Wes's mouth.

"Um, do you think—will you eat me out, please? Your mouth is just—I mean, you don't have to, sorry...." Fred trails off, flushing, and Wes inhales sharply, releasing Fred's dick from his mouth.

"Yeah, of course, do you want me to get you nice and wet for my cock, baby?" Wes breathes, panting, and Fred is aching, wanting, his gut twisting. 

"Please," Fred whispers, lifting his legs and bending his knees so that Wes has easier access, half off his ass hanging off the edge of the mattress. Wes spreads his cheeks with the fingers on one hand and leans down, reaching up and squeezing Fred's soft stomach with his other hand.

"No one's ever done this for you before, right, pretty boy?" Wes asks, the pet name making Fred's jaw drop. 

"No, nuh-uh," Fred shakes his head. 

"Tell me if you don't like it and I'll stop, okay?" 

Fred nods, highly doubting that there's any possibility that he won't like this, and Wes opens his mouth, long tongue darting out to lick at Fred's hole, the tip circling around it before Wes pushes it inside.

"What the fuck, oh my god," Fred groans, legs tightening around him, and it feels so much better than Fred could have imagined. "Your fucking mouth."

"Gonna play with your pretty cock while I fuck you with my tongue," Wes breathes, kissing Fred's hole and licking at it before pushing the end of his tongue in again, moving it in and out like it's his dick. Fred lets out a whine from the back of his throat and Wes wraps a hand around Fred's wet dick, rubbing it languidly as Wes eats him out, his eyes misty as they stare up at Fred. 

"You make me feel so good, Wes," Fred mewls after a few moments of this, his breath catching, and he doesn't want this to end. He wants it to go on forever; no one's ever done anything like this for him before, and he feels like crying but he doesn't even know why. "Ah, mhm, your tongue.”

Fred tightens his grip on Wes's hair, tugging slightly. He has almost no sense of time, has no idea how long Wes has been doing this for him, but he's starting to ache for his cock. He absently wishes that he could come over and over like a girl, because he’s obsessed with the feeling of Wes tongue-fucking him. 

"I want you to fuck me so bad, please," Fred breathes, still looking down at Wes, and Wes's eyes darken. "I-I don't wanna come without you."

"Ready for me to open you up with my fingers?" Wes asks, stilling his hand on Fred's cock and running his thumb back and forth over his glans. Fred nods, the hand in Wes's hair sliding down to cup his spit-soaked jaw. Wes turns his head, kisses the inside of Fred's wrist, and backs up a bit, standing and making his way over to the bedside table. He grabs a little bottle from the top that Fred recognizes as lube, and he must have been so nervous that he hadn’t even noticed when Wes set it there. 

"You came prepared," Fred remarks as Wes turns back to him, moving so that he's beside Fred's legs to Fred's right. Fred notices that Wes is starting to get hard again and has to fight the urge to wrap a hand around him, hoping Wes will let him later. 

"Of course I did; I knew you were gonna give it up this easy," Wes teases, bending a knee and putting it up on the bed as he leans in and presses his palm down on the mattress beside Fred's head. He opens the lube with his thumb and pours a generous amount onto Fred's stomach, and Fred flinches at the cold sensation. Wes sets the bottle down on the bed next to him and runs his middle and index finger over Fred's belly, scooping up the wet substance. 

"Lay your head down, relax for me," Wes commands, reaching down and spreading the lube onto Fred's hole in a circular motion, and Fred once again winces at the chill. Fred does as he's told, pulling a pillow down and resting the back of his head on it, moving his hands to the ditches of his knees to help hold his position. 

"Good boy," Wes breathes before pressing his mouth against Fred's, kissing him soft and slow. He circles around Fred's entrance a few more times before Fred feels him push a long finger inside, and the vocalist lets out a tiny whine against Wes's lips, eyes squeezing shut. 

Fred ever-so-slightly moves his ass back and forth to meet Wes's finger as he begins a steady rhythm of sliding it in and out, continuing to kiss Fred as he does it. Before long Wes is adding a second finger and Fred grunts. Fred knows how it feels to have a finger in his ass, okay, he's done it to himself a handful of times, but Wes doing it to him is somehow completely different, fingers longer and more dexterous. 

"That feel alright?" Wes asks softly against Fred's lips, ceasing his rhythm in favor of rubbing the pads of his fingers in a circular motion over Fred's prostate, locating it almost immediately.. 

"Feels good, way better than when I do it to myself," Fred admits, his brain-to-mouth filter steadily losing its function. He feels Wes smile and let out a breathy chuckle against his lips before the guitarist goes back to kissing him, sloppier this time but still slow. Wes gradually increases the speed of his fingers inside Fred and Fred keeps moaning into Wes's mouth, the sensation feeling more intense the longer Wes does it. 

"Another one, 'm ready for more, please," Fred mumbles when he starts feeling impatient, scooping some lube up and reaching down to coat Wes's ring finger with it. He feels like he's never been so hard in his life, he's afraid that he won't last long when Wes starts fucking him and that's the only reason why he hasn't asked Wes if he can touch himself. 

"Mm, you really do like this, huh? I wonder what people would think if they knew how much Fred Durst loves feeling my fingers in his ass," Wes teases darkly as he slips another finger in and continues to rub Fred's prostate. Fred keens at the thought of that coupled with the feeling of Wes's touch and clenches around him, his mouth opening against Wes's. "What would they think, baby?" 

Fred closes his mouth, bites down on his lip and shakes his head quickly, the question heating his face. He feels shame strangely crossed with want burning low in his gut as he thinks about it, imagining people watching him moan and beg for more as Wes fucks him with his long fingers. Fred reaches up and paws at Wes's abdomen, inches away from his dick, wanting to feel Wes in his hand again. 

"Answer me or I won't let you touch my cock," Wes threatens, knowing immediately what Fred wants, and Fred opens his eyes when he feels Wes pull back. Wes is looking at him intently, hungrily, and Fred chews his lip, feeling so turned on but simultaneously embarrassed. He'd been able to push his innate feelings of shame away up until Wes started teasing him, but now he's in his head. 

"Um. I don't know. Probably laugh at me, call me a f-faggot," Fred says, his voice small, and he's still rocking against Wes's fingers, wanting, desperate. "But they don't—fuck. They wouldn't know how it feels, Wes, I can't help it. You make it so good for me." 

"Some people, maybe," Wes reasons, his voice velvety and resonant. "But a lot of people would be jealous that I get to do this to you, don't you think? You're so fucking hot like this, so responsive, practically trying to fuck yourself on my hand. I can't wait 'til I'm in you, God. C'mon, get my cock ready."

Fred quickly takes his hand off of Wes to scoop up the rest of the lube left on his abdomen and wraps his fingers eagerly around Wes's now fully hard cock, eliciting a sharp exhale from Wes. Fred ponders how to verbally respond to Wes, shame still flickering deep within, but Wes thinks he's hot, thinks other people would want him like this, wants to fuck him. Wes is still massaging his prostate and Fred wonders how long it would take him to come from this untouched, if it's even possible. 

"I think that most people would be more jealous of me," Fred admits, squeezing and stroking Wes's cock. "You're so—God. I mean, just look at you. I can't believe you're letting me have this. I would do anything you asked me to do, let you do anything you wanted to me." 

"You don't mean that," Wes insists, his eyes flashing, and he starts pressing little kisses onto Fred's jaw, right under his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. "Don't tell me that." 

"I would, though, fuck. Why don't you believe me?" Fred whines, running his hand faster over Wes's cock and moving his other hand to cradle the back of Wes's head, fingers twisting into his hair. Wes is silent for a bit and starts nipping at Fred's neck, little bites that Fred secretly hopes will leave marks, physical proof that this all actually fucking happened and wasn't some sort of fever dream. Fred is letting out tiny gasps and opens his mouth to repeat his question, but Wes answers just as Fred is about to speak.

"Because the entire time I've known you, the last thing you've wanted to do is what anyone tells you, especially me," Wes says, his voice suddenly sounding rough, and he licks over the bites on Fred's neck.

"This is different," Fred answers quickly. "You know it is. Haven't I been good? C'mon, Wes, I-I'll show you. Fuck me, please, I'm ready, I want you so bad." 

Just like that, Wes's fingers are out of him and  Fred's being pushed up toward the top of the mattress by his waist, Wes's palms pressing against him much harder than is necessary but Fred loves it. Wes gets on his knees between Fred's legs and props himself up with a hand next to Fred's head, Wes's face hovering above Fred's. Fred's eyes keep flitting between Wes's face, framed by his dark hair, and Wes's dick, his hand around the base. 

"You're sure?" Wes asks, and part of Fred cannot believe he's asking him that. Fred pulls his ankles against Wes's lower back, thighs spreading, and urges him closer.

"I haven't felt this sure about anything in a long fucking time, Wesley, yes, now come on, please," Fred begs impatiently, grabbing Wes’s face with his palms flat on his cheeks and trying to pull Wes down into a kiss, but Wes won't budge and shakes his head. Fred pouts—why wouldn’t Wes want to kiss him?

“I want a kiss,” Fred whines petulantly, unable to help himself. 

"No, you're gonna watch me put my cock in you first," Wes says, his voice a low rumble, and oh, that’s why. He guides his cock to line up with Fred's hole, the head teasing at it, eliciting a soft gasp from Fred. "And I'm gonna watch your face while you feel every fucking inch." 

"Yes, okay, wanna see," Fred agrees, nodding as he lets go of Wes's cheeks and tilts his head up to get a better view. His ass is angled up toward Wes and his dick is hard against his stomach. Wes is rubbing his slick cock against Fred's entrance and it looks so obscene that Fred's dick flexes, his lips parting. 

"Finally have you where I want you," Wes says, deep and low, and pushes the head of his cock into Fred. Fred gasps, his mouth opening wider, and he fights his body's urge to contract around Wes because he wants to relax for him and make it easy. "This is where you belong: right under me like this."

Fred moans from the back of his throat and Wes keeps pressing into him, slowly but surely, and it feels tight with a bit of a burn but doesn't hurt. Fred reaches up and grabs Wes's bicep on the arm that's propping him up, pressing his fingers hard into Wes's muscles. 

"Fuck," The two of them groan in unison when Wes bottoms out, and Fred is in awe of how full he feels, stretched wide with Wes thick and hot inside of him. Fred looks up and Wes is staring at him, cheeks pink and eyes blown, and Wes presses his palm down on the opposite side of his other one that’s next to Fred's head to help steady himself.

"How does it feel, baby?" Wes breathes, and he lets out a sharp moan when Fred squeezes his ass around him experimentally. 

"Y-you feel so big, stretchin' me out so good," Fred answers, and he feels Wes flinch at that. Part of him wants to smirk at how obvious it is that Wes gets profoundly turned on when Fred talks about how big Wes's cock is, how much he wants it, loves it, and how good it makes him feel. It's really the only leverage Fred has on him—the only thing Fred can do that he knows will get Wes hot every time. Fred pulls Wes tighter against him with his legs, rocking his hips up, and whines, reaching his free hand up to push Wes's hair back out of his face. Fred’s still dumbfounded by how gorgeous he looks, and he truly thinks that Wes is more beautiful than anyone he’s ever seen. "Please."

"Fuck, you're desperate for it, huh?" Wes derides, pulling out of Fred almost all the way and then pushing back in, starting a slow rhythm, and Fred knows that Wes is just getting started but it's already not enough for him. 

"Yeah, c'mon, move," Fred whines impatiently, tugging on Wes's hair and squeezing his arm tighter. "Don't hold back, just fuck me how you want, Wes, give it to me." 

"God, I love making you needy like this. You beg so pretty, Fred," Wes groans, setting his jaw and snapping his hips against Fred. He starts to fuck him faster and harder, and yes, this is what he's been wanting. 

Fred quickly matches Wes's pace and moves his ass toward him with each press of Wes’s cock into Fred, pulling Wes in with his legs, Wes’s cock so big that he starts feeling pressure on his prostate almost immediately. Every time Wes pulls his hips away Fred is clenching around his cock, as if his body is begging Wes to stay inside of him. Fred watches Wes's eyes widen after a few moments of this, and knows he's thinking the same thing that he is: their bodies just fit together, it feels so natural and right. It reminds Fred of how it felt playing with Wes in Bizkit, almost like magic; it just works, even though it shouldn't. Fred's never felt like this with anyone else, his body so in tune with another. 

"Holy shit—you—this is—it's so—it's," Fred babbles, not even knowing how to describe it, it feels so damn incredible. Wes moans, nodding his head, moving a hand to squeeze Fred's thigh. “Feels so fucking good, Wes.”

"Yeah—fuck—I know," He grates, his fingers digging into Fred's skin and his nails biting. "You feel so perfect, taking it so well. You're so hot and tight around my cock." 

Fred whimpers, the praise going straight to his dick, but he still doesn't want to touch himself yet because he knows he won't last and he wants to wait until Wes is close. His balls are aching for release but he realizes that in a strange way, he likes depriving himself, knowing how good it will feel when he finally lets go. He’s still partially confounded that Wes is doing this to him: taking what he wants from Fred, letting out low and gravelly moans as he drives his cock into him and looking so, so stunning as he does so. Wes slips an arm underneath Fred's neck, putting his weight on his forearm and lowering his head to press his lips against Fred's ear, his hair tickling Fred's neck.

"Do you like this, angel?" Wes whispers, his voice a rich vibration against Fred's ear, and Fred shivers and gasps.

"I love it, I've never felt anything like this, 'm afraid that I'll want you all the time now and I won't be able to have you," Fred answers truthfully, wrapping his arms around Wes's neck, and he feels like he can't get Wes close enough when he wants to feel him everywhere. Wes uses his grip on Fred's thigh to shift Fred's position slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts.

"Yeah, ah, there, like that, please," Fred sobs when he feels the head of Wes's cock putting more pressure on his prostate with each thrust, and he feels lightheaded, his stomach knotting. "Wes, please, God."

"Mmm, listen to you, you sound like a whore; I know how bad you want this," Wes spits, his words an obscene juxtaposition to the way his lips rest on Fred's skin, soft and gentle. "You're mine, fuck, don't ever let anyone else do this to you." 

Fred's jaw drops and he's certain that if he had a hand on his cock right now, he'd come from Wes saying that. He wants to tell Wes that Fred's his and that he would never, that he doesn't ever want anyone else to do this to him, but he feels feverish and frantic, and he turns his head to put his mouth on Wes's, pulling him into a filthy kiss that's all tongue and teeth. He pushes his hands into Wes's hair and starts tugging on it every time Wes fucks into him, and he's never felt this intimate with anyone or wanted anything so much in his entire life. Fred has spent so many years resenting Wes, feeling hurt and angry, but right now none of that matters to him—it's as if it never happened, and he's aching for him so fucking badly, feeling more than willing to forget everything if Wes will keep giving this to him. 

"Deeper, need you deeper," Fred mewls greedily, panting against Wes's mouth. As if he isn’t feeling Wes’s cock sliding against his prostate every time Wes drives it into Fred and as if Wes isn’t already buried deep inside him, filling him so deliciously that Wes is the only thing that he wants to think about for the rest of his life. 

"Put your legs over my shoulders," Wes breathes, and he pulls back enough to let Fred do so, taking his arm out from under Fred's head, and Fred's hands slip out of Wes's hair. Fred shifts, whining when Wes's dick slides out of him, and Wes grabs Fred's thighs to help move him into position, Fred's knees ending up level with Wes's head. 

"Put it back in," Fred begs, feeling empty and wanting. Wes works his tongue and produces a fat glob of spit, letting it fall onto Fred's hole, using his thumb to spread it out, his knuckles brushing over Fred's balls. Fred's hips jerk against Wes's touch, and Fred gasps. "Wesley."

"Look how hard you are still, haven't even asked me to touch you at all or tried to touch yourself," Wes muses, grabbing the lube from beside him and drizzling some onto his dick. He tosses the bottle aside, runs his hand over his cock a few times, and pushes back into Fred, making Fred moan softly. "Just don’t want it to be over yet, huh? Doesn’t it ache?" 

Before Fred can think of a response, Wes wraps his fingers around Fred's dick and starts softly rubbing his thumb over the crown, starting to fuck Fred again as he touches him. Fred shoves the side of his hand into his mouth and bites down, stifling a wanton moan and squeezing his eyes shut, overwhelmed by everything Wes is doing to him. Wes feels impossibly deep and is slamming right into Fred where he's most sensitive with every snap of his hips, and that coupled with the slow rub of Wes's thumb on Fred's cock is almost too much—almost feels too good. 

"What's wrong?" Wes asks with that sweet sort of cruelty in his voice, that derision that Fred lives and dies for, and Fred realizes he can feel Wes's breath against his cheek; he hadn't noticed that Wes had leaned in close again, too wrapped up in his own pleasure. "Am I hurting you, baby? Do you need me to stop?" 

Fred knows that Wes is aware of how good this feels for Fred and is just toying with him because he wants to hear Fred say it out loud. For a moment Fred feels like he can't speak, lost in the heat of the moment, in the unadulterated pleasure he feels, and in Wes. 

"Answer me," Wes snaps impatiently. "Look at me, c’mon, let me see your pretty eyes." 

Fred pulls his hand out of his mouth and opens his eyes, and Wes is right there, mouth red, his cheeks dusted with a rosy pink, hair a mess with pieces falling over his face. It takes everything in Fred not to either pull him into another biting kiss or just stare in awe while Wes fucks him. 

"No, don't stop, please," Fred begs, his voice barely more than a sob, nearly certain that Wes wouldn't dare, but pleading anyway. "It's so good it's almost too much, I-I've never felt like this before; I didn't know I could feel like this. I've never wanted anyone else to do this to me, never will, I'm yours, promise."

"Jesus Christ," Wes groans through clenched teeth, his eyes flaring with heat, and he takes his hand off of Fred's dick to grab the singer's wrist and lead his hand down to where Fred's aching against his stomach so that Fred can touch himself instead. As Fred begins to stroke his cock, painstakingly slow and gentle, still desperate to make this last, he feels Wes's fingers wrap around his neck, not squeezing but just resting there, and Fred gasps. 

"You were fucking made for me; no other man ever gets to have you, understand? No one else could do this for you, no one else could make you feel like this. God, I wish I could fuck you all the time. Want you so bad,” Wes groans, and Fred thinks that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to hear Wes talk to him like this. 

Fred whimpers and reaches a hand up to dig his fingers into Wes's shoulder, his cock throbbing in his other hand, and he knows he won't last more than another couple minutes at most; he’s been hard for what feels like hours. Wes seems like he's right there with him, his breathing ragged and his thrusts unrelenting, looking at Fred like he wants to ruin him—is ruining him.

"You can, Wes. A-ah, I want this all the time, whatever you wanna do to me, I’ll take it whenever, always,” Fred whines, not hesitating for even a split second before he speaks now, desperate and wanting and close. "Never gonna be able to stop thinking about your big fucking cock inside me, i-in my hands, my mouth, want it everywhere."

Wes lets out a guttural moan, and okay, yeah, Fred definitely knew what he was doing, talking about Wes's cock like that, but it's true. Fred feels Wes's fingers tighten on his throat, still not necessarily hard, but Fred can feel blood start to rush to his head, and oh, shit, he didn't know it was going to feel like that. 

"Fuck, Fred, you're such a good boy, making me feel like this, letting me take whatever I want from you,” Wes praises. “Next time I'll have you on your stomach, kiss your shoulders and the back of your neck while I fuck your brains out, hold your hands behind you. I won't even touch your cock; I'll put a pillow under you for you to rub on and come all over, and I'll finish on your back." 

Fred hopes to God that Wes is telling the truth and that it isn't just the heat of the moment, because he so desperately wants there to be a next time. Fred is so fucking close but insanely enough, he wants Wes to come again first. Then he wants Wes to kiss him and caress him while Fred comes after. 

"Fuck, Wes, ngh. You're making me want your cum so bad, I want you to come in me right now, come on, lemme feel you choking me while you fill me up, s-splitting me open with your fat cock, please, please, please." 

"Fred," Wes rasps, and Fred knows it's over. Wes squeezes Fred's throat and comes almost immediately, turning his head to bite down hard on Fred's thigh and spilling inside of him with a filthy moan. The pressure makes Fred lightheaded, and Wes's hand is so big and strong that Fred can tell he's close to passing out, the pain of the bite barely registering. Fred's hand on his dick stills and drops to his side but he's still rocking his ass back against Wes as he rides out his orgasm, his hips slowing their movement. 

Fred lets out a choked whimper and reflexively wraps his hand around Wes's wrist and Wes lets go immediately, moving his hand to rest on Fred's cheek. He plants open-mouthed kisses over the bite, panting while Fred coughs and gasps, and his hips still. Fred feels like he's going to lose his mind if he doesn't come right the fuck now.

"Wes, please?" Fred begs hoarsely, moving his legs so they're wrapped around Wes's back again, urging him closer, beyond needy, a pathetic whimper trickling out of his lips. His balls feel heavy and cramped with his need for release. "'M so hard, see?"

 Wes pulls his softening cock out of Fred and replaces it with two fingers, scooping his cum out and spreading it over Fred's cock before wrapping his hand around it and squeezing. 

"Fuck, w-what?" Fred gasps, and he doesn't have the mental capacity right now to process how much that turns him on. He just wants to fucking finish, wants Wes to take him there, and Wes leans in to kiss Fred, finally. Wes starts stroking Fred the minute their lips meet and Fred sighs into his mouth, closing his eyes and slinging his arms around Wes's neck, and he'll be shocked if he lasts a minute longer. Wes moves his free arm so it's under Fred's neck again, his fingertips brushing gently at Fred's shoulder, and Wes kisses him hard, possessively, and Fred hums, clinging onto Wes tight with his arms and legs. 

"’M not going anywhere," Wes promises with a chuckle, rubbing the tip of Fred's cock. Fred just moans, feeling like he can't speak, and keeps kissing Wes like he'll never get to again. His hips start jerking involuntarily against Wes's strokes, and he's so close, just needs a little more. 

"Shit, you're out of it," Wes remarks, kissing on his cheeks, around his mouth, and across his jaw. "You're about to come, aren't you?" 

"Mhm," Fred mumbles, nodding, shutting his eyes tighter and opening his mouth. 

"Ask for it, baby, come on," Wes purrs against Fred's ear, increasing the speed of his hand ever-so-slightly. "Tell me what you want."

"Wes, please, let m-me, make me, c'mon, I can't take it, I need to come, please," Fred whines, and if Wes denies him this right now he's going to start crying, because he’s aching and it simply wouldn’t be fair. “H-hurts.”

Wes kisses Fred's lips, says "Come. Now." into his mouth, and with a sharp flick of Wes's wrist, Fred does. Fred squeezes his eyes shut, shoots his cum all over Wes's hand, and drags his fingernails down Wes's back, emitting a drawn out sob. Wes kisses him over and over as he comes, pulls his arm out from under Fred to caress his neck, jaw, and chest, and runs his hand over Fred's dick slowly through his orgasm. Fred thinks that no one has ever made him feel this good in his entire life, feels like he's been coming for ages, moaning continuously against Wes's mouth. He lets his arms and legs fall against the mattress limply after he finishes and Wes lets go of Fred's spent cock, and he must wipe his hand on the bed somewhere, because it's dry when Wes takes Fred's waist in his hands. 

"C'mere," Wes murmurs, pulling away from the kiss, and he flips them around so that Fred is on top of him, and Fred presses his forehead into the crook of Wes's neck. "Felt good, huh?" 

Fred thinks that’s maybe the biggest understatement he’s ever heard Wes make, but nods against him. Wes puts his arms around Fred, holding him close, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on his shoulders. Fred shivers and nuzzles against him, basking in the afterglow, the both of them still panting slightly. His hips periodically give an involuntary twitch, which he chalks up to the sheer intensity of his orgasm. 

"Was it good for you?" Fred sighs softly against Wes's skin. He’s certain that Wes will tell him that it was, but he’s asking because he wants to hear him say it. 

"Of course it was; you were perfect—took everything so well for me, baby,” Wes praises. Fred hums contentedly and presses his palms flat against Wes's chest, and their bodies are still and warm against each other. They’re both silent for a while, letting everything sink in and enjoying the feeling of their bodies pressed together. 

Even through the thick, post-coital haze that’s set on the horizon of Fred’s consciousness, he’s acutely aware that he and Wes won’t simply be able to return to their functionally dysfunctional relationship after this (or better yet, forge a new relationship that errs more heavily on the side of functional) without having some intense and painstaking conversations. He has a sinking feeling that when the two of them part ways, they won’t speak again for a long time. 

“Look at me,” Wes says softly, and Fred gets the feeling that they’re thinking along the same lines based on the somberness he hears in Wes’s voice. 

“Why?” Fred asks cautiously, scared that Wes wants to have a conversation that Fred isn’t ready for. 

“Just let me see you, Fred,” Wes insists, tilting his head and rubbing his cheek against Fred’s. 

Fred hesitantly pulls his face back from Wes’s neck and crosses his forearms on Wes’s chest, leaning on them to look at him. His lips are pink, puffy, and slightly parted, and his eyes are deep, dark, and fixed on Fred. He looks beautifully disheveled, black hair wild and damp with sweat, and his neck is flushed red. Fred has to stop himself from kissing him on instinct. 

“What?” Fred questions when Wes continues to stare at him wordlessly. 

“I really do miss you,” Wes starts tentatively, lowering his hands so that they’re brushing over Fred’s hips. “I hate that things are like this between us—”

“Remember what you said on the phone about ‘the right time to have this conversation?’” Fred interrupts, unwilling to do this right now. He wants to be selfish and savor everything: Wes naked underneath him, his warm hands touching Fred, the sound of his breathing—every ounce of tenderness and intimacy that he can possibly soak in, unrestrained by anything that feels obligatory or painstaking. Fred wants to dismiss anything between Wes and himself that feels more like logical reality than fantasy, because Fred’s still not convinced that this is anything more than the latter. “I’m gonna pull that card right now, okay? Can you just kiss me again?” 

Wes silently lifts his arms, takes Fred’s face in his hands, and heeds Fred’s request, his thumbs stroking Fred’s cheeks as they kiss. Fred’s head and neck tingle at his touch and he sighs heavily, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets Wes lick and bite and have complete control. Fred is once again awed by how seemingly effortless it is for Wes to touch him just right, letting out a little whimper when Wes pulls his lower lip between his teeth exactly how Fred likes. Fred muses that though all of this checks every box for unreality, it feels more physically real than anything he’s experienced in a long time—maybe ever. 

Fred considers everything that just transpired between them and wants to tell Wes that no one has ever done anything like that to him or for him before. He wants to ask Wes how he knows just the right way to touch Fred and how he makes it feel so perfect, behaving as though he knows Fred’s body as well as his own. He has countless ifs, whys, and hows, bubbling in his throat, however he still stands by his insistence that now isn’t the time, and allows himself to let Wes kiss him again and again, reveling in even the faintest touch from the man under him. 

As their mouths move against each other, Fred thinks that few things are easy when it comes to the two of them, but this is one of them.