10. Quinn

CHAPTER 10

Quinn's eyeballs burned as he put the finishing touches on his design. One of his freelance clients had a big project that Quinn normally couldn't accommodate due to his full-time job, but now that his schedule was open (and now that he didn't have regular income coming in), he'd had to jump on the opportunity. His mortgage weighed on his mind constantly. It wasn't his first time with a mortgage, but it was imperative that he didn't fuck this up for Hunter. That was something he could never forgive himself for.

In the couple weeks since he'd moved back into his duplex, he had seen Hunter in passing, a little. While Quinn didn't have a lot going on, Hunter did, so they hadn't had a chance to catch up yet. He was trying to bury himself in work in the meantime. Not fucking up having a roof over their heads was part of being good to Hunter, he told himself.

However, his freelance project meant Quinn had to cancel on Weston. It had been weeks since Quinn had gone up to visit him, and they were trying to find a time Quinn could head back up. Every time they talked, they mentioned it. And finally, they'd had a weekend free.

And then Quinn got this job.

He knew himself well enough to know that he wouldn't get any work done while he was with Weston. Plus, he didn't want to. He wanted to stream with him and kiss him and reluctantly go hiking with him. Not sit around trying to get work done on a laptop. He needed his external monitor. He needed to do it at home.

The moment he sent in his final assets, he shoved some clothes into a duffel and tossed his shit in the car. He'd gone grocery shopping and spent a lot of time trying to find snacks he could bring that Weston could eat, so he had a grocery bag in his passenger wheel well and his duffel on the seat.

Being in a long-distance relationship would be hard. What he had with Weston was a middle-distance…situationship? "Friends with bennies" as Syd would call it? Hunter would probably call it a "repeat hookup."

As a self-respecting Midwesterner, he couldn't call a two-hour drive a "long drive," but it was long enough to call his sister.

"Quinner," she greeted, her voice coming out of the speakers in his car. "Are you calling me to solve a problem for you?"

"No. Just driving to Duluth again. Figured someone should know where I am."

"I'm glad I'm the Apple AirTag of the family."

"If I called Brady, he would forget instantly. I'll text Jon too."

"Have a nice sexy weekend, I guess. Speaking of which, I gotta go."

"Speaking of sexy?" Syd had been in the same weird little love slump that had plagued all of his siblings in the last year, but things were looking up. The universe was kind, occasionally.

"Quinner, I am a cliche. I met a figure skater."

"Oh boy. Alright, we'll have to FaceTime soon. Do your homework."

"Cs get degrees."

The phone call beeped its ending, and his stereo went back to the nostalgic 2000s pop he'd been listening to. Weston had been sending him "throwback jams" every day that week, since he was playing games that came out around Y2K.

The final section of 35W passed quickly. Finally, Duluth was before him, and Weston was here. His happiness was here.

Quinn didn't need the GPS to tell him where to go, even with his shit sense of direction, and by the time he pulled into Weston's tiny parking lot, he was buzzing. He'd shared his ETA with Weston, and apparently he had been watching Quinn's dot on the map because he burst out the front door of the apartment building, wind blowing his hair out of his face. He put his hands in his pockets as he waited for Quinn to get out of the car, bouncing on his toes but holding himself back.

"Hi," he said, his voice soft. He gave Quinn a wave.

"Hey." They had a moment of awkwardness before Quinn opened his arms for a hug, and the tension on Weston's face melted away. Quinn had missed the way Weston felt in his arms, but he wasn't ready to tell him that.

"Let's grab your stuff and get inside."

Quinn threw his duffel on his shoulder, and when Weston held a hand out to help, Quinn gave him the grocery bag.

"I got snacks for us. Hopefully, you can eat them. You'll have to take a look and stuff?—"

Weston cut him off with a kiss, staying close when their lips parted. "You brought me food I can eat?"

"Well, I tried. I started following this Instagram account about the best gluten-free stuff you can get at grocery stores and—" Another kiss ended his rambling. He would buy Weston as much gluten-free snack food as he wanted if it meant he kept getting kissed like that.

"Just at a glance, this stuff looks good. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Quinn said, then nudged Weston toward the building again when he shivered.

It was dark out, but Weston's apartment was bright. His stream lights were still on. Quinn had timed his arrival for a bit after the stream ended, so they could have time to themselves together instead of rushing to be on camera, and that was a great idea.

Weston flipped the lock on the door behind him and pushed Quinn toward his bed.

"Here's the real reason I came back," Quinn joked, flopping back on Weston's bed and then reaching to grab his stuffed bat. It truly barely looked like a bat. It was almost ball shaped and was nearly identical to the design of most of the other varieties of this particular stuffed animal line.

Weston pretended to pout but crawled onto the bed after Quinn. "Don't make me jealous of Echo." Quinn set the bat aside and pulled Weston on top of him. Quinn had limited experience with hooking up, but seeking physical pleasure from a stranger was a lot of work. He was self-conscious, and when the orgasm faded, his brief experiences had a twinge of regret.

Here with Weston, just feeling the weight of his body against his own was better than the kinds of impersonal orgasms quick hookups had brought him. He had gentle fingers on Weston's chin as he guided the kiss. Urgency surged through him, but he forced himself to go slow, to savor this.

Their kisses stretched out in time. He'd never kissed Lee like this. With Lee, they'd kissed when they'd had sex, and they'd kissed hello and good night. But they'd left gentle making out in the dust as soon as sex was involved, and Quinn had forgotten how good it felt. So far with Weston, the sex had been wonderful, and he'd be lying to say he didn't want to make Weston come, but if they didn't, he wouldn't be disappointed. He just wanted to be pressed together like this, close enough to whisper, to share body heat, and breathe each other in.

Their tongues slid together as Weston coaxed kiss after kiss from him. Quinn's driving outfit was sweats and a hoodie, and Weston was in pajama pants and a t-shirt, and as they both slowly got hard, Quinn could feel Weston's dick pressing against him and the pressure of his thigh against Quinn's own erection.

He'd spent the weeks they'd been apart thinking about what Weston would look like sitting on his dick, his body on display above him, cock bouncing as he rode him. His dick throbbed against Weston's thigh, and that got his attention.

"Yes?" Weston asked, a teasing little grin on his face, halfway wicked, the way he looked when he was shamelessly flirting with Quinn on stream. Quinn craved that grin and pulled him in for one more kiss, wet and languid.

"I wanna fuck you," he said, unprepared for how stock-still Weston's body got. "Oh, um, I'm sorry. We don't have to now, or maybe you don't like it, or?—"

Weston slid off him to lie next to him, which was exactly the opposite of what Quinn wanted.

"I was kinda hoping it would take longer for that to come up."

Quinn's heart sank. Weston's face went from glee to fear, and Quinn hated that. He cupped Weston's cheek but otherwise gave him space. "We don't have to rush into anything."

"It's not about rushing."

"What's it about?"

"I, uh, don't really like doing that."

"Oh. That's fine. That's completely fine."

"I mean, either…way." It took a lot of bravery to establish boundaries when yours were different from others'. Quinn respected it.

"Okay. Then we won't."

"You're okay with that?"

"Sex would be pretty boring if it only felt good one way. And it's only fun if everyone involved is having a good time."

"You're really not going to run for the hills?"

"I'm starting to think people have before."

Weston nodded, teeth biting into his lower lip. Quinn leaned in, and Weston took the invitation, letting their lips graze, feeling the tingle of all the kissing they'd already done that evening.

"But you like kissing?" Weston nodded. "And you're very good at it."

"I feel like guys look at me and assume I want to take it up the ass, and sometimes that leads to negative experiences for both parties."

"That's not fair of them."

"It's part of why I've never had a boyfriend. It got close with one guy who thought I'd change my mind. He thought if we were dating, I'd let him."

"I hate him," Quinn said, and Weston laughed.

"I can't really blame him, I guess. It's expected."

"No, you can blame him."

"You're really not disappointed?"

"If you told me you only ever wanted to hold hands, we would just hold hands." Wildly, Quinn realized he meant that. The feeling alone of touching Weston's skin was better than a lot of the sex he'd had.

This time when Weston kissed him, it was a searing, teeth-forward kiss, hot and with intent. Weston straddled him. He was so fucking cute in his pajamas, but the look in his eye went straight to Quinn's cock, which had gotten soft during their conversation but had no trouble rekindling its interest.

"Have you ever fucked someone's thighs before?" Weston asked.

"Yeah." Quinn nodded.

"Do you wanna?"

"Are you offering because you think I'll be disappointed with doing something else? Because I won't be."

Weston shook his head. "I like it."

"Then yes," Quinn said. "And if you want to do something else at any time, we'll switch it up."

Weston laughed at him. "You're being so careful."

"I'm not doing it on purpose. It's basic respect."

Weston smiled and pulled his shirt over his head, settling his weight on Quinn's groin. He made an embarrassing noise, and Weston wiggled his hips a bit to get Quinn to make more noise.

"You could probably make me come like this," Quinn admitted, so turned on by Weston just being here with him.

"Then I'll give you some mercy." He slid off of Quinn, reaching for the lube in his nightstand while Quinn wiggled out of his sweats and hoodie, pulling his boxers and t-shirt off with them. When Weston flopped next to him on the mattress, a little flushed and all smiles, Quinn trailed his hands down his sides and back, slipping them under Weston's pajama pants.

"Commando," he hummed appreciatively, his hands curving around Weston's round ass. He rocked his hips against Quinn's thigh, until Quinn peeled his pajamas down to sit just under his ass and eased them over his hard cock. Weston gasped as Quinn took him in his hand, stroking him languidly as they kissed.

He knew the room was chilly, and Weston's nipples pebbled against the cold air, but Quinn was burning up. He ducked his head to take one of Weston's nipples in his mouth, laving and flicking his tongue over the hard bud, surprised gasps filling the air.

Weston's hand covered the one Quinn had wrapped around his cock and stopped his movements.

"I don't wanna come yet."

"Then flip over."

Weston wiggled onto his other side, and Quinn peeled his pajamas the rest of the way off. Weston handed the lube to him over his shoulder, and Quinn drizzled it on himself, giving himself a few strokes to get fully coated, before easing Weston farther over, nearly onto his stomach.

"I'm sorry if it's cold," Quinn said, aiming the drizzle of lube right at the top of Weston's thighs, which he was squeezing together. He looked delicious, and when he shot a look over his shoulder at Quinn, he looked every bit the sexy, coy little tease who lured Quinn up here. "Let me know if you need more, alright?"

Weston nodded, and Quinn slowly pressed the tip of his cock between Weston's slick thighs. He went slow, the first few exploratory thrusts mostly doing the job of spreading the lube where they needed it to be. Then Weston clamped his thighs even tighter together, and Quinn moaned against Weston's back, pressing kisses to the knobs of his spine as he gradually sped up his thrusts.

Quinn had one slick hand already covered in lube, and he reached around to wrap it around Weston's hard cock. As he thrust into the wet heat of Weston's thighs, they both moaned, the tip of Quinn's cock nudging against Weston's balls with every thrust.

Sure, anal was great, but this might have been just as good. A tight, wet channel to fuck, a beautiful, warm body to hold against his own, the thrust of his hips pushing his cock into Weston and Weston's cock into his fist.

He felt no less close to Weston in that moment than he would have if he'd been fully inside of him.

The shock of how intense his emotions were caught in his throat. Their bodies were moving together in harmony, and suddenly it was all too much. Quinn's orgasm was building faster than he could control.

"Babe," Quinn said, unable to think of what words he needed to say at that moment, but Weston got it. The pressure on his dick increased, and he temporarily let go of Weston's cock so he could hold on to his hips, getting better leverage for his movements. He groaned as he found his release, his orgasm spilling between Weston's thighs. It was messy and dirty, and he kept thrusting as it started getting sticky.

"Holy shit," he said, kissing Weston over his shoulder, messy and wet, like the rest of what they were doing.

Weston's hand was moving over his own cock still, and Quinn helped him onto his back before taking his cock into his mouth. He was coated with more lube than Quinn usually liked in his mouth, but it didn't matter. He sealed his lips over the crown of Weston's cock as Weston kept stroking himself, his tongue flicking over his head as beads of precome dribbled out. When Weston found his own orgasm, his come spilled into Quinn's mouth, hot and salty.

He let Weston's hips thrust up as he savored his release, and when Quinn finally pulled back, Weston looked completely debauched. His lips were puffy, his cock spent, his thighs shiny.

"We need to get you into the shower, don't we?" Quinn asked, and Weston's tongue flicked out over his bottom lip. Teasing. Sexy.

"I bet you'd like that," he joked.

"Obviously," Quinn agreed. There wasn't much choice in the matter. The mess Quinn left on him was too much to clean up with some tissues or a body wipe, which made him proud. He might not be coming inside of Weston, but it wasn't like coming on Weston was a consolation. It was its own prize.

Quinn already knew how to work the finicky shower in Weston's old apartment building, and he got the water nice and hot, holding Weston against his chest to try to keep him warm while they waited, smoothing his hands over the goose bumps on Weston's arms.

The water stayed hot for a long time, and their shower was filled with more languid kisses and just enough actual showering to get them ready for bed. Quinn washed Weston's inner thighs carefully, trying to be respectful.

"You don't have to avoid ever touching my asshole," Weston finally said, catching Quinn off guard. "Part of what feels so good about what we just did was that exterior stimulation."

"Mmm," Quinn said, letting his fingertips finally guide soap over his hole. "That is good to know."

"I'll tell you when you're doing something I don't like, alright?"

"Loud and clear." He didn't push it, just rinsed them off and wrapped towels around them. Weston put his same pajamas back on, and Quinn pulled his own out of his duffel. Then Weston grabbed the grocery bag they'd left in the entryway and started pawing through it. Quinn pulled a bin from under Weston's bed and grabbed a new fitted sheet, since they'd ruined the one currently on the bed, and stripped and remade the bed while Weston tore through the grocery bag.

"I feel pretty lucky with the selection we have up in Duluth, but damn, I've been dying to try these," he said, holding up a package of golden Oreos. There were a few frozen items that he put into the freezer for later, hoping they weren't ruined by now, but he brought an armful of stuff back to bed, and they both climbed in under the covers. Weston flicked the TV on and picked a streamer to watch.

"What's this?"

"ASMR," Weston said. It was a woman pretending to wash and cut the viewer's hair, her voice a whisper, dim lights already making Quinn feel sleepy.

"I thought ASMR was with the mic that looks like it has ears."

"It comes in many flavors," Weston said with a laugh. They went through the snacks and watched ASMR, and Quinn was elated to know that everything he brought for Weston were things he could actually eat. They rated the bed snacks (Weston liked the chocolate quinoa crisps, but Quinn favored the buffalo pretzels), and then it was late late, the sun closer to rising than setting, the city all tucked in for the night. Just them and the moon and stars.

They fell asleep pressed together again, and it hit Quinn that whatever he was doing with Weston felt natural. With Lee, there was always a part of him trying to talk himself into their relationship or talk himself out of frustrations. But there was no push and pull with Weston. They were just here. Settled. Comfortable. Perfect.