18. Quinn

CHAPTER 18

It was after midnight when they got home, the four of them splitting off into pairs as they walked up the back path and across the deck to their back doors.

"I'm so fucking tired," Quinn said. They'd shed their jerseys before they went to the restaurant, so Hunter already had his back, and Quinn headed to his closet to hang his up. It was kind of Hunter to lend Weston a jersey, but it wasn't surprising. Hunter was like that.

Out of the corner of his eye, Weston's bat sat on his bed, snuggled against the stuffed dog Hunter had bought him at Ikea. Cute.

When he looked behind him, Weston was still standing at the door to the bedroom.

"I was thinking maybe I should sleep on the futon."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know what I'm doing here. When we're in Duluth we make sense. But here, you have so much…context. And I don't know if I fit into that."

"Is this about Hunter?"

"It's about how seamlessly Hunter fits into your family. And how someone thought I was Lee. And how Hunter said you just need someone, and I guess I'm that person. That someone. I don't want to be ‘someone.' I want to be…whatever."

"What?" All of Quinn's internal alarms were blaring, but they weren't all bad.

"I'm fucking this up. We agreed on casual. We both wanted casual."

They had agreed on casual, but Quinn had blown past casual in a hurry. This was the moment he'd been hoping for but wouldn't allow himself to get too excited about. "What if I told you I don't want casual anymore?"

"You don't?"

"Fuck no. Weston, you are not ‘someone.' You are the man I love." Wow, that just came out. It took him eight months to tell Lee he loved him for the first time. He didn't say the L word casually, but it was good to say out loud. True.

"Q—"

He crossed the room to take one of Weston's hands. "I know I started this whole thing with my divorcee baggage and trying to pull myself out of depression. Honestly, I thought this would be a fun casual thing. But then I met you. I met you, and I stopped caring about how bad Lee hurt me because the pain was suddenly dull and far away. I realized that sometimes love is confusing. Sometimes love is painful and lonely. And then you meet someone magical, and you realize love isn't confusing; it's obvious. It isn't painful; it's joyful."

"You love me?" Weston asked. Quinn had given him a lot of information to absorb, but he needed Weston to know it.

"I love you," he said again, leaning in slowly to kiss Weston, giving him enough time to pull away.

Instead, he met Quinn's lips, capturing them for himself, his arms wrapping around Quinn's neck. Quinn held him tight as he absorbed the feelings in that kiss. As time passed, he didn't think Weston would return the declaration. That was fine. They were still new. Jumping into serious feelings wasn't what Sydney meant with the "get under to get over" advice she gave, but damn, sometimes you met someone and they were just…incredible. Weston was incredible.

Quinn broke their kiss but kept his hand cupped around Weston's jaw, wanting to keep him close. To touch his skin.

"I am overwhelmed," Weston admitted. Weston had never had a boyfriend before, and Quinn had just made him meet his family, made him feel inferior, and then told him he loved him. Yeah. That was a lot.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He kissed Weston again. "That was too much. Let me back up. Please don't sleep on the futon or I'll cry."

Finally, Weston broke into a smile.

"Okay, I won't sleep on the futon."

"Sleep with me," Quinn asked, the double entendre fully intended.

Weston nodded, pulling at the hem of Quinn's shirt.

"You beautiful man," Quinn said as Weston pulled his own shirt over his head. The two of them could never get naked quickly enough. Quinn was insatiable around him. He hadn't known what passion was until he'd met Weston. Until he'd felt drunk around a person simply because of how their touch made Quinn feel. He didn't even miss anal. All he cared about was being with Weston. Every time they had sex was intense and beautiful and fulfilling. With Lee, it wasn't like they never had good sex. It was just a rarity. Sex mostly met physical needs.

From their first time together, he and Weston had a strangely grand connection. Quinn thought at first that it was just him—that he was incapable of one-night stands. It didn't take much longer to realize that Weston was truly special.

It was getting cold outside. Their first hard freeze was on the radar for Friday. Quinn pulled his comforter over the two of them to keep them warm and fell back into kissing Weston. He had such beautiful full lips, and every time Quinn tasted them, their kiss was lush. When they started this, Weston's kisses were an escape. Now he knew they were a destination.

His lube was sitting out on his side table, and he took charge, pouring some into his palm. It crushed him that Weston wasn't feeling valued and cherished.

Weston was on his way to being fully hard when Quinn wrapped his hand around his shaft. He gasped into Quinn's mouth as he shifted his hips and pushed his cock into Quinn's palm. He loved the weight of Weston's dick in his hand. One day, he wanted it to be more familiar than his own.

While he leisurely jerked Weston off, they continued to kiss, their tongues sliding against each other as their kiss burned between them. Weston took a shaky deep breath, one hand releasing his grip on Quinn's neck to tease one of his own nipples. Watching this man as he accepted and sought pleasure was the single sexiest thing Quinn had ever seen. At some point, he wanted to watch Weston jerk off just to study how he touched himself.

Weston's hand drifted to his other nipple, and a drip of precome fell from the slit of Quinn's cock. Quinn nosed Weston's fingers out of the way and suctioned his lips around the little pink bud, lapping and flicking his tongue until Weston was moaning, the sounds filling the space since Quinn's mouth wasn't there to catch them.

"You're getting me so close, fuck," Weston said. That was what Quinn was waiting for. He didn't need Weston to tell him to know he was getting close to the edge, but this way, when Quinn's hand slid to the base of Weston's dick to give him a squeeze this side of uncomfortable, he knew exactly what Quinn was doing.

"Fuck," Weston said, throwing his head back against the pillow in frustration. "You bastard."

Quinn was smug. That was the perfect reaction.

"I'll only be a bastard until I make you come so hard you see stars, and then I'll be something else."

Weston let out a frenetic giggle, his body still tense. While Quinn waited a little while longer before he went back to stroking him, he traced the tip of his tongue over Weston's chest, leaving wet trails that he blew on, the gentle breeze causing Weston to shiver.

The sensation wasn't pleasure. It was just sensation that Quinn was adding to everything Weston's brain was already feeling, amping everything else up. Quinn knew when the frustration got to be too much, as Weston tried to sneak his own hand down to his cock. But Quinn caught it and pulled it up above Weston's head.

"None of that. Your cock is mine." The cock in question throbbed in his fist. They needed to have a conversation before Quinn felt any real ownership there, but it was a conversation he wanted to have. He wanted something official.

He kept stroking, keeping his touch light, the friction just enough to keep Weston worked up but not enough to push him over the edge.

Weston wiggled free the hand Quinn was holding above his head and wrapped it around Quinn's neck, pulling him into a bruising, desperate kiss. The heat from Weston's mouth was addictive, and he lost himself in the kiss, his hypervigilance about the handjob flying to the wayside. He stroked him with the speed and force he would stroke himself, and when Weston moaned again, cracked and broken into their kiss, Quinn remembered his goal.

"Fuck," Weston hissed as Quinn grabbed the base of his dick again, holding his orgasm off. Weston squirmed under him and tried to fuck up into his fist. Quinn didn't relent. "I want it so bad. Please," he begged. Weston's eyes were glossy, tears threatening to spill. He didn't want to make Weston cry. He wasn't a sadist. Quinn let him squirm for just a little longer before deciding to have mercy.

He ran his slick hand over Weston's shaft with intention, his grip nice and snug but not painful, as Weston's body responded beautifully. Quinn loved that he was vocal in bed, if not always the most coherent. He was getting constant feedback on what felt good and what felt even better. Weston's body tensed up, like he was waiting for Quinn to take control again and hold back his orgasm.

"I'm going to let you come this time," Quinn whispered, pressing kisses to the side of Weston's head. "I promise. Come whenever you want."

"I'm so fucking close," Weston said, nearly at a sob.

Quinn sped up until Weston's orgasm pumped from him, spilling trails of milky come on his chest. Gorgeous. He was so fucking gorgeous.

Weston took over, milking the last few drops of his orgasm, and Quinn captured his lips in another lazy kiss. His postcoital kisses were sleepy, and there was something incredibly sexy about how tired he was. Maybe it had something to do with knowing Weston would be sleeping next to him in that same bed in just a few minutes.

Quinn was still hard, and he flopped to his side and waited as Weston did a cursory mop up of his chest. Then he joined Quinn on his side, facing him.

"There's something delicious about a handjob being the main course, you know? It's not just a precursor to something else, or a way to get someone off quickly in the shower. It's intimate to touch you the way you touch yourself," Quinn said. He wasn't the best at talking about relationship stuff, but Weston deserved his honest thoughts.

"Handjobs are so sexy," Weston agreed, finding Quinn's erection to return the favor. Weston didn't edge him, thank god. He could dish it out, but he had a hard time taking it. Instead, Weston went slow and encouraged Quinn to thrust into his tight grip. He closed his eyes as Weston kissed him, and then he was floating away. Sure, he could jerk himself off, but he'd never made himself feel like this. Just having another person's hand on his dick was usually more than enough for him, but Weston wasn't just another person. He loved Weston, and it heightened his pleasure knowing that Weston wanted to make him feel good.

With Weston's hand on him, he could fully relax into the feeling, and just before he was about to come, Weston slid down, taking Quinn into his mouth for a few moments until Quinn was on the precipice. He pulled away as Quinn was coming, stroking him quickly with one hand and letting Quinn's orgasm spill over his cheeks and nose and mouth.

He licked his lips as shocks shot down to Quinn's toes.

"I'm glad I didn't freak you out too much, because that was hot as hell," Quinn said, pulling Weston back up to meet his lips as he carefully licked him clean.

It was okay that Weston hadn't returned his declaration. He just made Quinn come on his face, and that had to mean something. He knew Weston had never been in a relationship before, but he fell asleep in Quinn's bed that night, and that was all that mattered.