23. Weston

CHAPTER 23

"I'm starting to feel the ‘long' in ‘long distance,'" Weston said to his viewers as he worked on a new house in Fixer Upper. A new expansion just came out, and you could now make duplexes or a row of townhomes, and Weston was taking full advantage. And torturing himself.

He watched as his chat discussed his love life. Q had been in chat earlier but had to dip. He was going to come up earlier that day, but it had snowed overnight, and kept snowing, and Quinn's little car wasn't a safe choice to drive in it. Weston was pouting. They hadn't seen each other in weeks. Every time they tried to plan something, something else came up.

First, Hunter got a nasty email from his mom just hours after his first grief counselor appointment, so Quinn stayed to hang out with him. Then Sienna had a flare, and Weston went to keep her company while she was in pain. Now, this fucking snowstorm was ruining his life.

"At this rate, I'll see Q sometime next year. How's everyone else doing? No one wants to hear me miss my man." Weston had been aching for a real conversation with Quinn. He wanted to tell him that he loved him, too. He wanted to lay real claim to him. And he wanted to do it in person.

Actually, we totally want to hear about GoodQ.

Yeah, is he good in bed

Watch it or you'll get muted

I miss him more than you do. U 2 are so cute together.

I had a choir concert today

Does everyone else hate that wall color as much as I do?

Half of his active chat participants were regulars, but usually about half were names he didn't recognize. It was like being in a room full of his friends and strangers, which made emotional disclosure complicated.

"Is this wall color ugly?" he asked, using chat comments to whip up some semblance of a conversation. He was good at talking into the void now. But it had become pretty evident over the past few months that he made way more money when Quinn was with him—more than double his average. And it was way more fun to do this with him.

"Alright, I'll try the teal." He selected the new color and watched an animation of the color being painted onto his wall with invisible rollers.

"Decorate this house for Christmas? I could do that. I'm not a big Christmas guy to begin with, so I haven't decorated anything yet. Probably won't. I know you freaks only see a tiny corner of my apartment, but it's a studio. There's nowhere to put a Christmas tree, let alone store it. I think it would be fun to do winter decorations. Something along the lines of snow and white lights. No Santa or anything."

The teal on his walls looked worse than the mustard yellow he had before. The rest of the stream dragged. He was used to getting a string of texts from Quinn as he streamed, even if he wasn't watching, but Weston's phone didn't light up once.

He sent a text to let Quinn know his stream was over, which was usually followed immediately by Quinn video-chatting him. It was part of his decompression process now, and he stared at his phone for way too long, waiting for it to ring.

Finally, he headed to bed. Quinn didn't have to send him forty-five texts an hour. He was just busy. And now that Weston had been down to Minneapolis, he had a vision of Quinn and Hunter and Jon hanging out, watching a movie maybe, making inside jokes from ten years ago.

He was moping, and he knew it. He would wake up to a handful of texts from Quinn, and everything would feel better. But first he'd sulk.

He went through his whole evening routine, finally flipping off his neon sign in his stream background, then heading to hit the switch for his main light by his door.

Then, finally, his phone buzzed on his side table. He sprinted back to his bed, his desperation plain, and saw Quinn was video-chatting him.

"Hi!" he answered, collapsing onto his bed, phone in hand. "Where are you?"

Quinn had a winter hat on his head, and he was somewhere poorly lit. "Take a guess."

"Mars? Pluto?"

"Duluth?" A tiny smile crept onto Quinn's face.

"What? Are you here? I'm going to be fucking crushed if you're kidding."

"I'm not. I was complaining to Jon about the snow and he lent me his truck."

"You're here?"

"I'm here, baby."

"Well, fuck, get in here." He ended the call and hopped into his boots, leaving them untied as he headed out his door and toward his building's back door. The wind blew the door open as soon as he'd turned the knob, and the gust of frigid wind whipped clear through him. His bones were cold. Quinn had his duffel over his shoulder as he swung the door of Jon's huge pickup closed and trudged through the snow that had been accumulating all day.

Weston pulled him inside and closed the door, shutting the cold air out. He was shivering, though, and when Quinn cupped his face in his icy hands and kissed him, the tip of his nose was cold where it pressed to his cheek. He'd been outside for twenty seconds.

"Oh my god," Weston said again, impatient to be pressed against this man. "Inside, inside."

They kicked their boots off inside Weston's apartment, and Weston shoved him up against the door, getting his lips back on Quinn for the first time in weeks. If he'd known how long he'd have to go without seeing Quinn, he would have never left Minneapolis.

He crushed his lips to Quinn's in an attempt to devour him, as Quinn's hands slipped down his sides and picked him up under his thighs. He wrapped his legs around Quinn and held on tight as Quinn whipped him around, taking his turn to press Weston to the door.

"I could get used to this," Weston said, gasping as Quinn's lips slid over his neck. Quinn laughed against his skin, and even though he'd been freezing only a minute ago, Weston was hot all over. Quinn pressed his hips forward, his growing erection evident. Weston wiggled in Quinn's arms enough to grind the two of them together. Weston had spent most of his life meeting his own needs. He didn't think he would get so dependent on one man's hands, mouth, and body for pleasure. But here he was, desperate for it.

"I want to rub off on your abs," he panted as Quinn's hands crept up the back of his crewneck.

"I will give you whatever you want. Everything you want."

"You really mean that."

"I mean that so fucking deeply, baby."

"I'm your baby?" Maybe it was cliche, but no one had ever called Weston baby before, and it was making him melt.

"Yes, baby. You're mine." One of Quinn's hands slipped down the back of Weston's sweats, his erection throbbing against Weston as he realized Weston was commando. Again. "Love it when you don't wear underwear."

"Convenient for you I hate underwear, then."

"Very convenient."

As much as Weston wanted to be pressed between Quinn and a door forever, he was ready for his man to take him to bed. They were a conversation away from being official, Weston was pretty sure. He let his possessive feelings take over. Quinn was his.

He set Weston on his feet next to the bed and made quick work of peeling him out of his sweats until he was bare, and Quinn still had his fucking winter coat on. "Strip," Weston commanded, hopping into bed to get under the covers. Part of his nighttime routine was turning the heat down, which he'd done prematurely. It was not a temperature to be naked.

Quinn caught his eye as he was unzipping his coat and smirked, dragging the zipper down tooth-by-tooth, giving him a show. Quinn was some ethereal kind of gorgeous, pretty by accident, just good genes and a nice haircut. Everyone in his family was beautiful, but Weston obviously had a preference. He was itching to get his hands back on Quinn, but he waited as Quinn shimmied the jacket off his shoulders and moved on to the sweater underneath it.

"How many fucking layers are you wearing?" Weston complained as Quinn pulled his sweater up to reveal an undershirt.

"Getting impatient?"

"I'm just saying, I practically served myself up for you on a silver platter, and you're like a cookie you buy at a deli with six layers of cling wrap on it."

Quinn stifled a laugh, drawing out his striptease for one more moment before losing his patience and pulling his sweater and undershirt off in one movement, tossing them onto the futon. His jeans were next, mercifully belt-less. His socks came off with them. It left him with only a nice, tight pair of boxer briefs, his erection straining the fabric. Weston opened his mouth immediately, face on the same level as Quinn's cock, and Quinn's face melted from seduction to fondness. He stepped close to Weston and sighed as Weston mouthed at the bulge Quinn was sticking in his face.

Weston loved this cock. He loved the boy it was attached to, too, but he was horny enough for cock to be his first thought. He nuzzled it, flicked his tongue over the ridge of it, reached up to cup Quinn's balls and give them a squeeze. It made Quinn whimper, but all he did was take what Weston was giving him.

Weston licked and mouthed at Quinn until his boxers were damp, and a telltale wet spot from the dribble of precome appeared. Slowly, he peeled the front of Quinn's underwear down until the tip of his cock was free, and he traced the tip of his tongue around the crown before taking just the head into his mouth, sucking gently. He looked up at Quinn above him, who was beginning to melt with pleasure. And Weston had barely done anything to him yet.

"Baby, don't get me wrong. This feels amazing and I never want it to stop."

Weston let Quinn's cock pop from between his lips, his tongue flicking out to catch a bead of precome. "But?"

Quinn groaned, cupping a hand under Weston's chin to tip his head up. "But this is about you, baby. Giving you what you want."

"You think I don't want your cock?" He wrapped his lips around Quinn again, taking a couple inches into his mouth, trailing the tip of his tongue up the underside. Quinn shook. What made their sex so fucking good was how they were both uncontrollably horny for each other. He was less self-conscious in bed with Quinn because he knew he could do pretty much anything, and Quinn would make the you are the sexiest thing in the world face at him regardless.

Weston propped himself up on his side on one elbow and used his other hand to slide under the waistband of Quinn's underwear, easing them down while also copping a feel. Quinn kicked them off and shivered.

"Are you going to let me get in bed with you? It's fucking freezing."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Weston told him, innocently fussing with the blankets around him. He burst out laughing when Quinn scooped him up and tossed him a few inches farther onto the mattress so he could climb under with him.

"Why is Duluth in December so fucking cold?"

"So I can warm you up."

"You are such a minx," Quinn said, covering Weston's body with his own, leaning down to capture his lips in another kiss. He never in his life thought he would find someone who would kiss him this much. Like the reason that all of this felt so good for Quinn was because it was Weston specifically. He threaded his fingers through the back of Weston's hair, cradling his head while they kissed, even though there was a perfectly good pillow under his head already.

Quinn kissed him like he was savoring him. Filling up on kisses for when he wouldn't get to kiss him. Burning his lips into his memory.

And as good as the kisses felt, he was hard, and after all of this teasing and going slow, his brain was melting with how horny he was. "Lube?" he asked as he pressed his hips up against Quinn, the thick ridge of his cock warm and thick and heavy.

"Yes, baby," Quinn said, shifting off him a bit to grab it. Weston wrestled Quinn onto his back so he could straddle him, getting another warm, easy smile in return. He handed Weston the lube, and he drizzled a good amount into his hand, warmed it a bit by rubbing his hands together, then stroked the two of them together, a task that needed both of his hands. Quinn's cock was thick and gorgeous, only slightly longer than his own, and when he looked up at Quinn, his eyes were focused on what Weston was doing. He bucked his hips, trying to fuck into Weston's grip, his hands finding Weston's hips.

He wiped his hands off on a couple of tissues, then drizzled more lube on both of them. When he bent down to kiss Quinn, their erections were trapped between them, the lube providing enough slide while still allowing necessary friction. Quinn had a firm grip on his hips, sliding their bodies together, their erections pressed against each other.

"Fuck, you are intoxicating," Quinn told him, voice rough as he helped guide Weston's body in a sinuous slide against his own. It was hard to find a person who understood that sex could be amazing, special, intimate, beautiful, and mind blowing without penetration, but here was Quinn, who was willing to take him apart and put him back together exactly how he wanted it, with no judgment, no questions, and no guilt.

"Baby, what?" Quinn asked, slowing their movements to a stop as he wiped a tear from Weston's cheek. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," Weston said, dropping his head to Quinn's shoulder as he took a deep breath. Quinn ran a hand up his back, fingernails scratching lightly as he soothed Weston.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Literally nothing. Everything is amazing."

"Oh?" Quinn asked, guiding his face up so they could look at each other. Quinn had such a soft, beautiful look on his face. "Is it because I love you?"

"Yes," Weston said. "I think you actually do."

"I really do, baby. I really fucking love you."

"I love you, too."

"Sweetheart," Quinn said, pulling him into the softest, most tender kiss.

"I'm sorry for crying."

"You never have to apologize for feeling something big when we have sex. That is the best feeling in the world. I have never felt better than I do right now."

"Same," Weston said with a shaky laugh.

"Do you want to stop?"

"No." He was still hard, and he rubbed himself against Quinn, a soft breathy moan coming from between his lips.

"Fuck, honey." Quinn flipped them again, rolling Weston onto his back but keeping the friction between them going, his hips sliding against Weston's, working his erection against Weston's stomach and his own hardness.

Quinn sped up, pressing his forehead to Weston's, their lips grazing each other in uncoordinated, soft kisses as they chased their climax. Weston spilled first, crashing their lips together as he came only moments before Quinn joined him, the sticky mess between them the least of their worries.

Weston closed his eyes and pulled Quinn to rest on his chest while he tugged the blankets over Quinn's shoulders. They wouldn't last long like this, but for the moment, it was perfect.

"I'll think about this moment on my deathbed," Quinn said, his voice sleepy and warm. "I love you so much."

Weston smiled to himself, fingers trailing through Quinn's silky blond hair. Yes, the feeling of loving Quinn was incredible. Full, lush, soft, comfortable, amazing. But the feeling of being loved, of letting himself believe it, to know that Quinn loved him, was all-encompassing.

"I love you."

Quinn snuggled against him as they basked. One argument for blowjobs was that even though you couldn't kiss while you were sucking someone's dick, at least you weren't left with the mess they now had to clean up.

After shower cleanup, then round two in the shower, they ended up in the kitchen as Quinn dug through the fridge for snacks.

"I have a dilemma," he said, pulling out a string cheese and peeling it open. He offered it to Weston first, who declined, before taking a bite.

"Is the dilemma that you eat string cheese like a monster?"

"Absolutely not. The dilemma is that the man I love lives two-plus hours away from me and it's driving me nuts."

"Ah. I have the same dilemma."

Quinn set his snack down on the counter and pulled Weston to his chest, tucking his head under his chin. Quinn made his heart beat faster, but he could also calm down his nervous system in moments like this. He relaxed against Quinn's chest. His Quinn. His person.

"Is this the define-the-relationship conversation?" Weston asked. Quinn's chest rumbled under his cheek.

"I was hoping so. Ideally, you'd want to be official."

"Yes, I do."

Quinn kissed the top of his head.

"Mmm good. Step one accomplished. Step two is that I want to be together. Together together. I don't want to be two hours away from you by default. I want to be together by default, and two hours away from you on circumstance."

"What does that look like?"

"We stay here until we want to go to the Cities. Then we head south, stay in Minneapolis together until you want to come back up here. And so on. And when we're ready to make it permanent, we can figure that out then."

"That sounds perfect." When he thought about solutions, he'd never been able to find that perfect compromise. And there would be bumps to work out. But the simplicity of it hopefully would make it work.

"We might have to head down to the Cities soon though, since I took Jon's car."

"I like Minneapolis."

"I like Duluth."

"I like you."

"I like you too, baby. I'm too wired to go to bed. Let's find a movie to watch."

Weston nearly made a joke about round three, but he was worn out, and lying in the V of Quinn's legs as they watched an action movie with barely any plot was the exact thing he wanted to do.