Ian and Wes

A note to readers: I want to thank everyone who's commented on the story so far! It means a lot to me to have your support. I admit I ended Chapter 3 very abruptly. I wasn't sure I'd be able to continue on with Ian and Wes's story, so I figured I should take advantage of the opportunity for a clean break. Turns out I'm not done with these two after all. I can't make any promises on frequency of uploads, but here's at least one more.

***

I recognized him the second I saw him.

Ian McNair.

It was pretty obvious he didn't recognize me though. Hah, can't even blame him for that one. I swear it took about two weeks for the guys on the football team to believe I was the same skinny kid with the wild black hair from freshman year.

Yeah, it's me.

Wes Houston.

Yes, I started working out. Yes, I upped my protein intake. Yes, your mom probably tried to slip me her number.

I mean I could try to be humble about it but I don't really see the point.

For years, I worked hard to transform myself. Really fucking hard.

And Really Fucking Hard is exactly what I was when I saw Ian after the years away.

See, Ian's a pretty boy with just a little bit of an edge. He's lean and compact, definitely not soft. He's built enough that you know he can handle himself athletically. And like he can take a good hard pounding without snapping in half, too.

He's one of the few people I didn't forget about after moving away years ago. I knew of him coming up through middle school, but mostly I remember him from freshman English class. He was really smart, always raising his hand. The tips of his hair were bleached almost white and he used way too much hair gel. He wore a white puka shell necklace.

15-year-old me fucking loved it.

He was the first boy to make my cock stir. I wasn't even sure what was going on with me at the time, but he did something for me, alright.

I remember one day that year I dropped my books all over the middle of the hallway. Everyone else just stepped over me while I tried to pick my stuff up. Acting like they could see right through me.

Not Ian.

Ian stopped and helped me. He crouched down and handed me a few of my notebooks and smiled at me with those giant, clear blue eyes. They were the icy in color but somehow showed me nothing but absolute warmth. I hope I said "thank you" but honestly I can't remember much other than those eyes.

And those were the eyes that were desperately avoiding mine as I stood before him at the store, just about three full years later.

Aw, he's nervous.

It was a serious challenge to keep myself in check while talking to Ian and his mom. That lady is a real trip. He looks just like her. Her eyes might actually be bluer than his.

Speaking of, at least I got him to look at me.

He definitely didn't recognize me.

The look on his face was priceless when I dropped his name. I walked away giving him something to think about.

I'm sure he'd connect the dots soon enough.

Truthfully, moving away was probably the best thing that could've happened to me. Sure, I missed out on some things, but I'm not gonna lie, it was pretty cool to transform myself into someone new every year. Little by little, I left the insecurity of my skinny years behind and created a new, better version of myself. The natural air of mystery that comes with being the new kid helped me build my confidence relatively quickly.

There's many things I learned along the way but probably the biggest one—confidence is currency.

I can't deny it, I liked the power. Especially as my muscles started to really grow and show, the respect just followed automatically. It was kind of absurd at first, but people starting treating me really differently. I got passed more phone numbers than I could event count.

Seriously, one time I was with my mom at the fucking drug store and this 20-something pharmacy tech passed me her digits. I was 16 at the time.

I didn't call all of them. I called a lot of them, but not all of them.

I don't discriminate. After I had my homoerotic awakening thanks to one Ian McNair, my horizons broadened dramatically.

It helped that my parents have always worked so much. Having an empty house really helped me grow my sexual prowess.

I've had my fair share of both men and women. Even a couple genderfluid, too—now those ones are fun. There's something about a person that unapologetically owns who they are. I learned a lot from each of my bed partners.

I never bottom though. Don't get me wrong, I'm well aware that the prostate is a real and powerful thing. I don't mind some friendly fingers, but I don't take dick. I don't think it's repulsive or anything, but I just know what I like.

I like being in control. I like taking.

But when I looked in Ian's deep blue eyes that day in the store, I was instantly transported back. Back to being an insecure 15-year-old. Back to feeling invisible with my books sprawled across the floor and only Ian to help me.

If I'm honest, that feeling scared me.

I worked too damn hard to build my current persona for it to all come crashing down over one pretty boy.

I tried to brush it off, tried to get him out from under my skin.

It didn't help that he was fucking mesmerizing. He wore these tight shirts every day showing off his tight body. And those tight jeans showed off his tight ass.

I swear, he had to know what he was doing.

He had to know that watching him run hard at soccer practice made me think about how I wanted to make him out of breath. I wanted to be the one to make him sweat. I wanted to be the one to run my fingers through his blond hair.

It got even worse for me when I asked around about him and heard that he was almost certainly gay.

Not that that necessarily mattered... I've been blown by more than one "straight" boy before.

But I didn't just want a blowjob from Ian. I mean, yeah, I definitely wouldn't turn it down. But the way my stomach tied in knots just thinking about him... this was something different.

I didn't trust myself to stay cool around him. Every time I thought I could go from my usual playbook for getting a date, Ian's eyes would meet mine and I'd be toast.

Speechless.

Fuck, I gotta get myself together.

This isn't me.

I couldn't even get with anyone else—I had it that bad for Ian. I politely declined every number offered to me since the school year started.

Some girl would start chatting me up, clearly expressing interest, and I'd wish her arms would be a little more built like his. Jaw squared like his. Hair short and wavy like his.

Bulge in the pants like his.

Ass like his.

It did make me feel better that I clearly got Ian flustered too.

Misery loves company.

Luckily, Mrs. Smith in AP Bio put us both out of our misery and paired us up for a project. Honestly, I couldn't have planned it better myself.

Damn, I could watch this kid blush all day.

The more time I spent with Ian, I realized that he really didn't know how perfect he is. It almost made me mad. Or maybe frustrated is a better way to put it. Like, I spent YEARS trying to figure out who I want to be and how I want to fit into the world, and here he is, effortlessly beautiful.

Yeah, I said it—he's beautiful.

His blond hair... I don't even know what it is, but I can't get enough of his hair. No more frosted tips from freshman year. He styles it these days in a much more mature way... it really complements his features. It always looks so good, never a hair out of place. He must spend a lot of time on it.

My fingers itch to rake through it and mess it up.

I want him to look like how he makes me feel—unraveled.

And somehow I got my opportunity.

Oof, this kid tested my control. He was hard enough to handle when he wasn't even trying. But at some point when he was at my house working on our cell model project, I could see the wheels turning. His eyes are so expressive, it's not even really fair. But at some point that day, he saw my weakness for him. And goddammit did he capitalize on it. He was taunting me. Testing me.

Eventually I couldn't take it anymore and I pounced on him in my room. The sight of his perfectly sculpted body spread out in my room, his eyes showing a window into his lust... He was ready for me, alright. And he wanted me to take it.

Even better.

I reached for him and didn't let go. I pulled his silky hair, I kissed every inch of him within my reach. I let loose every desire that had grown in me from the weeks of watching him from afar.

It must've been just as overwhelming a sensation for him. He came in his pants from just our making out and touching. With anyone else, that might've been a buzzkill. But with Ian, it made me even more riled up. This guy was so hot for me that he blew a load from minimal touching.

It was a huge fucking ego boost.

Imagine what it'd be like once I really had the chance to make him feel good.

He attacked my dick with enthusiasm. It was like he'd been stuck in the desert and my cock offered his only opportunity for hydration.

Watching those pink lips open up around my cock was otherworldly. I was ready to bust pretty much the moment I felt his tongue on my shaft.

Fuck, I'm never like this.

How does he get me like this?

He was perfectly submissive for me. Those big blue eyes showed a mix of innocence and naughtiness. He was practically begging me to corrupt him.

What the hell kind of man would I be if I didn't honor his request?

I could tell he had limited experience (if any) in the sexual department, but honestly that made it hotter. I'm not usually into virgins—it can get tedious to have to walk someone through the process of their first time. I rarely felt satisfied after a night with a virgin, even if I came. Mostly I just left feeling frustrated from holding back so much.

But with Ian, I didn't resent his virginity at all. If anything, I was proud of it. I was the lucky prick to get to have him in my bedroom. He didn't do this for just anyone. Just me.

That thought, plus the sight of his cheeks hollowed around my dick, made me shoot a big load down his throat.

He rested his head on my leg, letting me catch my breath and I realized that I didn't want him to be with anyone else. The thought of this possibly being just a casual hookup for him....

It pissed me off, but more than that, it scared me.

How many other times had I had someone on their knees in front of me and then just left, probably moving on to someone else quickly? I never really even thought about it. I was wrapped up in the fun-for-the-moment.

Ian's different. He's gentle. He's kind. He's absolutely hilarious. He's got that quiet, calm thing down. People at school think he's laid-back and completely unphased by most everything.

So I love riling him up. There's nothing better than seeing him get flustered and watching his cheeks get pink to match those sweet lips. And knowing that I'm the one that can get the unshakeable Ian McNair on edge.

He's special.

Fuck.

Yeah, I've gone soft. He's got me wrapped around his finger.

All he has to do is give me that look. When those deep blue eyes are staring at me, INTO me, the real me. Behind all the bullshit personas I've built over the years.

I wanna be the man he thinks I am.

My parents noticed a change in me immediately after Ian and I got together—that just tells you how obvious it was. I realize how lucky I am having such chill parents, but I was still very relieved by their pleasant reaction.

"So what're you up to lately, Lee?" My dad asked one night as he came into my room and sat on my bed. He called me by the nickname my mom and he had created when I decided to start going by "Wes" instead of "Wesley." My dad joked that I'd be neglecting the wrong syllable.

And that dad joke never died.

He and my mom both worked a ton, well over full-time for each of them, but he always made an effort to check in with me. We were pretty close, all things considered.

The circles under his brown eyes were a little bit darker. The lines on the sides of his mouth were a little more obvious. I know all the moving in the last few years had worn him down. But he had a dream to build a great tech company, and he would do anything and everything in his power to make that happen and to change the world.

I respected the hell out of that.

My mom was certainly no slouch either—she was a kick ass nurse. And they're always hiring nurses no matter what city you live in, so she supported her partner through every move, never complaining. And my mom never seemed to resent him. Or didn't show it, anyway. They were partners in everything.

I'd never say it to either one of them, but they set a hell of an example. I wanted something like that. Unshakeable support, trust, and love. But so far in my young life, I was realizing that ride-or-die people like that are hard to find.

"I met someone. It's pretty serious, actually," I said matter-of-factly. Over the years my parents had let my independence grow. We didn't have the typical parent-child relationship. They trusted, and expected, me to be my own man. And as long as I followed through on my responsibilities, they let me have a long lead. They'd loosened the reins even more (if it was possible) once I turned 18 that summer.

My dad's dark eyebrows raised, "Well ok then! Let's hear it. Who's the lucky someone?" I caught the lack of gender specificity. They were pretty progressive to begin with, but moving around the San Francisco bay area had really opened their minds to the LGBT+ scene. Plus, for the last few years, my dad had been working around people much closer to my age than his own.

"His name is Ian. Ian McNair. I knew him from before we left here. He's... He's great, Dad. You're gonna love him." I couldn't help the smile break out across my lips.

He smiled back at me, a bit of a glint in his eye, "Lee, if he makes you look like that, I already do love him."

We chatted a bit more about football practice and how classes were going. My mom eventually popped her head in and my dad spread the good news about my budding romance.

"McNair.... Oh, what's her name.... Sandra! Sandra McNair's boy?" My mom asked. I shrugged, unsure of his mom's name. "Yeah, she works at the hospital. She's on a different floor, but I've met her a few times. She's a hoot!"

I chuckled, remembering Ian's embarrassment over her when I first saw them at the department store. "Yeah, that's what I hear."

My mom's eyes softened, "It's amazing how people can keep their spirit after going through so much." I must've looked confused. She continued, "Her husband passed while the kids were still young. Car accident, I think I heard. I can't even imagine..."

I blinked, trying to take in what she was saying. I never heard about Ian's dad. Ian hadn't talked about him and I didn't think to ask. I tried to picture myself in his shoes. It's hard enough learning how to become a man in society... I couldn't imagine how much worse it'd be without a father.

My admiration for him grew.

Seeing him at school after we'd started hanging out was something else. I felt like an addict that had experienced his first hit. Finally got a glimpse of what I'd been missing before.

And I wanted more.

It was hard for me to stay away from him.

So I didn't.

I decided to branch out a little and sit with his friends for lunch. They were cool enough guys. They clearly all knew what was going on with Ian and me. We were all just getting to know each other when Ian finally came up to us.

The look on his face told me that it was a great idea to NOT tell him I had been planning to sit with them. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. Eventually he calmed down, but I realized that getting Ian out of his comfort zone wouldn't be easy. He'd need pushed every step of the way.

Luckily I'm a pretty strong guy—and a pretty good pusher.

We were alone and I was asking him how he was feeling about me hanging with his friends when I saw it—the look of absolute pity in his bright blue eyes.

Part of me wanted to laugh, but the other half was pissed as hell. Here's this kid who's known the unbearable pain of losing a father, a kid who's spent his teen years with no one to get intimate with—physically or emotionally.

And he's feeling bad for me?

Me?!

The fucking heart on this guy.

So I rolled up on him hard and gave him the biggest hickey of both of our lives.

I wanted everyone in that entire school to know he's mine. Ian McNair, officially taken off the market. I don't give a shit if I had any competition or not, he's way too good for them all. And anyone who couldn't see that was either blind, dumb, or both.

I finally got to taste his cum in the locker room showers later that afternoon.

I'm still trying to think of how to repay Jared, Kevin, and Steve for their help with that one.

It sounds corny as hell, but every new experience with Ian really felt like it was my first time all over again. Or maybe not the first time, but more like the past was all a big practice round and now I was playing in the big leagues.

Like, that first time having sex with Ian in the hotel room after Homecoming... Part of me really wishes that was my real first time. But the better, smarter part of me realizes that everything happens for a reason.

That whole night had been awesome. Dancing with my boyfriend at a high school dance was indescribable. We were unapologetically Out and having a blast. We were grinding to some pretty raunchy hip hop songs right next to the Homecoming King and Queen at one point. I don't know what came over me, but I got this rush through me like that whole event was super important. It felt like we owed it to every gay kid out there who wasn't included in the classic high school traditions to live up that night as best as we could. Like it was our job to carry the torch for future generations.

Later on, when I explained what that moment meant to me, Ian told me it was a real convenient way to rationalize rubbing my dick on his ass in public.

That is also true.

But that night after the dance, the look on Ian's face as I slid my cock deep into his ass for the very first time.... The look of absolute trust in those baby blue eyes. The absolute pleasure that racked his body as he came with a scream. Those are things that I'll never forget.

All those meaningless partners before-- if nothing else, at least I acquired some skills to make my boyfriend feel good.

But Ian... he didn't even need the practice. The guy has a natural talent for taking dick. Swear to god, it's the absolute best sex of my life.

And it just got better from there.

Somehow he kept finding ways to surprise me.

Towards the end of the fall semester I remember seeing Ian as I walked up to school. He was standing with our group as usual, but something electric was in the air. I couldn't say what, but he had a certain look about him. I met his eye as I approached and he ran his tongue over that juicy bottom lip. It was a warm enough day that he had on a gray t-shirt that hugged his lean and chiseled body and black jeans that showed off that flawless ass that haunted my dreams. His hair had grown the slightest bit longer these days and he used a little less product so it flopped over onto his forehead.

My fingers itched to touch it.

The look in his eye told me he knew exactly what I was thinking.

He looked like he was trying to get me in trouble.

I reached the group and slid my hand into one of Ian's back pockets, feeling his supple ass. I knew he'd be wanting me to squeeze it (more likely, slap it) but I kept perfectly still.

He turned into the sexiest little brat when he didn't get his way.

"Hello there," he said softly, grazing his cheek across my shoulder.

"Good morning," I said quietly. I kissed him, heat building within me. His eyes were on fire when I pulled away. I leaned close to his ear, "Something's gotten into you," I licked the edge of his ear, "I like it," I whispered.