Work Text:
Wyatt watched the way the world spun around him from his plastic white lawn chair. The Pullman ranch had been pretty much what he'd expected, though he was sad when their extended cast of friends and coworkers couldn't make it. Florence, David, Danny, and some jackass named Glen showed up, but Wyatt was missing others they'd met on the marvel sets and didn't recognize some of the older people Bill had invited. Though, after six beers that didn't really matter anymore.
He eyed a dandelion from where he sat, holding his ice cold seventh beer in one hand and a burger in the other.
His dad and Bill were still grilling up-- he was pretty sure they'd move onto the corn, but he stopped paying attention after that Glen guy butted in and he and Lewis were pushed away from the grill.
A drunk smile stretched across Wyatt's face as he watched Lewis talk to a girl he didn't know the name of. Lewis had a happy smile on his face, hotdog in hand, and was telling a story. Best Wyatt figured, it was about his band. Lewis talked with his hands when he was comfortable, and Wyatt loved it. He watched the way Lewis' fingers wrapped around the hotdog bun, the way he moved it through the air a few times, and the way his excited eyes glowed in the sunset.
Some fairy lights lit up around the yard, and Wyatt looked along them in awe. They ran from the house along the porch, and threaded through the wooden pergola above the patio. The lights disappeared in the bushes and Wyatt almost wanted to chase them.
Lewis laughed about something, and Wyatt's eyes flicked back to him, just in time to watch him wrap his lips around his hotdog and take a bite. He nodded to something the girl said, ducked his head and laughed with his mouth closed before wiping it with the back of his hand. He kept it over his mouth as he said something Wyatt couldn't hear. There was country music playing and Lewis was all the way across the patio, but the biggest distraction was Lewis' curled fingers.
Wyatt took a sip of his beer and let it warm his guts. He wasn't sure what it was about Lewis that made him want to be near him. He'd felt it for a few guys during his hockey career, but the feeling never lingered. He moved from team to team so quickly and when he finally committed to the acting thing for real he just... didn't feel it again. Not until Lewis.
He took another long drink as he watched Lewis swallow and nod, his wavy brown hair moving and shining in the dying light.
The yard around him danced to the beat of his heart. He wasn't a particularly heavy drinker but thinking that he was this faded from only a six-pack had him feeling like he was smoking weed for the first time. He remembered it clearly, even in his drunk mind the night was seared into his memory. A joint shared between him and his two dorm-mates, a bong he had to figure out how to use, coughing his lungs out like twice, and finally was when he leaned in and kissed one of them.
Wyatt grimaced and bit his burger, tearing his eyes from Lewis as he brought that hotdog to his mouth again.
The evening sky was lit alive, warm orange and cooling yellow with the heavy smell of barbeque in the air. Bill had insisted on charcoals in the grill, and Wyatt couldn't argue that the flavor was nicer and the smell was unlike anything.
Gentle chatter filled the air around him and he took a deep breath.
He glanced back at Lewis to watch him lick the ketchup and grease from his fingers, having finished his hotdog. Wyatt groaned low, thankful no one was hanging out with him. He didn't understand what Lewis did to him.
Lewis looked away from the girl, and his eyes met Wyatt's. The contact stung like a baseboard and Wyatt shifted in his chair, feeling heat eat through his stomach like a rat trapped under a burning pot. Lewis' eyes sparkled and he said something to the girl before giving her a limp wave and making his way towards Wyatt.
It always felt surreal to be seen by Lewis.
"Hey," Lewis said, tugging his denim jacket off his shoulders and tossing it over Wyatt's lap. He sat easily in the chair beside Wyatt, their knees knocking together as he leaned forward and spoke softly. "You might want to step away with me," he said.
Wyatt raised his brows as he looked down at the jacket and nearly whimpered. "Shit," he said, dropping his beer and burger to the ground as he stumbled up to his feet, leaning on Lewis for support and clutching the jacket over the hardon he hadn't even noticed.
Lewis walked slowly, a strong arm on Wyatt's waist as he led him from the party into the woods.
"Where you going?" that prick Glen shouted after them and Wyatt held a middle finger up in his direction.
"Come on, big boy," Lewis said, pulling his man.
Wyatt stumbled, but Lewis' hold stayed true and he felt safe. The air was cool on his warm and drunk skin, and once they were out of earshot and sight of the party, Lewis deposited Wyatt against the base of a thick redwood tree.
"I'm sorry," Wyatt said, sounding even drunker than he felt. "I took you away from your own fucking party..."
Lewis shrugged, tugging a pack of Marlboro reds from where he'd stuffed it in a rolled sleeve on his bicep-- the jacket must have been hiding them. He flicked the package and held it to his lips, easily wrapping around the yellow filter. He held it out to Wyatt, but Wyatt shook his head. Lewis shrugged, stuffed the package in his too-tight blue jeans-- there was a white outline around the box where the fabric stretched, like he had a box on him often-- and produced a lighter from one of his back pockets. He cupped a hand over the end of the cigarette and lit. His fingers drew Wyatt's attention again and he dropped the jacket to his side, leaning back on the tree and feeling his pulse rock through him.
"I don't mind," Lewis said between exhales, the cig still in his mouth. "I needed a smoke anyway." He sighed and exhaled long and slow as he pulled the cig from his mouth.
Wyatt nodded dumbly, watching Lewis' lips work that cig.
"So... beer, huh?"
Wyatt blinked as he begged his head to stop spinning. "Huh?"
Lewis raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, clearly indicating the boner that had yet to flag. "Beer does it for you?"
Wyatt's face lit up impossibly hotter. "I... Not usually."
"No?" Lewis' voice was muffled by his smoke. It didn't smell great, fuck... Watching the way Lewis held the cig between two fingers and the way he crossed his arms in the cooling night had Wyatt wanting to fuck him against a tree. "What did it then?" Lewis' eyes seemed nervous on Wyatt, and Wyatt was just drunk enough to trust his gut.
"You," he said, and Lewis blinked at him.
"Me?"
Wyatt nodded slowly so he didn't make himself dizzy too quick. "Watching you, your hands, your mouth..." Wyatt shrugged, but Lewis took a step towards him.
"What about my hands and mouth?" he asked, his chest nearly touching Wyatt's as the end of his cig glowed a nasty red.
"Just how bad I want my mouth on either of them," Wyatt said, his breath rattling in his chest as Lewis dropped that cig to the ground and stepped it out with the bottom of his cowboy boot.
"How far could I go?" Lewis asked, his lips tasting peppery even from inches away. He stepped right up on Wyatt, his own cock rubbing Wyatt's thigh as he slotted their legs together. "'Cause if you let me kiss you, I won't be able to stop."
"You can do whatever you want," Wyatt slurred, and before he could blink his drunk eyes, Lewis pushed their lips together.
Wyatt's hands landed around the back of Lewis' throat, pulling him down to keep him forever. His mind flowed with a mantra of possession. Lewis was his now, he could feel it.
Lewis' fingers hooked in Wyatt's jeans, tugging at them until their hips were flush. "You're so fucking hot, baby," Lewis mumbled in Wyatt's throat.
"Do you think so?" Wyatt asked, feeling his body warm as Lewis kissed his throat.
"Mmm..." Lewis nodded, giving a sharp tug to Wyatt's jeans to knock their hips together. "Yeah," he panted, just before biting down.
Wyatt didn't mean to moan, but he couldn't help it. "You just feel so good."
Lewis chuckled, deep and amazing and Wyatt could feel it in his chest. "It's all for you, baby," he said, rolling his hips forward, against Wyatt's. The pleasure that shot through him nearly took his knees out, pinning him between Lewis and a tree he was too drunk to feel the bark of. "You feel how fucking hard you make me?"
Wyatt gasped as his awareness shrank to Lewis' mouth, Lewis' hands, and the hard press of Lewis' cock on his groin. "I do that?"
"Mmm... Mhmm..." Lewis nodded and slid his hips back just enough to fumble with belts and buttons and zippers. "I don't know who saw you hard as fuck staring at me," Lewis said, his mouth right on Wyatt's ear. "I wish just I got to see that."
Wyatt was too fucking drunk to care who saw him.
Lewis moaned as he pressed forward, his brief-clad bulge sliding against Wyatt's boxer briefs. "Fuck," Lewis moaned, and Wyatt whimpered for real, his fingers gripping Lewis' hair, the collar of his shirt, anything he could touch.
"Touch me," Wyatt begged. "Touch me, Lewis!"
"Sh!" Lewis hushed, one hand slapping Wyatt's mouth with a radiating warmth. "You want everyone to hear this? Shut the fuck up, you stupid, drunk, bitch!"
Wyatt whimpered again, shaking in Lewis' hold.
Lewis' eyes had an intensity to them that made Wyatt need him more. He tried to beg, but Lewis seemed to understand as he shoved the waistband of their underwear down and took them both in one hand.
"Fuck," Wyatt tried to say, so Lewis moved his hand just a bit. "Your hand is fucking huge, Lew."
"Yeah, baby," Lewis moaned as he began to stroke them. It felt like pure bliss to Wyatt, and he didn't care that he wasn't going to last because it felt so good he was sure Lewis would do it again for him.
"Oh, Daddy..." Wyatt drooled just as Lewis slid two fingers inside his mouth. He closed his lips around them and sucked like he needed them in his throat.
"Fuck," Lewis moaned, his hips jerking against Wyatt. "You're so fucking wet, baby."
Wyatt moaned back, melting under him, letting the tree poke any bare bit of skin it could find. He didn't mind, though.
"I'm your fuckin' Daddy," Lewis panted, his hand speeding up on their cocks as his rocking followed suit. "That's right, baby." His breath caught in a way that made Wyatt's mouth stop and his jaw go slack with unfocused pleasure.
His own orgasm struck through him like lightning. He shook and drooled and moaned and he only started to feel anything again when a wave of warmth coated his cock and Lewis' head rolled back.
"You're pretty when you cum," Wyatt said, and Lewis laughed as he leaned his weight against Wyatt, cuddling him against the tree.
"Thanks, baby."