Wheels Up

Chapter One

Let’s meet.

Dustin stared at his phone like it might suddenly turn into a live grenade. Which, en route from San Diego to Baltimore on a commercial airline flight, would be a very bad thing indeed.

Meet. As in a real, live, in-person meeting with the guy he’d been talking to for months on Joe4Joe. And sure, plenty of guys used the military-themed hookup app to do just that, adding DTF to their profiles and going straight for easy local meat that was down to fuck, not wanting to waste time on cyber. But that wasn’t Dustin.

His phone vibrated again with a new message. You there? This doesn’t have to be a big thing. If you’re going to be in the DC area, we might as well go for the live-action version of our usual, don’t you think?

Heat arced up Dustin’s spine at the mention of live action. Jesus. Just the idea had him squirming in the tight seat. This had all started because Dustin was traveling to DC—Annapolis to be more precise, which he wasn’t sharing with the guy he still knew mainly as Saucer-Man—when Saucer-Man had messaged him, looking to see if Dustin would be around that night for chatting. And Dustin had been truthful, in the same vague sense he always was with Saucer-Man, telling him he was on a plane headed for the DC area for the weekend.

What he didn’t mention was that he was headed to the Naval Academy for two alumni functions—dinner that night and then a ceremony in the morning. But he was bored as heck with the long flight, so he’d paid for the Wi-Fi upgrade and figured he might as well use it by talking to his favorite chat buddy. It was a bit of novelty, flying commercial anyway, but he’d wanted to be sure that he’d be in Annapolis on time, something that wasn’t always guaranteed when trying to catch military flights. However, he’d forgotten how his big frame did not fit in coach. He’d been excited to see that Saucer-Man was online, pulse thrumming like it always did when he saw the little light next to his name in Dustin’s contact list on messenger.

Not free until tomorrow night, he hedged on a reply, not wanting to completely shut down his friend. He’d known that Saucer-Man was on the East Coast, but hadn’t quite realized he was driving distance to DC until he’d proposed this absurd idea of meeting.

That’s fine, the reply came quickly. It’ll take me a bit to drive up anyway. I just happen to be off this weekend, and it seems a shame to waste it.

Dustin wasn’t sure exactly what Saucer-Man did—something involving security. He sounded like an MP, and judging from his Southern accent when they did video chat, Dustin had always pictured him stationed farther south.

This is crazy, Dustin typed back. We don’t really know each other.

That wasn’t strictly true of course—they had six months of conversing under their belts, and he knew plenty about the guy, knew that he liked cold pizza, that he had a crush on Dierks Bentley, that he worried about his family, and that he liked the same terrible 1950s sci-fi as Dustin. Oh and Dustin knew what he sounded like when he came. All sorts of details, both intimate and mundane.

The guy’s reply took a few moments, long enough for Dustin’s neck to start sweating. He wasn’t sure what he wanted the response to be. Finally his phone buzzed. So we’ll play it cool. Safe. I can meet you at the Smithsonian or someplace public. There’s a new narwhal exhibit I’ve been wanting to check out at the natural history museum.

See, Dustin did know this guy, because that was absolutely plausible—in addition to fifties sci-fi, he loved nature documentaries and shows, especially ones about weird creatures. They’d watched more than one shark show together while chatting. Still though, it was tough to shake the feeling that he might be being played. How will I recognize you? he asked.

That wasn’t the same as the outright refusal Dustin should be making, but he couldn’t help his curiosity. He could recite poetry about the other guy’s dick and lean, wiry body, but he’d only ever seen his face in deep shadows, usually hidden by a hat pulled down or a pillow. And hell, this entire endeavor was all about Dustin’s curiosity, and Saucer-Man knew it.

The reply came slower this time and had the little spinning symbol for a file uploading. Here. Probably past time I showed you my ugly mug. Don’t share in any of the forums, okay? Look for me around four-ish?

Holy fuck. It was a picture. And not a dick pic or selfie of his abs, but a plain old normal safe-for-work shot of a guy in a white T-shirt, not smiling with broody eyes and dark, almost black hair. Dustin’s first thought was how the guy was younger than he’d expected—not painfully young like a new recruit, but still younger than Dustin’s thirty-two, probably in his midtwenties. His second thought was how fucking cute the guy was. Just his type with the soulful eyes and slim-but-strong shoulders and hint of scruff along his jaw.

Wait. Not his type. Dustin wasn’t supposed to have a type of guy, at least not so far as anyone in his life knew. This was crazy. Absolutely crazy.

Still there? Did I scare you off?

Oops. The guy was probably waiting for a return picture of Dustin or for him to say something to break the endless minutes of silence while he tried not to freak the fuck out. He was a Navy SEAL, for fuck’s sake. He could handle a little picture.

No. Just thinking. You look good. Was that the right compliment? With a girl, Dustin would know better what to say, how to compliment her hair or her eyes or her choice of tops, but he was still feeling out his way around guys, especially beyond the trite comments on dick pics that passed for foreplay online.

And how will **I**recognize **you** ;) Saucer-Man didn’t give up easy, which was one of the things Dustin really enjoyed about him, how the guy could be take-charge and assertive without being overbearing.

Dustin had to think fast. He didn’t have many solo selfies on his phone—all the pictures that showed his face also had his brother or his friends in them, and he sure wasn’t going to try to take a passable shot in the middle of a packed flight. Plus, his military training made him reluctant to share a face pic—one never knew when something would wind up in the wrong hands. Finally, he typed, I packed my Oregon Ducks T-shirt, but I’m not sure this is the best idea… I don’t even know your name.

The woman in the seat next to Dustin shifted about uncomfortably, glaring at him. Hey, it wasn’t Dustin’s fault that God had chosen to make him six four and built like a soccer forward with big shoulders and big thighs. This was one of the rare times that he wouldn’t mind being more normal-sized like his younger brother, Dylan. He tried to give the woman his best smile while waiting for a reply.

You can call me Wes. And I’m not going to ravish you in the middle of the museum, even if you ask nice, okay? We’ll look at some stuff, maybe grab a beer after. It’ll be fine. Are you afraid someone will see you out with a guy? I can promise no PDA if that helps.

God, this would be so much easier if Saucer-Man—Wes—wasn’t so freaking nice. He was always like this in chat too, sensing when Dustin was nervous or reluctant, and knowing exactly what to say to calm him down. And just like how Dustin knew him, he knew Dustin too, knew that his bisexuality was something he usually kept on the serious down low.

I’m not afraid of PDA. That was a lie, a bit of bravado he felt obligated to make. Truth was that the thought of PDA made him both itchy and jumpy—like his skin wasn’t quite up to the task of holding in all his nerves. He’d never gone further than cyber with another guy, and the risk of discovery was a big reason why. He was dying to get Wes’s hands all over him, find out if his fantasies did the reality any justice, but the chance—however small—of someone seeing him on a date with Wes made his heart pound.

Well, then let’s do this. Aren’t you at least a little curious?

Oh there was that word again. Dustin was more than curious. He wanted to know if this incredible chemistry could be duplicated in person. Wanted to know if Wes could make his pulse race from across the room, wanted to know what Wes smelled and tasted like. Yes, he was more than a little curious.

But curiosity could be a dangerous thing, as he well knew. Cautious prudence was the better tactic. Meeting someone he knew online, even someone he liked as much as Saucer—Wes—was a bad idea. He’d never told him he was a SEAL, of course. He knew better than that. All the guys on Joe4Joe went nuts for SEALs, and every third dude there claimed to be one. No, it was easier to be Godzilla, the guy who let people assume he was a marine and who let his faceless pics do the talking for him. Up until he met Saucer-Man, he’d mainly used the app for pic swapping and the occasional no-faces cyber with guys he never heard from again.

But Wes was different—he wasn’t just an avatar of a 1950s movie poster, he was someone who made Dustin laugh, who was fun to talk to even about stupid stuff like band names and food aversions, and who knew how to turn his crank like no one else ever had. And he’d kept coming back. Even when Dustin had been gone for a while on a mission, Saucer-Man had been there to take things back up again. Funny how this online connection had become almost like a real friendship, one Dustin valued far more than he usually let himself admit.

But it wasn’t real, of course. Couldn’t be. This was just his super-nice jerk-off buddy. Who wanted to meet in person. Holy fuck. What was he supposed to do? Dustin could lead guys into the most dangerous of missions, jump into the pitch-black sky for a HALO jump, and swim miles, but he couldn’t figure out what to reply to Wes. After several tries at typing and erasing messages, another one came in from Wes.

Tell you what. I’m going to come up to see the exhibit anyway. I’ve been meaning to get out of here. If you’re there, we’ll talk, have that beer. If not, I’ll go hit up some Dupont bars after I see the museum. No pressure.

No pressure. Ha. Dustin was feeling all kinds of pressure, especially down south. His body really wanted him to say yes. And he really needed to type something. Wes was sticking his neck out, making this overture, and Dustin was reacting like some seventeen-year-old virgin. He could have a freaking beer with the guy, right?

Maybe, he typed at last. Just a beer.

Maybe they’d have terrible in-person chemistry. Maybe Dustin wouldn’t be turned on in the slightest. Maybe they’d walk around, look at the exhibit, and realize what a stupid idea this was. Hell, maybe Wes wouldn’t like him. Here he was, all assuming that Wes would want in his pants from the get-go, when for all he knew, Wes really did just want a friendly beer.

See you there, Wes replied, adding an emoticon of a whale.

Holy fuck. What had he agreed to? Breathing like he’d done an hour of wind sprints, Dustin pocketed his phone. Was he really going to do this? He’d spent years running from his attraction to other men, never venturing beyond the relative safety and anonymity of the internet. Was he ready to take that step for a guy he didn’t really know? Could he trust Wes?

You can always change your mind. He had over twenty-four hours to do just that, to talk some sense into himself, to remind himself who and what he was and what he couldn’t have.

* * *

He might not show, Wes reminded himself when he stopped for gas outside Richmond. He’d left Little Creek early. It might only be three and half hours to DC, but he knew from years of being stationed here that capital traffic was anything but predictable. And he liked being prepared, always had. Similarly, he already had a room for the night, a place in Dupont he’d stayed at before that wouldn’t break the bank. He wasn’t going to wait and see if Godzilla had a hotel—he really had meant it when he said he’d be fine with just a beer between friends.

This wasn’t solely about getting laid—it was more wanting something tangible to go along with the months of chatting, wanting to match up an actual flesh-and-blood person to the words on the screen and the voice in his ear. If they connected this weekend and ended up naked, that would be awesome, but Wes was also okay if the other guy wanted to keep such things for the middle-of-the-night chat sessions. It wasn’t like Wes had the time or inclination for a real relationship right now, but his…friendship—or whatever one wanted to call it with Godzilla—meant something, and meeting in-person felt like a logical next step, to him at least.

The early March wind whipped through the trees at the edge of the gas station. They hadn’t started to bloom yet, but at least they were past the worst of the winter months. If nothing else, it was a good day for a drive.

Buzz. Wes’s phone had a message but it was a new playlist and an emoji-laden update from his sister, Sam.

It’s my latest mix! Even threw in a Dierks song or three, just for you ;) Hope your weekend is awesome.

Smiling like he always did with a message from his favorite sibling, Wes tried to tamp down the brief hit of disappointment that it wasn’t his chat friend. They’d chatted further last night, and Godzilla, who was always a cagey motherfucker when it came to details, had said that Wes could call him Dustin. Chances were high that it was a fake name or a last name, but it sure was nice to have finally progressed to something beyond Saucer-Man and Godzilla. He’d wanted names for a while, but hadn’t wanted to spook the other guy.

Like you did when you suggested meeting? Wes didn’t have to have video chat to know that Dustin’s eyes had bugged out at the mere mention of in-person. Eyes that Wes still didn’t know what they looked like. Oh, he had plenty of pictures of the guy’s other parts all stored behind a password on his phone, but no face pics. They hadn’t ever mentioned meeting before, but then he’d known very early on that Dustin was on Pacific Time to his Eastern Standard. But hearing that Godzilla was coming here to Wes’s neck of the woods, or at least close to it? That had made him more impulsive than usual. They probably wouldn’t ever get a second shot at this, so why not take it?

That thought fueled him the rest of the way to the DC area. He blasted his sister’s latest playlist—the one she called North Carolina Country, and navigated his older-model Jeep through the increasingly heavy traffic. He kept the SUV in good working order, but he still felt a bit conspicuous among the newer compacts all over DC.

He checked into the hotel, texted Sam a reply with far fewer emojis, took a fast shower, and spent a bit too much time figuring out which shirt to wear, eventually settling on a blue T-shirt that advertised the triathlon he’d run for heart disease awareness, and the nicer-than-usual jeans that he usually reserved for his sporadic gay bar outings. He added boots and a heavy belt because he liked that beefed-up vibe, and he had a feeling Godz—Dustin would too.

He got to the Natural History Museum by 3:30 because he was pretty much genetically incapable of not being early, but he didn’t start loitering around the giant elephant in the rotunda where they’d agreed to meet until five till. Four o’clock came and went and no sign of a guy in a Ducks T-shirt. Dustin had mentioned his home state a few times in passing, and Wes liked knowing that little scrap of personal detail about him. At 4:10, he was tempted to send a text, but resisted. Either Dustin would show or not, and he had to be prepared for not. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to have a good time in DC by himself—he wasn’t exactly a club rat, but he did okay for himself when he wanted to make the effort.

By 4:15, he really was about to give up, stop staring at the big bank of doors and the admissions desk where a seemingly never-ending stream of young families paid their fees. No guy who could remotely be Dustin.

Wes? The deep voice that haunted Wes’s dreams pulled him out of his churning thoughts. He whirled around, and there in a bright green-and-yellow T-shirt was the singularly hottest guy Wes had ever seen. He’d known Dustin was big—he claimed six four on his profile, and the broad shoulders and thick legs Wes had seen in pictures and on cam would seem to back that up, but he hadn’t ever seen the whole package.

Dirty blond hair, close cropped but with a bit of texture to it, like it would curl if given half a chance. A chiseled jaw Wes had seen hints of on camera, usually scruffier than the clean-shaven it was today. Serious brown eyes that contrasted with Dustin’s fair hair and skin and seemed to regard Wes with a sort of cautious consideration. That was okay. Wes was feeling much the same. And he knew he was staring, but the guy was seriously gorgeous. And jacked. Even his neck was muscular, and his shoulders and arms stretched the T-shirt. Ropey bare forearms led to hands shoved deep in his jean pockets. Not clubbing jeans like Wes’s—just ordinary faded Levis that hugged his tapered waist and muscled thighs.

Why would a guy this hot spend so much time online? The thought arrived before Wes could call it back. But for real, Dustin would only have to enter any bar in the country for five seconds before he’d have company for the night—and beyond, if he wanted. Wes knew why he himself spent so much time online—intractable insomnia combined with the pressures of the job and his family. He simply didn’t have time for anything else, but he needed a way to fill the long hours when he wasn’t sleeping.

Wes? the guy repeated.

Oh. Yeah. Articulate. That was him. He stuck out a hand because that seemed like the thing to do. It took Dustin a minute to decide what to do with that, indecision written all over his furrowed forehead and narrowed eyes, but finally he pulled a hand out of his pocket and took Wes’s with a big, firm grip.

Nice to meet you. Dustin had a great voice or so Wes had always thought—no accent, but deep and rich, like real maple syrup. His voice was, however, more nervous than Wes had heard it in a while, having the same hitch it’d had the first few times they’d voice chatted.

Same. Wes laughed because this tension was about to kill him. This is weird, right?

Totally. Dustin smiled for the first time, revealing a hint of dimples on either side of his mouth. Adorable. I’m… I’ve never done this before.

I know. Smiling didn’t come naturally to Wes, but he forced himself to try to return Dustin’s. Me either.

Really? Dustin’s eyebrow quirked, and he lowered his voice. You’ve never met anyone else from the app? Would have figured that you’d get around.

Is that your way of assuming I’m a manwhore? Wes didn’t really bristle, keeping his voice light and accent heavy. Truth was, he was a bit flattered as his actual experience total would probably make Dustin gasp for a whole different reason.

No. No, of course not. Dustin rubbed the back of his neck. Around them families and tour groups chattered and took pictures, but all Wes’s attention was on Dustin. I just meant…you’re pretty cute and all… His cheeks flushed.

Oh. Thanks. Wes’s own skin heated up at the compliment. And no. I’d just found the app a few weeks before I met you, and it was always just a chat thing for me. Not really looking for a lot of in-person hookups.

That’s…good. Some of the tension seemed to leave Dustin’s body at the news that this wasn’t something Wes did on the regular. Sorry I was late. Forgot to factor in parking down here.

No problem, Wes lied like he hadn’t died a million little deaths thinking that Dustin was about to stand him up.

So…uh… Dustin continued massaging his neck, and Wes had a powerful urge to replace Dustin’s broad hand with his own. What do we do now?

He gave Wes the sweetest look, beseeching like he trusted Wes to have a plan for all this. That was something Wes really loved about him in chat too, the way he let Wes lead, almost like he craved it, like he was grateful for Wes’s direction.

We explore, Wes said decisively. Dustin was still skittish, and Wes had a feeling he might bolt if given the opportunity. Told you, I came fixing to see the narwhal exhibit. And if you’ve never been here before, we have to hit up the dinosaurs too.

"This is all new." Dustin laughed nervously, and Wes had to restrain himself from patting his arm, offering some reassurance. But he’d promised no PDA.

Instead, he settled for a wink. I know. Follow me.

Chapter Two

Follow me. Dustin supposed he was ready to do that. After all, he’d shown up. No time to chicken out now. He’d had his phone out the whole drive down from Annapolis, trying to come up with the right text to tell Wes he couldn’t make it. Then he’d sat in the crowded parking garage for an eternity, composing and deleting messages. But then something had come over him, the same decisiveness he got right before a jump or a dive when he knew the unknown was inevitable and that it was better to head straight for it than to dither around all day. And so he’d found himself hurrying toward the museum, both hoping that Wes was still there and bracing for him to be a no-show.

When he’d seen him standing by the giant elephant on a raised platform in the center of the main rotunda, his breath had caught. Wes was gorgeous, but it was his eyes that drew Dustin in—deep blue, an almost impossible shade and full of emotion, giving him an air of thoughtful wariness. His full pink mouth wasn’t smiling, which only gave his eyes more depth. Seemed like Wes was the kind of person that one had to earn a smile from, and Dustin kind of liked that challenge.

Like in the picture he’d sent Dustin, he had the perfect amount of stubble—like he’d been lazy that morning, decided to skip it in favor of more brooding. His thick dark hair was artfully messed up in a way that Dustin bet he didn’t get away with on duty. Ditto the small silver studs in his earlobes.

Those and his tight jeans made him look younger and hipper, made Dustin feel old and stuffy and like he didn’t really know the rules for this little excursion. Meet-up. Date. Whatever the heck it was. Thank God though, that as usual, Wes seemed to have a plan, leading Dustin through the rotunda to the hall that led to the special exhibit area.

The exhibit had many giant narwhal replicas, interactive areas, and giant posters with narwhal facts. It was a bit surreal, looking at the big fish-like creatures with their long unicorn horns, with the guy he’d seen and heard come more times than he could count but who was otherwise a stranger.

They really do look like sea unicorns, Dustin said, watching as Wes carefully read one of the exhibit posters. He liked how intent Wes was about everything, how he seemed to take in all the little details of the exhibit, give each one its proper due and consideration.

I dig unicorns. Something that might be