
-----------------------------------Snow Angelby Sharon Maria Bidwell-----------------------------------Erotica
www.loose-id.com
Copyright ©
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CONTENTS
Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Loose Id LLC
1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924
Carson City NV 89701-1215
www.loose-id.com
To the love of my life, always.
To Kathryn, for telling me about Helleborus niger and therefore providing the flower idea.
To Ally for being my 'inspiration' for this one, and to all the writers at Loose Id who kindly answered my questions, which enabled me to polish my story.
Three years ago...
It was difficult to judge which emerged from Lenny's pub first, though, all things considered, if he'd been stark naked, the chances were Dean's erection would have led the way. His body followed naturally enough along with his groin and so did his grin. Nine was early for him to leave the pub these days, but he had a date. Fresh out of college, Dean looked forward to a few weeks grace, time to kill before starting his job working in his father's garage. Many thought he'd deliberately chosen a college just far enough away that he had to find a house to share, rather than stay at home. That hadn't been the only contributing factor, but he was honest enough with himself to accept it had been nice to be a young man free from the nest. No doubt, they presumed it had just been an excuse to live with four other guys so he could get drunk and pick up girls on the weekend. While his decision to return home to work in his father's business surprised just about everyone else, he had always known exactly where he was heading and felt content with it. He was only taking these six weeks because his father insisted.
"Have fun this summer," his father had said. "One last summer all to yourself. You've enjoyed them every year of your life up until now. Stay a kid for just a few more weeks. Don't worry," his father added. "I'll make sure you put in extra time to make up for it."
That was no threat---more like a warning and an explanation. Dean knew very well that he would have to work extra time until he found his feet and fully understood the running of the business. Choosing to tinker around with the cars as soon as his father pronounced him old enough, he had to confess he'd never taken much notice when it came to running the business side of things. Although his dad tried to get him to direct his energies somewhere else, both of them knew his father wasn't that downhearted. Deep down, he wanted Dean to take over the business one day. He just didn't want his son to do it if his heart wasn't in it, but he needn't have worried. The only thing Dean hated about the garage was the paperwork. He grinned ruefully. Surely, by the time his father reached retirement age, he would finally have the hang of it. Of course, his dad hoped to drop down to part time before then, maybe even take early retirement. Yet, every time he talked about taking Dean's mother abroad for long stretches before they grew too old to enjoy it, Dean couldn't help but see the considering look that came into his father's eyes. He couldn't blame him. They both knew he lacked incentive when it came to the office side of the company. Some people exclaimed how miraculous it was that he ever went to college, not realising how insulting that sounded. He'd taken the requisite mechanical qualifications, of course, but when he said he also studied creative writing their faces turned blank.
He hadn't done so bad with his education as everyone presumed. He had taken both a course he needed, and an additional course he wanted, with his family's full support. Aside from the cars, the only interest he held was writing. He had even sold a few short stories and things looked promising for his first novel, but the type of stories he wrote weren't exactly mainstream and the chances were, it would always remain a sideline. Still, Dean refused to call it a hobby. If you wrote for yourself or friends, it was a hobby. If you wrote with the intention of seeking publication, then it was work. As for his choice of main career, the truth was, he grew up around cars and his father's business was no ordinary garage. No. They were of the vintage variety.
He thought of the collection of cars currently sitting in the garage. His father liked the Aston Martin---probably some penile link to James Bond. Dean liked the Jaguar. The XK150 currently in the workshop was a beautiful soft blue colour, just like his eyes, and the mere thought of it made him practically shiver with pleasure. He would give anything to own it, but, though it wasn't too pricey, he had a mortgage and besides, the owner wouldn't part with it. The joke was, even if he was prepared to fork out the money, he hardly ever got a chance to drive as he walked to work. Still, running his hands over that car could almost give him as hard an erection as the thought of Stephanie. It wasn't serious between them, just good sex. He meant Stephanie, of course, not the car. He laughed softly, bearing in mind that if anyone heard him, they would have thought he was nuts or someone untrustworthy. As to his current fling, that was no one else's business. Stephanie had started to get what his mother would call a little kinky. As far as Dean was concerned, there was nothing wrong with a little kink between friends. She was the perfectly good reason why he walked out of Lenny's pub sporting a hard-on that already had a lady's name attached to it.
Speaking of a lady, Dean frowned slightly, narrowing his gaze. It wasn't fully dark, but the nights were drawing in and in the gloom ahead ... Yes, he would recognise that hair anywhere.
Dean pursed his lips. If there was one thing he regretted about going away to college, it was that, due to lack of opportunity, nothing had ever happened between he and April Reid. Of course, in many ways, they'd both been too young then and it felt a little weird, seeing as they as good as grew up together. April and her family moved into the neighbourhood when she was just seven years old. Dean was four and so was April's brother, Jay. By the time Dean was six and April was nine, he'd struggled with a well-developed crush. To this day, his mother would tease him as to how he would follow that Reid girl around like a puppy. He could only remember this vaguely, of course, not in the way his mother described it. What he could remember was that at the age of twelve April began to grow her hair and he fell in love with her all over again. The long, luscious, deep chestnut brown waves encompassed hints of auburn and even red mahogany in it. When he went off to college, it reached halfway down her back and she suffered increasingly spiteful glares from the other girls, as well as winks and some not very respectful suggestions and propositions from the boys. Even back then, Dean possessed a larger build than many of the boys. He never kidded himself that part of the reason April let him hang around was because when he told other boys to show her respect, they listened.
Well, they weren't school kids any longer and he hadn't seen her in a long time. She walked at a leisurely pace down the street, probably heading towards home, her hips as narrow in her jeans as they had always been. As he approached her back, he cast his gaze down and then up. Her hair wasn't quite as long---she'd cut it to lie in a soft drape around her shoulders---but it retained the same weight, and although he couldn't tell in the poor light, he experienced little doubt it would be the same rich colour. Growing up, he dreaded the day she might go grey or start to colour it just for fun. That colour simply didn't exist in a bottle, yet hardly seemed to have a right to exist in nature. He'd never had a chance to run his hands through it, and the heat of desire, egged on by his natural mischievousness, slid into his belly. His grin widened as he realised he was about to give into the urge and, not only that, he was going to cop a feel and steal a kiss into the bargain.
He intended to give her a slight warning, though. He didn't want to frighten her out of her wits, so he swallowed to clear his throat, and, as he came up to her left shoulder, he reached out with his right hand and glided his fingers into the hair at the back of her head. He brought her to a halt at the same time as he growled out, "Say hello to an old friend."
Giving neither of them time to think, and her no time to react, he closed his eyes as he tilted back her head by entangling his fingers in all that glorious hair and pulling slightly. He heard a sharp intake of breath and then silenced it with his lips. He didn't probe with his tongue---he erred on the side of caution and decided not to be that intrusive---but just took pleasure in the soft press of her lips and the satisfaction that her hair really was as wonderful to touch as he always imagined. He raised his left hand to cup her breast, not to grab ruthlessly, but just to press gently. His hand slid up a hard, flat surface under the t-shirt she wore. Blinking in surprise, Dean opened his eyes. A second later and he broke off the kiss, though his mouth lingered a precious breath away, and his hands froze on the body in his arms in shock.
The person in his arms swallowed and looked up into his eyes. "Hello Dean," April's brother, Jay, said.
"When are they picking up the Cooper?" George Chapman asked. He stood at the door, struggling into his coat, looking back at his son.
"Before four."
"Don't forget."
"Yes, yes, yes. I'm about to print off the invoice now." Sometimes they only accepted payment upon collection, but the owner was a regular customer. He would get an invoice and a request for payment within fourteen days.
"You 'round for dinner tonight?"
"Hmm? No."
"Okay. I'll tell your mother you'll try to make Sunday lunch."
Dean glanced up. There was a question in there somewhere. He cast his mind back trying to remember when he last went to his parents' house for lunch. No doubt, a visit was long overdue. "Okay." He slumped down into the office chair as his father left the room. He glanced at the clock. It read two in the afternoon. He and his father usually did Saturday mornings on rota and closed in the afternoon, although they generally kept the workshop open for anyone who wished to put in overtime if it was available. This month there was plenty of extra work for some reason. Just one of those natural occurrences and good for business, but he was glad things were starting to ease up and get back to normal. All he needed to do now was print off the invoice and he could leave.
He only just started to tap in the figures into the form, when the screen went blank. Cursing, Dean stared down at the keyboard. What the bloody hell had he pressed?
He checked the connections, turned the power off for the monitor and then back on again, and tried to reboot. That all seemed fine, but when he searched for the document, the account had vanished. Blinking in barely suppressed panic, Dean gaped at the screen. He would have to get the details from the back up, and if he loused that up ... This was all he needed. Casting his gaze down towards the telephone, he grimaced. Jay would give him hell for calling but he could think of no reasonable alternative.
\*
"What the bloody hell have you done to this?" Jay eerily echoed what Dean wondered himself. "I swear you do this on purpose."
Dean winced. Actually, sometimes he did, but not this time. He might mess around where his laptop was concerned---and therefore Jay---but he wouldn't dare mess with the office computer. When he caused an error on the laptop, he always made sure he backed up all his writing first. Sending it from 'My Documents' to a pen-drive was one small skill he had mastered. He wouldn't have tried to lose a customer's file just so he could call Jay out to fix it. Of course, Jay had no way to know that he played such a silly game, but his words, so oddly close to the truth, still made Dean squirm.
Jay shook his head, his gaze fixed on the screen so Dean couldn't see the expression in those soft brown eyes. "Get me a coffee then leave me in peace."
Dean fetched the beverage and then did as he asked for all of forty minutes. Then he came back into the office to check how things were going. "I couldn't find it," Jay said before Dean opened his mouth. "You're lucky your dad's so good about backing things up. I'm just restoring the entire database and then I'll just put this morning's figures back."
"Can you do it without Dad having to know?" He hated sounding about five years old, but parents and children were an enigma to each other. Children remained children no matter their age and your parents were always your parents. That was the way of the world.
He heard Jay sigh and it held a tone of complaint. Dean watched his friend as he parted his lips and tightened his jaw before managing to say a decisive, "Yes."
"I didn't do anything, you know," Dean said in personal defence. "I didn't touch anything. Or, if I did, I didn't mean to. It all just froze up."
"You never mean to," Jay muttered, and Dean blinked, standing up straighter, slightly taken aback. He got the distinct impression they were talking about something else. Obviously, Jay was never going to let him forget. It wasn't as if he meant to kiss him, and that was three years ago. They were young adults and, surely, they had moved on since then? Moreover, how was Dean supposed to know Jay had grown his hair and that it would make him look so much like his sister from the back? His hair might grow easily enough, but he could have done with a few more inches in height. Jay was around 5'8" or 5'9". April was 5'7" in her bare feet. It was an easy mistake to make. In addition, how was he to know Jay had come out of the closet while he'd been away? Three years ago, Dean not only kissed a male friend, he kissed the brother of the girl he had always fancied and, of course, Jay told April, and April told her girlfriends. Before you knew it, everyone in his age group heard of his mistake. If anything, he was the one who should have felt humiliated, not Jay.
"I'll leave you to it," Dean said tightly. Jay didn't even glance up.
\*
Jay sat and stabbed his fingers at the keyboard harder than was necessary. One letter repeated several times and he went for the delete button. He rolled his shoulders, blinked his eyes, and rubbed a hand across his face. He had better things to do on a Saturday afternoon, didn't he? Well, maybe he didn't, but that wasn't the point. Dean was the point.
He was here because of Dean Chapman. Dean with his height and his muscles and those baby-blue eyes, topped off with unruly light brown hair, so pale in places it almost edged into blond during summer, and all that without the smile. He mustn't forget the smile. The smile made things impossible. Dean's teeth were so white, Jay would have thought he bleached them, if the trait didn't run in the family. All he needed to do was flash that grin and girls came running and men ... Well, some men would have come running, but Dean was so obviously masculine and such a womaniser that they just pouted from a distance. Straight men just found themselves shaking his hand and agreeing with him. Was he really the only one who found Dean's smile arrogant? Take today. Even though Jay was here sorting out this mess for him, he hadn't given one word of thanks. No. He made excuses.
"It's not my fault. I didn't do it. I didn't mean to," Jay said, softly, in a whiney voice, and hit yet another key too hard. If he didn't calm down, he would break the bloody keyboard. Jay was no expert with computers; he was self-taught, but he seemed to have a knack for them. He was seriously considering studying for some kind of qualification in I.T. He just needed the opportunity. During the day, he worked in a library. That didn't do much for his overall image, but he wasn't out to impress anybody. He liked books better than he liked computers, but computers would earn him more money. He would have to look into home study. Not everyone had the opportunity to go to college.
Speaking of which, what had Dean gone to study? Well, he'd passed the relevant exams to become a fully qualified mechanic, but then he'd messed about with some writing course. You could hardly choose two subjects that were more different. Not that he thought it foolish, but he hated people who studied for things and then never used them. As far as he knew, Dean hadn't written a thing, not unless it was for his personal amusement, anyway. He probably used that laptop of his to scan the internet for porn.
Jay chewed on his lower lip, trying to concentrate on what he was doing. The programme began to download from the disk back to the machine and he sat, waiting for it to finish. His mind wandered and, for some reason, his thoughts returned to Dean. What must he have been like at college? It changed him, that was for sure. At least, Jay couldn't remember him being so cocky before he left. He'd always been sure of himself, but seemed softer somehow, more approachable. You could still laugh and joke with him, but it all seemed so shallow. Then he would make an intelligent comment and it made you look twice, wondering if this same man had started the inane conversation five minutes ago.
He shook his head and began to check everything ran smoothly. He still liked Dean and would always be his friend, but right now, he just wanted to finish and get away from him.
\*
"Stay for a beer."
The time was a little after four. The owner had collected the Cooper along with the invoice, thanks to Jay, and the other guys then decided to call it quits for the day. Dean nipped out back and brought them all a cold beer. They didn't tend to keep alcohol on the premises, but these guys all lived locally and mostly walked in to work to save on costs, so they wouldn't be driving. He treated them once in awhile, and they certainly had earned it with the extra hours they put in this month.
Now, they were good naturedly jeering at Jay to join them for a beer. They said they wanted to hear the story of what calamity Jay had saved Dean from this time. Dean just shook his head, smiling.
"If any of this gets back to my father, I'll know who talked."
"As if we'd do that, mate." John, eight years his senior, said jovially. "Next thing you know, your dad would be trying to drag one of us in there to learn the paperwork and we don't want that." There was a vague chorus of agreement. The same as Dean, they all liked to work with their hands. Jay tried to refuse the beer, but one of the men pushed a bottle into his hand and another slapped him on the back making him lurch forward.
Dean almost said something and then brought the bottle to his lips and sipped to prevent any words escaping. Jay obviously felt uncomfortable, but he should stop behaving like a startled cat. He might be gay, but he was still a man. To join in with a few blokes over a beer wasn't going to hurt him.
"How's Louise?" one of the men enquired of John.
"The scan was fine. It's a girl."
"Another one? Thought sure you'd get a boy," Terence said.
John shrugged. "A baby's a baby."
"Yeah, but don't you, like, want a boy? If the third one's another bloody girl, you're liable to end up with a tribe of amazons. You'll be a minority, mate."
Dean gritted his teeth, wishing some of his colleagues would think before they said anything. Terence was the oldest and could be a right prat at times. He and John were the only two with wives. John stared at Terence and Dean could see John's jaw tightening.
"As long as it's healthy, neither of us cares what it is."
"Here, here," said Dean. To his surprise, Jay looked up at him from where he sat staring at the beer bottle in his hand. There was something like admiration in his eyes. His gaze looked decidedly bright, anyway.
"I couldn't do it, though," another of the men said, shaking his head. "I dunno. Family and all that, I guess it's fine. I couldn't get my head around all that. I've me some wild oats to sow first."
John laughed. "Mark, I sure as hell don't know who you're trying to kid, but we can hear bells ringing. One," he leant forward for emphasis, "I've got six years on you and I wanted to marry Louise and have kids with her. Two, you ain't never gonna be old enough where it counts up here," he tapped his temple, "and three," he paused and looked around at his smirking audience, "I don't hear about you sowing too many wild oats lately."
Even Mark laughed. The baiting was good-natured and not sourly meant. "Maybe I should be like our boy here and change stride."
There was laughter, but it trailed off on a wave tinged with a little embarrassment. Mark, idiot that he was, failed to notice. "I mean, stands to reason if women find it easy to pick up a bloke, then if you're bent, surely it's easier for a bloke to get laid."
It lay on Dean's tongue to say that it probably depended on the bloke and he was sure Jay would have no lack of offers if he wanted them. Truth was, Jay might say he was gay, but Dean hadn't seen much evidence of it. His friend sat dressed in jeans that had worn naturally and a large baggy shirt at least two sizes too big for his frame. Okay, he wore his hair long, but say that to a biker and you might get a punch in the nose. The length of his hair didn't declare him gay and his wardrobe didn't scream anything. Dean couldn't remember ever hearing Jay talk about a date, let alone see him go on one. Mark, alas, still hadn't shut his trap.
"So, tell us," Mark looped an arm around Jay's neck---unfortunately, they were sitting side by side---"where's the best place to get shagged these days?"
"I-I wouldn't know," Jay said quietly.
"Oh, come on. Pretty little thing like you." Mark ran his hand down Jay's hair and Dean's eyes narrowed. He could feel his face tightening and couldn't help it. He looked at Mark's greasy fingers, wondered if any had found its way into Jay's hair, and almost growled. Instead, he swallowed more beer. What was wrong with him? He needed to get a grip. They might be teasing his friend, but they didn't really mean anything by it. "You must have loads of offers," Mark finished.
Jay shook his head and Mark gave him an exaggerated look, holding his hand bent at the wrist, fingertips pressed to his chest. No one could construe the gesture as anything but effeminate. "Don't tell me you're not a good shag."
"Mark." John spoke his name in warning, but like always, the light was on, but there was nobody home. Mark might know his way around an engine, but he was undeniably thick in other areas.
"I guess there's only one of us here knows," Mark laughed. "Or at least he can tell us how you kiss. I mean if it was a good kiss, it makes sense that you would be a good shag, wouldn't it? What? What?" Mark had finally noticed the other men were quiet and staring at him. He still didn't take the hint. He looked at Dean. "Well?"
Dean blinked, realising that Mark expected him to answer the question. To make matters worse, despite their discomfort, some of the other men were also looking at him. They weren't happy with Mark, but now that the question was out there, they were obviously curious as to how Dean would respond. He worked with these men. He was in charge of them. He was aware of Jay gaping at him, but what could he do? He did the only thing he could. He made a joke of it.
"Maybe seven, maybe eight out of ten. I've had a lot worse." He grinned.
"Not a ten then?" Mark sounded strangely disappointed. Dean looked at him and it crossed his mind that maybe Mark wasn't as straight as he seemed. He didn't care, but either way, there was no way on earth he would let Mark get within an inch of Jay in that way. Jay deserved better.
"Ten's are rare," Dean said, and then drained his beer.
"Since when have you had a ten?" One of the guys laughed.
Dean just smiled secretively.
"Oh, well, sorry mate," Mark nudged Jay with his shoulder. "It's been a few years. Maybe you'll have to try again."
The room grew warm and events felt a little surreal. Dean didn't even want to speculate how Jay was feeling. Dean looked at the men who sat watching him, none more so than Mark, whom he had always suspected didn't really like him. He wasn't going to let Mark win. He gave a closed-mouth smile. "Maybe."
There was a second of silence and then laughter broke out. Mark just stared at Dean for a moment, and then shook his head and looked down. Maybe he wasn't such an idiot after all, but just chose to act like one. Dean would have to watch him.
"Excuse me," Jay muttered, putting down his beer. He had barely touched it. "I have got to go." He shouldered his bag as he turned towards the front of the building. The men all started to move, making remarks about washing up and getting on home.
"Use the back exit. I've locked up," Dean said. He stood, and then followed Jay towards the alley. Out back, Jay turned towards him and Dean opened his mouth to say he would see him later, when Jay swore at him. He had never done so before. Dean actually took a step back.
"You shit. You bastard. Fucking bastard!" Jay kept his voice low, but the force of the words, the venom behind them, sounded far worse for it.
Dean just stared at him in shock. His question was in his eyes. Jay's gaze flickered towards the interior of the garage behind him, and then back to his face. He looked feline and furious, like a hissing, spitting cat with its claws out. "Do you always have to be so insensitive? Do you have to bring up that stupid sodding kiss every time? That kiss wasn't even my fault. It was yours. But you're going to keep making me pay for it."
"Hey!" Dean tried to protest. He took back that lost step, which meant he let go of the door. It clicked shut, closing them off from the garage and giving them a semblance of privacy. He wasn't the one who wouldn't stop mentioning the kiss; that was Jay, and he hadn't brought it up this time. The men inside had. Jay didn't give him a chance to explain.
"I'm not available at your beck and call to drag your sorry arse out of shit. No more. Crash your stupid computer, call someone else. See how many friends you've got then who will put up with your shit."
Dean opened his mouth to speak, but the torrent just kept coming. Every "I didn't ... But ... I ... That's not ... Listen ... Just ... Let me speak..." washed away on a river of complaints. By the time Dean gave up, Jay stomped around the alleyway. He finally returned to the place he had started.
"I don't know why I do it. I don't know why I ever did. All April and I get out of you is crap. I've had crap for the last three years all because you tried to cop a feel off my sister. You couldn't ask her out and try to date her like any normal man."
Dean could feel the muscles in his arms and shoulders bunching. He wouldn't hit Jay, of course he wouldn't. He would be liable to break his jaw, but it would feel good. For an instant, it would feel good and then he would feel lousy about it. Pick on someone your own size; his parents drummed that into him as soon as they saw he was going to be tall for his age, let alone wide. He took a deep breath and as Jay paused to take a breath of his own, he spoke. "Look," he said, lowering his voice, putting his anger and determination into both it and his expression. He took another breath to explain why he acted the way he had in there. Too late. Jay walked right up to him, practically pushing into him. Surprise chased Dean's anger back. He was just so shocked that Jay was trying to stand up to him, head tilted back, staring up into his eyes, almost spitting in his face, all that hair spilling down his back.
"And for your information," Jay snarled. "It wasn't even much of a kiss. You give me eight out of ten; I give you five for audacity, three for effort and one for technique. There was too much spit."
Dean couldn't believe it. It was a closed-mouth kiss. There had been no spit. He was a good kisser, damn it! Women loved him for the way he kissed. Sometimes they went out with him just for that. Some men couldn't be bothered, but he liked kissing. How dare Jay say he was no good at it!
With a growl that rumbled low in his throat, he grabbed Jay with a hand on each of his upper arms and jerked them together. Jay let out a small 'humph' sound that quickly changed into something of a whimper. Dean swallowed the sound down. He used his strength to hold Jay still, his bulk to force him to lean to one side, forced Jay's mouth open with his tongue, and kissed him. His tongue plunged, licked and swirled. He was deliberately rough one moment, urgent, so that their teeth clashed and they both winced, and then soft and tender the next. He explored, licked along Jay's teeth, and then drew his friend's tongue into a suck. He finished with a deep swirl before drawing back. He opened his eyes to stare down into his friend's shocked face. Jay's eyes opened wide. He looked pale and shaken, but hadn't resisted. No surprise there, for Dean hadn't given him a chance, just devoured him. Realising he still held Jay's arms, and that he forced him almost onto the tips of his toes, Dean relaxed his grip and set him firmly back on his feet.
"Don't ever say I don't know how to kiss," Dean said, quietly, clearly, calmly.
Jay just stared at him, and then he swallowed. A small tremor ran through him. It didn't dissipate, but increased until he trembled. Someone might tremble that way with rage and Dean prepared himself for another rant. What he didn't expect were the tears that flooded Jay's eyes. Jay looked away, his gaze wandering. His bag containing his laptop and computer equipment had slipped off his shoulder and now hung over one arm. Luckily, the strap was short enough that it hadn't hit the ground. As one single tear spilled over and ran down his cheek, Jay shook his head at the same time he stepped back. Dean instantly regretted his actions. "Jay." He took a step forward, holding out a hand. Jay just shook his head once more, turned on his heel and ran.
Teeth bit one butt cheek and then the other. The gesture was hard, intended to hurt. At once, the mouth cooled and soothed with a soft kiss and the swirl of a tongue. Lips trailed over his skin from the crease where his right leg joined his torso, up over the curve to his hip. There, the soft touch proceeded across his lower back to the opposite hip. The fine hairs there surely tickled his lover's lips. They stirred against his skin and made him shiver slightly. The lips travelled down from his left hip to the top of his left leg, and then moved off.
His cock, trapped between the heat of his body and the duvet, gave a long, almost impossibly slow throb. This time, the lips returned to that slight dip at the start of the valley. He received a kiss and then the tongue snaked out, licking, pressing into that auspicious place. He expected it to work its way up his spine. Instead, it began a slow descent.
What the...? This couldn't be happening. It was so wrong.
He tried to turn. He wanted to grab the person tormenting him and drag them down onto his dick. He wanted to spear up into a warm, compliant body. Perhaps sensing the tension in him, the mouth pulled back enough to allow the person to speak.
"What's wrong," a man whispered into the darkness, and it took him a moment to realise he wasn't the one speaking.
"What? Wait. No. I..." He wanted to ask what the man thought he was doing, but the sound of his voice shocked him into silence. It sounded high, almost girlish. In that moment, there was little doubt as to which one of them would be doing the spearing.
Dean came awake, crying out. The sound echoed back to him from the shell of his empty bedroom. The dream itself didn't disturb him, but the intensity of it was something else entirely. Hell, he suffered from a vivid imagination, but this felt too vibrant even for him. His heartbeat pounded. His chest heaved. Sweat made his brow slick and ... glancing down, and then clasping his cock, told him other things were just as slick in other places. Somehow, his body knew. The dream woke him just in time, just short of orgasm.
Shaking his head, dismissing the thought, Dean stopped recriminating. He did more extreme things than have a wet dream. It seldom bothered him what catalyst aroused him. Straight porn depicted a man and a woman, even if it did feature the woman more heavily. The sight of a guy never made him flinch. Now it troubled him, not because he questioned his sexuality, but because to hurt a friend by acting so stupidly was unforgivable.
Did I really kiss him?
Dean sat in the dark on his bed, legs bent at the knees, elbows resting on them. The little red light on the alarm clock beside his bed read three a.m. "Hell, I actually kissed him," Dean whispered into the darkness. What have I done?
The chances were good that his foolish actions would destroy their friendship. The idea of not having Jay in his life just didn't compute. He refused to accept it. Jay was a fixture. Life wouldn't be the same without him. If he needed to grovel to have Jay forgive him, he would do it. He could only hope Jay would accept his apology.
\*
The phone rang insistent, clamouring. Jay shot it a glance but refused to move. He let the answer-phone reply. The caller was just a friend, but he'd vetted his calls for the last few days. Hearing a recognisable voice, he reached out to answer it, but changed his mind. He didn't really want to talk to anyone right now. The call wasn't important and it could wait. Having managed to avoid Dean Chapman for the last few days, it appeared as if the man had finally given up calling.
All right, so it wasn't as if Dean had rung fifty-thousand times or anything, but maybe two or three times a day until yesterday. Last night, Dean talked to the machine for the two minutes it allowed, apologising and saying he wanted to explain in person. As far as Jay was concerned, there was nothing to explain. Dean was an arse-wipe, to use his sister's favourite expression. What had the guy been thinking? Was the man's ego that big that he needed to prove he could kiss even if it meant kissing another man? It seemed so.
That kiss ... Jay sat at his computer, shivering. He could turn on the heating but the room wasn't that cold. The chill came from within.
That kiss.
If only he hadn't whimpered. Had Dean heard that? Did he remember it now? Jay groaned aloud. He ran his hands up over his face into his hair, cradled his head and placed his head face down on his desk. Darkness enveloped him, nice, muffling out the world, making him feel safe.
The trouble was shutting out all external distractions left him alone with the memory of that kiss. Before, the only memory he endured was a warm press of lips, Dean's soft blue eyes, and his startled expression changing into a self-deprecating laugh. "Gee, I thought you were your sister. What you doing going round looking like a tart?"
Jay hadn't found his words funny and neither had April, seeing as they indirectly implied she went around looking like a hooker. Three years ago, she gave Dean what for as soon as she heard about it. It was partly the reason she told everyone that he had grabbed her brother, Jay having told her she could, equally pissed at Dean's arrogance. Unfortunately, ever since, part of him wanted Dean to kiss him again. Now he had.
A warm writhing presence in his mouth, licking, searching, sucking, at first hurting, and then softly drawing on his desire as though Dean intended to stoke the fire that had smoldered for so many years that it now burned so hot...
Jay pressed a hand into his groin and whimpered once more. He tried to tell himself that he didn't care about Dean. It was pointless, useless. As children, he watched Dean trail around after April while he stood quietly in the background, Dean having no clue that Jay looked at him the way Dean looked at his sister. No one else noticed ... no one other than April. She had been great about it, not even making fun of his feelings. She just talked to him about Dean being straight and assured him that he would meet someone one day. Then Dean went away to college, leaving Jay with no choice other than to consider that his sister was right. Even when Dean returned and kissed him by accident, making an absolute arse of a mistake, Jay handled it. The memory of last Saturday afternoon, he couldn't handle at all. Every time he thought about it, his stomach roiled, his head hurt, his heart fluttered in his chest, he couldn't catch his breath and, worse of all, his dick grew hard. Whatever his head told him, his cock refused to take notice. Maybe he should get away for a few days. Just until the weekend.
\*
"I can't get your brother to talk to me." Dean squirmed uncomfortably in April's doorway, one hand pressed against each side of the frame. If she tried to slam it, she would probably catch him a good one in the face before he reacted. Either that or she would trap his fingers. He stood ready to pull back if it looked as if she would do just that. Instead, she let go of the door and stood there glaring at him, arms folded. "I've been 'round there," he said, his voice growing a little croaky on the end. He coughed to clear his throat. "He doesn't seem to be in. I wondered where he might be."
"He's gone away for awhile."
"Oh." Dean looked at the doorframe but it did no good so he turned his gaze back. "You think you can get him to call me? Or tell me when he's coming back?"
"Why? You want to go 'round there and kiss him again?"
Dean winced. A sudden heat rose to his face. "He..."
"Told me? Yes."
"Geez. Don't the two of you keep anything from each other?" His voice sounded how he felt---shocked and embarrassed.
"Surprisingly, no. That way we find out when someone is taking the piss out of us behind our backs. Of course, the list of people that do that seems to be quite small. It mainly consists of you," she said, pushing the point as if she needed to, as if he might have missed the implication. For once, Dean couldn't cling to his suave reputation. He looked down. April shook her head. "I don't know which one of us is crazier, me or my brother. Come on in and let's talk."
He followed her into the kitchen.
"You want tea? Coffee?"
"Don't suppose you have a beer or something stronger?"
April put her head to one side and just looked at him. That look said 'You shouldn't drink so much'. He didn't, not anymore. He had tied one on that summer when he first came home, but what did one expect him to do during his last summer of complete freedom before he started work? Jay understood that. In truth, Jay seemed to be rather understanding about many things in his life until recently.
"Tea will be fine. I don't really want a drink. Just something, you know, to dull the..." Dull the what? His embarrassment? The pain? Pain? Where had that thought come from? Pain of what?
"Well, sit," April told him, waving a hand, putting a little snap into her voice as though she was ordering a dog into obeying. "We can have tea and then I guess you can stay for dinner if you want. I'm only doing pasta, but if that's good enough, there's plenty for two. I'm making fresh sauce."
April wasn't much of a cook, but she could make a great pasta sauce from scratch. He nodded; his way of saying thanks. Maybe he didn't say it aloud enough. "Thanks," he told her, and the only reward he received was a funny look as she bent down to take things out of cupboards. While she turned away, Dean tilted his head and had to admit she filled out a pair of jeans nicely. Of course, from the back, it was still difficult to tell her and Jay apart from one another. What did that mean? That Jay had a nice backside, too? Crap!
Dean dragged his gaze away from her backside to the table. The one way you could tell them apart now, of course, was that where Jay had grown his hair, April had cut it. Dean missed her hair. If he'd seen them together that fateful day from the back, he would still have mistaken Jay for April and April for Jay. He would still have grabbed the wrong person and kissed her brother.
Pulling out a chair on the opposite side of her small kitchen table, April sat down. She placed his tea in front of him, made just as he liked it, strong, with only a little milk. She drank a few sips from hers, which looked too pale for his liking. She put down the cup, linked one arm over the other and stared at him. She twisted her mouth a little to the side and then pressed her tongue against her bottom lip, pushing it out slightly. It rather looked as though she were trying not to laugh.
"What?"
"Sorry. You just look so funny at my kitchen table."
"Oh." Dean looked down. The flat was small, the kitchen minute, and the table barely two feet square. He was wider than the table. His left shoulder touched the wall. He grinned sheepishly.
"Why do you do these things, Dean? Why did you hurt my brother?"
"I didn't mean to." God, he sounded like a stuck record these days, at least where the Reid siblings were concerned. He also sounded petulant. "He just wouldn't bloody listen. He made me so angry. It was all I could think to do to make him shut up." That wasn't entirely true, of course. Jay shouldn't have called him a rotten kisser, but he wasn't going to make himself sound even more petulant in front of April.
"So? What? You thought you could just kiss him like that, make him shut up, make him listen, and everything would be right between you? That makes no sense." She dipped her head and stared into his eyes. "Straight guys don't go around kissing other men."
Inwardly, he bristled. When he next spoke, his words emerged at a low volume, and very carefully enunciated. "I. Am. Not. Gay."
"Well, you're not an actor!
"Pardon?" Why could these two always confuse him like this?
"You're not an actor. This isn't some part. It's your life. Actors are the only straight men I know who might kiss other men, and that's in a role as part of their job. What other excuses would you like to make?"
Dean didn't say anything. He chose just to glare at her. She just stared back at him, slouched in the chair now, her arms folded across her stomach. "You don't like me suggesting you're gay, try walking in Jay's shoes sometimes."
Dean shrugged. "So what? Everyone knows he's gay. No one cares."
"No one around here particularly cares now. There are the exceptions. There always will be, and it wasn't so easy when he was growing up. Can't you remember what it was like?"
He sent his thoughts back to the time when they were children. "I remember Jay being teased a little."
"A little? A little? Let me remind you, you," she reached across the table and jabbed him in the chest, hard, before settling back, "were one of those that teased him."
Rubbing at the spot where she jabbed her finger---April really knew how to hurt doing that---Dean said, "I didn't tease him that much."
April rolled her eyes. "The tweeting bird noises were enough. That I could have stood from you, but you didn't say a word when they started calling him Jessie."
A grimace twisted his face before he could deny it. Unfortunately, Jay and April's parents weren't too bright about choosing names. April was fine. She had been born in April so they picked that and tagged Jessica onto it, after her grandmother. Jay was born in October, so no inspiration there. For some peculiar reason, Mrs Reid named her son Jay and gave him the middle name of Martin after his grandfather. She only realised her error, when it was too late. Jay did his best to hide his middle name, but the moment Dean discovered what the M stood for, he'd gone around tweeting at him and greeting him with a cry of 'Seen any feathered friends this morning', or words to that effect. He was only eight or nine at the time. Someone should give him a break.
As for the Jessie thing, he hadn't started that. Okay, he did nothing to stop it, but how could he? Eight years later, someone learned that April's middle name was Jessica and said that Mr and Mrs Reid should have given the name to Jay, seeing as he was a right Jessie. Dean hadn't meant anything by joining in with the laughter, and it wasn't as if he could put a stop to it. They were teenagers. Surely, things such as that no longer mattered.
"It wasn't my fault. I never called him Jessie. I called him..."
The words trailed away. April, interrupting, seemed not to notice. "I know you didn't. Even if you had, you wouldn't have meant to hurt his feelings. That's your problem. You never mean to hurt anyone. It still happens."
He heard her, but hardly paid attention.
Angel.
Remembering the occasional nickname only spoken when he and Jay were alone, now he couldn't help but wonder how he could have forgotten it.
Angel. I called him Angel.
Angel cake. Angel face. Be an angel. See you later, Angel. Fuck. He'd called him Angel. Maybe even his 'little angel' though he couldn't be sure if that were memory or imagination. When and why did that happen? Did Jay remember? "You know I don't care that Jay's gay," Dean said, aware that April waited for him to say something. "I can't speak for the rest of the world."
"I'm not talking about the rest of the world. I'm talking about you."
"Oh, come on. A bit of harmless teasing when we were kids. I'm sorry. I guess I didn't know any better. Besides, I never believed any of it. I thought it was because he was quiet. I never thought he was actually gay."
April gaped, her mouth hanging open in a way that might have held his interest in another time and place. "You are joking," she finally said. He just shrugged.
"How should I know? I never gave it any serious thought."
"You're trying to tell me that it never once occurred to you that Jay was gay until you came home from college and heard the news?"
"That's exactly what I'm telling you."
"Bullsssshhhit!"
Perplexed, Dean's lifted his hands into the air and then let them return to the table in an attitude of frustration. "We never talked about it. Neither of you said anything. You never told me. Why should I suspect something like that?"
"Nothing?" April reiterated. "Nothing in his behaviour gave you a clue?"
"Why should it? Don't tell me you're this pissed at me just because I was a little oblivious. What else did I do?"
"You really are a wanker."
"Hey!" Dean uttered his favourite protest. It wasn't the worse thing she could have called him, so she wasn't completely pissed at him, but still. As with her brother, she spoke as if he made no complaint.
"You really haven't the faintest idea."
"Idea of what?"
"That he loves you, you moron. Oh!" April jumped slightly and then pressed her face into her hands. Once, her hair would have fallen forward in a rich, full wave. Now, she would have to dig her fingers into it if she wanted to touch it. The style consisted of short two-inch layers all over her head. She sniffed, swallowed, looked up. "I didn't mean to say that."
Dean sat immobile, unsure he could move. Words escaped him. Eventually, he blinked, turned his gaze to the wall, found no help there, stared around the kitchen, and finally looked back to her face. "He ... What?"
She sat forward, resting her arms on the table and sighed. Her fingers gripped her cup and she played with it, turning it in small circles. "Jay's going to kill me, but what the hell. You've embarrassed him so much, I'm not sure he can feel worse, and I can't see you telling anyone outside of this room."
Maybe she tried to convince herself. Dean waited patiently because he didn't know what else to do. He certainly could think of nothing to say.
"He's always liked you. I've always liked you. You're likeable, you know. Despite being an oaf. The trouble is you're not like that all the time. You can be quite intelligent."
Dean opened his mouth to complain and then closed it again. Unfortunately, he understood what she meant and it wasn't as insulting as it sounded. Mostly, she meant it as a compliment.
"He's always liked you, but then you came up behind him in the street and gave him that stupid kiss..."
"I thought he was you."
Her lips tilted up at each corner in a small smile. He watched her struggle with it, and then it bloomed. "I actually felt quite flattered about that, but I wasn't interested in a relationship and besides, I didn't think I'd get a relationship with you. I didn't want anything else. Certainly not a one night stand or even a short fling, not with someone I wanted more as a friend."
What could he say? She was probably right. Nice to know he had some effect on her, though.
"I know it was an accident, but imagine how Jay felt. There you were, after he hadn't seen you for ages, and not only is the first greeting you give him that silly kiss, but he sees you staring down at him, all blue eyes and taller than when you left, as well as all nicely filled out. Muscles and handsome. It didn't seem fair."
"You noticed that, huh?" He meant the muscles and handsome bit, and grinned at her. He couldn't help it. She gave him a look of sufferance.
"You're a total egomaniac, but, yes, if it will help. You are handsome and fit. Not overly so, just right." She coughed. "And we're getting off track a little here. The point is, you had quite an effect on many of the girls around here. Why did you think Jay would be any different?"
Dean frowned. "Because he's..."
"A bloke?"
"I was going to say my friend."
April studied him for a moment. "Aren't I your friend?"
"Well, yes."
"Yet, you like having an effect on me." She paused while that sunk in. Dean wanted to deny it, but couldn't. "Just like you like having an effect on Jay."
He laughed. It barked out of his throat before he could stop it. "That's ridiculous."
"You're lying. You aren't as blind to it as you pretend. You like having an effect on anyone. You just like teasing people and twisting them around your finger."
He shrugged. "So what if I do? I don't mean anything by it. I didn't mean to hurt anyone."
"You're a control freak."
"Hey, now, come on!"
"A lot of people hurt other people without meaning to. With luck, mostly they are small hurts and we can get over them and move on. Some hurts last."
Dean stared down into his cup. The contents of the now half-empty cup stood there growing cold. "I can't help how Jay feels."
"No, but you could help him cope with it."
Dean shifted around in his seat, frustrated and a little angry. "If he feels like that, why hasn't either of you ever said anything?"
"Oh, Dean! Of course, he wouldn't say anything. He has too much respect for you and he would rather have you for a friend than not have you around at all. We both like being friends with you. You should have realised that by now. I shouldn't have betrayed his confidence, not even now, tonight. And Jay admit that he loves you to your face? Come on. You're a straight guy. What's the point in telling someone you're never going to have a chance with that you like them?"
"Like I'm never going to have a chance with you." He said it with a slight grin and April gave him one of her more honest smiles. He sat and thought. "Yeah. So, like, he likes me. But he doesn't, like, love me." He looked into April's eyes.
It became her turn to shrug. "Who knows? He's stifled the feeling so long he was fine around you until the other day."
Dean winced. He suddenly saw what she meant about helping Jay cope with his feelings. He hadn't helped at all so far and that stupid kiss---not the accidental one, but the second one---just topped his list for all time stupidity.
"The truth is, if he had a chance with you, I think he'd easily fall in love. On some level, he already is. He shoved it aside, like when someone marries someone else. You have to do what you need to, so that you can get on with your life. You're what I don't get." She stood up and moved across the room, tipping the unfinished drinks down the sink, and then she moved to prepare dinner. Her back was to him, so he couldn't just frown at her; he needed to ask.
"What do you mean?"
"You're always invading his space, his personal space and his life. You've always done it. You throw an arm round him. Hug him. You're always telling him what to do."
"I hug a lot of people."
"I know, but you don't hug other men the way you hug Jay." She looked over her shoulder and evidently saw his frown. She stopped chopping for a moment to talk. "You hug him like he's one of the girls, tighter, closer. You wink at him. Damn it, Dean, you flirt."
Okay, maybe he did flirt a bit, but he was like that with everyone. He laughed and joked with other men, he slapped them on the back. Okay, he didn't wink but he ... He played games with Jay. He manipulated him. If Jay said he wasn't free and Dean wanted some company, he would fiddle with the computer, make it crash, practically force him to visit. April's reaction, if she knew any of that, would be to call him petty, vindictive, or hiding in the proverbial closet. He didn't like any of those choices or the light that unexpectedly shone on him. He had noticed Jay while they were growing up, but he always associated the feelings with his sister. "Crap," he said, suddenly.
April just gazed at him. "Wanker," she insisted.
"Come on, Jay. Open up. I'm bleeding out here, man."
Jay grimaced. Dean banged on his door again, just as he'd done for about the last ten minutes. April's earlier telephone call was to warn him Dean was on his way over, but the cow---Bitch!---hadn't warned him soon enough. No. She kept him chatting on the phone, then casually remarked that she and Dean talked a couple of days ago and that he was on his way over. He couldn't handle this, not an hour after returning home from his break and setting foot in the door. Jay had cast his eyes around at the pile of clothes that needed washing, the things he hadn't yet unpacked, the half-eaten sandwich, and barked out a panicked "When?"
"Oh, about now." He could almost see the smirk on her face.
"April, I don't need this right now."
"You can't avoid him forever."
"I know that. I've just got home. I'm not ready to deal with this." He was getting angry and he hated to do that with his sister, but she deserved it. If he had known she would set him up this way, he would never have told her. Maybe he shouldn't trust her so implicitly anymore.
"When would you be ready to deal with it?" The only thing evident in her voice was exasperation. "I told him when you were getting home and he's on his way. Deal with it or lose a good friend. I know what a pain in the arse Dean can be, but he's a good bloke at heart and we both know it." With that, she hung up.
Immediately, having no one to vent his anger on, Jay's belligerence turned to panic. He grabbed a jacket, his keys, and made a run for the door. He almost reached it when Dean knocked and now, ten minutes later, Jay retained the sneaking suspicion that Dean wasn't going to back off.
A large fist pounded on the door again, practically shaking it in the frame. Jay could picture the sound carrying through the walls to the ears of the other occupants in the block of flats. Jay put his hands over his ears, but it did nothing to impede the sound. He lowered his hands in time to hear the pounding stop and Dean's voice call out, "I'll sit here all night if I have to." He might be calling through the letterbox as his voice sounded clearer this time. Jay heard a strange sliding sound and then silence, but he didn't think for a minute that Dean had left. Maybe April was right. They needed to face each other sometime and the longer he left it, the worse it would probably feel. Not to mention what the neighbours were thinking. Drawing in a breath, he went to unlock the door, pulled it as far as the chain would allow, and looked out.
Dean sat on the floor with his back to the wall. The doorframe had to be pressing in an uncomfortable line down his spine. He held his hands clasped, his legs drawn back, and his elbows resting on his knees. A strip of cloth tied around one hand looked as if it might be a handkerchief. A large patch of red marred the white. He looked up.
"Christ!" Jay let the door close enough so he could unfasten the chain. He fumbled the first try in his haste, and then ripped the door open. "When you said you were bleeding, I thought you were being a wise arse and meant emotionally."
Dean grunted, rose to his feet, picking up a couple of objects behind him, and marched into the flat. Jay didn't bother to look to see what he carried. He closed the door and then led the way into the kitchen. When he turned back, a large bunch of greenery almost whacked him in the face. Jay blinked, looked at it, and then widened his eyes. Strange enough that Dean would bring him flowers, but he recognised them even if there were only a few struggling buds at present.
They were Christmas Roses and Jay loved them. The Helleborus niger was easy to grow, but he didn't have a garden. They bloomed in the darkest months, even when everything else lay frozen. He liked their defiance. Most varieties were white or tinged with pink. Mrs Thompson's were well established and especially lovely. She had the white, but also some that were a velvety, light purple colour against shiny, dark green leaves. "You took these from Mrs Thompson's garden?"
"Why do you think I'm bleeding?"
"I take it the bite wasn't Mrs Thompson." Not that he found it difficult to believe the old woman had it in her; her bark was bad enough. He took the flowers and set them aside. "Run your hand under some water. I'll get something to clean it with."
He returned in time to hear Dean draw in a hissing breath as he washed the wound. Well, he might hiss, but the antiseptic was going to hurt worse. Jay put some things down on the table and told Dean to sit, then hooked out a chair with his foot. There was no choice, but to sit close. He pushed back the too big, too baggy sleeves of his jumper. To distract them from the moment more than anything else, he asked, "So, Toffee, or Fudge?" Mrs Thompson owned two equally vicious Pomeranians. Small, sharp teeth had definitely caused the injury.
"Does it matter?" Dean grunted out, and then swore when Jay wiped the wound with the antiseptic. "I guess I should get a tetanus jab or maybe rabies shot." He was being vindictive; rabies wasn't an issue. He paused, and then added, "I wonder if they put poms to sleep if they bite."
Jay looked up, his eyes wide, not trying to hide his shock. "You wouldn't!" He watched Dean's face for a moment, until he was sure his friend spoke only out of irritation. From the man's expression, he could also tell that Dean was teasing him somewhat. Why he did that, as though he wanted to see a reaction, was beyond Jay. "Don't you dare," Jay said anyway, lowering his voice and turning his attention back to the wound. He began to apply a dressing. "Besides, you were trespassing and stealing. You got what you deserved."
"You don't like the flowers then?"
"That's irrelevant."
"I thought you could pot them. I heard they grow okay in pots."
Jay nodded. "Do you know the roots are poisonous?" Dean's expression was almost worth it.
"See what I go through for you," he muttered. Jay refused to look at him, and didn't answer. He concentrated on the dressing.
"Horrid little things," Dean said, maybe to fill the silence. "Came out at me from under a bush. Bloody thing was sleeping in the garden. I could have stepped on it. Don't know what she sees in them."
Admittedly, they always snapped and growled at everyone. "She loves them, and, anyway, you know what she's like. Imagine what she'd be like without them."
"Good point. And I wasn't stealing."
Jay began to gather the medical supplies. He flicked his gaze towards the other man. "Yes, you were."
"I lent over the wall and took a few flowers."
"You dug them up complete with poisonous roots and either way, that's stealing." Jay tried not to laugh, but couldn't help the sound entering his voice.
"So? If I'd asked, she would have said no and people do stupid things for those they..."
Jay paused, frowned. "What?"
"They do stupid things when they're asking for forgiveness," Dean finished. Jay, certain Dean stopped short of saying something entirely different, just sat there, his heart starting to pound. Dean picked up the second object. Belgian chocolates were Jay's favourite. "Sorry," Dean muttered. "I put them on the wall and then I knocked them off when the dog came rushing out and bit me. Then I stepped on them..." He shook his head, allowing the words to trail off, the chocolates inside the decidedly dented box surely squashed. Jay couldn't help it. He started to laugh. When Dean just looked at him, he laughed harder.
"I'm sorry. I really want to be mad with you right now." He looked down. "Still, I'm amazed you know what I like."
Dean opened his mouth to say 'Of course, I know what you like', but he didn't. He wasn't sure how that would sound. He half-raised a hand, unsure what to do with it, maybe touch Jay's face, but his friend jerked back. Dean always touched Jay so casually ... well, maybe not his face, but still, the pain of that spiked through him. Perhaps they had lost the easiness between them because of his stupidity. He didn't want that. He wanted things back the way as before. Jay eyed him warily now. Perhaps things had never been the way Dean imagined. He didn't know why he wanted to touch Jay. Maybe the impulse was to find out if he was still real and not shrinking away to become something infinitesimal inside of that huge jumper. Since when did Jay start to hide in his clothes like this? That jumper was something you wore when you needed emotional comfort. He tried a lopsided grin. "Are you going to forgive me?"
Standing up and kicking back the chair, Jay moved further away. "I might forgive Dean Chapman, the usually bright and unselfish man who knew I was quoting from Adam Bede when I called him a cock who thought the sun had risen to hear him crow. The Dean Chapman, who not only knew that was a book by George Eliot, but that she was a woman called Mary Ann Evans. On the other hand, I'm not sure I want to forgive the Dean Chapman who sits calmly by while one of his workmates, one who probably reads nothing more than the nudie page in the newspaper, takes the piss out of me."
"I know." Dean stood up. "Look, let me make it up to you?"
Jay lent against the kitchen sink, arms folded across his chest, staring at him. He and April shared more mannerisms than they probably knew. "How?"
A lot hinged on that word. "By proving I'm not a complete arse."
Jay looked down but his lips twitched. "Big order. How do you think you can manage that?"
Dean hesitated, but if he dithered too long, it would look as if he was trying to come up with something. Already, Jay's eyes narrowed and darkened. "By proving I do know some things about you. That I'm not as oblivious to you as I sometimes pretend. That I regret stepping out of line and that I like having you around and don't want to lose that. That I won't do it again."
At least Jay seemed to take in everything he said. He stood there now, the sleeves of the jumper having fallen forward. They covered most of his hands, his fingers curling tightly into his palms, gripping the edge of each sleeve, and pressing into his stomach. The posture was defensive, innocent, childlike and feminine. It was also altogether endearing. Was that a hint of disappointment in his eyes? Dean didn't know what to say to make that right. He should stick to his plan.
"Come 'round tonight." This time Jay really did look surprised, and then he looked suspicious, which drove unexpected pain straight into Dean's gut and heart equally. The three of them had known each other for so long that maybe he did take liberties with them, but he didn't mean anything by it. He didn't want to lose what they had, and they shared a great friendship. That friendship only changed recently. Once, the three of them spent many a night throwing popcorn at each other in the movies. Was it truly such a wonder that he touched Jay casually? He used to touch April the same way. His biggest regret was never managing to touch all that glorious hair before she cut it. When had things changed and where did this distance come from? Was it just life that pushed them apart or something else? Maybe he was the one at fault and he should make an effort, starting now.
"Just come 'round," he said. "Early, at six." The look on Jay's face ... he looked like an audience member staring at a comic and being set up for a fall, waiting for the moment when the joke descended on him. "It's nothing bad, I promise. You'll like it. Please. Trust me this once. This one last time, if it has to be that."
Jay sighed and it sounded defeated, which translated to triumph from Dean's point of view. "Wear the striped shirt," Dean said. "It brings out your eyes." Jay's gaze jerked up to meet his, but clearly, his friend couldn't tell if he teased or not. He did, but only a little.
\*
"You cooked?"
"Do you have to sound so surprised?" Dean felt oddly pleased to see Jay wore the shirt. The garment was a light cream colour with thin, pistachio green, beige, pale blue and brown stripes. The cut was a better shape and fit than many of the things Dean had seen Jay wear lately. With it, he wore beige faded jeans. He looked good in them and it crossed Dean's mind to tell him he should dress like this more often. For goodness sakes, he was gay after all. He didn't say it, though. Maybe he would get the chance later.
Jay's eyes wandered about the room, over the cream-coloured couch, the glass coffee table, the pebble-effect fireplace, and then across to the white bookshelves stuffed with books and model cars---collector's pieces all---as though he'd never set eyes on them before. Then he cast his gaze over the table. The tablecloth's deep red colour complimented the rich wine-coloured candles. In preparation, an Italian merlot already filled an elegant decanter, and the menu consisted of Italian food. Olives and a selection of cold antipasto rested on plain, white china plates as their starters. He poured the wine and then held out a glass, leaving Jay with no choice, but to pick his up and clink glasses. Dean hesitated to give a toast---To friendship? To us?---and the moment passed.
After the antipasto, they were having a small, second course of spaghetti with ragu---tomato and meat sauce---then seared tuna with caponata, which was an aubergine stew. He hadn't bothered with dessert, but bought Jay another box of chocolates---not that he doubted Jay would eat the squashed ones as well.
Jay dropped into his seat and fell into silence. Soft music played---a compilation of classical music. Uncertain if Jay favoured a composer, even liked classical music, or if he merely put up with it due to his sister's influence, Dean chose to play it safe. The recording varied enough not to irritate and the volume was set low enough so that they could ignore it if they wished. They ate and Jay finally asked him about work. Dean rambled on for some length about the cars in the workshop and then seeing Jay was staring at him, he grinned.
"Sorry. You know I like the cars."
Jay nodded, but said nothing else. Dean served the second course in a small bowl, the portion no more than half a dozen bites, but to his surprise Jay twisted the pasta up onto a single fork and ate it perfectly, just as the Italians did. Dean changed the plates, asked Jay about work, asked after April and her work, their family, and listened to Jay's monosyllabic answers.
"So, you really can cook."
They had eaten half the main course, but now pushed food around their plates. Dean put down his fork. "So my girlfriends tell me."
"Good seduction method, I guess."
Jay said it lightly enough, but Dean would have to be deaf not to hear the confusion in his friend's voice. He frowned, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took in a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I really am a wanker." Jay made a small questioning gesture, sort of a blink and a jerk. "It's what your sister calls me anyway. You're right. This is how I'd seduce a woman or make it up to her after an argument. The very idea that 'Dean can cook' seems to blow them away."
His friend smiled, but sadness existed in it. He wanted to remove that look, do something to make Jay's expression change, but he couldn't. "I've never cooked for a man."
"No reason you would." The words emerged very subdued and soft. Jay seemed to gather himself. He looked up. "It was very good."
Dean stared at him across the table. "The candles were too much?" In truth, everything was probably too much. That was why, seeing Jay's expression upon first glance at the table, he had left the main light on even though the candles burned.
The other man just gave a small smile, a sort of brief curving of his lips. Dean found it difficult to think of Jay as a man. He was so slim, so narrow-hipped and not, exactly, what you would call tall, plus he had all that long hair most women would kill to have. He was also funny at times, when he wasn't angry or upset. Jay was smart, incredibly so, though he did his best to hide it. He often came across as shy, but Dean had seen him after too much drink, and suspected there were times when Jay let down his hair in other ways. Of course, Jay also got angry but Dean didn't wish to dwell on that. "I don't want to lose your friendship," he said suddenly.
"I know."
"I'm sorry it can't be ... I'm sorry I can't..."
"I know," Jay interrupted. Silence ensued. Even the CD ended.
"You look good in that shirt," Dean told him for some inexplicable reason he just didn't understand.
"Fuck you!"
"Pardon me?" Dean asked sincerely. He stared wide-eyed across the table completely taken off guard by Jay's outburst. Jay's eyes stared right back at him, flashing now, his friend's face set hard in what looked like anger.
"I won't pardon you at all. What do you want from me, Dean? To wind me up, set me up, drop me down. I'm not a fucking jack in the box." Jay stood up, tossing his napkin down. He advanced past the corner of the table, his hips giving a little sway that Dean couldn't be sure was intentional or otherwise. "How would you like it if I came on to you?"
"I wasn't..."
Jay reached him before he could say anything else. With a sinuous movement, Jay slid into the impossibly small gap between Dean and the table and onto his lap. Shocked, Dean allowed it. The line of the table surely pressed painfully into Jay's side. Items on the table even trembled a little, but stayed put. Jay linked his hands around the back of Dean's neck and tilted his head as though he intended to kiss him. For an instant, Dean sat stunned, and then just before those lips met his, he grabbed Jay around the upper arms and skirted the chair back as he did. He used too much force. Jay flew off his lap, hit the table, rebounded, and then fell in an untidy heap on the floor, taking Dean's plate down with him. The pretty tinkle and chink sounds of crockery falling and breaking that usually sent consternation into a person's heart were secondary. The sound of Jay landing heavily overcame Dean's concern for a piece of dinnerware. Scraps of food soiled the carpet and Jay's shirt. Dean rushed in to help him and, much to his surprise, Jay let him. Once he was standing, though, Jay pushed him away.
"Don't touch me."
That was an ironic order, coming right after Jay tried to kiss him.
"Are you hurt? I didn't mean to do that. I'm sorry about the shirt. You ... You shouldn't have done that. I can't do those things with you."
"Dean, please." Jay's voice dropped to a whisper. He lowered his head and closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened them but didn't look up. "I did it to teach you a lesson. I know we're just friends and I'm fine with that. I just can't stand it when you ignore my feelings in general, when you act like a..."
"Wanker," Dean finished for him, and finally received a smile. The grin remained small, but it lingered at least. Of course, Jay lied about the extent of his feelings, or maybe he just wanted to avoid the issue. Either way, Dean failed to see what he could do about it.
"I have to go." Jay wiped at his shirt with Dean's napkin, and then shrugged, apparently giving it up for a lost cause. "Sorry about the plate, and the carpet. Maybe we can do this again sometime and invite April. She'll never believe you can cook."
Realising he stood there with his mouth open, Dean brought his teeth together with a light snap. A protest lay on his lips, but what seemed like a great idea earlier on in the execution now struck him as strange. Maybe it would be for the best to let Jay just leave if he wanted. Despite the peculiar end to the evening, they had a foundation here.
Dean went with him to the door. Of course, he would usually show a date out at a later hour than this, or she would have cooked him breakfast in the morning. Either way, when she left he would have kissed her. He didn't know what to do with Jay other then say 'See you' and that didn't seem to fit, so he ended up saying nothing. He just nodded and watched Jay walk off. The shirt caressed Jay's hips and flared out a little, emphasising a certain part of his anatomy. Perhaps that was the reason he never saw Jay in the shirt nowadays. Perhaps the garment was his date shirt and Dean had inadvertently picked it, not to mention possibly ruined it. From the back, it drew the eye down to the gentle curve of his friend's backside. Dean closed the door and leaned against it. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" he whispered.
\*
Two streets away, Jay broke into a run. It lasted only for a short sprint, but he relished the movement. He only stopped when he grew breathless from crying. Wiping angrily at his face, he swallowed down his tears before anyone could notice them. Damn the man! Damn him to hell!
Was he vindictive? Did he know what he was doing? Jay kicked an empty drink's can into the road. The metallic clank, hollow plink, plink, plonk, skittering noise sounded too loud. If anyone saw, they said nothing. Jay wanted to hit something and he never felt like that. It wasn't only his stature that made him shy away from violence. It just didn't sit well with his nature. Right now though, he was furious.
His anger warred with his distress, but he didn't even know who to be more upset with---Dean or himself. If he wasn't sporting a hard-on that had Dean's name displayed all over it, maybe he wouldn't feel so belligerent. What he couldn't figure out was Dean's thinking. If he didn't know him any better, he would believe the man deliberately set out to hurt him.
That bastard! He wanted to punch something. He wanted to drive his fist into Dean's face. Pity he'd have to stand on a chair to do it. The bubble of laughter that came with the thought eased his hatred. It wasn't Dean's fault that he loved him. Fall for a straight guy and this was what you got---an ache in your heart and an ache in your cock; and the one thing that would cure both, was the one thing you couldn't have.
Dean sat in the dark. Food grew cold and congealed on the plates. What smelt enticing and delicious now would assault the nostrils in the morning. Already the tomato sauce took on a sharper, acidic tang, but he couldn't make himself move to clean up the dishes. He finally forced himself briefly up out of the chair to turn off the stereo. Then he sat back in the chair in the dark.
What was wrong with him? He glanced towards the clock and saw it displayed the time as a quarter to nine. They had started eating a little after six with Jay staying for around two hours before he left. The longest two hours of his life, as it happened, and probably, the longest of Jay's too. Still, he had settled things between them. With a bit of work and perseverance on his part, they could be friends again, all three of them, and not just friends as they'd been the last couple of years, but friends as they used to be. April agreed with him and promised that if he could be civil and patch things up with Jay, she would go out of her way to repair bridges, too. He didn't know how he had managed it, considering the way he bungled through it all today. Yet somehow, he'd done what he set out to do.
Why then was he sitting in a dark room? Why did the house feel empty and worse still, why did he feel so alone? It was a Saturday night, not too late to call up a girl and invite her out on a date. He hesitated. He couldn't think of anyone he wanted with him and truth be told, any of the girls that would be sitting home alone, he didn't want to call. That was a selfish, uncharitable thought, but true. What didn't ring so true was the idea that he couldn't think of anyone he wanted to be with, but he could hardly blame Jay for calling it an early night. Could it have been any more awkward between them?
Well, yes, it could, but he didn't want to think about that at all. Yet the idea ... For some reason he started comparing Jay and April, their appearance, their mannerisms, their personality, and other little things that made up a whole person. He pictured them standing side by side and although they shared many things in common that he liked about both of them, he quickly realised that the list of what he liked about Jay was the longer one. He'd always had it in mind to jump April's bones one day, but the crush he suffered so badly when young eased with age. Still, give her a couple of the things that made up Jay's personality traits and he probably would have tried harder. If she smiled the way Jay did, with her head tilted, eyes gazing shyly out from under her brow, or if she was as sweetly natured, or if her laugh was as warm.
In truth, Jay possessed a softer side to his character. The siblings might look alike, but there were differences in their personalities. April could close up and bring a shutter down over her feelings in an instant. She hadn't truly been angry with him the other day. He would have known it. She didn't lose her temper often, but when she did, it happened quickly. Jay almost wore his heart on the proverbial sleeve by comparison.
Dean rubbed his hands over his eyes and dry washed his face. The thoughts didn't go away. How often did he find himself smiling just because Jay smiled? How often did he slap him on the back, or put an arm around his shoulders or even around his waist because he couldn't hug him the way he would a girl? The first time he had kissed Jay it was a mistake, but until he realised the figure in his arms didn't have breasts, he had been well away with it. The second kiss was full on, as if he needed to prove something. The fact was, he had wanted to leave Jay staggered, gasping, even longing for more. Why would he do that? Was he that vindictive without realising it? Did he want to hurt Jay because he was gay?
That made no sense at all. He had known other gay men. He never gave their lives a second thought. He'd been to college. He'd seen things. Sometimes those things happened right there in the room with him. He'd watched, but not participated. He didn't tease them. He certainly didn't touch them, at least no more than he touched any other man he knew. Sure, there were times you accidentally bumped into a mate or when you slapped someone on the back or shoulder to say hello or goodbye. Or you might put a hand on someone to show them how cold you were on a winter's day, though with Jay he would always put his icy fingers right around his neck, even a little into his top or down his back. Why did he always touch Jay without even thinking about it? Why did he like to have him around so much? What was so special about him that got under his skin?
Dean sat in the dark, hopeless and helpless. He just didn't understand why his stomach churned this way. He slept with women; he put it around. April once told him that, no doubt, he would put his dick in any available orifice, but she said it only to annoy him. Didn't she? He only laughed at the time. Think about Madeleine, Jackie, Trish, Dawn, or Beth, and there you were, instant stiffy. So what was his problem? He hadn't suddenly turned gay. He didn't believe that anyway. That was how you were born, not something you chose. Some people believed you were born naturally bisexual and only social conditioning made you choose. The truth was probably somewhere in between, but even if some part of him liked Jay in more than just a friendly way, it wasn't as if he could do anything about it. He wasn't about to have sex with him.
So, why the big seduction act? Why had he thought cooking a meal for Jay would be a good idea? Well, probably because he was gay and it was something he'd do for a woman, which might have been fine in its way, if he'd done what Jay suggested and invited April along as well, or if their friendship was what it used to be. Of course, then it probably wouldn't have occurred to him to cook a meal at all. They were right. He possessed two sides to his personality, one intelligent and thoughtful, the other selfish and loutish, willing to do anything to get his own way.
He thought of sex between straight couples and of how frantic that could be. He knew what gay sex entailed and to his dismay, he didn't feel disgusted or put off by it. He wasn't particularly attracted to it or curious about it either. He just didn't mind 'other' men having sex, but he never thought of doing something like that himself. He knew plenty about it though. He even used it in his stories, using Jay as ... Well, inspiration was too strong a word, but he was his only gay acquaintance now, so he'd thought about him when he needed that angle to work with. Some of the scenes he wrote even made him hard, but he would never put them into practice.
His friends and family would be very surprised and would no doubt look at him twice if he let them know about the books he sold under a pen name. He hadn't told anyone about them. Maybe it was simply his imagination making him curious. That would be an easy explanation if it rang true for every writer. The fact was, although no writer could get away without research, you didn't have to jump out of an aeroplane or be involved in a car wreck to write about one. You just read up on the subject and, if necessary, asked someone to describe his or her experience. Just as you didn't have to be a murderer to write about a murder, you didn't have to be gay or even have any interest in the subject to write such a scene. To blame it all on that would be an easy escape route, a nice neat way of lying to himself.
What would it be like to fuck Jay?
The idea instantly alarmed him, made him panic. His heart raced. Dean took a deep breath, easing his way back to a relative state of tranquility. Maybe he should let his mind take him where it wanted. They were just thoughts. Thinking about something didn't mean you would end up doing it. So, what would it be like to fuck Jay?
For a moment, he didn't even know where to start, and then he decided to begin with the body. Sometimes you fucked with someone because they were gorgeous. It didn't matter how liberated or hetero you were, some people made you weak at the knees. Some people made a career out of how handsome or beautiful they were whether they had the talent to go with it. Others, not so obviously attractive people, you still fucked because something else drew you to them. Dean's wealth of experience covered both scenarios, but the undeniable fact was that gay or straight, woman or man, Jay was one good-looking guy. The man had an athletic sleekness to him. He slid into or rolled out of a chair like a cat stretching after a nap. Jay often escaped drawing attention to himself because only when he left did you realise he moved through the room with an ease of movement that left you bereft in its absence.
At least, he might have escaped notice if it weren't for that drape of luscious hair that curved over his shoulders ending at the height of his nipples. It looked like a shroud, or a veil, when it fell in front of his face. Then there was all that unblemished skin. Even with a day's growth of stubble, his chin looked smooth. Only when you brushed up against it did you acknowledge the rough bristle existed. He looked like something inadvertently shut out of heaven. No wonder Dean once called him Angel.
Fine. The guy was good-looking. That didn't translate to fucking him. The idea wasn't so freaky. Same sex relationships were no big deal in his book and, if someone told him two guys stranded on a desert island wouldn't end up fucking, or at least giving in to a little mutual stimulation, he would have taken bets on it. Maybe one guy would take the dominant role. Maybe they would give in to a little harmless frottage only, but he couldn't imagine years of no one's solid grip on your cock other than your own. Maybe that was just him.
"Slut," he said aloud, meaning himself. Sex was not that important. Life without it would suck, but you could survive. He had more important things to consider here; like the consequences, hurting another person, losing a friendship---if he hadn't loused it up already. One thing was certain; no one could call him pious. His devotion led in a very specific direction.
He was frustrated and one good cure for that was to masturbate, but as his gaze moved across the room and flickered down to a bottom shelf, the idea of how much gay porn he had collected over the last few years suddenly inundated his mind. He owned a fair amount of hetero movies, too, and the gay stuff was research for his books, but he didn't think anyone would believe him. He wrote as Mary Ann Evans had done, only not as George Eliot, but as Marilyn Manners. He wrote for straight women and gay men. It was purely business, but difficult to explain. He could hear April laughing if she knew. The row of discretely packaged discs suddenly intimidated him.
He couldn't sit here all night. The more he thought about his feelings, the more he failed to understand them. He certainly didn't understand the answer, because he didn't even know the question. He turned his head and his gaze fell on the box of chocolates. They hadn't got around to eating them and he had forgotten to give them to Jay. He had also forgotten to give him back the key April had lent him. He hadn't even mentioned it to Jay, it having escaped his mind. Just in case Jay refused to speak to him, April had given him a spare key to the flat. Yes, there was the question of the chain, but one kick from Dean would have solved that, or he could have waited until Jay went out, gone into the flat and waited for his return. None of that mattered now. Whatever he might have, or not have done, Jay would be livid with her. Dean could give the key back to April without Jay ever knowing; that would be the wise thing to do.
Even as the thought crossed his mind, some vindictive part of him brought an evil smile to his face. To have Jay mad at April for once, now wouldn't that be something.
Giving himself a mental shake, Dean inwardly scolded himself. This was the root of his personal problems. He must be evil at heart, for what else would make him behave in such a way. Just when he had something to work with, bridges he could repair with effort and time, he wanted to upset his friends. He wanted to annoy April and make her mad. Of course, he would play the innocent. If he had used the key this afternoon, Jay would have known about it anyway. She would be in just as much trouble then. So why shouldn't he return it? Why shouldn't he let Jay know that his sister had given someone a key to his flat without his permission or even his knowledge?
Some part of his mind told him that was just an excuse, but he pushed it away. It would be perfectly logical to drop the chocolates off, tell Jay about the key, and then go on to somewhere else. Nine on a Saturday night at his age was far too early to crawl into bed---at least unless someone was about to crawl into bed with you.
\*
Looking up at the window of Jay's flat, Dean's face tightened in a frown. He couldn't see a light on. Either Jay wasn't home or there was only a soft light burning. He couldn't picture Jay going to a pub or a club---he didn't do that much anyway, and he wouldn't have, not after the evening they'd just shared. He might have gone round to visit his sister though, providing she happened to be in. Surely, Jay hadn't gone to bed.
Dean hesitated, but left with the choice of turning around and going home, or leaving the chocolates and then going home, he couldn't seem to deter from his original course. He bounced over the steps to the main door of the flats. Beyond the glass door, a bright light lit the hall and stairwell. He ran up the two flights to the floor that contained Jay's flat. Outside, he lifted his hand to ring the bell but hesitated. Leaning back, he stared down but couldn't see a light shining under the door. Placing his ear to the door, he strained to hear a sound. Usually, he could hear the TV or music playing. All was silent. Maybe the flat was empty after all. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed likely that Jay had gone straight to his sister. He was probably moaning about Dean's strange behaviour and the peculiar dinner even now.
He turned away, and then glanced at the box of chocolates in his hand. He could at least leave them. Slipping a hand into his pocket, he drew out the key April had given him earlier.
"Are you sure?" he had asked her when she handed it over.
April just grinned. "He won't stay mad at me. You are another matter, and I will only ever do it this once. I'm giving you the chance to talk to him. If he's got the chain on, at least you can put your foot in the door and plead with those big baby blues of yours."
For some reason, April's certainty remained undiminished that the moment Jay set eyes on him that her brother would be unable to say no. Much to his embarrassment, Dean knew what she meant. He had that effect on women. He wasn't going to see April for a few days and he shouldn't walk around with the key. He had meant to give it to Jay at dinner, but forgotten about it. He could put it through the letterbox, but then what would Jay think of finding a key lying on the hall carpet? If he went in and left it with the chocolates, it would explain who left it and he could ring April and warn her. He could even leave a note asking Jay not to be mad. As he turned the key in the lock and stepped inside, it ran through his mind that he was making excuses, trying to find a reason to justify entering. He couldn't think why. If this was April's place, he might have gone through her underwear just to see what she wore under all those clothes.
It would be okay to leave the chocolates in the kitchen, but Dean walked through to the living room. Everything was in darkness and the chain hadn't been on, so he must have guessed right. Jay wasn't home. He set down the box and the key where Jay would find them. He wouldn't leave a note. Jay would call him, no doubt. The living room looked even more cluttered than the kitchen. Like Dean, Jay had a penchant for books, but he didn't have the room for bookshelves. Still, he lined the walls with them, pushing the furniture in front almost as an afterthought. Books lay in neat, orderly lines, but were stacked in jumbled heaps on any remaining surface. Dean didn't have to examine them; he knew what an eclectic collection they made. He wasn't about to look through Jay's underwear so that left him with nothing to do, mission accomplished. He found it strangely disappointing, an anti-climax.
Turning to walk back up the hall, he finally heard a sound. Turning his head, he stared towards Jay's bedroom. The flat was small. Not as small as April's, but still he was glad he lived in a house. He would hate living in such cramped conditions. The kitchen and bathroom sat opposite each other on either side of the hall. The hall led straight into the living room adjacent to the bedroom. The sound came from there. Maybe Jay was home after all. Jay had only returned from a few days away this morning, and what with all Dean had put him through, he was probably exhausted.
Suddenly ashamed to be trespassing, the time arrived for him to leave. Yet the sound came again and this time it made him frown. It sounded like a wet gasp for want of a better description. It sounded like the type of noise someone made when drawing in air. The sort of noise they made when they were crying. Surely, he hadn't upset Jay that much. He dithered, swaying a little from side to side while he made up his mind which way to go. If Jay really was crying and it was because of him, then they should talk about it now.
The door swung slowly inwards noiselessly. Dean hardly had to push it. Enough light filtered in through the light drapes to give the room a soft, white illumination. Jay lay in the middle of the bed stark naked. His hair was loose and wild, lying in a dark shroud across his face so that mostly his lower face was on view. Despite this, Dean could see that he had his eyes closed---not that Dean needed to see this, for if his eyes hadn't been shut, Jay would have shouted, cried out at his presence. Men might be a little more open about masturbation than women were sometimes, but he doubted any guy would be happy to have a friend walk in on him like this.
Jay's legs lay apart, slightly bent at the knee and falling open, so that Dean couldn't help but look between his legs. He blinked, surprised that such a small man would have a large heavy-looking ball sac. Only a slightly lesser surprise was the fact that he judged Jay's erection to mirror his own in girth and length. The fingers of Jay's right hand wrapped tightly around his member, although he only held it still at present. His left hand did the wandering, stroking first one nipple and then the other, moving back to the first to pinch and lightly pull. Jay writhed as he did so, sliding his hips from side to side on the bed. His hand spread out, stroking in a line down to his belly tugging Dean's gaze along with it so that he couldn't help but notice the hard, tight muscle of Jay's stomach. Another surprise---Jay might be shorter and might be what some would call slight, or at the very least slim and lean, but he possessed one of the clearest defined six-packs Dean had ever seen. Like the rest of him, the muscles there seemed small, but they were fully developed. Although Dean's stomach was equally hard and flat, his muscle definition largely dominated his upper chest and arms. Their similarities and differences pulled at something inside him. Dean's gaze raked up and down, just as Jay's mouth parted and he uttered a slight, sharp gasp, turning his head more to the side as he did, pressing his head into the bed as though he wanted to sink into it.
Jay reached down with his left hand and gave the exposed head of his cock a light circular caress that made him tip his hips up towards his own touch and then rock back to press his backside hard into the bed. His head now flailed from the right, to the left, and back again. He uttered a small sound of "Oh" and then drew in a breath so deep it made him shudder. His right hand finally moved up and down on his cock as the fingers of his left went back to playing with his nipples. Dean swallowed, struggling to keep the sound quiet, though it seemed unlikely that Jay would hear him. Wherever his thoughts lay, Jay's attention wasn't in this room, and Dean suspected that he probably featured heavily in whatever fantasy currently played out in his head. Confirmation arrived a moment later when his name emerged from Jay's lips to softly whisper around the room. Jay's movements became a little more frantic and so did the sounds. Then he panted, issued a soft moan, a whimper that contained desperation as his movements slowed. He gave the impression he deliberately held back.
Up until now, his attention focused on the sight of Jay so vulnerable, exposed both emotionally and physically, briefly drew Dean's concentration away from his own reaction. Now, he could no longer ignore the pounding of his heart, its increasing beat, the shortness of breath. A lasting throb pulsed through his lower body. He couldn't ignore that; it wouldn't let him. He could kid himself all he liked but his body reacted. He was aroused and although part of him wanted to deny it, another part wasn't surprised at all. The sight before him was undeniably erotic, made even more so by the fact that this was Jay, and Jay was a beautiful sight at any time. Dean needed to accept that. Jay and April possessed very similar features. If he found April beautiful, he must accept Jay had the same, fine, delicate features that he often longed to touch.
Not sure what he intended to do, Dean slipped out of his jacket and left it on the chair to one side of the door. Drawing his shirt over his head, it quickly followed. Next, he slipped out of his shoes, slowly, quietly pushing them off in turn with his feet. Then he hesitated. He had moved, taken off some of his clothes without allowing himself to think or question what he was doing. Now, a vague nausea coiled in his stomach and he lifted one foot to take a step back, tensing, ready to pick up his shoes and clothes, to back out of the room. This was foolish. Best he left unnoticed.
"Dean. Oh please, Dean. Yessssss." Jay's fantasy came vibrantly alive, echoing around the room, carried on the soft plea. The sick feeling fled as quickly as it manifested. Dean's body began to thrum with a feeling he recognised---one that would lead to absolute need. The feeling was the embers on a fire that begged someone to stoke it. Jay's soft moans, his pleas, every time he spoke Dean's name that heat increased.
"Fuck me, Dean. Please fuck me."
Dean might have believed Jay knew he was in the room, but his friend hadn't opened his eyes, and he would have jumped up, crying out, almost screaming if that were the case. He should leave, but on the other hand, why not stay? Jay's breathing laboured now, his movements increased. If Dean were going to do something, he should do it now. Just as quietly as he removed his shirt and shoes, he unfastened his trousers. He made a little sound with his belt as he drew the trousers down, but Jay was oblivious to everything but the scene currently playing out in his head.
As he approached the bed, it became clear he made the decision not a moment too soon. Jay had a bottle of lubricant on the bed and a little further to the side, a dildo or vibrator. In the dark, he couldn't tell which. It didn't matter right now, anyway. Jay wouldn't be using it. Bracing one hand on the bed, he quickly slid onto it. Jay reacted to the sudden movement and weight as he expected, opening his eyes and crying out; the cry sounded like sexual release. Dean tucked in beside him and pressed one arm across his chest before he could fully react.
"You're not dreaming, Jay." Dean spoke his name deliberately. Firstly, so that Jay would recognise his voice, just in case he couldn't see him clearly. Dean knew of no one with his build and he was sure Jay would recognise him just from that, but he could be too startled to realise precisely whom had entered his room. He also wanted to acknowledge Jay for both their sakes. In saying his name, he was telling Jay he knew whom he was with as well as accepting it. He spoke to break Jay's trance.
Those eyes looked wide and frightened. The line of Jay's throat worked as he swallowed. One of his hands reached up to grab at the arm holding him down, not that he possessed the strength to push Dean away. The fear faded from Jay's face, but anxiety clearly remained as Dean looped their left legs together and pushed the hand away that gripped him. "Sshh, Jay. Don't be afraid. Don't stop." He pushed Jay's hand back towards his erection and a small sound of protest escaped Jay's lips. Dean stared into his eyes, though the darkness impaired his vision. "Don't stop," he said again, this time speaking just as quietly, but putting more force into his voice. "Touch yourself."
He pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss as he guided Jay's hand. Wrapping those slim fingers around Jay's cock, Dean closed the hand into a fist so that he gripped him without actually touching that organ and used Jay's own hand to pump the softening flesh back to hardness. Sensing shock sent desire into retreat, Dean now fully intended to bring it alive again. He licked along the line of Jay's compressed lips.
When most people lay an arm across you, it was easy to struggle. You might not break free, but you could make them work for it. With Dean, all he needed to do with most people was lean his weight on them a little. Jay tensed, ready to fight even as he accepted the most he could probably do was thrash his hips, which would likely make his erection wiggle lewdly. Then Dean added the weight of his leg. He was still trying to separate dream from reality when Dean spoke. That voice was real, much better than in his head. When Dean told him not to stop, a strange sensation crawled down his spine. Fear lost next to embarrassment and warred with desire, then raced back in. Why was Dean doing this?
He lost the question in the combined heat of Dean's kiss and naked skin. Although aware Dean leaned forward to press their mouths together, he couldn't help but pay most attention to all that hard and smooth bare skin brushing against him from head to toe. Dean was six inches taller, which meant Jay encountered lots of luscious skin and flesh. More than enough of Dean existed to cover him completely.
What am I thinking? The question pulled him back to reality, to the consequences of this, but the lick along his lips made him moan. He tried to keep his lips pressed together but like every other muscle on Dean's body, his tongue was as insistent and strong as the rest. It invaded Jay's mouth, forcing its way in, ignoring the fact that his teeth scraped along the length. If it hurt, Dean either didn't mind or was too much of a man to flinch at such a small pain.
For the first time tonight, Jay felt true fear, though he struggled to understand the cause of it. He had no reason to believe Dean would hurt him physically, so it must be his heart that needed protecting. Although the room was full of shadows, the dazzling, white light from the moon and the streetlights shining through his thin curtains, made the room strangely bright. He could have easily moved around without bumping into things. By comparison, Dean's eyes also possessed a strange light to them. Dean's eyes always looked bright, sparkling, and full of laughter. They could harden out, all right, when he was angry, but now they just stared, and such a stare it was. The look was hard and somehow cold. Jay longed to see warmth in them. Although this was Dean, his friend for so many years, tonight, seeing that look in his eye, it was as if he didn't know him.
"Turn over," Dean instructed. To Jay's horror, he let out a small whimper. His friend didn't seem to hear. Either he wasn't listening or he didn't care. Jay opened his mouth to say something, uncertain what, but Dean already followed through on his instruction. One of those large hands gathered Jay's wrists together in a tight embrace that threatened to grind bone. Then, by leaning his weight and pushing with his body, somehow, Dean spun him over.
The familiar comfort of the duvet pressed into Jay's face and he closed his eyes. Cold air rushed in to replace Dean's heat as the man sat up. Another heat soon replaced it as those hands began to stroke down from his neck, over his shoulders and down his back to his hips. He gasped when those firm fingers gathered his hair and moved it back from his neck. A hot searing kiss at his nape sent its heat in a line straight down his spine to his entrance. A solid, harder heat brushed against his buttocks. Jay opened his eyes and blinked, realising that his friend's cock swayed in the wind, stroking against him by accident as Dean moved. Those strong, sure hands now traced circles on his cheeks, opening him. Jay gave a small cry and tensed, tucking into the duvet, huddling into the soft folds of the cover beneath. He closed his eyes once again, as he realised he tried to hide like a frightened, inexperienced boy.
When he felt a thumb brush him in the most intimate way, that hidden rosette tightened in a manner he would have thought impossible. He'd had lovers and in their overly long absence, he had toys. Still, tension thrummed through him even down to that hidden place. When Dean's cock brushed there in place of a thumb, he whimpered again and tried to crawl up the bed. A hand on his left shoulder stopped him. It simply held him there, not pressing and not hurting, just holding him still with strength. Never before had he truly appreciated the extent of Dean's strength. The thought thrilled him as much as it frightened him. The fingers of Dean's right hand played around his entrance, teasing, stroking. They felt wet and slippery. Dean must have used the lube. A finger slid into him and Jay wriggled, moaning, ashamed at how raw and full of desire his cries sounded.
\*
Dean managed to move two fingers into him, which considering the size of his hands meant Jay coped admirably. A grin spread over his face; he felt a little sorry that Jay couldn't see it. Part of the reason he chose to turn Jay over was so that they could no longer look at each other. He needed no one to tell him his stare appeared overly intense. There was a lot on his mind right now, but Jay didn't need to see it. Certain the gaze in his eyes looked terrifying, Dean chose to turn Jay over so he couldn't see it. He had known and accepted what he was going to do the moment he slid onto the bed. Knowing it and following through were two different things. Oddly, he didn't have much trouble with what he was doing. Anal sex was just sex. He didn't expect this to feel any different with Jay than it did a woman. The fact that he wanted to do it with Jay so much was what shook him. Jay was twisting now, moving his hips a little around on the bed, using his arms under him to prop his body up and push back. Dean had let go of his shoulder some moments ago, but he didn't think Jay noticed. He withdrew his fingers.
Coming down over Jay's back, Dean stopped his teasing. He kissed the shoulder he pressed down into the bed, trailed a hot wet line along it to the nape of his neck. "Do you want this?" he whispered.
It took a moment before he heard Jay whisper "What?" His voice sounded young, a little afraid, and undoubtedly uncertain, and several other things combined.
"Do you want this? I'm not going to force you." Dean spoke quietly, but kept up the kisses.
"I..." That single word emerged, stuttering. It dried up, came to a halt in his friend's throat. Dean could hardly blame him. This decision would alter things between them irrevocably. To what extent, even he didn't know. With luck, they wouldn't lose their friendship. That was the best he could hope. Undoubtedly, Jay saw things a little differently. Sex and love weren't the same thing, though people often confused the two. Jay wasn't confused. Dean was completely aware Jay loved him. Why then was he doing such an incredibly lousy thing as seducing him? His heart asked the question but his cock wouldn't listen. His brain told him that he would pay for it later. He accepted that because he just couldn't do anything else right now. He didn't think he could stop if his life depended on it, not if Jay wanted this, not if he asked for it. The only thing he would pull back from was the idea of forcing him.
"I'm not going to rape you, Jay," Dean said softly. "I couldn't do that to anyone, least of all you. No promises. Just tell me if you want this." He ran his tongue in a small, hot circle around the top of Jay's spine, distracted by how good that smooth skin felt against his tongue, how good Jay tasted. "Make up your mind soon though, or I'll take your silence for yes."
Gliding back down the bed, he swept his tongue down and around each of Jay's vertebrae, causing the man's spine to arch. A shudder passed through the body beneath him as he licked gently at the dip between both of Jay's buttocks. Jay wanted this all right. The quivering flesh was on fire beneath him. Jay wanted this, had probably wanted it for many years. Who was Dean to refuse him? Whether Jay would be happy with one night was another matter entirely.
Some part of his mind called him a bastard and Dean acknowledged it. He would probably swear enough at his reflection come morning. Still, he couldn't force himself on Jay, not even if his life truly depended on it would he hurt him that way. Jay wanted him all right---his little twists on top of the bed and the soft mewing noises that escaped him said as much---but he wouldn't take without permission. The tension in the man beneath him told another story, however. Jay wrestled with the decision no matter how much his body cried out for it. There was only one way he could tip Jay over the edge. He found the idea disconcerting even as he accepted he meant to do it. He'd done this with a woman before now and driven her crazy with it. Dean narrowed his gaze, swept his hands in a hard, firm stroke over the buttocks in a way that gently, but unequivocally separated both cheeks and swept his tongue along that crevice in one hard, firm, hot and wet glide. Jay cried out, thrashed on the bed, gasped, groaned, moaned, and finally the words he wanted to hear spilled out on the end of that sound. "Oh, please, yes, god, Dean, please yes."
Grinning, Dean scrambled up, gripped his cock and placed his swollen shaft against that tight opening, which turned out not to be as tight as he expected. Glancing over at the vibrator or dildo, whichever it was, he smiled. Jay clearly used it at every opportunity. He had to wonder what other toys his friend owned. Jay, having previously taken two of his fingers inside him, opened up nicely. From experience, Dean knew what to expect. That seemingly hard unforgiving opening would expand slowly. As he rocked his hips, it clutched at him, almost as though it couldn't decide if to suck him in or expel him. Jay's groans changed, became a long heartfelt sigh. It sounded so close to utter peace and contentment that Dean's heart jumped in his chest. It felt almost as if his heart missed a beat. Could a heart jump with guilt? Did he have a reason to feel guilty? He'd said no promises, but in their aroused state how much was either of them truly listening?
"Oh, fuck me. I want you to fuck me."
Well, Jay asked and to stop now seemed rather churlish, even redundant. 'Sorry, I'm not gay and I just got it my head to have my wicked way with you for the hell of it', didn't quite cut it. To apologise and back out now---literally, in this case---would not only be stupid, it would be more embarrassing than to finish. Besides, he didn't want to back out and that small nether mouth sucked at him in such a way that said Jay didn't want him to back out either.
Inch by inch, Jay accepted his rigidness. Dean tried for a few smooth, long deep strokes, then lost himself to it. He began rocking, thrusting. Jay scrambled back to meet him. Using his hands, Dean pulled him, lifted him, and held Jay close. Up on his knees, he used one hand on Jay's back to press him forward so that he lay face down in the cover. Dean looked down to see his cock thrusting in and out of that tight opening. Those buttocks spread for him, round and ripe, as heart shaped as any woman's. The waist narrowed, the spine was a deep curve up the line of the back. That thick shroud of hair swept out in a fan to spill over one shoulder. If he didn't know it was Jay beneath him, he could have easily believed or pretended this was a woman. It could have been April. He denied the fantasy. Reaching underneath, he gave Jay's cock a few quick strokes, not certain if he liked touching another man or not. There really wasn't time to consider it now. He was too far gone to care and just wanted to bring Jay with him.
Suddenly, despite his need, he eased off. A harsh sound of complaint came from Jay's throat and Dean chuckled softly. He was still inside him, but now Jay needed to wriggle back to search for the penetration. Not getting what he so evidently wanted, Jay pushed up onto his hands. That tight, slick tunnel slid back over him and Dean hissed. Now his friend did the fucking, moving back and forth on Dean's hard shaft. Another harsh desperate sound escaped his friend. "Come on, Jay," Dean said. "Reach for it."
To come from anal sex alone was rare. Some could do it; for others it never happened at all. He had known two women to come that way when he touched something deep inside of them. Men probably had extra stimulation from anal play, but still not all they required. For some inexplicable reason, aware Jay was near, having to bite his own lips to keep from coming, Dean wanted it to happen this way. Jay's cock surely brushed the bed occasionally and he'd enjoyed all that self-stimulation before they even started. Jay also finally had what he wanted---his friend's cock firmly embedded inside him. Oh, yes, Jay was near.
"Come on," Dean urged. He held his friend's weight as Jay made a final desperate lunge, a few short thrusts on a zone that obviously was just the right spot for him, and then he froze and trembled in place. He spilled in a great flailing wail during which even Dean struggled to hold onto him. That tightness clamped him like a woman in orgasm only harder, crueller, and Dean went over the edge with him. He closed his eyes, gave into the sweet pulsing, over too quickly. They fell together in a tangled heap.
Dean remembered at the last minute to push himself to the side before he fell on the smaller man. It would do no good to crush him. He laid on his back breathing heavily, his eyes unfocused, his mind blank. Only when Jay rolled onto his side did Dean force his body to obey him. He quickly tucked up behind Jay, into him, spooning him. He could see the back of his head and a little of the side of his face. The one eye that he could see gazed blankly. A slight frown creased that usually unlined brow.
Could he offer Jay affection after what they had just done? Yes, he could do that. For a good friend he had just fucked, how could he not?
He tucked his knees in, slipped an arm around him, reached up and over with his other hand and stroked Jay's forehead. They lay there for a few minutes before Dean moved from the bed. He placed a kiss on the side of Jay's face. "I'm just going to the bathroom," he told him. "Don't go anywhere."
\*
Sweat began to cool on his body, yet still Jay didn't move. He was afraid to. Right now, it was a beautiful spell and he had no wish to break it. Half expecting Dean to take his clothes with him into the bathroom, he refused to hope until he heard the toilet flush, water ran in the sink, and a few moments later, Dean walked back into the bedroom. Returning to the bed, Dean scooped him up off the bed into his arms so easily that Jay didn't have time to cry out in surprise.
"Get the duvet," Dean instructed. Shocked into obeying, he reached down and flipped back the cover while Dean held him. Dean immediately dropped him gently onto the bed and pushed him over. "I hope you don't mind sleeping on the right," Dean said, and to Jay's utter amazement, the larger man got into bed with him, gathering him up in his arms. A rough kiss touched his forehead, then Dean said, "Sweet dreams, Jay."
Sweet dreams? Jay didn't think he would be able to get a wink. He opened his eyes a few minutes later to the realisation he already drifted. Dean uttered a small, unbelievably cute snore for such a big man. It made Jay smile and close his eyes again. They slept peacefully.
\*
"How did you get in?" Jay cradled his morning coffee. The mug warmed his hands and gave him something to hold onto. If the heat burned a little that was good, too. He needed something that felt real, even if that something manifested in a little pain.
"Your sister gave me a key." Dean looked a little embarrassed. He shrugged when Jay frowned at him. "I meant to give it back to you at dinner and forgot. Please, don't get mad at her. It might have been stupid, but she meant well."
All very well for Dean to say. So much for trusting family. Taking a deep breath, he let it go for now. Whether he confronted April or not, that had nothing to do with Dean. At least, not when he considered what happened last night. Maybe he should thank his sister rather than yell at her. Maybe not. Speaking of which, that meant there were considerably more important things to think about. He frowned. "The chain?" he asked.
Dean looked a little puzzled. He sat in the same chair by the kitchen table as when Jay bandaged his hand just yesterday. It looked as though it healed nicely and it felt like it happened a lifetime ago. "You left it off," Dean told him.
He ... what? Thinking back to last night, he couldn't remember leaving the chain off, but he couldn't recall putting it on either. "I-I came straight in and took a..." He stopped, saw Dean's questioning gaze, and finished with, "I put my shirt into soak and took a cold shower. I usually put the chain on before bed, though."
"Evidently you wanted to get to bed in a hurry and the shower didn't do its job."
Heat immediately warmed his face. He felt hotter than the coffee. He didn't have to see Dean's amused gaze to know he blushed.
"Well," Dean pushed his mug aside having finished his drink. "I should get going. Home for dinner two weeks in a row, Mum thinks it's Christmas already. But I promised her I'd show."
Jay nodded. You couldn't just get out of those kinds of promises, no matter what happened. Even he couldn't think of a suitable excuse for this one. He put down his own mug and followed Dean into the hall. Perhaps he should just keep quiet, but maybe it would be best to let Dean off the hook now. Maybe they could salvage something that way, though he had no idea what.
"This didn't mean anything to you, did it? I mean, I know. It's fine. I can take it. I understand. I don't expect..." Damn! That wasn't what he intended to say. He meant to tell Dean it didn't have to mean anything and he was fine with that. They could just forget it. Instead, it sounded as though he were pleading like a girl asking her date for reassurance, though that was a sexist thought. Men looked for reassurance, too.
Dean paused and looked back at him, leaning against the frame of his kitchen doorway. Dean always seemed to lean on things as though he needed propping up. The mannerism was adorable in its way. A hand gripped the frame close to his face. "I don't know what it meant, but it didn't mean nothing."
It took Jay a moment to deduce his meaning---he had never been a great student of the double negative in English. When he realised what Dean said, he looked up cautiously. He tried to stop the words from emerging, but he needed to ask. "Was it a pity fuck?"
Dean, having turned away to move to the door, now spun around fast and came charging back towards him. "No! God, no! I wouldn't do that to anyone."
Damn. He was trembling. He meant to be so good about this, to let Dean leave him with dignity. Words tumbled out of his mouth now before he could stop them. "I know you don't feel the way I do, and I know you're sorry it can't be anything else, but I'm fine with that. I told you. I really am. Even after ... what happened..." He stopped. His eyes burned and his throat dried up. Pity he hadn't been at a lost for words two minutes ago. Dean hesitated and then brought his hands up to clasp Jay's face. Those large fingers slid through his hair each side of his face to the back of his head. They dug in as well as caressed.
"I have to go, Angel," Dean said. The sound of apology rang in there somewhere. The pet name was another matter entirely. He hadn't heard that in a long time. Did Dean say it without realising? Was it merely a question of falling into an old habit? Jay could only nod. "We'll talk." Again, Jay nodded. Dean gave him a little shake, lifting his face. "We'll talk," he repeated and his tone was insistent. This time Jay just stood there. For a moment, it seemed Dean would lean down and kiss him. He did, but the gesture changed direction and he placed a light kiss against his forehead. Jay closed his eyes against the pain unravelling inside. They might well talk, but it would be nice if someone told them what they were supposed to say to each other under these circumstances.
"What happened between you?"
Dean and Jay hadn't spoken for four days, no contact other than exchanging a couple of texts and Dean leaving Jay a message promising to drop by as soon as he could. They hadn't spoken directly. They certainly hadn't seen each other face to face. Now Dean heard April's voice and turned to see her standing there in the garage, glaring at him. He hesitated, wondering how much Jay might have told her. He didn't really believe Jay would have told anyone but you could never be sure. April clearly saw his hesitation and her expression darkened. A storm was brewing.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Stupid, stupid, stupid, idiotic thing to say. Too late. He had said it already.
She stalked towards him, head high, eyes blazing. Reaching out, she curled her fingers into his shirt and tugged at him. No one could move Dean when he didn't want them to, but somehow, he found himself going with her. He could say it was because he didn't relish this argument in front of the other men. In truth, the look in her eye frightened him.
She whirled him around by his shirt and he almost slammed into the office wall. With her other hand, she slammed the door shut so hard it rattled in the frame. He almost believed the wall shook, but that was crazy. Surely, it was too solid. The guys in the garage must be aware of the argument; he could only hope they were too far away to hear.
"Bad enough that he won't return the spare key, or that my brother no longer trusts me thanks to you, but he won't tell me what happened between you. He says you didn't argue but then his eyes just get shifty."
"Shifty?" He said it with some amusement. He couldn't imagine it. She took a step towards him and he would have backed up if the wall weren't already pressing into his back.
"Shifty," she said, emphasising the word. "Up. To. Something. What happened between you?"
"Nothing. We talked. I took him chocolates. Maybe he's just pissed in general, or especially over the key." Best April didn't know he still hung on to it.
She drew in an exaggerated breath, clearly controlling it as she drew breath in and then allowed it to flow out equally slowly. Her teeth clenched; so did her fists. "I'd like to be mad at you over the key, but that was my fault." It sounded as if it hurt her to admit it. "I just want to know what you did to hurt him."
He opened his mouth to say he hadn't done anything, but the words wouldn't come. April started to look even angrier if that were possible. "What the hell have you done?"
He swallowed. He towered over this woman, both in height and build. He shouldn't feel intimidated. Still, it took all his resolve to stare her down without even blinking. "I haven't done anything. Whatever Jay and I talked about is between us, don't you think?"
"No," she said, and this time her voice sounded hard, cold, and guttural. This was the side of April he didn't like, the side he could never get on with. On some women, anger was adorable, sexy; he even found it arousing to see a woman's inner strength so displayed like that. On April, it just made her look savage. She and Jay looked so similar, but her brother's face never contorted in quite the same way when he was angry. Dean didn't know why, couldn't explain why, but April in a rage always turned him off and he didn't mean just sexually. "I don't think it's between the two of you at all. Tell me."
With horror, he accepted she might just force it out of him with that glare alone. He shook his head, refusing to swallow, though he wanted to. She would notice. Saliva flooded his mouth and he struggled to ignore it. "I'm not saying anything. Not to you."
For a moment, it was easy to believe she intended to attack him. Her eyes slid from left to right and the cold certainly that she sought for a weapon washed over him. Then her gaze returned to his face. "Jay won't talk either. So help me, if you've hurt him, I'll squeeze your balls in a vice. I don't know how or when, but I'll find a way."
Somehow, Dean believed her. She reached out for door handle, and swung the door open. "I've brought the car in. It needs a service."
"We don't..."
She turned her attention towards him. The door trembled in her grasp as though in fear. "I don't care about your fancy cars, Dean. I know you do favours for family. Well, now you can do a favour for a friend. I'm giving the car to Jay as I'm getting a new one next week. Thanks to you, my timely present will probably look like an attempt to get back in his good books. I want it serviced. I will pay for any repairs. It's the least you can do," she added, as though he were about to argue.
He didn't dare say a word. Clearly, he would have to cover the cost of the service. He should consider it cheap at the price to keep a friend.
\*
The two men writhed over each other. Their limbs entangled. Hands grasped. Their mouths remained fused all the while. They rubbed their groins together in a vicious-looking grind. They had shaved or waxed. Their bodies were hairless, naked for the camera. It let the viewer see everything. Dean couldn't help wondering what that felt like. Even as he watched, their bodies merged in other places. If they broke the kiss, it wasn't for long. Their mouths came back together as though they were hungry.
Dean looked down at his flaccid cock and sighed heavily. He had started with his imagination and a strong grip before moving on to a book. Then he'd progressed to a magazine with pictures. From there, he tried straight porn and finally he put in something he always found hot and heavy. Perhaps it was simply a question of having seen it all before, but he hadn't watched this for a long time and it never failed him previously.
Now, why he liked this particular movie disturbed him. It also annoyed him. On one level, he could explain it. There was something so raw in their movements, so basic in the slap of flesh that he always thought of this film as a portrayal of lust, hot and hard, emotionless. Of course, that meant the film lacked a certain something, or could have...
Dean shook his head, looking away from the screen. It lacked nothing. To call it lust made him think of two slabs of meat slapping into each other. These guys were into it. They might be porn stars, but this was no bland movie filmed in the sixties, with a weak and whining sound track and an even weaker plot. This film contained no plot. It was guy on guy action, plain and simple, blatant, arousing because it didn't pretend to be something other than it was. The men in it were fine healthy specimens who, for all Dean knew, hadn't met prior to that day of filming, but there was no doubt in his mind they enjoyed what they were doing. This was sex---an unyielding, honest, unforgiving portrayal of it. Did that make it emotionless? Did it, hell!
The two men might not be in love, but they felt something. Their gazes raked back and forth down the length of their bodies, but they also looked one another in the eye occasionally. When they kissed, sometimes they kept their eyes open. Dean suddenly realised why he loved this movie. For the two men, they might as well have been alone in the room during filming. It made him wonder if they enjoyed a relationship off screen. Maybe, maybe not, but he couldn't call what they shared emotionless. He liked this movie because it didn't feel 'set up'. It felt as though someone asked two guys who loved or even just liked each other to fuck honestly in front of a camera. It felt as though you watched two guys making love or just having sex, but doing it sincerely.
The problem was not the image in front of him, but the image he wanted.
Avoiding the problem wouldn't solve it, yet Dean only now admitted that was what he'd done the last couple of days. He didn't want to face Jay because he didn't know what to say to him. What a fortnight! He'd pissed his friend off, kissed him, chased after him for forgiveness, cooked him a seductive dinner, let him go, gone after him again, fucked him, and now he was currently trying his best to stay away from him. What alarmed Dean the most was that the choice didn't stem from fear of how Jay would react to him, but how he might react to Jay.
"I fucked him." The moment he said it, he wanted to take the words back. Even worse was picturing April sitting on the other side of her kitchen table.
"You're trying to tell me that it never once occurred to you that Jay was gay until you came home from college and heard the news?"
No! Why should it?
Why shouldn't it?
How could he have ignored the teasing? Did he honestly not notice or just ignore some of the comments were based on reality? Was it possible he chose to ignore things deliberately? Maybe he just didn't want to see it. If so, why?
"I'm not gay." He said the words so quietly, they were lost under the gasps and groans of the men rolling around on the screen in front of him. He quickly fumbled for the remote, and then he fought the buttons, stabbing at them until he found the right one and he managed to turn off the television. The sudden silence made him jump. "I'm not," he whispered again. Say it enough times and maybe someone else would believe it, but he only needed to worry about what he believed. "I'm not!" he said, more forcefully. He liked women. Out of all this tangled mess, that one thought remained bright and clear. He adored women. He couldn't imagine not liking women, not sleeping with them.
"Ah, shit!" Dean slid his fingers through his hair, tousling it. He then flung the remote across the room before rising to his feet. He cursed his foolishness when it slid under a heavy cupboard. Later, he would have the hassle of trying to retrieve it, on his knees, poking at it, prying it out. "Like pulling a tooth," he muttered, aware he wasn't referring to the lost remote but to the larger problem. The problem wasn't going to go away. The problem waited just a few streets away. It waited for the phone to ring, or a knock on the door, anything, and probably cursed his name while it did so. He couldn't blame Jay. If he were in Jay's shoes, he'd have done worse than curse.
He should go over there, but the very thought made him feel uneasy. The trouble didn't arise from going over there. It came from what he wanted to do once he arrived. "We'll just talk," he said aloud, knowing he wanted to do no such thing. He wanted to hear Jay's voice, but he wanted to hear it moaning and begging. April called him an egomaniac and maybe she knew him too well. As uneasy as it made him, Dean accepted he wanted to see that look in Jay's eyes---that look that said Jay wanted him.
His cock twitched and his heart hitched in guilt. Did he really get off on Jay wanting him? Yep, he did. He absolutely, one hundred percent did. The real trouble came from not knowing where that would take him.
\*
He knocked softly, tilted back his head to stare at the ceiling when no one answered and knocked harder. Stop being such a coward! He waited. Jay finally pulled the door open. The security chain bridged the gap. They stood there for a couple of moments looking at each other then Jay closed the door just enough to slip off the chain. He walked away. Hesitating only a moment, Dean went in after him.
Music played quietly in the background, though he couldn't identify it. He didn't listen to the charts much. He never found the time. They played the radio in the garage but then work distracted him too much to take notice of it. He looked down at the coffee table and the single glass of red wine. The bottle stood beside it. Jay must have noticed where he looked.
"I'll get you a glass," he said.
Dean shook his head. "I'm driving." Jay looked surprised. It was no wonder. They lived so close that back in the days when they hung out regularly, they often chose to meet up on foot. That way they could drink. "I'm..." What could he say? "I was invited to visit a friend. They live out a-ways."
"You're going somewhere else?" He spoke lightly but the underlying accusation hardened the words.
Dean shook his head again. "Don't know yet," he admitted. He gave a soft smile. "I wasn't sure you would open the door, or you might yet chuck me out."
"I might," Jay retorted. He sounded so decisive about that, it caused Dean to flinch. He covered it by slipping out of his jacket and flopping down onto the sofa.
"April came to see me."
"I thought she might. I would have warned you, but..."
Yes, well, but they hadn't been talking. Dean just nodded. "I think she was looking around for a weapon for a few moments there. What did you tell her exactly?"
Those gentle eyes looked down at him. Jay remained standing. "What do you think I told her? No, I didn't tell her you crept in here uninvited and fucked me." Real anger existed in there, burning brightly, but just as quickly as Dean noticed, he watched it suddenly all dissipate. Jay sat down on the edge of a chair, ran a hand through his hair and then leapt back to his feet. "Do you want that drink now?"
Dean, mesmerised by the swirl and glide of that hair as it moved under Jay's fingers and then fell forward again, blinked and then nodded. It seemed he wanted a drink after all. He might even need it.
\*
"You've been with a man before?"
Dean shook his head.
"Then how..." Jay frowned. Thinking back to that other night there was no question that Dean knew what he was doing.
"Stephanie Cole," Dean said simply.
"Oh." That explained many things. Jay glanced up nervously. "I mean, one hears things but..." He shrugged.
"The rumours are true. In fact the rumours are probably rather mild, considering."
Jay felt his eyes widen, though he tried not to show his feelings. "Then why would you even consider..."
"It was awhile ago. Do give me some credit. No one was as free as old Stephanie, but maybe that's not what I wanted. She could be weird, but she had a good heart. Besides," Dean gave a rueful smile, "she taught me a lot. You seemed thankful for it."
His cheeks were burning---both pairs. Jay tried not to squirm in his seat and didn't quite manage it. He shrugged. "You've been with a lot of women. I shouldn't be surprised really and it's none of my business." He tried to sound casual. He only spoke so there wouldn't be silence.
"Why haven't you been with many men?"
Despite his discomfort, the question made Jay look up in shock. "That's a rather personal question."
"We got up close and personal the other day. This is the mild stuff."
Dean's gaze was drawing down, narrowing, changing into that intense stare he sometimes acquired. Jay felt muscles clench, tighten, and was glad Dean couldn't see it happening. Intimate parts quivered. He wanted to shift again on the seat, but didn't dare. Dean knew too much of his feelings already. Why was he making this so personal? Some straight guys fell off track. One experience didn't change what you were fundamentally. It didn't have to change your life at all. They had as good as avoided each other for the last few days and although it hurt in the beginning, as the time passed, it grew easier. Now Dean was here again and the mood had changed in the last few minutes.
"Waiting for the right someone?"
Dean couldn't have been any closer to the truth. Anger flared, bright and illuminating. "Fuck you," Jay shot back. That snipe was becoming a habit.
That gaze glittered, examined, never once wavered. "Not yet," Dean said softly. His retort sent a long, slow, burning pulse through Jay's cock. He wanted to tear his eyes away from that gaze, but couldn't. "Come here," Dean said, suddenly. His voice remained soft, but the order was undeniably there. Jay even found he was tensing his muscles to rise up out of the chair and go to him. He shook his head. At once, Dean's expression changed. It softened slightly. His eyes closed and opened again as he said more gently, "Come here." This time he was beckoning, implying things would be okay in that soft beguiling voice. Jay didn't believe him for a minute, but found he was standing. He hesitated, glancing around in surprise. Dean held out a hand and waited. The first step was hesitant, threatening to trip him. By the time he took the third step to close the distance between them, Dean stood up to meet him.
Jay blushed, the heat in his face a sudden flame. He couldn't let Dean use him again. Even as the thought entered his mind, Dean slid his fingers against his burning skin to cradle his head. He brought their lips together and gave one long, slow lick. Even as Jay's lips parted in a soft moan, Dean stabbed his tongue into him. The fire in his face rushed down into his stomach, then his abdomen, travelling low to his groin. It curled in his balls and rushed up again, bringing desire with it, shooting up in a direct line inside him. His heart seemed to skip a beat as it passed it and it took control of his mouth, gathering his lust in that one moment of focus. Dean devoured him and Jay let his head fall back and willingly let him.
As suddenly as he started it, Dean stopped the kissing. It took all of Jay's self-awareness not to stagger. He felt too many things to distinguish them. His pride told him to tell Dean to fuck off; his desire wanted to beg Dean to fuck him. Fear rode both choices. Either way, whichever he asked for, Jay rather feared Dean wouldn't do as he asked, as well as rather feared he might, but overriding all this was a sense of disappointment. All he really knew was that Dean stopped kissing him.
He stood there, baffled to see Dean pull his shirt over his head. The moment he dropped it, he reached forward and pulled Jay's top up and off. Aware of these things happening, still they seemed surreal, detached. His vision filled with unblemished flesh. That broad expanse of chest lay naked to him. Dean must have seen something in his eyes, for he caught Jay's hands by the wrists and lifted them to his chest. Jay just stood there with his fingers pressed against that warm nudity, blinking, stupefied. It took Dean's hands on his, guiding, for his fingers to travel, gliding, searching, and seeking out the crests, the rises, the curves, and all the time the heat seeped into his fingertips. This beautiful being allowed him to touch him. Just as the other night, questions hung in the air: would this happen again, what would it mean for them in the long term? Jay wanted answers, but he couldn't have formed words if he tried. He could barely form thoughts.
A sharp pull at his waist tugged his hips forward. The sound of a zipper pulling down filled his ears as he also felt the tug. While Dean unfastened his jeans, he became aware that he'd touched Dean's chest under his own initiative for sometime. When he glanced up into those eyes, Dean gave a soft smile. Jay flushed to think that Dean had watched him during the exploration. The noise made by a second zip opening sounded unusually loud.
That lovely warm chest escaped his fingers as Dean bent down to remove his clothing for him. He crouched and Jay shut his eyes while Dean tugged the jeans down and off. Fingers touched first his hips and then played up over his stomach muscles. "Look at me, Jay." The sound was a silken whisper spoken in darkness. Their gaze met briefly, then Dean's gaze flickered to his stomach where his fingers played. "Geez. Your stomach." Dean said it in something like awe. To stand next to someone of Dean's bulk and hear that made him feel a little embarrassed, even though he understood why Dean might find it surprising. In reply, he touched Dean's shoulders, stroking those smooth round curves, brushing just past his collarbones to the top of his pecs.
"I like your stomach," Dean said, softly.
It made Jay's breath catch in his throat. "I like your shoulders," he told him. "Your chest. Hell, Dean. You're fucking huge."
A smile played around Dean's lips. He looked up, grinning and winked. Heat rushed into Jay's face so swiftly, there was no doubt he blushed.
His friend stood, taking his hand as he did, and tugged him towards the seat. A couple of steps took them to it. Dean sat, his gaze dropping down to Jay's crotch and then lifting back to his face quickly. Dean shifted to the back of the seat still holding Jay's hand. Somehow, their fingers laced. That large hand pulled on his fingers, calling him forward. There was only one way to do that.
Parting his lips, frowning, uncertainty making his eyes wide, Jay lifted one knee up onto the sofa. Dean let go of his hand and stroked up his thighs with those large, hot hands until they reached his hips and gripped them. He tugged and lifted Jay above him, allowing no choice but for his legs to open, for Jay to straddle him. A small cry fell from his mouth as his balance wavered precariously. Dean's lips drew into a wide, tight smile. "I can hold you. I won't drop you."
If a hidden message existed there, Jay wouldn't let his heart look for it. Dean pulled him until his knees hit the back of the couch and left nowhere for him to go. Jay had to sit. The position permitted nothing else. The heat of Dean's thighs pressed into him and pulled, flesh against flesh. Cooler air rushed in to tickle and caress his entrance, but only for a moment. Dean licked a finger, reached around and pressed it into him. Jay gave a cry just short of a small, tight scream. Their faces were so close, all Jay could see were Dean's eyes and they never blinked or lost their focus for a minute. As uncomfortable as it was, Jay felt a strange kind of thrill that Dean could see every minute change on his face and that he did everything to entice it.
"I know that's not hurting," Dean whispered so softly his voice alone was a quiet intimacy between them. If he hadn't blushed before, Jay blushed now. It was true. It certainly didn't hurt him. "And I know what my kisses do to you, little Angel," he added, tilting his head, pushing out his tongue, enticing gently, beckoning for Jay's to entwine with his in a dance. Every time it did, he pulled back, making Jay's tongue follow. The kiss remained a promise, tempting and frustrating. Only when Jay moaned in protest did Dean fulfill the kiss. He plunged into Jay's mouth as though he alone claimed the right to do so.
"Do you love me, Jay?" Dean asked, breaking the kiss. Jay just gave a soft cry as their heads touched, rolling around each other, one of Dean's hands pressing into the back of Jay's neck, keeping him close. "Hmm? Do you?" He didn't know why Dean was asking. He didn't know what he really wanted of him. Love? No. This wasn't someone he loved suddenly falling for him. What was going on here?
"Tell me, Jay. Tell me how you feel." Sensing Jay's confusion, Dean increased his grip. He pulled Jay's hips forward when they slid back a little on his legs. If the little sod thought he was going to get off him, he could think again. "Tell me. Say it."
A soft sound like someone moments from crying filled the room. "You know," Jay complained.
"What do I know?" The answer was a savage shaking of Jay's head in denial, until Dean tightened his grip on the back of his head, forcing him to stop.
"Why are you doing this?"
The tone was a plea and it was a good question. "Just say it. I want to hear you say it." Gathering Jay's body in his arms, he bent his head and nipped at one of those small, hard nipples. Jay reared in his arms, his spine bowing, throwing back his head and crying out. Dean's arms trembled in the effort to keep hold of him. He let up for fear he would drop Jay despite his promise not to. Ensnaring his fingers through all that hair, he brought Jay's face back down to his and kissed him. By the time they broke apart, trails of saliva linked their mouths almost in mimicry of the long snail trail of wetness that glistened against his belly. Both he and Jay looked down at it, at Jay dripping.
Glancing up, he smiled. "Why so shocked?" He took a hard, firm grip on Jay's cock. "This certainly loves me." Gently pulling back the skin, he rubbed his thumb over the swelling, smearing the moisture and teasing with it. It freaked him out a little---the idea that the heat of another guy's erection currently branded his palm---but knowing how it would affect Jay and how unfair it would be to fuck him and not touch him, he forced himself to do it. "Are you my little angel?"
\*
Convinced he would dissolve with lust, the fight went out of him. Jay's limbs turned to jelly, only the tension of desire and Dean's strong grasp kept him from toppling over to lay, a sodden heap, a puddle on the floor. Dean continued to stroke him, his thumb a smooth glide, pressing into the slit to gather up the free-flowing moisture. Each time he did, soft sighs, whimpers, moans and other sounds leaked out of Jay's mouth. Their faces were close again and Dean still whispered to him.
"Cum-slut, is that the word, Jay? Ass-whore, is that the other?"
Jay trembled, made a sound of complaint, but didn't deny it. His eyes glazed. His body ached. Dean's other hand roamed over him, soft comforting circles at his back. Straddled across his lap like this, it would only take a slight movement for their bare rigid cocks to rub against one another. Almost as though he read his mind, Dean shifted. As their hard flesh touched, his hand slipped downwards, his palm giving support to Jay's heavy swinging balls. His fingers circled, teasing his entrance at the back.
"You mine, Jay?" he whispered as he slipped a finger back inside him. His backside clenching, Jay's eyes shot open. Not until then did he realise he'd closed them. Staring into Dean's blue eyes, he gritted his teeth. The finger wasn't moving and something in his friend's expression hardened. It said nothing was going to progress beyond this teasing until he said what Dean wanted to hear. He tried to form the words 'fuck off'. He couldn't. For one thing, to say no would be a lie. He was Dean's. He always had been. He didn't like the image it cast of him but up until now, right now, hell, maybe even tomorrow, he would do anything Dean asked of him.
"You mine, Jay? You my angel?"
"Yes." He managed to force the words out by closing his eyes.
"What?"
"I said yes!" That finger moved slightly back and forth just inside him, making him shake, to beg ... almost. The words lay heavy on his tongue, trembled at the edge of his lips.
"Open your eyes and tell me."
Jay shook his head so slightly from side to side. No, please, no.
"Jay." The voice was insistent. He opened his eyes.
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, I'm yours."
"You want this?" A second finger stroked around the rim as the finger within twisted with the movement. Jay squealed though not in pain. "You want?"
"Yes."
"Ask me."
Something inside him fractured and tore his jaw apart with unseen fingers. "Please."
"Please?"
A shuddering breath shivered through him. He slumped in defeat, his head resting against Dean's forehead. His words came out low and breathless. "Please touch me. Please put your fingers inside me. Please, will you f'ing fuck me!"
Dean chuckled. That sound angered him, but not enough to stop this. The sudden presence of a second finger spread him. Jay couldn't help it. Rising up onto his knees, he started to move up and down on the penetration, aware all the time that Dean's eyes gleamed with that strange light. At times, Dean could look like a man in need of exorcism. If that were true, then what was Jay, for some kind of spirit moved him, had its wicked way with him. Reaching out with a hand for balance, Jay continued to plunge up and down, increasing the speed, grunting when he felt a third finger begin to open him. "Dean, please," he managed to ground out between his teeth. "I need this. I need you inside me."
Ignoring his plea now, Dean just started to move his hand, corkscrewing his fingers up as Jay came down. Truly, they needed lube, but there was no time to pause. As the sensation ripped through him, Jay just shouted. "Please!" It came out halfway between a sob and squeal. Those large hands let go of him completely and for a moment, the world rushed in cold and empty. Then Dean's warm, hard, comforting grip returned. Jay only realised Dean intended to answer his plea when the big man slipped further down the couch and lifted Jay towards him. Three fingers had opened him nicely. He barely heard Dean's whispered warning of "All at once" when the rigid shaft entered him. Dean kept his promise. There was no hesitation, no stopping. Dean plunged into him in one admittedly slow, but hard, firm glide.
There was barely time to be thankful Dean kept only half his promise. No matter what the books or movies said, you couldn't do this without lube or spit, or some kind of assistance. You couldn't just force someone open without them paying the price for it. Dean apparently knew how to keep it just the right side of agony but even so, some pain shot through him, but it dissipated, spreading out, seeping through his limbs, leaving his skin tingling. It shouldn't have. It should have hurt like hell and it did, but adrenaline helped, so did desire. So did the numerous times he'd succumbed to his toys in the last few days while he bleakly stared at the phone waiting for it to ring, and three of Dean's fingers were more than he was used to taking. The other thing that helped was that Dean let gravity do most of the work. Jay closed his eyes. His mouth fell open and his head rolled back as he sunk down, slow, but steady, onto that solid length. By the time Dean started to move, to pump his hips upwards, Jay was already shaking.
"Do you want me? Hmm? Can I have you, Jay? Can I have you whenever I want? Will you do this whenever I say?"
He couldn't understand why Dean said these things, asked these things. Worse still, it turned him on. A small part of him felt sick and cold, the kind of anxiety that went beyond fear into petrified. Seeing as he was the one on top, he should have been the one driving. Somehow, Dean still rode him, ploughing into more than his distended backside, plunging right up into his bowels, his heart, and his brain. Each savage thrust brought more rawness to abused flesh, but it also abraded his heart. He couldn't pull off---physically he couldn't force Dean to let go of him---and he wasn't sure he would have anyway. He suddenly wanted to get away from the man under him, but he didn't want the hard ride to stop. The trouble was each plunge loosened more than it should have. His hands pushed against that unyielding flesh, but he couldn't make Dean stop. He could only close down his heart. Dean seemed to sense it. As though he could read the struggle going on inside him, those fingers curled into his hair more tightly. One of those large hands shook him slightly and pulled his head to the right and down. A sound of complaint escaped him over and above the sounds he already made. This position made his spine ache. It made him more aware of the hard, short, and sharp thrusts. The position left him no choice but to stare into those eyes as Dean's gaze bore into him.
"There's no one here but us. Forget the rest of the world. Forget tomorrow." The words were low, rough, somehow threatening. "Right here, right now. Do you want me?" The hand tightened, the grasp tugging at the roots of his hair.
"Yes," Jay managed to whisper.
"Are you mine?"
"Yes."
"Can I have you whenever I want?"
Jay hesitated and the grip tightened into pain. "Yes," he almost shouted into Dean's face.
"Say you're my slut."
Jay frowned, but the grip on his hair lessened. The voice changed. The whispered words contained a rich tremor. Dean's face softened; his eyes took on a glazed look. His thrusts eased. They began rocking together, keeping pace with each other. Their coupling was no longer a marathon, but a calm jog. Dean's muscles relaxed, liquefied back into the couch. Any moment Jay expected the man to start purring. "I'm your slut," Jay whispered before he even realised he was going to say it, and that even before he realised he meant it.
"Say you're my angel."
"I'm your angel."
A strange sound escaped Dean's throat, one he couldn't interpret. Dean's imposing shaft still moved within him, but for the moment, it became secondary. Jay studied Dean's face, trying to work out what the other man was thinking. He couldn't explain it. In the space of a few seconds, things altered. He no longer felt humiliated or tortured. Indeed, right now in this moment, the only certainty was that Dean was with him on a level beyond what they were doing.
\*
"Dean?" Jay barely breathed out his name, but all the unanswered questions and confusion sounded in that word. It manifested in every line of his face. All Dean could do was to shake his head. When it looked as if Jay was going to speak again, he hushed him.
"No questions. Not right now." It was all very well for him to say that, but he wasn't the one with his friend's cock buried to the hilt inside him. He had asked a lot of Jay tonight. He should give him something in return. "It'll work out." The moment the words left his lips, he regretted them. He had no right to promise that, not really. He didn't know what was going to happen or how he would feel. He only knew how he felt now.
Dean swallowed, suddenly aware they grew still. One of his hands travelled to Jay's hip and guided him in a gentle rock. The subsequent movement caused Jay's head to drop, his eyes to close and a shuddery breath to vibrate through him. The pleasure that caused his face to slacken instigated only one thought in Dean. What the fuck am I doing?
It was a fine time to think about that now. He hadn't come here for this. He hadn't! Seeing Jay again, looking at him with those wide questioning eyes, seeing desire in them even if Jay didn't realise it existed, even if he didn't know how desirable he looked with that wave of fine silken tresses, that pout his lips drew into when he...
Dean closed his eyes and groaned, tilting his head back as much as the sofa would allow. The truth was Jay's gaze alternated between love and lust with despair in the wake of both. One moment his eyes looked bright and clear and then hazy, unfocused. The next they looked haunted. Of course, Dean told him everything would be all right. How could he not?
A lump formed in his throat and Dean swallowed, desperate to dislodge it. It felt like the ache of pent up tears and he didn't want his emotions to get in the way of all that good feeling, the tightness around his cock, the heat against his crotch. Why? Why was he doing this? Why do this to Jay? Strangely, he could get his head around the idea of fucking him. It might not be right, some might even consider it a little perverted, but it was just sex. It felt good. What he couldn't account for was the fact that more than his cock seemed caught up in it. His mind said this was just a little fun. They could fuck a few times and things could go back to normal. At worse, maybe they would go their separate ways. That inner voice said they were drifting slowly apart anyway, but another part of him found it completely unacceptable. He didn't want to lose Jay. He came here today to apologise, to say they could just be friends, but the moment he set eyes on him...
Jay with that soft-to-the-touch skin, a slim tautness like a lean, athletic woman, with hips a good grip-satisfying distance apart, pouty cock-sucking lips---the thought made Dean groan silently. Too late. He lay buried inside. He would save that for next time maybe. He opened his eyes in shock. He was already thinking of a next time and not later, next month or next week, but later tonight maybe, after they shared a bath. An involuntary grin suffused his face. He would like to get Jay in the bath, hot and wet, naked. He should have found the idea disturbing but he didn't.
"What?" Jay asked, undeniably breathless. He was asking after whatever caused that grin. He must be. Dean could still feel it stretching his face.
"Nothing and everything," Dean told him, running a hand through all that long hair, drawing him into a kiss. When they stopped kissing, Jay's eyes remained shut. They still rocked, each downward stroke taking Jay down the full length of his cock now. The hard work came in pulling back, away. He held Jay's face in one hand while watching those sensations play out over the smaller man's face. The eyelids fluttered, trying to draw open. All he could see of Jay's eyes through the slits were white. Jay's cock slid back and forth in a pool of glistening fluid that now completely coated Dean's stomach. Whatever resistance remained, it lay forgotten. Jay's movements turned frantic, little rocks and twists, his legs trembling now from the strain of being in an awkward position on the couch for so long. Not that Dean was about to let him up no matter how awkward. It didn't seem as though Jay felt inclined to move off anyway. He had always thought Jay quiet unless he was angry but he wasn't quiet now. Good thing it was winter with the windows closed. Otherwise, the whole street would have been able to hear them. There was no knowing how thick the walls were. When moans weren't tearing from his throat, Jay breathed so hard Dean feared he might hyperventilate. When a breath caught in his throat and the moans of pleasure turned into what sounded like a whimper of pain, Dean gathered them together as much as he could. Jay was close to finishing and Dean fought his own release. He felt sore from the pounding his cock received. He had no idea how raw and sore Jay was feeling. It didn't seem to matter. He wasn't sure either of them cared.
\*
Jay threw back his head, on the verge of orgasm. Not all men could come from penetration without additional stimulation, but there was a spot where he liked to be touched and if the guy's cock was just the right length ... Apparently, Dean's was. Stimulation of the prostate was good and it made for great foreplay, but there was another place inside him, deep inside, possibly at the point where his body opened to another depth. "There." He couldn't believe he forced the word out but he wanted it there. "There. Just there." He fell almost still, his muscles tightening all over, his mouth falling open, his gaze unfocused, a slight frown creasing his brow, his hair falling forward in a shroud and aware of what Dean could see on his face and unable to hide it. He would have cried out if he could. His cock stroked all this time across the soft tightness of Dean's stomach. Now, as he hovered, all Dean did was caress him, fingers playing lightly in a feather-light touch along the length and over the head of his cock. He bucked as the orgasm took him.
For a moment, there was only the sweet pulsing, the hot flood pouring out of him to coat Dean's stomach, to drip down his sides. Then those large hands took him, forced him up and down hard, one, two, three times. Just as he thought he couldn't stand one more thrust, the twin creature nestled inside him released a hot flood. Dean shouted unintelligibly, clutched him. They clung to each other through sheer necessity. With the loss of adrenaline, Dean's grip now bordered on pain. Why was that always the way that you didn't feel it until afterwards? He wouldn't be surprised to see bruises in the morning. They would be worth it though, just to feel this now, to feel Dean helplessly clinging to him. He couldn't help it. He started smiling.
"You don't need to look so smug," Dean gasped, as they both began to come down. Dean's face pressed against Jay's chest and he looked up, somewhat sideways. He uttered a light moan and slipped to the right, shifting, falling lengthwise onto the couch and taking Jay with him. The movement pulled his cock out but Dean didn't let go, but somehow managed to draw Jay down and on top of him.
Not knowing he was going to speak before the words were out, Jay surprised himself by saying, "I just came all over you."
"Oh, you like that, do you?" That masculine voice still sounded a little breathless and the guy's chest rose and fell, gently lifting and lowering Jay as he lay on top of him. A hot, sticky wetness made their skin slide, as well as stick between them. Dean's voice held amusement and laughter in it. "Well, I just came inside you, for the second time."
Jay turned his head and looked at him, searching Dean's face and eyes. He still couldn't tell what the other man was thinking. He didn't know how to ask him, and then Dean frowned slightly, and suddenly Jay knew exactly what question he wanted answered first.
\*
"You get off on it, don't you?"
"Pardon?"
"Telling me what to do. Getting me to obey you. Making me ask. You get off on it."
Letting his hand wander, Dean cupped Jay's sweet, heart-shaped butt. That's what Jay was. Sweet. All sorts of sweetness, like candy. Even now, his eyes searching, questioning, Jay looked endearing. He wanted an answer, though. Dean had one for him but he wasn't sure he wanted to give it. He wasn't sure he liked it. "You're sweet, Jay. Sweet and clean, like an angel. I like to make you a little dirty."
Jay frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Dean shrugged as much as the position would allow him. "Sex takes us back to basics. You're so closed off most of the time, not in general, but sometimes, with me. I know how you feel. I like seeing the evidence of it. When you're pleading, I see the struggle going on inside you. It's written all over your face."
"You want me to struggle?"
He shook his head very slowly. "I want you to give in."
Little tensions, tightening of muscles, a frown, anger, and confusion played out in Jay's face. Dean couldn't remember how many muscles the face contained, but it seemed his friend used all of them. "What do you want from me?" The voice was heavy, thick with emotion, tears clogging the throat.
"I'm not sure," was all Dean could tell him. It wasn't enough, and it wasn't fair, but it was honest. He stroked Jay's face, his jaw, his throat. "I need time to figure that out."
"Time?" A whole list of questions existed in that one word, but the most unsettling two were bright in Jay's eyes. What was Jay supposed to do in the meantime while Dean 'figured it out'? Even worse, what was it Dean needed to consider? Just what was he doing fucking his friend, and where did he think it could possibly take them?
"Are you playing with me?" They went back to speaking in whispers.
"Yes, but not the way you mean it."
"What then?"
Dean stretched, laced his hands behind his head. He meant to reach back down if Jay moved, but the smaller man just continued to lie on top of him. Dean studied his face while Jay stared back, for once in his life unblinking. "I want this with you," Dean suddenly blurted.
"This?"
He could only be blunt. "To fuck with you. To fuck around while it feels good."
"And have me beg and plead."
A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth before he could stop it. By the quick dart of Jay's eyes, he could tell the other man saw it. With luck, it didn't look evil. "It's a game, Jay. It pleases me. It's not intended to hurt you."
"That aside, where does fucking around get me?" There was anger in that voice now and Dean didn't blame him. He reached down with one hand and caught Jay just as his muscles tensed to move. Even with one hand, he could hold Jay in place.
"You know the straight guy's idiom. If a mate offered to give you a blowjob, what would you do? Answer. You'd lie back and enjoy it." Jay tensed, his gaze hardening, but Dean anticipated that. "I need time. Don't ask me a question I can't answer. Not yet, maybe not ever. You tell me to fuck off, I'll go, but I want to stay the night, if you'll let me."
"So you can screw me again?"
Dean shook his head and moved, bringing his other arm down and somehow sitting, pushing Jay off, and scooping him up towards him all in one movement. "To hold you." The small lie slipped off his lips too easily. He wanted to hold him, all right, but he also wanted to fuck him again, but seeing the look in Jay's eyes, he wasn't going to do that, not tonight, anyway. He wasn't that much of a bastard. He watched the war in Jay's eyes and kept the smile at bay when he saw the moment Jay lost the battle. His friend harboured one more surprise for him, though.
"It's easy for you, isn't it?"
Dean frowned at him.
"It's easy for you. You can take what you want, knowing how much I want it. Then when you tire of it, of me, you can just walk away. You'll have your fun and you'll go. You don't even care who picks up the pieces."
He wouldn't have put it quite like that, but he couldn't deny it. The truth was he could walk away any time he wanted. Unless someone saw them together---witnessed them kissing, for instance---no one would believe it. Even then, if someone said something it would take more than one witness or an extremely credible witness to change things. Otherwise, he could simply deny it. No one would believe someone like Dean had jumped the fence, not even for a minute. He hardly believed it himself.
"What the hell is this?" Jay looked up from the screen of Dean's laptop. For once, Dean really hadn't fiddled with it. There was nothing wrong with it. He'd brought it with him to spend the day with Jay and get a little work done. Jay said he would upgrade it for him while he was here.
Dean walked across the room and looked over Jay's shoulder. To his horror, one of his stories shone out from the screen and as Jay panned down, he didn't need more than a glance to know the page was explicit. Jay gave him the strangest look. "You wrote this?"
"Writing. Present tense." The situation was uncomfortable, but he could blame no one but himself. Then again, maybe he could. "You didn't have to look in those files to do the upgrade."
"So I was snooping. Don't expect me to apologise for it. I've always wondered if you wrote anything and when I saw a folder so artistically called 'My Writing', I couldn't resist."
"You could have asked." Dean hankered down beside him.
"Would you have let me look? At this?"
Dean stroked Jay's thighs, letting his hands wander restlessly over the jeans he wore. "No. Not this minute. But not because of what you're thinking."
Jay looked from the screen to his face. "Am I research?"
He clearly managed to keep the anger at bay, but Dean didn't blame him for the question. He didn't even resent it. "No. No way."
"Did you lie about having been with a man?"
"No."
"Then how?" Jay looked back to the screen.
"I made it up. I watched some movies, read some books, saw an opportunity and wrote a story. When it was well received, I wrote another and another."
"You're published?" Dean nodded. "And you've not told your family?"
Dean glanced at the screen. "I may one day, but I wasn't sure how they'd take it, considering."
Jay looked back at the screen. His eyes moved back and forth, as he read a few lines. "I'd say you were more worried about the guys at the garage."
"That, too."
"How many of these have you written?"
"This'll be my fifth novel. After this, I plan to try something more mainstream. I might keep at this as well, but I see it all as writing. It's still putting my work out there."
"Why these books, though? Why not men and women?"
"It's a good market at present. I saw an opportunity." Jay's expression said he didn't believe him, entirely. Dean dithered over what to tell him. "I've never consciously thought about it. Maybe I just didn't want to. I guess it's always interested me. Some guys I shared a house with while I was going to college..." He shrugged. "I saw things. It didn't exactly appeal to me, but I guess it made me think about it. About why..." he waved a hand in the air, "other guys..." He sighed. "I guess I'm one of those other guys, now, and I still can't say I understand it." The laugh was a little self-deprecating.
Jay kept reading. His hand reached out as though he would touch the words on the screen. "That paragraph there is beautiful."
"You don't have to sound so surprised."
Those warm brown eyes flickered towards him. "How not? This is a side to you we never get to see. A side we only glimpse. It's warm and sensitive." He glanced back at the computer with his head tilted. "The sex is hot, but the emotions are there even if they aren't blatant, though, maybe..." Jay stopped talking and then shook his head, more a gesture of 'forget it' than a no. Dean wanted to quiz him about it, but Jay spoke first. "Do you sell to the gay market or women?"
"Both," Dean answered immediately. It was nice to have an easy question for which he could provide an immediate answer. Jay looked back at him as though he sprouted a second head or maybe he just didn't know him. Dean expected anger, but Jay seemed to take his word for it that he wasn't here screwing him for research.
"I always wondered why there were so many more toiletries in your bathroom than mine, but then I just decided you were vain. You're sure you're not a closet case?"
A smile tugged at his lips and he gave into it. "Not as far as I know."
The fingers that reached for the screen now moved to touch his face. The humour dissipated. Dean's lifted his hand to catch Jay's fingers, his grip curling around them. Hesitant, unsure of what he was doing, he slowly guided them to his mouth and pressed them against his lips. Crouched in front of Jay like this, it positioned them close together, Dean looking up a little into the other man's face, but not by much. Even practically kneeling, Dean's stature predominated. Strangely, his mind turned to the guys at the garage. What would they say, if they knew the type of books he wrote? What would they say, if they knew he cared for Jay in any way other than friendship? Of course, the biggest question remained, just how much did he care?
"What are you thinking?"
No real surprise Jay would ask him; he could well imagine the expression on his face. "I was thinking how I'd like to see those lips of yours pursed in worship." He grinned but the look in Jay's eyes quickly washed it away.
There existed a moment of silence, then Jay said, "You just can't help yourself, can you?" A slap followed the statement, and then another, and another. Dean caught at Jay's hands, as the strikes grew more furious. They grappled.
"Hush. Sshhh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."
"Yes. You did."
Dean paused, safe from Jay's slaps as he held his hands in his. "Well, yes, I did," he admitted, "but I meant it in a nice way. I just said it at the wrong moment."
"You always bloody do."
He could have stood it, if Jay sounded angry. Instead, the smaller man sounded tired, and that made him feel worse. He let go of Jay's hands, struggling with him, tucking in tighter to the chair, wrapping his arms around Jay's waist, pulling the other man against him until Jay ceased fighting.
"I didn't come here to fight with you. I don't want to fight with you. Not..." Dean now struggled with what to say. If he said the wrong thing, Jay might throw him out of here; well, not bodily, but he could scream at him to leave and that amounted to the same thing. He moved his head in denial of that happening. "Don't. Let's not fight. Not today. I want..."
What did he want? He sniggered silently. You thought this could be a bit of fun and you could both laugh it off and move on. You are an arrogant prick who can't even be honest with yourself, let alone someone else. You knew Jay would get hurt. There was no way to avoid it. This was no longer just fun for either of them, if it ever was and somehow, he doubted that as well. Another question presented itself. Just how much did he lie to the reflection he saw in the mirror every morning?
He held Jay in his arms, but there was no mistaking the tension in the other man's body. Jay waited for him to finish talking and he didn't know what to tell him. "Let us have one day of peace. No questions. No explaining. Definitely no worrying."
It took a moment, but then Jay gave a soft laugh and the tension eased out of his body. Dean, who had inadvertently dipped his head in the tussle, became aware of the hard stomach beneath the shirt, his face pressed into it. He breathed in and took in Jay's scent. He smelled of warmth in a way that spoke of home, as if he were a place you could return to and always receive a welcome. Dean frowned. Jay was the one adrift, unsure of his future, not knowing if to change his job or study beforehand. Where were the dates, the evenings out, the lovers? With what did Jay fill his days and nights? Dean's future was clear. He liked his job and soon he would run the business. There was plenty of time to think of a family, or if he even wanted one. Of course, that depended on meeting the right woman. Either way, he would never lack for company and being alone never worried him. He was a loner---sociable, but a loner all the same.
His grip tightened until Jay winced. Afraid he might crack one of Jay's ribs, he tried to ease up, but discovered he couldn't let go. If he were such a loner, why worry about what other people thought? Why would it even cross his mind to think over what they would say if they could see him now, down on his knees, hugging Jay, breathing in his scent, burying his face against him?
Jay's hands moved to stroke over the back of his neck, his shoulders. Dean almost laughed, but he couldn't manage it. He could only raise a small smile as those small, slender hands worked their way over him. They roamed, covered a lot of area; his shoulders were the widest part of him. The touch conveyed comfort, not sex.
"What's wrong with you?" Jay said on a whisper, and Dean shuddered. The hands paused, and then made wider circles. Dean could only shake his head and snuggle in closer. "Dean, you're scaring me."
He was scaring himself. He pulled back, looked away, kept his face averted. "Just drop it, please. Let's just spend the day as we planned." It struck him as odd that they arranged this, but here they were. Later, they planned to watch TV, order a takeaway, eat popcorn, drink wine, or in Dean's case, he might make that a few beers. It felt as though he hung on by a knife-edge right now. He so did not want to analyse his feelings. If Jay pushed him to face them, to discuss this, he rather feared he might start crying. The very idea frightened him. He was Dean Chapman. Big Dean Chapman, and that wasn't a reference to the size of his cock, though that reflected his stature. Men, especially big men, should not cry, particularly when they didn't even understand why.
Aware he fed himself more bullshit, Dean struggled to his feet. "What shall we order? Pizza, Chinese or curry?"
"It's a bit early to think about that."
"Not when it'll take you ages to decide." Refusing to look Jay in the eye, he hurried away to fetch the menus.
Taking a handful of popcorn, Jay risked a glance in Dean's direction. The man's gaze looked glued to the screen, but he couldn't tell how absorbed with the movie the big man actually was. Earlier, they'd eaten dinner in silence until Dean said, "We should have gone to my place and watched TV there."
Naturally, he meant the huge widescreen TV he owned. "If you mention the size, I'll accuse you of boasting." That raised a grin, but Dean refused to look at him. Jay tried not to think about the equally large bed that dominated Dean's bedroom. He certainly didn't want to think about all the things Dean had done on it over the years with other people.
Something bothered the big man tonight, and although Jay could sense it, he couldn't understand it. He recalled Dean earlier, down on his knees, those big arms wrapped around him. He could hardly breathe and even imagined he heard a rib creak at one point, but he'd done nothing to make the larger man let go of him. The closest thing he could liken it to was angst, but that made no sense. Out of the two of them, he should be the one suffering anxiety.
To think, he finally had what he wanted and the only thing wrong with it was that it couldn't last. It couldn't go anywhere. Only he could get involved with a bi-curious friend who would treat him like shit without meaning any malice aforethought. He wanted to punch whoever invented that phrase.
Dean would leave him after some indeterminate time. Dean would leave him. He accepted that for he could see no alternative. Dean would take over his father's business, marry, have the requisite number of children and live happily ever after. Not to mention he would buy a dog, as well as a cat, because he was just soppy enough to do that. It always struck Jay as odd that others couldn't see it. Didn't they know what a big, stupid, soppy teddy bear Dean was? Oh, he was arrogant with it. Overconfident, bigheaded, condescending at times, conceited ... Jay sighed. The problem was Dean had reason to be. Well, maybe not so much the bigheaded or condescending part, but why shouldn't he be confident? As for conceited, the guy could take the word and beat Adonis over the head with it. Yeah. As if a guy like Dean could look in a mirror and not know he was handsome. It wasn't even conceit when you thought about it. Dean never referred to it. Other people mentioned his looks and he played up to it, but if they said nothing, he said nothing, or if he did, he meant it as teasing. Maybe Dean was a little oblivious to other people's feeling sometimes, but Jay now thought that maybe people wanted to see the wrong side of him. It was as though they needed to locate his flaws to see him as less than perfect. Dean wasn't perfect. He was ... lonely?
Jay's gaze flickered towards the other man. Having no idea where the thought sprung from, now he couldn't shake it. The idea of Dean lonely made him choke on a laugh. How could someone like Dean Chapman be lonely? People wanted to either be him, or be with him. Suddenly feeling a little sick, Jay eyed the bowl of popcorn warily. Was he just another one of those that wanted to be with Dean? Was that how Dean saw him?
He shook his head, actually doing it in reality, glad when Dean failed to notice. It wasn't the same. He'd loved Dean for a long time. If it were some passing fancy, he would know by now. If all he suffered was an itch that required scratching, well Dean had well and truly scratched it. Jay wanted the sex, but he wanted what came afterwards. He wanted to lie and watch Dean sleeping beside him and that he couldn't have, not for long. He could have tonight, though, and maybe a few others like it. If that counted as selling out, no doubt his signature would have the dark, reddish-brown colour of dried blood. If the choice was never having an intimate moment with Dean or having to accept it wouldn't continue, he would still chose the moment. Maybe that made him a sad sap, but he could enjoy it while it lasted or he could spend the time moping and be left with nothing but a painful memory. Once the grieving ended, he would like to look back and be able to smile once in awhile.
Credits rolled up the screen and Jay blinked. He'd completely missed the end of the movie. He sat slouched, his feet pointing into the corner of the room towards the TV. Dean sat on his left, but he sat upright on the edge, looking intent. The film finished, now Dean flicked through the channels trying to find the Cricket scores. England was playing down under. He'd never truly cared for Cricket and when he said so, Dean confessed he didn't care all that much for it either. His father enjoyed the game, though, and Dean just wanted England to win on principal; that made Jay laugh.
"Don't you always want England to win?" Dean asked.
"I guess so." You couldn't help it. It just varied by degrees depending on the competition. Against Australia, it was just a question of batting for your country. He gave a thought to what it would be like to have Christmas somewhere warm. The season approached swiftly and his plans were the same every year, to visit his parents.
Wishing to fill the silence, Jay remarked that he'd rather watch motor-racing and received a surprised look from Dean in response. "What? You think you're the only one that likes cars?"
"No, I just..." Dean shrugged. "I guess I didn't think..." Slight rouge infused his face.
"If you say a gay man can't like sports and especially something as butch as motor-racing, I don't care how big you are, I'm going to slap you." He watched Dean open his mouth and close it again, apparently having second thoughts about arguing. "I thought you'd love motor-racing," Jay told him.
"If you say a car is just a car, I'm the one that will do the slapping. I don't care for it that much. I always considered it a waste of petrol."
Jay gaped, sat there aware his mouth was open, but he couldn't close it. Finally, he managed to laugh, then grin, and then he flicked popcorn at the other man. "Don't tell me. You see it as petrol that you could put to better use. Like in one of those cars you get to tinker with."
Dean flicked some popcorn back. One piece hit Jay on the nose and then skipped away, rolling somewhere under the coffee table. "I do not tinker," he growled. Jay liked the sound of it.
"No?"
"No." Those so blue eyes narrowed so that all Jay could see was a blue line in each. Oddly, it made him think of catching a glimpse of the ocean on a distant horizon. "I know exactly what fits where," Dean concluded. He made a grab for Jay's ankle.
Not expecting it, Jay jumped. The popcorn bowl, balanced on the sofa between them, shifted. He went to make a grab for it and only succeeded in hitting the edge of the bowl. It rose into the air, flipping as it did so. In something surprisingly akin to slow motion, Jay watched it somersault, the contents flying out in a crispy shower. It covered the floor, him, and the sofa.
Turning, Jay slipped to the floor on his knees. Even as he heard and felt the crunch of popcorn under his knees, pieces of it slipped into his clothing. Laughing, Dean joined him in scooping up what they could find back into the bowl.
"I guess we won't be eating this."
Jay looked at the bowl in Dean's hand. Even though he'd hoovered two days ago, bits of dark fluff stood out against the pale roundels of puffed corn. He shook his head in agreement. "No. I don't think so."
"I guess we'll have to eat the chocolates."
Unbelievably, he hadn't scoffed the lot. The squashed ones were gone, but the second box remained virtually intact. Only one was missing. As Dean lifted the lid of the box, Jay went from searching for popcorn in the dark recesses of the sofa, to searching the inside of his shirt. On his knees, he shook his shirt away from his body and three pieces fell out to roll across the carpet to come to a halt near Dean's feet.
Both men watched, following the popcorn's course and then glanced up into one another's eyes at the same time. Dean's lips lifted at one corner.
"Got any more hidden away in there?"
Jay swallowed. Dean liked chocolate, but he didn't love it the way Jay did. Dean preferred popcorn. "I-I think so," he managed to utter.
A motionless, silent moment existed between them and then Dean moved so suddenly and fast, a thrill containing both fear and excitement seized Jay in an unforgiving grip. On his knees facing Dean, he didn't quite know how it happened, but the next conscious thought came when he found that he was on his back, his feet now pointing in the opposite direction, his body in a line beside the sofa with Dean's body in a longer line above him. Fingers rummaged in his clothes and it both hurt a little and tickled, so that he couldn't keep from gasping and laughing.
Sure, dexterous fingers undid his buttons and pulled the shirt open. "Let's see what we can find in here, shall we?" Fingertips played along his collarbones and then into the hollows of his armpits, making him wriggle. The only place more ticklish than under his arms was his feet.
"Don't," he managed to gasp out, just before those fingers assaulted him. Dean hadn't tickled him for years. Now an almost evil glint lit those eyes.
"Nice to see some things haven't changed," Dean growled out. "Oh, look." He stopped, picking up a piece of popcorn between his thumb and index finger. He must have found it caught in his armpit.
"You're not..." Jay started to say when Dean popped it into his mouth. He watched Dean chew and swallow, taking far too long over it.
"Salty," Dean said. "I wonder if that's the popcorn or just you." He winked. "Shall I find out?" He started to lower his head and didn't stop until his mouth came into contact with Jay's skin. Jay gasped, arched, bowing his body, opening his legs, allowing the other man to settle in against him, all without conscious thought. This way, he effectively helped Dean pin him to the carpet without meaning to do so. Not that he cared when a hot tongue licked along one of his clavicle bones, moving to the center of his neck and then to the other side.
It never ceased to surprise him that they kissed. In his experience, many straight guys found the idea of two guys kissing worse than fucking. Yet, Dean kissed him so thoroughly, it left Jay with no choice other than to believe it when Dean said he just liked kissing in general. That was all very nice, but this ... the privilege of feeling Dean's hot relentless mouth against his skin was beyond exciting. It felt better than it had a right to feel. It made him weak, pliant. He closed his eyes and slumped against the floor, leaning his head back to expose his neck in a long line. If they'd been animals, he supposed this position was the ultimate sign of submission. He didn't care. He offered up his throat and body both for Dean's enjoyment.
That tongue continued to travel, licking across to the other clavicle, then up the side of his neck to his ear. Dean paused and Jay heard the sound of crunching in his ear. Apparently, his friend found another piece of popcorn.
That hot mouth travelled in a reverse direction, and then altered course, nibbling along his chin. The strangely sensitive way Dean did this shook Jay to the core. When he made the decision less than an hour ago to enjoy this while it lasted, not in any scenario he imagined did he see Dean performing this slow, precise seduction. He lay subdued, passive, undergoing an exploration that, although connected to sex, also spoke of the cosy companionship of lovers. Jay never needed to shave more than once a day and he could go forty-eight hours without it being too noticeable, but although he'd shaved that morning, Dean must feel the rough texture of a day's growth under his tongue. He didn't seem to mind. Lips nibbled his chin and Jay closed his eyes, letting it happen. Eyes shut tight, he gave himself over to the sensation, wanting to remember it always. Only when the mouth moved up and captured his lower lip, biting gently on it, did his eyes spring open. The blue pool of Dean's eyes was so close, he could barely focus on them. Only as Dean pulled back, tugging on Jay's lip a little before he let it go, did Jay finally see how dark and unforgiving that gaze appeared. A few days ago, the expression on Dean's face frightened him, but no longer. Now he recognised that look for what it was, and he welcomed it. That, all too serious stare, meant pleasure.
Now, Dean's mouth left a wet trail down the very centre of his throat, moving over his Adam's apple and lingering on it. Again, the thought that if they were animals this was the part where he might get his throat torn out, entered Jay's mind, especially when Dean's teeth latched on and pressed a little. The man moved on, tongue flicking out to press wet heat into the dip of his throat before moving down to his chest. He moved almost agonisingly slow, not deviating a millimeter, until he reached a spot just above his abdomen. Then he moved in a direct horizontal line to the side, all the time licking, not even nibbling or sucking.
Jay heard more crunching from off to his right side. Dean must have picked up some popcorn stuck in the rumbled fabric of his shirt. He wanted the garment off completely, but couldn't make himself move to accomplish it. He didn't want to do anything that would make Dean stop.
The mouth returned to his skin lower down, working its way along just above his hip. This time it sucked as well as licked.
"What have we here?" Dean murmured and Jay looked down the length of his body to see those blue eyes staring intently at his belly button. Dean's head dipped, tongue emerging, swiping into his navel. He not only proceeded to eat the kernel of popcorn he discovered, but he then went on to lick and clean any leftover crumbs. Jay arched, writhed, gasped and moaned, heat travelling straight to his testicles. His cock had lain semi-tumescent, the pleasure soft and gentle up to this point. Now it changed, and he grew hard in an instant. Lying over him, Dean surely felt that, with that erection pressing against Dean's chest and part of his stomach.
Movement catching his attention, Jay looked down again. He watched those eyes move from staring intently somewhere lower, sliding slowly up his body to his face. Once, he'd considered Dean's gaze could look like a chilly day. Now the sight heated his blood instead of cooling it.
"There's more trapped down here," Dean said, the sound rumbling out of his throat like a purr. Once more, Dean dipped his head, shifting down and turning his body as he did so. That hot, wet, tapering, muscular, soft, fleshy organ worked its way in under the waistband of his jeans, searching, scooping and flicking out popcorn, sending Jay's nerves into frenzy.
Oh, sweet heaven. If Dean could work even half that magic with one of his nipples...
"You asking?"
Dean's voice sounded full of amusement. Jay blinked stupefied at the ceiling, then at Dean. "What did I say?" he asked.
Dean grinned. "Just nipple." Jay swallowed, struggling to believe he'd spoken aloud, let alone chosen that word to say. Something must have shown on his face for Dean's grin grew broader and then the man's gaze flicked to the coffee table. Going to his knees, Dean pulled off his shirt and then indicated for Jay to sit up. Leaning over, Dean helped Jay remove the garment. It meant Jay's face brushed against the heat of Dean's chest. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he did. The guy smelt all male, masculine, but there was also the peculiar background scent of popcorn, sort of toasty, buttery, and salty all at once.
Unable to help it, Jay slid his arms around Dean's hips. As the man moved, it brought his ear in line with the other man's navel. He caught a strange sound, the same one you found if you held a shell up to your ear and people associated with the sea. He closed his eyes, believing he could hear the blood surging through Dean's body, life beating, pulsing just under the surface, or maybe, he just wanted to believe it. Either way, he still wanted to press his ear to Dean's chest and listen to his heart beating within his ribcage.
As Dean pushed at his shoulders, and laid him back down, Jay went willingly enough, but his hands touched every inch of skin they could reach on the way.
"I think it's time for something sweet."
The look in Dean's eyes said that maybe he considered Jay tasted sweet enough, but much to Jay's surprise, Dean snagged the box of chocolates and brought them down to the floor with them. On one elbow, he studied the selection card with all seriousness. Choosing one and grinning as he did so, he snapped it up in his fingers, set the box aside, and then, pinning Jay to the floor with his weight, he turned his attention to Jay's chest. Gaze flickering from left to right, he seemed to struggle with the choice. "Now, which one?" he asked, still sounding serious. His gaze remained ruthless, but the twitch of his lips gave him away. He might even have been okay if he hadn't looked up into Jay's eyes. As Jay stared back, Dean burst out laughing at whatever he saw there, making Jay laugh with him. Then as the laughter trailed away, his expression changed. It now looked both mischievous and evil. Resting his chin on Jay's chest, he said, "You choose."
Wanting the game to continue, whatever Dean had in mind, Jay said, "The left one."
"Good choice." He shifted into a more suitable position. Instead, of closing his mouth over the nipple as Jay expected, however, Dean set the chocolate against his lips. From where he lay, Jay could see that tongue slip out to lick it, wetting it, the heat of Dean's full lips and warm, cavernous mouth melting the chocolate. Obviously satisfied when it melted enough, Dean licked the sweetness from his lips as he took the morsel to Jay's nipple. The sensation of being assaulted with confectionery made Jay's skin tingle, his heart race, his balls tighten, and it wasn't the feel of the sweet against his skin, but the sight of it, of Dean's intent gaze totally caught up in the moment. A newscaster began to read off the Cricket scores Dean wanted to hear, but by the look on his face, Jay could tell the man had completely forgotten about them. The voice became a background drone as, having anointed Jay's nipple with chocolate, Dean cocked his head on one side to study his handiwork, before lowering his head and closing his mouth over it. He paid as much attention to removing the chocolate as he paid to putting it on there.
By the time he finished, Jay twisted and struggled beneath him, unsure if he wanted to get loose, or just needed to offer up more of his body to that wicked tongue. His nipple looked ripe and swollen when Dean moved off it. A strangled plea escaped Jay's lips as Dean looked from one to the other as though in comparison. The other, right one looked just as hard, but not so rosy. Apparently, Dean didn't think that was good enough. He set to applying the chocolate.
"Please," Jay whined out, not sure what he actually asked for. Escape, he definitely needed to escape, but ahhhhhhh, damn it, holy shit and praise be...
Only when Dean broke contact, letting the nipple pull from his mouth with a resounding plop, did Jay gulp in oxygen and realise he'd raised his legs and wrapped them around Dean's hips. Fighting against the solid beat of pleasure, he shifted his head enough so he could look at Dean's eyes. The ice melted, he knew not when, but now the clear sky of Dean's eyes looked languid. His lids drooped and hooded his gaze, but did nothing to distil the warmth in his eyes.
"I'm not finished," Dean whispered out, so quietly that it took Jay a moment to decipher the words. At once, Dean scooted down his body. Jay looked down just in time to see Dean bite into the chocolate, split it, and let the contents pool into his navel. Most of the chocolates in the box varied from white, milk and dark. The assortment also contained some with a few nutty centres or softly whipped chocolate fillings. The one Dean bit into was the only one with a true contrasting flavour. The bright pink liquor of the strawberry filling oozed out to pool into middle of his belly. Dean tossed aside the gooey mess that was all that was left of the chocolate, into the bowl with the popcorn, and then set to work licking out Jay's navel.
He must have cleaned it ten times over when he stopped, by which time, Jay squirmed and shrieked beneath him and Dean took to laughing.
Damn! The larger man was laughing so hard he actually started coughing. Frustrated, turned-on, desperate and despairing, Jay took it into his head to get a little revenge. He grabbed Dean's right hand, the fingers still smeared in chocolate, and partly pulling the arm up, partly curling over, he managed to get the tip of Dean's index finger into the warm embrace of his lips.
Dean stopped laughing. The sound cut off so abruptly, it made the noise of the television break in as a sudden, horrid intrusion. Ignoring it, Jay set to work sucking on that finger, working it over his tongue, deeper into his mouth, into the back of his throat. Dean stopped fighting, even moved his fingers together to help as Jay worked his way over them, and then finally, took two in his mouth. Only then did he look into Dean's eyes.
The man watched his mouth at work, but when Jay flicked his gaze up to his face, the movement obviously caught Dean's attention. They stared at each other as Jay bobbed his head up and down in an unmistakable rhythm.
"Where's the lube?" Dean rasped out.
Letting the fingers slip out of his mouth, Jay gasped, "In the bedroom, where it always is."
Dean skirted back and then returned to lean over him again. "Don't you go anywhere," he instructed, and then walked on his hands and knees until he was clear enough of Jay's body to stand up. He practically ran into the other room.
\*
It crossed his mind to pick Jay up and bring him along, throw him on the bed where they didn't have to worry about carpet burns, but Jay looked so wanton lying there like that, waiting, that he wanted Jay to stay there, looking decadent.
It took two fumbles in the drawer for him to grab the right bottle and then he nearly tripped over his own feet on the way back out of the room.
Jay lay just where he'd left him, one leg out straight, one drawn back, the knee pointing slightly out to the side. His right arm was thrown back, elbow bent, hand out to the side of his head. The left arm also bent at the elbow took the limb across his chest to his face, the index finger lying in the slight gap between his lips. As Dean drew closer, Jay's gaze flicked down towards him. So much helpless, compliant abandonment shone in that slack expression. Dean was already opening the bottle.
Going to his knees, he set it aside and moved closer. Then he hesitated, looking around, fumbled for the remote and turned the television off. The sudden silence drew Jay's laboured breathing into focus. When Dean tossed the remote aside onto the sofa and then pulled down Jay's zipper, the man just lay there, waiting, with the same expression.
Even when Dean tugged the jeans down, and Jay needed to lift his hips to assist, that expression remained. Jay's cock popped free and Dean allowed his gaze to loiter, giving Jay little glances, and then looking back, as all the while he worked the trousers down his legs and off him, aware that Jay watched his face and knew where his gaze lingered.
That cockhead was ripe, rosy, leaking. The swelling caused the skin to roll slowly back, unable to keep the eye from peeping out at him. Dean finally looked away, working at getting out of his own trousers without falling on his face while he did it. How did strippers get rid of their clothes so elegantly?
Jay's gaze never once left his face, not while he undressed, not when he leaned, naked, over him. Not even when he picked up the lube bottle and, using a liberal amount, used his fingers to ease the opening to Jay's body, did the smaller man look away. His eyes flicked around, followed his movements, but he resolutely watched Dean's face, sometimes staring more at his mouth, sometimes his eyes, but always constant.
When Dean moved over him, Jay lifted his legs, ready. He would have said eagerly if not for the languidness of Jay's movements. He appeared perfectly relaxed even when Dean handled his cock to rub against him, teasing him open. Even when the head of his cock popped in and Dean stopped, knowing enough to wait, to let Jay's body adjust to him, the other man still watched his face. Inching his way in, Dean stared back, gazes locked, the only sounds in the room of their breathing, the quiet hiss of skin brushing against skin.
He rocked and Jay wound his legs around him, knees locking around his hips, back arched up to receive him. He locked a hand to Jay's hip, helping him while the man's hands wandered all over him. Using palms as well as fingers, Jay traced his sides, his chest, his nipples, his neck, and shoulders, as though making a map he could etch in his memory. His gaze followed the path of his hands, until they finally reached Dean's face. One hand either side of his face, fingers just short of his eyes, Dean watched that gaze finally make its way back to his. For some inexplicable reason, the moment their gaze met, Jay got the giggles.
The smaller man's body began to shake, as he bit at his lips, clearly trying to suppress the small bubbles of hilarity that erupted as little yips and howls because he tried to contain them. Still, it proved rather interesting as the shaking ran all the way through him, vibrating against Dean's buried cock and making that tight circle squeeze down on him.
"Damn," Dean grated out, the sensation proving too much to contain. Jay looked at his face and erupted into a howl of laughter. "Laugh at me, would you?" Dean threatened, beginning to grin also, and then to join in the laughter. It made things bounce and quiver. Jay gasped. Dean nodded. "See how that works." He fought to regain his rhythm.
"This should be a romantic moment. Why are you laughing?" he finally managed to ask. Jay just shook his head and laughed louder. Dean almost slipped out completely. "You're not helping," he complained. "I'll give up in a minute."
"No, don't," Jay said, amidst little hitches and gulps of air. His laughter calmed. The legs around Dean's waist gripped him harder. Jay's expression slowly went from merriment to sober. "Don't stop. Don't stop fucking me."
Unsure if Jay meant just this minute, tonight, or ever, it rather felt to Dean as though his heart skipped in his chest. Well, he'd wanted to know what it felt like to fuck Jay and now he'd discovered the answer. It felt far too good and too natural, Jay's body just lean enough, just soft enough, just hard enough, tight enough. Pulling Jay's body down onto his cock drew the other man against his lap. Folding his knees up under him, Dean leaned over. He might have known without trying, but their difference in stature allowed for just the right things to touch. The two of them could easily kiss while they fucked, even in this position.
Holding Jay's head in place, he kissed him, letting their tongues entwine and dance, their mouths to fall open, their saliva and breath to mingle. When he pulled back, Jay's lips looked as red and swollen as his nipples.
"Please." Jay squirmed under him. "I need..." A moan interrupted the sentence. Jay gulped as it trailed off. "Please. More. More movement."
"You want me to fuck you?"
Jay's eyes roved, seeking his gaze. When they connected, he swallowed, licked his lips and said, "You know I do. You know I always have. Always..." Again, the words trailed off while Dean watched the lump in Jay's throat bob as he swallowed again. "Always will," Jay finally admitted.
Their bodies sealed together, the moment stretched out unendurable. With a full-throated growl, Dean gathered the smaller man up into his arms and lifted him bodily from the floor.
Jay rose, gasping a little. Those slim legs wrapped around his waist, the arms linked around his neck. Dean sat back on his heels, Jay's body fused to his. Teeth clashed, tongues rasped against each other. Nails raked over already sensitive skin. Their hands wandered; mouths feasted. Jay's cock presented itself as a solid line between their stomachs. He couldn't thrust into Jay like this---maybe it was possible, but he couldn't seem to manage it in this moment---but he wasn't ready to change position. This was like a second round of foreplay. By the time he transferred Jay to the sofa and went up on his knees angling into him ... Fuck him? Hell, he wanted to crawl inside him.
Jay clawed at his skin, twisted, moving, opening his body, trying to find just the right pressure. A sticky pool glistened on his stomach, beads of clear fluid dripping like pearls from his cock. Dean clasped Jay's hand and took it to the man's cock. "Let me watch," he said, and caught the fleeting uncertainty in Jay's eyes before need washed it away. Jay's hand took up a steady rhythm, one that would allow him to finish in moments. "Slow down," Dean said, and watched while Jay struggled to obey, but managed to do so. The change of pace made him writhe in pleasure and Dean watched that too, watched Jay tossing his head, that cloud of hair flying, shrouding his body and face.
"Hate me?" Dean whispered when Jay seemed to recover enough to understand the question.
"God, no!"
"Hate what I'm doing to you?"
"Uh-huh."
"Even if I did it forever?"
The words escaped before he realised what he was actually saying. They certainly caught Jay's attention. Even maintaining the rhythm between them, Jay gazed at him, his expression open, conveying pain. Dean could have bit off his tongue in that moment, if it meant he could take the words back. "I'm sorry," he whispered, so softly even he barely heard the apology. Louder, he said, "I'll not lie with false promises." He leaned closer. "But I can promise to make this something we'll both remember."
His hand took over on Jay's cock, thumb slipping back and forth across the head in all that moisture. An unintelligible shout from the other man rang out, seeming to last long after it should have faded and died. Dean thrust and pounded, jerked his hand up and down, watched Jay's face as his eyes drew back into his head just before they closed, lips peeling back from his teeth, body tensing, caught up in pleasure that erupted hot and thick over the back of his hand, coating his fingers. Still he thrust, seeking his own release, emptying his seed into that nether mouth that now sucked at him, open and greedy. Even as he moaned his release through gritted teeth, he leaned forward and sealed their mouths together. Opening his lips, he plunged his tongue in, plundering Jay's mouth just as he plundered that hidden region, until their bodies eased, and they collapsed, sagging together, replete.
"You've been spending a lot of time with Dean lately." April's searching eyes flickered back and forth. Jay struggled not to look away from her steady gaze. She would suspect something if he did. She waited and then sighed. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
Damn! She suspected anyway. He shook his head. "He's a mate. I've been working on his computer for him, upgrading it."
"That's lame, Jay. It doesn't take that long to do an upgrade, unless you're getting mixed up and putting things into the wrong slots."
Jay stared at his sister. Even for April that was too blunt. He watched as her eyes changed from suspicion to anger. "What is wrong with you?" she hissed, leaning over the table. They were at a local burger outlet, but sat picking at their food rather than eating it. The food, now cold, no longer looked fit for consumption. So much for lunch. A woman with a child glanced at them, clearly hearing April's fury, and then ushered the toddler away as though they might be dangerous. In April's case, it was a wise precaution. She looked practically feral.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing."
"Like hell. I can't prove it and you won't tell me, fine. I'm not stupid though, so don't treat me like I am."
"You're the one who sent Dean round to see me," he interrupted. That seemed a safe accusation. It gave nothing away.
"I sent him around to..." She stopped, glanced around apparently to check no one listened in on them, and then lowered her voice. "I wanted you to patch up your friendship, not get hot and heavy."
Equally angry now, Jay found he could meet her gaze. Despite what she said, this was her fault. He'd been happily pissed at Dean. If April had stayed out of it, things could have remained that way. His heart wouldn't be at such risk. "I can't be held responsible for your sick imagination."
Her gaze narrowed. The look chased back some of his anger. He swallowed, hoping she wouldn't notice. All too easily, his mind drifted to the other night. After having sex in the living room---the carpet burn on his shoulder proved it was more than a dream---they'd moved into the bedroom. There...
"Chocolate or vanilla?"
"What?" Dean frowned down at him.
"Just answer."
"Sex or ice cream?"
Jay laughed. "I mean ice cream, of course."
Dean shrugged. "Doesn't matter anyway. Definitely chocolate."
"Electric light or candles."
Dean's expression turned quizzical, but he looked amused with it. "Candles."
"Real fire or fake?"
"Real."
"Sweet or spicy?"
"Spicy." Dean growled out the word.
"Summer or winter?"
"Both." He hesitated. "Hmm ... I'm maybe edging towards winter and long, dark nights." Those huge hands started to roam.
"Red or white wine?" Jay gasped out, his breathing growing erratic.
"Definitely both." Warm, full lips began kissing his face, moving in tighter circles towards his mouth.
"Dog or cat?" Jay managed to moan.
Dean stopped kissing, blinking in surprise. "Well, right now in my life, neither, but why not both?"
Jay started laughing. "I knew it!" The expression on Dean's face made him laugh all the harder, until the only way Dean could hope to shut him up was to...
He closed his eyes, remembering. He'd lied when he called Dean a lousy kisser. The other night, the man wouldn't stop kissing him, stroking him. Every time he tried to get a word out, Dean's lips silenced his. He often ran his hands over Dean's body, trying to make a living sketch in his memory. In years to come, he wanted to be able to close his eyes and move his hands as though that flesh still existed above him, looming over him. He understood his reason for it, but that night ... It was as though Dean tried to do the same thing.
Hands gripped him and lifted him, sat him on Dean's lap, even though they were in bed. His head fit naturally in the curve of Dean's shoulder, his head falling back, lips tilted up for yet another kiss and Dean's lips met his, hungry, passionate. Those large hands caressed him, stroking and exploring, then reaching down to cup other things, tearing a moan from his throat. Before, when Dean touched him intimately, the contact was ... Well, cautious was a good way to describe it. It didn't take a psychiatrist to work out Dean felt awkward touching another man. Putting his cock into somewhere it fitted nicely was one thing. Jay could imagine many men doing that, but to handle another guy, to kiss him, to share affection, took the experience to a different level. Whatever happened, it warmed his heart to know that Dean wanted to share pleasure with him, not just take it. Then, as though the experienced changed for him, Dean had touched him in an entirely different way, not just as a way to get him off, but as a mutual kind of play. Those large hands fondled his cock and balls as though they were indeed jewels, beautiful to look, play with, and priceless. Every cry he made Dean swallowed down, as most of the time no more than an inch separated them at the mouth. They spent most of the time kissing, even while they touched.
Then later, in the same position as they'd started making love in the living room, with Jay on his back, legs wrapped around Dean's hips, only this time the mattress made it more comfortable, their movements were indolent, unhurried. Having come once, this time they took their time, all the while, Dean staring down into his eyes, stroking his face, kissing him---from little pecks of affection, to raw, hard, devouring passion, and all the stages in between. He could swear even days later his lips still felt swollen from the onslaught and even when they finished, Dean remained inside him, foreheads pressing, silence speaking for them when they couldn't bear to talk...
Opening his eyes, the first thing he saw was April staring at him. Cold horror seeped through his limbs. He didn't want to get into this with his sister. She could make him pay in oh so many ways. She sat back, arms folded, still staring.
"He's a user and you know it. He's a control freak. He's a nice guy with a peculiar dark side. I've just never figured out what he's hiding."
Jay just stared at her. He only realised he sat shaking his head at her, when her eyes flicked from side to side as though following the movement. "Have you forgotten everything? Have you forgotten so easily?"
"What's to forget?"
"All the good things he's ever done for us?"
She laughed. "Such as?"
"Such as putting the other boys in their place when they got too heavy handed or mouthy around you."
April sighed. "He did that to get on my good side."
"Maybe, but why did he help us with our homework? Why did he always wait for us and walk us home? Why did he include us in everything?"
"Jay, we were friends. The three of us hung out. We studied together. So what? You and I took a couple of after school activities and Dean waited to walk home with us. So what?"
"He didn't have to. It was always like he was taking care of us or something."
"If that's true, he had his own agenda for it."
Jay just sat back, shaking his head. "All I remember is Dean being a good friend to us."
This time, she snorted. Even knowing why, Jay lost his patience. "So he liked you. The fact is, it didn't take him long to realise he didn't stand a chance. He was our friend then and our friend just a short time ago. Why has that changed so much in your eyes?"
"A short while ago, he wasn't breaking my brother's heart."
"If that's what you believe, you're an idiot."
Her eyes went wide and then narrowed dangerously. He couldn't retract the words, so the only thing he could do that might stop April launching her body across the table at him was to elaborate. "You want to rip it out of me? You want me to say how I feel, then fine. My heart's already broken. It broke the day we moved here and Dean first smiled at me. Sure, I was young, but I already knew I was gay. Even I expected what I felt for him to fade with age, but it didn't. It grew."
"That sounds like obsession."
"No." Jay shook his head. "I've asked myself that same question, but no. I just love him. I love the teenager who mended my bike, who sat reading to me once when I was ill, who likes to get his hands dirty and dream about cars he'll never have the time to drive. Who likes books, movies, and doughnuts that he hardly ever eats because he knows they're unhealthy. The guy who smiles at fireworks, always insists on watching a horror movie on Halloween, gapes at paintings or closes his eyes when he listens to music. What I don't understand is how you miss all those things."
"He's a womaniser."
Jay laughed. "If that's true, you don't have to worry about me."
"I said he was a womaniser. I didn't say that didn't mean he wasn't fucking around with you. He's a cocksman and you're an orifice."
Jay understood April cared for him, but this level of animosity seemed exaggerated. "He's not a womaniser. He's young. We're all young. You're a bit older than me, but not by much. Sometimes, I swear you forget you're still in your twenties. What is it, April? Boyfriend number five or six?"
"That's not that many."
"I was just talking about this year." April's gaze narrowed until it wrinkled the skin around her eyes, making her look ancient. A hint of nervousness eased into him. He shouldn't try to spar with April. She usually won.
"You say we're young." It sounded like a question so he nodded. "Young enough for us to have the time to find someone? Young enough to wait to fall in love?"
He glared at her, the word "bitch" on his tongue felt like a barb piercing it, but he held it in check. April unfolded her arms and fished about in her handbag bringing out her mobile phone, her jaw set in a belligerent tight line. She started placing a call.
"What would you do?" Jay asked her. "What would you do if you had to walk round cradling a broken heart or have something good to remember to go with it?"
"It won't be good when he finally comes to his senses and realises what he's been doing. It won't be a good memory when he throws recriminations back in your face." She lifted the phone to her ear.
"What are you doing?"
She just looked at him while she waited. Apparently, someone answered. She spoke. "Hi. Just hold on." She held out the phone. "Dean is a selfish, maniacal control freak. You're perfect for him because you'd probably bend over backwards if he told you to. He's lost his chance with most of the women around here because women don't do what a man tells them to do."
"Neither do I," Jay snapped.
"Bullshit. Where Dean is concerned, you'd do just about anything."
Jay stared at her and then stared at the phone, realising whomever she had called was on the line. "Who did you ring?" he asked, a little horrorstruck.
She sighed. "This is my fault. I should have known better. I should have known I needed to protect you. I shouldn't have told him how you feel."
"You ... What?" Jay forgot the phone and glared at her. "What did you tell him?"
She gave him one of her know-it-all, patronising looks. He sat very still for just a minute and then lunged, trying to snatch the phone from her. She calmly took it out of his reach and took it to her ear. "Dean, you're a wanker, an arsehole, and an arse-wipe." She turned the phone off and dropped it into her handbag.
"How ... How could you?" He didn't doubt for a minute that she had actually called Dean and that he had heard their conversation.
"I guess you'll have to have an intelligent chat for once."
"Maybe. Once I get through apologising."
April leaned forward over the table. Her gaze couldn't be described as anything less than intent. "Don't ever apologise for me, Jay," she warned. "And tell Dean he'd better stay the hell out of my way for the next few days. Maybe even eternity."
\*
Dean stared at the phone in his hand, blinking, stupefied with amazement. Jay and April were obviously having a conversation ... about him!
"Does the owner want us to use the manufacturer's part or the cheaper option?"
"What?" Dean jumped as Mark encroached into his personal space. "Oh..." He tried to remember which vehicle Mark was working on. "The cheap option."
Mark nodded in understanding, struggling with something in his hands, some bolt he seemed to have trouble undoing. "Thank god, it's Friday tomorrow."
"Hmm?"
"I said, thank god, it's almost Friday. You know, you seem a bit distracted lately. Not seen you down at The Mixer. Time you put it about a bit. You need to get your leg over, relax."
The Mixer was a local bar and grill, so called because you could mix your drinks, mix your cocktails and mix the food on your plate. Dean liked their version of Surf 'n' Turf, which included three varieties of shellfish and two meats. He always ate it with a salad to ease the guilt of how unhealthy all that red meat was, but he hadn't been down there for some time and not because of Jay. Well, not just because of him, anyway. The Mixer wasn't the kind of place to pick someone up, so it might have seemed odd that Mark was talking about him getting his leg over, if it weren't for Lillian. She worked behind the bar and all the guys had tried to ask her out at least once since she started work there. She made it quite clear if he asked she might say yes, but so far he always ignored the offer, wanting to do so for a couple of reasons. He wanted to see how long she would keep hinting and by the time he asked her out, the other guys would be drooling so much they would be staring at him in envy. For the first time ever that sounded petty. Am I really that shallow?
"I'll come down for a drink tonight," he heard himself saying as though from a distance, or as though he didn't have control of his anatomy, including his mouth. That didn't surprise him as much as it should have. Worse, he intended to go through with it, though he wasn't sure he wanted to or was even sure why. He didn't especially wish to go.
\*
Lillian said she would join him for a drink during her break. Dean sat at one of the booths and waited for her. The Mixer was always busy, but this was a weekday and they were far from packed. Dean sat in a booth alone. Lillian emerged from behind the bar carrying a drink in each hand, one for herself and a fresh one for him. She was tall, platinum blonde, leggy, and the boobs were fake, something Dean didn't like, but he never turned down an opportunity even if the operation was a bad one. He knew how to spot a bad boob job. Many woman had too great a distance separating their breasts. Even if they hung a little low, he preferred the real thing. He preferred flat-chested women, if it came to that.
Mentally, he took a step back and 'listened' to his thoughts. Was this how he viewed all women, by their body parts? He didn't think he was a bad guy at heart. He just wasn't interested in getting serious right now. If he met the right woman, he was sure he would know. It was a new century. Women commanded equality. They were entitled to a little fun as much as any man. Right now, the perfect woman for him would be one who didn't complicate things, fake boobs or no. That was why Lillian's opening remarks and his reaction to them were so surprising.
She slid into the opposite side of the booth, placing his drink down and then taking hers to her lips. Her mouth made the perfect 'O' around the straw poking up from her cocktail. He wanted to remark that if she kept doing that, in a few years she would have lines around her lips. He almost wanted to tell her she should put her lips around something larger. Why was he feeling so belligerent? She drank and set down the glass, raising her eyes to meet his gaze.
"You know, we could have a few of these and we could chitchat and we could even go on a date or two, but that would cost you and it would take up my time."
Dean raised an eyebrow. What made her think he was going to pay the bill? What happened to going Dutch?
"Or we can get to the point. I like the look of you." Her gaze swept up and down. "I don't have to see you naked to see you have a great body. I have a great body. We should use them. So I guess the only question is your place, or mine."
The expression was so clichéd, he fought the urge to laugh. Her mention of his having a great body was both flattering, yet strangely irritating, her confidence arousing, amusing and annoying all at once. Usually, he would have liked a forthright woman. Okay, her lines needed some work, but she got to the point. He felt a little bit like a piece of meat, a succulent steak chosen for her main course, but that was all right with him. Again, in one context that was flattering, and, besides, men had been doing that with women for years. He was a guy. An attractive woman just told him she wanted to have sex with him; the only question was where.
He threw down some money on the table to pay for the drinks and stood up. "I'll tell you what," he said. "You go to your place, and I'll go to mine."
The smile, which had been growing, faded from her face. She frowned. "Then how can we...?" The light dawning illuminated her eyes. They grew harsh. He had probably killed any chance of eating at The Mixer again. She would probably spit in his food. Still, he'd made the right choice. The only trouble was, as he left the establishment, he didn't know what that meant ultimately.
Outside, he stood gulping down cold air. "What have I done?" he whispered. Then he screamed inside his mind. What have I done! He walked out on an attractive woman who wanted to have sex with him. What had he done!
He walked to within two blocks of Jay's home before he even realised where he was going. He stopped in the street, turned about, lifted his arms and stroked his fingers through his hair in a despairing gesture. He had just decided he couldn't stand to see Jay tonight when he turned and the man was standing there.
\*
Believing only he could be surprised to bump into Dean on the street, the thought washed away the moment Jay looked into the man's eyes. They stood and stared at each other for a moment and then Jay asked, "Are you coming up?" He could hardly fail to catch the hesitation, but then Dean nodded. Now, they were in his flat.
"I'm sorry about the phone call," Jay said.
"You don't have to apologise."
"For my sister, no, I probably don't, but that doesn't mean I don't want to."
"It was probably worse for you on the other end."
He couldn't argue with that. The numerous and increasingly odd glances they had received in the burger restaurant at lunch, no, he didn't need reminding of that. The silence grew. "You've been drinking. Where have you come from?" He could smell it on the man's breath when Dean walked past him at the door, entering the flat.
"The Mixer."
Jay nodded. "Having an after work drink with the mates." He gabbled out words to fill the empty stretches of sound. To his surprise, Dean shook his head.
"I just turned down a hot date."
What did that mean? Jay asked his question with a frown. Dean's expression showed something he could only call irritation.
"I screw around, but I don't screw around with one person while I'm with another."
"I wouldn't have thought I counted."
"You're still a person, Jay. And, no, that wasn't an implied insult."
He was going to argue, but Dean's expression stopped him. "So ... what? You stay faithful while we screw around and then you move on?"
"I ... don't know."
That was the trouble. He couldn't know. "It's okay," Jay said. "I'm the one that's being stupid."
"You're not stupid."
"Aren't I? April's right, isn't she? I'm not blaming you," he added, when Dean looked at him. "She shouldn't have said anything, but she's right, isn't she? She told you how I feel and you would never have come around here if it weren't for that."
"That's not true. I was desperate to apologise that day."
"Apologise sure. Nothing more."
"What kind of crap has April been feeding you?"
"It doesn't matter. It doesn't change things. The question you need to answer is why you started this, because now it's out of hand, and when you realise, when it truly hits you, I'm the one you'll blame."
"No. I won't do that."
"Be honest for once, Dean. You screwed me because you could. Because you knew I would let you. Because you knew I wanted you to. It's all a game to you."
His friend stared at the floor, but it didn't look as though he were seeing it. "It wasn't just a game and it's not a game anymore."
Jay nodded, slowly. "Well, I thank you for that. That one bit of honesty means something. But one fact remains." He waited until Dean gave him his full attention.
"What's that?"
He drew in a deep breath before he answered; speaking the truth as he'd considered and accepted it the other night. Odd, that on the most intimate, loving night between them, the truth shone so bright and clear, undeniable. Alas, the moment he said it, he wouldn't be able to retract it. He looked up to meet Dean's cool blue gaze. "I can't have you."
\*
"What do you want? To set up house?" Dean didn't need Jay to elaborate. He didn't mean sex for a night, or even a few. He meant a relationship.
"With someone, one day, yeah."
Well, of course he would. Why not? Why hadn't he thought about that? Why didn't he think in those terms other than in the vaguest sense when he considered his own future? Dean paced, running the fingers of one hand through his hair, feeling the longer length at the sides flop back.
"So what happens now?" Dean didn't like the erratic way his heart beat in his chest. He tried to pay attention to Jay and analyse his feelings at the same time, not an easy thing to do. Part of what he felt was fear, and he had to accept with a sick dread, that it was the fear of Jay telling him to leave and never darken his doorstep again. He didn't like that the idea worried him so much. April was right. He was an arse-wipe. Jay was right also. He had screwed him because he could. The trouble was, he discovered he liked it. The sex between them was good. Jay was just the right height, build, weight for him, and the sparks ... He couldn't explain it, but he 'slid' into a place, a zone, the moment anything turned intimate between them. He liked that place. He liked how it made him feel. He felt alive then, his skin tingling. He felt ... in control. Hell, he liked Jay pliant and willing. He liked the way Jay allowed him to hold him down. Many women didn't like that. He didn't do it because he was a sexist jerk. It just felt natural to him to be in control. Now, the idea made him wonder if Jay liked it or just went along with it.
"Fuck." The word whispered out of him before he could stop it. Only then did he realise Jay had been talking, probably replying to his question and he'd failed to hear a word of it. He just shook his head at Jay's questioning look and surprised silence. April was right. He was a control freak. Did that make him perverted? He didn't think so. Some people liked to dominate; some liked being the one dominated. There were women out there---and men---who liked it one way or the other, or even took turns. His problem was he had never experienced such a huge kick out of it before this; now he did, all because he knew the person's heart was involved this time. Jay loved him. He used that. He was a louse, though he doubted a true louse would care what the other person thought of him. Ultimately, he didn't truly want to hurt Jay. The best thing he could do was walk away. He couldn't. Jay was like a drug to him. Even now, he wanted to have sex again and it had little to do with his own physical pleasure. He wanted to look into Jay's clear eyes and watch them go unfocused and glaze over with need. He wanted to hear Jay's moans and soft sighs and know he was the cause of them. He wanted to make Jay feel so good he screamed his name. Surely, April was right and egomania had something to do with it, but the trouble was he also cared about Jay in this. He wanted Jay to be happy, to feel good, to be...
...with me.
The idea froze him. He closed his eyes. It didn't matter where that crazy idea came from and how easily it might solve a few things; he couldn't do it. He wasn't even certain he truly wanted it, and he wouldn't do that to Jay. He wouldn't offer him something only to take it away again. So far, he hadn't offered Jay more than sex and some affection. He wouldn't offer him love to snatch it away again. For all his faults, he would rather someone cut off his right arm than be that much of a bastard.
This shouldn't be about what you want. It should be about doing the right thing.
"I'm just a source of amusement to you, aren't I?" Jay said.
He looked up to meet Jay's gaze. The other man stood there shaking his head almost sadly, and then something in his expression hardened. "Let's see how amused you can be."
Reaching out, Jay took his hand. Dean almost drew away in surprise and then he hesitated, trying to convince himself the time had come to leave. He should walk out of here. Jay moved to the bedroom and Dean only realised he followed when he stepped through the doorway. Too often lately, he performed actions in a trance-like state. He opened his mouth to apologise for everything and to say it couldn't happen again when Jay kissed him. Perhaps they were right and the transference of blood did dull a man's commonsense.
\*
Secret sighs filled a darkened room. Flesh hardened under clothing. That was fine. Skin would soon rub against skin. Keep it moving softly, but keep it hard.
Lips came into contact in the lightest exploration before deepening. Roaming souls searched to find each other in a sleek touch. Dropping to his knees, Jay rubbed his face against that hard centre tenting the blue denim. His hands grabbed Dean's hips to tug his lover forward so he could bury his face in that obscured warmth. The man bent down and dragged the concealing shirt upwards, forcing Jay to close his eyes and lift his arms. The moment the shirt was gone, his hands returned in worship to squeeze and tempt the hidden cock to greater rigour. His reward came in feeling it swell within its textile dwelling.
Glancing up, a great darkness fluttered like a large bird or giant bat flapped its wings in the gloom. The shadow fled to reveal the flush of flesh. The fluttering shadow had simply been his lover undressing. Seeking, asking with caresses, Jay's fingers worked at buttons. He tugged the zip down. The prison gaped. The prisoner sought early release. Jay took the naked captive and soothed the punishment with kisses.
A tongue licked. Fingers wandered, dropped off fabric skins revealing a heady beat of life within. The warm wet cavern opened, sucked in softness. The serpent throbbed with life's sweet beat. The dance of the ophidian, his sister called it, a venomous threat of snake-like licks, flickering, tapping, licking, stroking, amid the threat of teeth. Strings of pearls glistened from cock to lips. He picked up speed.
The connection broke. Left bereft, adrift, he whimpered, ashamed to hear the cry sound so loud in the night. Warmth returned, good and strong, to carry him to the bed. He cast the last piece of restricting fabric aside. Heaps of discarded garb lay like dark secrets to trip up unwary trespassers.
Hands stroked over shoulders, down arms, travelled over unmarked roadmaps finding hidden desires on the journey. Fingers grasped and lips parted to gasp. The urgency increased. Temptation's voice sounded louder than any word they spoke.
Rock hard. Everywhere he laid his hands, they slid over smooth hills and valleys, dipping into vales that begged for slowness, rising over crests that required speed. They writhed, changing pace as need dictated. Arms gathered him into another kiss. Lips touched lips, tongues entwined and danced on a sigh. They shared breath and other things in the joining.
Dean's cock was just as hard and smooth as the rest of him. Fascination made exploring fingers linger at the curve of his backside. Their necks tilted for another kiss and their cockheads touched in mimicry. His soft cry came in warning; he could have exploded then. Whispers told him no, not yet. He would know just when.
Fingers moved to thighs, gliding gently down then back up again. Willing to beg, if it were required of him, Jay took up what he wanted, though it proved larger than his hand. With slow, gentle strokes he spread the tears that small eye shed. Dipping his head, he took up a single drop. Dew on a morning leaf never tasted as sweet.
He suckled. Engulfed, the organ twitched. A throb stronger than a heartbeat filled his mouth. He opened up, drawing his love in, tracing the outline with delicate licks, drawing a blueprint his heart and mind could never forget. He touched it with his lips, his tongue, his chin; he breathed it in, closed his eyes and let it block his sight.
Hands wove into his hair and held him there.
Dean bucked. He fucked, penetrated as far as a long, slow stroke would allow, and then speeded up, short hard thrusts until Jay had to ask, plead for air with questing fingers. He gasped in air through parted lips. The hand at the back of his head was his only warning. As soon as he nodded, that thickness came home. His body tingled with need. His mind screamed silently yes, yes, yes, use me. Breathy gasps and tightening muscles said Dean planned to do just that. Short of air, still he closed his mouth around the shaft and sucked.
It proved too much for both of them. Those large hands gathered him, fingers lacing in his hair, holding him there. He heard his lover breathe out the word, "Angel" and then they were both lost to the face fucking. The offering was warm and thick, liquid silk on a lapping tongue and drowning them in need.
\*
"I can't keep doing this."
Dean wanted to tell him to be still, but he just swallowed. He couldn't speak.
"I can't let you keep doing this to me."
At last, he found his voice, but it emerged strained. Even Jay ought to hear the struggle he fought to overcome. He's right. This is it. Let him go.
His arms tightened in response to his timely thoughts. It made Jay raise his head from where it rested on his chest to look at him. "You don't want this, Dean. You don't want me. Not really."
That gave him cause for consideration. He asked himself that very question and tried to answer it honestly, but couldn't. He just didn't have the answer. All he knew was that he didn't want to let go right now. Jay wanted more than that, though, and, if he couldn't give him what he wanted, what he needed, then the only fair thing was to release him. "You mean you want more than I'm prepared to give."
Jay's eyes narrowed as he stared. He gave a slight shake of his head. "Please don't do this to me, Dean. Don't leave it all up to me."
Dean never understood or appreciated the true meaning of tongue-tied until now. He stared at Jay's eyes glistening with unshed tears and couldn't say a thing.
"You sure you need to leave today?"
"Mum, you know I promised April I'd be at her party. She'll be furious if I miss it."
"The forecast doesn't look good."
"They've gritted the motorways. I'll make it home okay before the snow comes."
His mother didn't look convinced. His father rolled his eyes as though to say she was fussing. In truth, his mother probably had a point. He should see sense and stay, but he just wanted to get home now to his own surroundings. Jay waved before driving away. He would have left earlier, but his mother liked him to leave with a full stomach so he had stayed for dinner. Still, it was only a two-hour drive back, even if he took it slowly. He would make it okay.
\*
"You going to April's party tonight?"
Dean looked up at his father, recognised the searching question for what it was and couldn't think of a good way to answer it. Finally, he just said, "No. I'm not." He hesitated too long, though. His father was frowning.
"You and those Reids aren't getting along the way you used to."
What could he say to that? "We've grown up. Things change."
His father shrugged as though he accepted it, but Dean watched him walk away and doubted it. His father could be far too inquisitive at times, even intuitive. Maybe it was just as well Jay had called a halt before anyone discovered what they were doing. Okay, maybe Jay hadn't exactly called a halt, more like a hiatus. After finding his current work on the laptop, Jay asked to read one of his books. Reluctant, but oddly excited by the idea, Dean gave him a copy to take to his parents for the holidays. Jay promised they would speak in the New Year.
"Don't stay late. It's New Year's Eve," his father called out from across the garage.
"I know. I know, Dad." Truth, he didn't need to be here at all, but work was distracting. "I have plans," he lied through his teeth. His father grinned, but asked no questions. He just gave a quick nod on the way out. Dean sighed. What did it matter if he spent the night working? It wasn't as if he had anything else to do, or anyone with whom to greet the New Year. For the first time ever, the midnight bells would chime and he would be alone to hear them.
He was still thinking along the lines of self-pity when someone kicked him in the leg. He cursed, and came out from under the car bonnet to see April standing there glaring at him.
"Are you trying to get mugged?" she asked. He glanced at the door and cursed again for foolishly failing to lock it---not because he truly thought someone would mug him, but because it had allowed April to visit unannounced. She followed her question with, "I could kill you, you know that."
Even coming from April, such direct animosity was somewhat alarming. Before he could respond, she launched into one. "Do you know what Jay did all week?" He shook his head. He knew, but didn't say so and couldn't see the relevance. "He spent it with our parents. I spent Christmas Day and Boxing Day there, but then I came home. Jay stayed. He stayed because he wanted to keep out of your way.
"Bad enough," she continued, pacing now, "that both of us have to put up with the 'it's time you found a nice young man' speech but then my mother asks innocently enough after our friends and after what you are doing. I thought Jay looked as red as the tablecloth."
Dean inwardly winced. He wanted to berate Jay for giving the game away, but couldn't really blame him. He had caused this situation in the first place. If Jay's parents hadn't cottoned on, April certainly did. "He hasn't said anything," she said, ceasing her pacing and facing him. "He doesn't need to. Do you think I'm stupid?" she added with unnecessary force as though she expected to hear his opinion on the subject. She took a deep breath and glanced around. "Fuck you, Dean. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. Don't get near my brother or me again. He's on his way home and I just want you to stay the hell away from him. Even if he comes to see you, you stay away or so help me I'll do more than crush your testicles in a vice. I will castrate you."
\*
The car died. It just gave a jolt and died. Luckily, the street was fairly deserted and Jay managed to stop without getting in anyone's way. He then tried restarting it, looking under the bonnet, even though he didn't have a clue, and then tried his cell phone, only to find power, but no signal. Worse still, his battery was low, and even if he got in touch with someone, it wouldn't be much of a call. His car, April's gift and so recently serviced by Dean, had died on him and he was still a good seven miles or more from home. He locked up the car, turned his face out into the night and started walking.
\*
"Where's my brother? Is he with you?"
After April's earlier visit, Dean threw a few things around, swore at the top of his voice, locked up and headed on home, only to spend the last hour procrastinating, not doing much of anything. He was contemplating what to eat and drink, together with what movie to watch, and whether to greet the New Year later by masturbating, when the phone rang. Several words hovered on the tip of his tongue, though he didn't know which one to go for first. He fought the inclination to swear at her, but something in April's voice filtered through to him. Some sense of urgency. "I haven't seen him for over a week. You know that. What's wrong?"
"He should have been here by now. No one has seen him and I can't get through to his mobile."
Jay's phone was so old and he dropped it so many times it was a wonder the thing worked at all. "You've called all his friends?"
"What do you think I'm doing now?"
He could hear the exasperation in her voice. "I mean, do you have many more to go?"
A pause came down the phone as weighty and thick as the snow currently falling. The world outside gave the appearance that they were in for a belated Christmas. "No, actually. A lot of them are here. I invited them to my party." The implication that she purposely hadn't asked him didn't escape his notice. "I didn't think he would be round at your place, not really. He said he would speak to me before seeing you again."
She really didn't have to go to such lengths to explain. Dean felt no surprise to hear he was one of the last people she called. As to the other thing she said, so it was true; Jay really meant to come see him despite everything. That explained April yelling at him and warning him off. Dean tried to play out that particular conversation between the siblings in his head. Alas, he could imagine it all too easily. "Finish calling them. I'll come round and we can hit the streets, visit a few places he tends to hang out." Again, there came that hesitation, only this time it lasted so long he almost snapped that her party could tick along without her. Jay was more important. Then April breathed a soft sigh.
"All right."
In truth, the party probably wasn't foremost in her mind. Despite her acceptance, Dean didn't like to think that she had trouble accepting his help even in this. Had he really behaved that abominably? Was he really so arrogant he needed to ask?
\*
A hard, firm pressure grasped and fondled his arse. Dean almost flinched, but then, not wishing to be a laughing stock, he moved away rather more calmly than he felt. The guy who was so obviously interested, flashed him a smile. Dean allowed a small smile to touch his lips and shook his head, no, sorry. Thankfully, although the other man looked disappointed, he obviously wasn't one to push things and moved away, giving Dean little backward glances as he walked off. The guy was good looking, but the idea that he had any interest in him made Dean feel sick to his stomach. Sweat broke out on his forehead, partly due to the difference in temperature as compared to the quickly freezing landscape outside, and partly because of the admiring glances from other men. He was glad to see April finally making her way towards him through the crowd. She shook her head and indicated the door with a small, sharp nod.
His stomach clenched for other reasons. When they started searching, the worry levelled off to a slow simmer. Obviously, he'd felt a little concerned, but honestly, he'd expected Jay to turn up at any minute. He still hadn't arrived home and the weather grew progressively worse. Self-assurances that they were worrying for nothing grew steadily thin in contrast to the amount of snow that fell and now lay thick in their part of the world. He resolutely swallowed down his unease. Panic helped no one.
They didn't even try to speak until they practically fell through the door of the club back out into a white world.
"The barman knows him, so I thought I'd ask, but he's not been in tonight."
The idea that Jay frequented even one gay bar was a revelation. What else didn't he know about him?
"You all right?" April gave him a funny look as they crossed the street and made their way back to his car. He ignored her until seated within. He might have said nothing but her gaze was unwavering.
He was feeling sick for two reasons, but he chose to talk about the lesser anxiety. A brief mantra kept going through his mind telling him that Jay was fine. He clung to the certainty even though he didn't entirely believe it. He couldn't share it with April for fear of worrying her more. Even worse, he couldn't stand to see the look in her eye that said she found it difficult to believe he could be this worried. If she smirked at him because he was worried sick over Jay, he would punch something, or throw something, maybe knock a few hard dents into the car. He never turned to violence. Usually his size meant he never needed to. Right now, all kinds of frustration threatened to get the better of him. "Some guy back there just grabbed me."
A smile tugged at her lips. "So I saw." She studied his face for a moment. "What about it?"
"It made me feel sick." Her brow lifted a little as she digested this. "I'm a hypocrite," he added, just in case she failed to get the message.
April turned her face away and gazed out of the windscreen. Inside the car, it felt strangely muffled and isolated. The world no longer seemed to exist outside and, if he didn't clear some of the snow soon, everything out there might disappear from view. He looked at her profile and noted just how much alike she and Jay looked. It had never occurred to him before, but in actuality, they were rather asexual in appearance, as though they could swap genders on a whim.
"Dean," April said, still not looking at him, "has it occurred to you that you aren't interested in men, but that you might be interested in Jay?"
He blinked. The thought never crossed his mind. How could it? How could one feel that way about one person of the same sex? He shook his head. "That's not possible."
"So you don't think you love him?"
Her question made him turn his gaze away. He stared at the steering wheel, gripping it so tight his knuckles turned white. His hands were freezing. He should have brought gloves. "I like women," he said, for no particular reason.
"Is that to convince me or you? You like women, yet, you like fucking my brother. Or at least, it seems like it."
They hadn't spoken so openly about this and, even though he knew April was aware of it, to hear it so clearly from her lips made his stomach churn. Even his bowels suddenly felt weak. He shook his head. "It's not possible. No one can love a person despite what they are. I don't believe it." He paused, searching for an explanation, some justification. "Maybe I'm projecting," he finally declared. "Maybe I've just projected my feelings from you to your brother. You do look so much alike." It sounded perfectly reasonable, though he didn't know what Freud would have said on the subject.
"Fine. We can cure that."
"What?" Her voice penetrated his brain slowly, as though required to dispel a thick fog first. The sound of clothes ruffling, of buttons opening, fasteners popping and zips lowering, filled the small space. April opened her coat and currently worked on pulling down her trousers. "Stop it. Are you crazy?" He put a hand out as though to stop her, but then jerked it back, afraid to touch anything he shouldn't.
"Why? You want it, I'm offering. I could just give you a blowjob in the front seat, of course, or maybe I should climb in the back." April glanced through the gap between the seats. "I don't know how we'll fit, but if I get up on my knees..."
"April, stop it!" Anger edged into his voice easily.
"What's the problem? You have an itch and I'm offering to let you scratch it. Give it a couple more minutes and no one will be able to see anything."
The snow was now three quarters up the sides of the front windows and they were in shadow. It was unlikely anyone would take the time to peer into the car, if they even noticed it was occupied. You would be crazy to be out on a night like this unless you were heading for somewhere warm nearby. That reminded him that they still didn't know what had happened to Jay. They should get going, but April wasn't finished.
"If you fuck me, then maybe you'll get it out of your system and leave ... my ... brother ... alone." At last, her anger also seeped out and explained the real reason behind her actions.
Dean turned his head just enough to look at her. His gaze wandered up and down, taking in the wisps of hair that protruded around the woolen hat she had jammed down onto her head, her wide staring eyes, the hard set of her jaw, the bundled up clothes that somehow lent to the asexual image due to their practical purpose. Not that he thought anything of that; she would be crazy to be out in anything other than practical clothes tonight. A patch of bare skin stood out from where she opened her clothing. She wore pale blue undies with some sort of pattern on them. He'd once seen April in a vest top, knickers and socks, and found it oddly sexy. Tonight, all he could think of was Jay out there somewhere alone. He turned the key in the ignition and started the engine.
"We have to find your brother," he said simply. What he kept out of his voice was how much he meant it.
\*
Jay walked, head down, hands stuffed as deep as they would go into his pockets. A brisk pace kept him warm for the most part, but in the last couple of miles, even that hadn't helped him. In fact, he was slowing. He could feel his strength expiring as heat leached through the top of his head and he rather wished he had one of April's silly hats with him, or anything, come to that. Gloves would be good and a thicker scarf. He was going to end up with pneumonia. He should have called April back at the services, but his phone still wasn't working and it was only then that he realised he didn't have any money. Well, there was a note stuck in his wallet but no change and by the time he found somewhere that would change the note, he also discovered second thoughts about calling April. She had given him the car and she would feel bad enough about it breaking down. It was important he play the whole thing down, but he now wasn't sure it was worth dying for.
He should have done many things differently, but another couple of blocks would take him home. Surely, he could make it that far. Despite the fact he had walked for two hours, and managed to make it almost all the way home before the snow really started falling, he was beginning to worry. He could hardly feel his fingers and his toes, and what he could feel, hurt. How cold did it have to be before you lost extremities to frostbite? He couldn't remember, but he was sure he once read that it didn't have to be as low a temperature as everyone assumed. The wind bit through him.
He stumbled and went down on one knee as he turned the corner into his road and he held back the cry though no one could have heard it. The wind whistled. Bright lights beckoned behind some windows. Others were dark, the occupants probably out celebrating. Shock more than pain made him cry out, but he didn't want to think about the bruise that had to be forming. Trying to push up from the ground, he put his hand on a large patch of ice and almost yelled again. He pulled back sharply, his skin giving a strange kind of tug against the frost. The comical image of someone's tongue stuck to ice came to mind but right now, he wasn't laughing. He also felt something sharp, but it became lost in all his other aches and pains. He hurt. There were no two ways about it. He shivered so much his muscles tied into one continuous knot that went all the way through him. He ached from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Survival came down to one focused thought. He needed to walk the remaining two hundred yards to home without falling over or passing out.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Admittedly, they weren't the first words Dean intended, but he wasn't having a good night.
Earlier, April glared at him ready to bitch when she realised he kept her spare key but he flatly refused to give it over so that left him keeping vigil while April checked out a last couple of possibilities. Dean, gazing out of the window, thought that he saw someone enter the building, but the view was restricted. In the falling snow, shadows had fooled him twice already and the angle was far from perfect. Still, he listened for footsteps on the stairs and pulled the door open just as Jay made it to the landing. A fleeting look of surprise crossed Jay's face and then his friend just blundered into him. If Dean thought he'd been having a bad night, Jay just bettered it.
So many questions filled his mind, but Dean ignored all of them. He grabbed Jay and despite a muffled protest, lifted the other man into his arms, kicking the door closed behind them. He dithered for a moment and then took him into the living room. There, he sat Jay on the sofa and started to remove his clothing. There was nothing sexual about it, and Jay made no protest. He didn't even seem to be aware of him and Dean clicked his fingers in front of Jay's face to make sure his eyes were capable of focusing. Jay gave him a glance, but said nothing. If he wanted to gripe, he was surely incapable of it, for he just let Dean take care of him.
"You're bleeding," Dean said, as he first removed the jacket and looked at Jay's hand.
"I think it was glass. Broken bottle. I fell at the corner." The words emerged slowly, but thankfully, not slurred. Dean gave the cut a quick examination. The small wound was nothing serious, but would likely sting like hell once the warmth in the room began to seep into him. As if in reply, Jay made a soft sound of complaint. Dean, now pulling off his shoes, looked up at him in question.
"Everything's burning."
It would be. Jay was surely so cold that even though the flat was only a mild temperature, it would feel hot to him. Snow encrusted in his hair now melted and ran down his face. He looked bedraggled, frozen and bloody. Dean pulled off his socks and examined his feet. He didn't think there was anything wrong with them.
"Jay. Jay, stay with me." Dean gave him a slight shake. While he was distracted, Jay closed his eyes and swayed in the seat. His eyes opened on command, but it seemed to take effort. "I should take you to the hospital." He meant it, but he didn't know how long an ambulance would take, and he wasn't even sure one was warranted. Of course, he didn't intend to play with his friend's life, but he was thinking of something more immediate. If he did something wrong he would hate himself and have to live with it, but he didn't think Jay would stay awake long enough to get him help. "Jay, I'm going to run you a bath. Cool to start with. We'll gradually add hot water. We need to warm you up but slowly. I'll only be gone a few seconds so stay awake. Okay?" He waited for Jay's nod, and then got up and jogged down the short hallway. Bursting into the bathroom, he began to run the bath, mostly adding cold water. Then he ran into the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil.
Running back out to Jay, he was glad to see that his friend still sat there, but his eyelids fluttered alarmingly. Clearly, he struggled to stay awake. "You have to stay with me, sweetie," Dean said, bending over and beginning to unbutton Jay's shirt. A small smile was his reward.
"Sweetie?" Amusement warmed the voice. Surely, that was a good sign.
"You are sweet. Don't you know that?" He looked up into Jay's eyes from where he was bending. Jay's gaze seemed to search his face, but now was not the time for this. Going to his knees, Dean tugged the garment over his friend's shoulders, down his back and off. Standing, he then wrapped an arm around Jay's waist and lifted him. Jay managed to stand, though he swayed until he leaned in against him. At once, Jay jerked back almost violently.
"You're so bloody hot," Jay murmured. Dean wasn't, but guessed he must just feel hot to the touch. Using one arm to hold him, with the other Dean quickly unfastened Jay's trousers and tugged them down. To get them off Jay's feet, he needed to crouch. That brought his face roughly in line with Jay's crotch, but he ignored it. Rising, he lifted Jay into his arms.
"I could walk."
He shook his head. "No need." In truth, Dean found the situation rather alluring. He would never have admitted it aloud, but he liked taking care of him.
A small gasp escaped Jay as Dean lowered him over the side of the bath into the still running water. He hadn't run it so fast as to overflow in a hurry.
"You weren't kidding about keeping it cool," Jay muttered.
"If it doesn't feel warm at all then just take a minute to adjust to it. I'm going to make you a warm drink. When you feel okay, let the cool water out and start to let some more warm in, but slowly. I'll just be a minute."
Jay nodded and Dean left him, hesitating only a moment in the doorway. Jay wasn't a little kid and he would only be gone a minute, so it was unlikely he would be in danger of drowning. Why then did he feel so protective?
\*
They finally managed to get Jay into a hot bath. At first, even the cool water felt like it burned and then all too soon, Jay said he couldn't feel it, but Dean still insisted he adjust the temperature slowly. Now, a comforting steam filled the room. Initially, Jay said he couldn't even hold the cup. Even by the handle, the heat felt too much for him though Dean made sure the drink was far from hot. Now Jay was coming to the end of his second mug, this drink hotter than the last. Dean knelt by the side of the bath and lifted one of Jay's feet from the water. Jay laughed.
"What are you doing?"
"Examining your toes. They look healthy." They were glowing nicely pink now. The indirect idea that Jay could have lost them seemed to hang in the air. "You're lucky you've got good boots."
Jay shook his head. "Thermal socks. Christmas present from April." They shared a smile.
"Timely," Dean muttered, silently grateful for April and her practicality.
"Didn't feel like I was wearing them."
The sound of the mug touching the bath, as Jay placed it on the side, broke the ensuing silence.
"I read your book."
That kind of comment begged a response, but he didn't know what to say. Dean let the story run through his mind and grew uncomfortably warm. He had never looked at a man that way when he wrote it. At least, he didn't think so. The need to apologise for writing such a thing overwhelmed him. He always wondered what his parents would think if they knew. If you wrote something sexual, did you ever really want your parents to read it? He not only wrote books with sexual content, but he wrote male on male romance. He would never be able to explain that.
"Why did you choose to write that sort of fiction?"
"I told you. I saw an opportunity."
"That's all it was?"
"Then, yes."
"Now?"
He shrugged. "Plenty of women write these things. Some straight men too. I'm not the only one."
"I never implied you were. Just, didn't it ever ... make you curious?"
Dean laughed. "You won't believe me if I tell you." He glanced at the other man. "No. Not directly. I mean, some of the things I read and watched ... well, they were," he sought for a word, "inspiring." That sounded as though he were still talking about writing. "I mean, they were arousing, but it never made me go out and chat up a bloke. I've always attacked my writing with an almost clinical approach."
"It shows."
"What?" That seemed more alarming than Jay's question of his sexuality. Jay flushed, a slight pink colour coming into his face.
"I mean the story is great and the sex is good. It's just ... blunt. It's almost have-at-it. Some of the passages are beautiful. I've told you that before, but you don't take them far enough. I thought so that time I read some of your work in progress, but I didn't like to say, and couldn't be sure until I read the whole book. You tell the reader what the man is feeling. You don't show it enough. When a character's confused, don't just say he's confused. Tell me his thoughts however random and haphazard."
The peculiar feeling that Jay wasn't just talking about the book came over him.
"I'd give it a four out of five, but it could be five. It's as if you won't let yourself feel what your character should be feeling, so you won't let us feel it any more than you do. You should let yourself feel it."
He could let the comment slide, but he decided not to. "I've never looked at a man that way," he laughed a little, "until lately. And what I feel for you," he shook his head, sadly, "is far more complicated than what my characters ever feel. My characters are gay to start with."
"There's more to life than black and white, gay and straight."
"Like maybe this is a phase, or maybe I'm bisexual?" He watched Jay until the man shrugged. "No."
"Why not?" Jay looked decidedly puzzled.
Trailing his fingers in the water, Dean sighed. "I still like women, but that's not what bothers me. My interest in men pretty much seems to start and end with you."
"Oh."
No surprise that Jay's astonishment rang out like a bell in that one syllable. The confession raised more questions than it solved, though. The conversation ended rather abruptly.
"I rather think I'd like to get out now," Jay said, softly.
"You want help?" There came a hesitation and then Jay nodded. It seemed to be the night for the siblings to put common sense first. Even as Dean started patting him down, drying him gently, he ran his hands over his friend's skin. Only when Jay glanced up into his face did he realise he couldn't stop checking.
"I'm okay." Jay pushed one of his hands away and finished drying. At first, Jay sounded disconcerted, maybe even a little angry. Then he gave a soft laugh. "Everything's still attached."
Dean grinned, sheepish. "You'll have to forgive me for worrying."
"You're forgiven."
Something about the way Jay said it ... Dean swallowed, looked away. Jay was home and safe, and his heart still hammered in his chest. Only now did it come home to him how much he'd suppressed his panic tonight. As the minutes ticked by, so his terror increased, and it wasn't just fear for a friend. His feelings were fear for a loved one when they arrived home later than expected. "Oh, hell!"
"What? What is it?" Jay stood there with a bath sheet wrapped around him. Dean held a dressing gown open, ready for him to slip his arms into it.
"I forgot to call your sister. She'll be worried."
"April?" The frown mirrored the perplexed tone of the question.
"Why do you think I'm here? She had me out looking for you. When we had no luck, I waited here while she took my car." The thought of April out in this weather in his car was disturbing for two reasons. He didn't want anything to happen to her, or the vehicle. April was far from the best driver in the world and he didn't mean that as a comment against women drivers. April hated driving and it showed in her skill. "She'll be missing her own party," he added, thinking of how many things April would use as an excuse to murder him.
"My parents."
Dean looked up at Jay's face. Their gazes met. Jay's parents would be just as worried by now. He bundled Jay into the robe with no more ceremony and picked him up again.
"Really, I can walk."
"Just be quiet," Dean told him, but kept his voice low and teasing. They went through into Jay's bedroom and Dean put him into bed, tucking the covers around him before picking up the phone. He dialed April's mobile. "He's fine. He's here," he said, as soon as she answered, and then passed the phone over to Jay. While they talked, Dean wandered back out into the kitchen. He made Jay another drink, this time a large mug of milky hot chocolate.
"Everything okay? I thought April would be coming round."
"I played it down. Didn't tell her of my attempt to walk to the North Pole unaided. As you said, she has people partying at her place without her. She said she'd call mum and dad for me, though."
His nose twitched and a small smile settled on his face as Dean put the mug down on the bedside table. Jay now lay on his side in the bed. "More drinks?"
"You're dehydrated. Drink this, and then I'll get you something to eat, if you want it."
"A couple of biscuits would be nice."
Dean grinned and pulled out a packet of shortbread from behind his back. Those brown eyes narrowed slightly, but he could see only amusement in them. Other than chocolate, Jay liked biscuits, especially shortbread. "Budge over," he said. Jay shook his head.
"Only if you take off your jeans. I don't want anything scratchy against me."
Dean hesitated. He actually hadn't meant to get into bed with him, just sit on the edge. He couldn't read Jay's eyes. It was difficult to tell if his friend knew that, but Dean believed he did. Still, the offer was there. Jay still wore the robe and Dean wore a long, thick jumper so he did as Jay asked, and then snuggled down under the covers. He handed Jay the biscuits and then picked up the mug. They could share.
"The car shouldn't have broken down." Jay's explanation of events bothered him.
"It's fine, really."
"No."
The tone changed from reassurance to amusement. "You're not God. You can't control everything. You certainly can't stop things from breaking down. It's all right."
"No, it isn't." The car had left his garage. He could have accepted something breaking down in a few months or even weeks, but he'd told John to see the car received a full service above and beyond what they would usually test. It all checked out. It should have been fine. Jay was right. He couldn't stop things from breaking down, but for some reason, this time it nagged at him.
"This is nice," Jay mumbled some time later. Dean blinked, opening his eyes to darkness. Finished with eating and drinking, now sleep tugged at their senses. The muffled sounds of a neighbour's party filtered through the walls. The beat was rhythmic and soothing rather like a heart. A cheer rose above it. Dean glanced at the bedside clock.
"It's new year," he said into the darkness. Jay sighed, snuggling in against him. An arm snaked around his waist over his remaining clothing.
"Happy New Year," Jay whispered, and then his breathing deepened. Soon, he slept. Dean lay still for sometime, and then moved his head to look down at him. Jay looked small and lost tucked in against him. He also looked angelic. Anger pulsed through Dean, hot and immediate. Not anger at Jay, but personal rage. What was wrong with him? Jay had been right the other day. He couldn't treat him like this and think he could just get away with it. He had no right to do that to anyone, least of all Jay. Sweet, he called him and he meant it. Jay was the sweetest person he knew. He should stop hurting him. The trouble was, he still didn't know what he wanted.
\*
The clock read four in the morning. Dean stood fully dressed by the side of the bed looking down on Jay while he slept. He looked so peaceful and content when at rest. He only ever looked troubled when ... When I screw around with him. Dean gave a mental sigh, leaned over and placed a light kiss on the sleeper's forehead. Jay stirred slightly, and then resettled, a smile curling his lips. Turning from the room, Dean left quietly, picking up his keys on the way to the door.
The streets were quiet, but not entirely deserted. There was even a party here and there still in progress. He could tell by the bright lights and shadows cast by the people inside onto the curtains. That and the steady thumping beat of the music. Christmas lights mocked him. The twinkling ones seemed too cheerful, and those in darkness depressing. It only took him fifteen minutes to walk to the garage, and by then any exposed patch of skin had turned red from the cold. He didn't know how Jay had managed to make it home last night without dying. The icy bite already felt uncomfortable in that short distance. Okay, the temperature dropped during the night, but the thought of walking seven miles made him feel like crying. It spoke volumes for Jay's fortitude, but then he'd already proven himself strong. "He's put up with enough of your shit," Dean mumbled aloud.
He unlocked the door, entered, turned on the lights on the far side of the building and closed the door behind him, making sure he locked it this time. He went into the office and got the key for the tow truck. It wouldn't take long to get the car back to the garage and give it a once over. The trouble was that seven miles there and back gave him plenty of solitary time to think.
\*
"I kissed him." Dean said the words aloud. He wasn't thinking of the first kiss or the second, or any of the kisses they had shared in between, but the kiss he bestowed on Jay's brow just before he left him at four o'clock in the morning. All the other kisses contained some hidden meaning---shock, spite, arrogance and just plain meanness, along with a little lust and devilment. That kiss though, that kiss was well intended.
Dean stood by the side of Jay's car looking under the bonnet, examining the engine, thinking of that kiss. That kiss he meant, having put nothing but affection in it. "I'm screwed," Dean said, trying to make a joke of it, but he rather feared it might be true. He turned his attention back to the engine and shook his head. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. The timing belt had broken and ruined the engine, and there was a simple explanation for it. It didn't take a genius to look at the belt and see that it needed replacing. Any mechanic should have noticed such a simple job. That meant someone in his garage seriously screwed up and he wasn't happy about it. Worse, he hadn't checked the work and that made him even angrier. He couldn't look over the shoulder of every mechanic in his employ, and it wouldn't do well for a working relationship, even if he could. Besides, he trusted them. They were skilled. Everyone had an off day, but this really didn't bear thinking about. No mechanic in his employ should have missed this. Looking at his watch, Dean saw it turned six-thirty. He wanted to be back by the time Jay woke up. That was hoping he hadn't woken in the night without him. Stretching and yawning, he also had to admit it had been a long night and he could do with crawling back into bed himself. The idea that he was thinking about crawling back into bed with Jay didn't even come into it. At least, he wouldn't let it. It nagged at him as much as the mystery over the car, but he defied it, pushing all the arguments and questions to the back of his mind. He wanted a warm bed. Beyond that, he refused to think about why that bed needed to have Jay in it.
Dean opened his eyes to daylight. Although the curtains were drawn, the hours had definitely given way to day. He'd returned to find Jay still sleeping. That was no small wonder, considering the suffering of the previous evening. The walk alone most would consider bad enough, but in freezing conditions it was no wonder exhaustion bested him. It crossed Dean's mind to put the kettle on, make Jay a drink and to wake him, but he hadn't the heart. Instead, he slipped out of his clothes and got into the bed, falling asleep almost the moment the warmth of the bed seeped into him. All that, Dean could remember; what he couldn't figure out was what now woke him.
"Aghhh!" The sound left his lips before his thought processes caught up with the sensations that caused it. Dean jerked in the bed as the feel of a hot, wet cavern surrounded his dick. At almost the same time as he glanced down and saw Jay's bright eyes staring up at him, a tug on his arm whipped his head around. His mouth fell open in shock. The son of a bitch had tied his wrists while he slept. "Grgh." He flinched again, his stomach muscles contracting as Jay's mouth worked down the length of him. He opened his mouth to complain and the sound tightened in the back of his throat. He lost focus, his eyes trying to roll up into the back of his head. "Fuck," was the only word he managed, as Jay took a breath and then devoured his entire length. He felt that hard-soft cavern envelope him, the depths of Jay's throat open at the last moment so that he curved right down inside. He expected Jay to gag, but he didn't. He held him there for a moment, so that Dean was too afraid to move. He could only stare open-eyed at the ceiling, trembling and scared to move in case he caused Jay damage. His gaze drifted to the ties around his wrists. The cunning little sod had done a good job of tying them. If he pulled, they would tighten. How the bloody hell had he slept through that? He might be able to pull his arms loose, but only by breaking the headboard. That seemed a little extreme. His trembles turned to shakes with the effort of holding still. His eyes closed and he gritted his teeth against the urge to thrust. There was no point. It wasn't as if he could go any further down Jay's throat. Those plump rosy lips wrapped around the root at his groin.
Dean took a shuddering breath as he felt Jay come up off him. He opened his mouth to tell Jay to get the fuck off him when that mouth suckled, pumping up and down his length. The sound that left him now sounded barely short of a scream. Jay chuckled and the vibration transmitted into his flesh. Jay seemed to enjoy it. Dean was half-afraid Jay might bite if he told him to stop. Another part of him didn't want to stop. This felt good.
Okay, you've fucked him. What's so different about him giving you a blowjob? It's not the first. He didn't have to tie me up for that, of course. That was what worried him.
He could maybe talk Jay into releasing the ties and then they could finish this properly. That tongue snaked out and flicked over the head of his cock. Dean arched, lost to everything but the sensation. He closed his eyes and blocked out the light. Small sparks of illumination went off behind his eyes instead, where he shut them so tightly.
"Is that nice?"
Dean blinked, coming back to the room. It was definitely Jay's voice. It was definitely his friend speaking, but it didn't sound like him. He swallowed and looked down. Jay's tongue flicked out to lick his lips. His eyes were as bright as Dean had ever seen them.
"Enough now. You've made your point." He wasn't sure what point that was, but whatever it happened to be, surely Jay had made it.
"You mean this point?" Jay swirled a hot tongue around the ridge and then lapped at the sensitive spot underneath. Dean writhed on the bed, his legs pinned by Jay's weight. It wasn't that he couldn't kick Jay clear from the bed if he wanted. The trouble was he might break something if he did that, and he wasn't thinking of the furniture. It would be better he break the headboard than one of Jay's bones. He almost laughed. Surely, Jay didn't think he could keep him pinned to the bed for long like this. Jay chose that moment to purse his lips, latch onto the delicate nerve-endings and suck in a small kiss. He made his way over the exposed head of Dean's cock like this. Then once more, that marvelous throat opened and swallowed him as a snake devoured its prey. Only when the garbled sounds he made filtered through to Dean's brain did he realise he had thrown back his head and gone with it. The last couple of minutes were blank of thought, only filled with pleasure. The buildup started lower than normal. He let the idea of breaking free slip away as the onset of orgasm crawled through his body.
He broke out in a thin layer of sweat, trembled, couldn't speak, and couldn't cry out now. He didn't have the energy to struggle. Worse still, he was sure, if he looked down, he would see a wicked glint in Jay's eyes that he hadn't known existed. Jay swallowed. Neat action if you could do it with your throat blocked. Didn't Jay need to breathe like everyone else? Dean twisted, not to get away, but to reach for something he hadn't even known he wanted. Jay suckled him, softly, gently, when he didn't want gentle. He gave an experimental tug on his bonds and the bed groaned. He believed he could break it, but it would also hurt. He would also have to pray the headboard didn't break incorrectly and impale him with a hunk of wood. Well, you see, officers, we were having hot sex and playing at being vampires ... He gave himself a mental shake, but the thought of 'we were having hot sex' burned brightly. If he could reach, he would have dragged Jay up the bed and clutched the man to him. He wanted to hold onto something and the only thing within reach was the bloody headboard.
The light touch of fingers circled his testicles. Rather than crawl up into his body in shame, they disobeyed him completely and hung heavy. Jay fiddled with them, massaging gently. Dean wanted to scream, this time in frustration. When Jay started to bob his head up and down, all Dean could do was close his eyes and say, "Oh, yeah!" The horrifying thing was that he meant it.
It didn't feel horrifying though. It felt so damn good! That was until he felt Jay's middle finger slide down to circle his opening. His eyes shot open wide while that part clenched tight. "Hey!" He tugged on the bonds but somehow, he slipped lower in the bed. He had been moving towards Jay all this time and that made it all the more awkward if he wanted to get up. He kicked out with one leg to try to push against the bed.
"Oh, no, you don't," Jay muttered. His hands grabbed Dean's thighs and pushed his legs back. Something brushed his side and then looped around one thigh.
"What the...?" Dean looked down, followed the line of cord with his gaze and saw that it stretched all the way up to the headboard. "Where the fuck did you get all this cord from?" Jay gave him an enigmatic smile, grinning more as Dean's eyes opened wide at Jay's intent. He thrashed, but it was too late. His disbelief gave Jay enough time to loop another tie around his other leg. Although they struggled, Jay pinned him all too easily to the bed. Dean resisted, twisted from side to side, trying to ignore the fact that his movements made his cock wobble erotically. Jay giggled and heat rushed into Dean's face. It shouldn't have been possible, but Jay managed to tie him flat on his back with his hands above his head and his legs pulled back. Jay only needed to look down to see all his intimate places.
He did so now, before that rapt gaze then returned to Dean's face. Dean swallowed, fought to hold still, and tried to look anywhere but at Jay's eyes. He probably could break the headboard if he tried...
A hand stroked over his stomach. "I'm not going to hurt you."
That was beside the point. He gritted his teeth. "I don't want this."
"I do. I want you to know how it feels."
The sound of a question, Jay seeking permission, gave the words warmth. Despite everything, Dean didn't believe Jay would try to rape him. Tied as he was, Jay might let the game play out for a while, but he wouldn't truly force him. Even if Jay tried, he simply wasn't strong enough to hold Dean completely still enough, for long enough. Jay might leave him tied there all day---in which case, he really would choose to break the headboard---but he wouldn't be able to force his way inside him without some co-operation. That wasn't what Dean feared. He swallowed. "I already know ... sort of," he admitted.
Jay's hands stopped stroking him. Dean met Jay's gaze then looked away, dismayed when he couldn't hold it.
"What do you mean sort of? You keep telling me you haven't been with another man."
He tried to think of a way around the question, but having mentioned it, the query now required a more informative answer. What distracted him more than his embarrassment was the sound of jealousy that entered Jay's voice. It seemed laced with a little fear, and the idea that Jay wanted him so much did strange things to his heart.
Why? Why the fuck do you care how he feels about you?
Jay still awaited an answer. Dean set the question aside as he was doing all too often lately. He shook his head. "Not a man. Stephanie."
Dean shot Jay little glances, but kept looking away again. A small frown touched Jay's face between the eyes. "How?" he began to ask and then the words just trailed away. His eyes widened. "You mean ... Oh!"
He was blushing. He was definitely blushing. Stupid. Blushing wasn't something anyone would have associated with his size and demeanour.
A small smile crept over Jay's face. He stroked the back of Dean's thighs. "You shouldn't be worried then."
He swallowed again. "It was a long time ago," Dean said. Yeah, like that really justified it and explained everything. He glanced down the bed. "And it was smaller than you."
"As small as this?" Jay swallowed one of his thumbs and then pulled it from his mouth. It became Dean's turn to widen his eyes. He opened his mouth to complain, but the hand disappeared from view. He felt the warm, wet thumb, pierce him just as he said Jay's name. The word slid off into a 'hey' of surprise. "Jay ... hay ... ay ... agh." He meant to swear and tell Jay to get off the bed and to fucking untie him. His body had other ideas. His back arched, pushing him down onto that small penetration. Hell! Jay knew just what he was doing. That thumb moved into the right depth, tipping forward, unerringly finding his prostate. A slight movement massaged him there, back and forth. His muscles clenched as though his body didn't know if to expel the strange invader or invite it in. The movement inside him burned slightly, but Jay's knowing thumb sent little waves of pleasure through him that shouldn't have felt as good as it did. He could only describe it as pleasant and it shouldn't have had such a strong effect as this. He hovered in indecision, eyes fluttering. It would be so easy to give in and seep towards a state he could only call bliss.
"Jay, don't." He managed the protest, but it came out in a small whispered moan. Jay ignored him, of course. Well, not completely. There came a small snapping sound of a bottle cap opening, and then he felt another finger stroking him, this one slippery with what could only be lube. "Doh..." was all he managed, not having time to form the denial before the invasion thickened, heightened, began to stretch him for real. Only when his mouth fell open did he realise that he gasped and panted. The sensation changed. It was no longer calm. He was no longer calm.
"You can't tell me you're not enjoying this."
Jay's voice sounded far too smug for his liking. Worse still, he couldn't deny it. His body betrayed him. Of course, it felt good. That didn't mean he wanted ... A tongue flickered over his testicles as the two fingers began spiralling inside him and he almost squealed. The spasms inside him now were definitely grasping, pushing out in complaint when the invader withdrew. A tongue flicked over the sensitive spot just behind his balls. It took him a moment to realise he was tilting down towards his friend's face---or was that up?---silently wishing for Jay to take the initiative and suck. Maybe Jay even knew, for he refused to do anything more than give those little teasing licks.
"Untie me," Dean managed to gasp. Jay ignored him. Shaking on many levels of frustration, Dean managed to take a deep breath and put some force into it. "Untie me, Jay. Untie my fucking legs!"
Jay came up and sat back on his heels, a look of caution closing down his face. He looked afraid. Dean had no intention of hurting him, but he couldn't say that. If Jay didn't start pulling the cords loose by the time he counted to three, he was seriously going to break the sodding bed.
He just reached two and a half when Jay undid the first cord. Dean lowered one foot to the bed while Jay untied the other. Before the other man could move up the bed to undo his arms, Dean wrapped first one leg around him and then, as that pulled him closer, he wrapped the other one around him as well. His strength tipped Jay forward against him, brought their faces closer until Dean could whisper in his ear. "You wanna fuck me, then fuck me." There was no one to hear them and he could have just said the words, but this way, it drove home the impact he desired. Jay's eyes opened wide and his face looked pure and innocent, angelic. Then that darkness swept in over his face. The lips twitched in a wicked curve. Dean tried not to swallow, though he suddenly very much wanted to retract the challenge. He knew what to expect, sort of, but a strap-on wasn't the same as a real man. Furthermore, the light in those eyes was one he never expected to see in Jay's gaze.
To Dean's surprise, the first thing Jay did was latch onto his mouth, pressing their lips together, and then invading with his tongue, teasing Dean's mouth into a dance. Their mouths wrestled and he might have been content with this, but then he realised the kiss was a distraction while Jay's hands fumbled about. He couldn't see what was happening but he could guess. He had guessed right when knowing fingers applied more lube to him, sliding in and slipping around to circle his entrance. Jay just latched on harder and swallowed his resulting gasp. Dean responded, fastening onto that pliant mouth, losing himself in the kiss. He didn't know why he was allowing this to happen. He didn't want to think about it. He definitely didn't want to think about how he would feel when the eddying waves of desire were fulfilled and he lay spent and exhausted. Part of him dreaded what he would feel when he looked into Jay's face after they finished, yet he had no intention of stopping.
A tight pain made his stomach contract but Jay pulled back and eased off immediately. Jay tried to spear into him even from this awkward position. "Sorry," Jay muttered. "I don't know if I can take it as slow as I should."
If Dean's own personal need was riding him, it only required that he look at Jay's face to see he was right there with him. Little drops of sweat broke out on his friend's body. His chest heaved with deep breaths drawn in through slightly swollen lips. Jay's eyes alternated between looking glazed and then sharpening. One hand lay between them and guided Jay's cock to his entrance. If his hands were free, maybe he could have more say in it, but strangely, Dean didn't want his hands free right at this minute. He wanted Jay to take him. He shifted just an inch, but it made that hidden part of him open and brush against the hard, silken swelling that could only be Jay's cock. It made his friend groan. He could tease Jay like this if he wanted, but he didn't want. This moment was Jay's and he wasn't going to steal it.
"Use me," he whispered tightly.
Those eyes widened and then cleared, as first surprise, and then acceptance filled them. The skin around them creased slightly as they tightened again. Jay swallowed and moved over him. The pressure pushing against him became intense. For a brief moment, it felt as though Jay pushed against an area that possessed no opening and then it gave so suddenly, the sharp pain took him by surprise. It changed almost immediately, became a peculiar combination of pain and pleasure combined. It might have been pain only, but the moment he entered him, Jay stopped and waited. Still, part of him screamed out to tell Jay to stop. Another part of him shrieked in annoyance that his body wouldn't obey him. The only sound he actually made was a grunt. It caused Jay to look up to his face. Dean shook his head, unsure if he was telling Jay to keep trying or convinced it wouldn't work.
It would work; he knew that. Still the strap-on Stephanie had used was so much slimmer, half of Jay's girth. He remembered it felt pleasant, but it hadn't made him come. In fact, he could have lain there and let Stephanie screw him all night and it would have been fun, but not a touch on this. Some part of him always wondered if he had allowed her to do it more than once, or if he'd asked her to use a bigger attachment, if it would have felt better. He was about to find out, though not in any way he ever imagined previously. The sharpness eased into a strange ache and itch combined with an even stranger desire. He rocked on the invader and from the corner of his eye, he saw some of the tension war on Jay's face. His friend worried about hurting him.
It didn't have to hurt, not if they took more time---he knew that, too, but he could almost taste Jay's urgency. His own followed close behind. This wasn't just the urgency of desire, but the fear that he might yet change his mind. He wanted this, but some part of him argued that he shouldn't. He rocked, seeking something under the pain, and it answered his call. He drew in a hissing breath, tilted back his head and closed his eyes. He itched to wrap his legs around Jay's waist and urge him on, and he definitely tugged at the other man's hips a little, but he did his best not to pull. He wanted to give himself over completely to Jay's needs and wishes. He didn't know why, but in case this was the only time they did this, he wanted to give it to Jay. Of course, the more they did this, the less it would hurt. He couldn't be sure of that, but surely the idea held some truth in it. Jay certainly never reacted as though he suffered.
The more they did it ... The thought slid back and forth coaxing and stroking his mind. That was out of the question, of course. So why this one time? What kind of man did that make him to break his friend's heart like this? He could kid himself that Jay knew this would happen one time only, but it would be a lie. Hell, even he didn't know if it was a one time only deal and Jay might say he couldn't have him and even believe it, but that didn't stop his heart from hoping.
Dean's tongue snaked out and licked his lips, which had become painfully dry. He arched more, pressing his shoulders into the bed, rotating his hips forward, pressing his backside down onto Jay's erection. It slid in deeper and brought forth some unintelligible sound from both of them. Jay pulled back onto his knees and grabbed Dean's hips almost making him laugh. It crossed his mind that it would be nice to have a mirror above the bed so that he could see how they looked. The thought of Jay's slighter form holding him like this proved exciting. He couldn't manage a mirror above the bed, but maybe a freestanding one...
Stop it, stop it, stop it! He needed to stop doing that. Why were all his thoughts edging towards the idea of 'next time', but, oh, god, he loved this. As Jay's tongue and teeth cut a line across his ribs, he hissed yet again. Tied, used to please another, handled by someone much smaller, someone whose neck he could break with a flick of a wrist, and he loved every goddamned moment of it!
"I like this." He didn't know why he confessed, but the words left his lips easily. The expected accompanying guilt or embarrassment failed to materialise. He was travelling, floating in that state of bliss he'd almost touched earlier, aware his body was going to tip any moment from that restful state into one long line of aching, burning need. He clung to the bliss. He looked forward to the other, as well, but for now, he clung to this.
"No kidding," Jay whispered in reply, and Dean opened his eyes to look at his friend. Only then did he acknowledge he writhed, making small twists and turns with his hips, testing the flexibility of his spine. He hadn't needed to confess. He displayed his emotions and the sensations over his entire body. He looked at the questioning and all too knowing expression on Jay's face. He always made Jay beg, made him give himself over to what they were doing completely. Made Jay give everything he was. Suddenly, he wanted to be the one begging.
"Fuck me, Jay." The words all too easily left his lips, tearing something inside him, stabbing his heart, ripping a wound in his gut. "Do what you want."
"Only if you keep moving with me," Jay murmured, somehow folding up on top of him. Dean had just enough time to frown in puzzlement, when Jay grasped his erection and lifted it in a straight line on his stomach, angled it a little into the air and a hot, wet tongue, flicked around the ridge. He gasped, arched and writhed, nearly throwing Jay away from him.
"Oh, the..." Words failed him. How could Jay manage to reach him like that while buried inside him? Even considering his length, that was some amazing feat. To be fucked and sucked simultaneously blew his mind. Jay's gasp as he straightened up said he didn't manage it easily, but praise be, Dean wanted to thank him for it. "I should..." He said it softly and then bit it back, not completing the sentence.
"Should what?" Jay asked, keeping the rhythm irritatingly slow. Dean now hovered somewhere between bliss and out and out need. He might have just enough time to pull back from the brink but barely, and only if he made the decision now.
"I shouldn't be doing this."
"Stop thinking," Jay told him, leaning over and flicking a tongue over a nipple. "Just feel." He latched on and nipped. The shock of pain made every muscle in Dean's body jolt in a heart-stopping moment of tautness, even as his arse clenched. "Tight," he heard Jay say on a breath and a place deep inside him gasped, opened, and tipped over into a seeking, frantic delirium. Nerve-endings he hadn't known existed came alive, sent little spurts of want through his body, calling out, waking up other sensitive spots, so that they turned in interest and followed where it led.
Stop thinking, Jay said, and he did. His body obviously knew where to take him, even if his mind was uncertain it wanted to go there. Everything opened, including his brain. He couldn't have even said his name to save his life---he certainly had a name, he just couldn't remember it. He ceased to exist in anything other than this moment, even though his mind felt sharp and clear. He didn't even try to speak. His body did the begging on his behalf. He couldn't keep still, not even where no one could see. He yielded and grasped, both movements telling Jay to pound his arse. At the same time, he needed a firm grasp, someone to touch him.
Jay held his cock, but his fingers encircled the base, holding the blood trapped. If you squeezed the right way, you could hold off someone's release. They hadn't quite got to that, and Dean didn't even know if Jay knew how to do it, but right now, he didn't want to find out. He wanted to come. For some reason, they both looked down at his aching, throbbing cock at once.
The word please was on the tip of his tongue and he would have said it aloud when Jay began to jerk him off with long, hard, well-timed strokes. When his fingers reached the head, they pulled in over the top, gathering up the moisture there and taking it back down in a smooth, lubricating glide that made Dean shiver inside and out. The only thing better would be Jay's mouth. Still, the only way he could describe it was delicious. He sighed. The sound was too soft, too delicate to express what he felt, and yet at the same time just right. He ached, but he didn't care. He might feel it afterwards, but it was bearable. The other sensations that Jay's cock stroked forth, made him willing to bear it all fucking day if he had to, not that he would last that long.
A strangled sound escaped his throat. Jay had pulled out. Before he could even form a protest, that hardness speared into him again and he almost sighed with relief. Even as his muscles relaxed, it withdrew, leaving him gasping, grasping, and making that small nether mouth spasm as it sought fulfillment. Then Jay entered him again, drawing a sound from his throat. He stared downwards and saw only a blurred image of his friend. His mouth gaped in shock and he heard Jay laugh softly, only to pull back again, this time not quite pulling out, not enough to make Dean close, but just enough so that he could feel he might. That hardness shoved, firm and fast. Then it drew back in a sensuous glide. It was like taking the rough with the smooth quite literally. The experience was one of pain and pleasure drawing together in a relentless beat. He softened and hardened by turn---not his cock, for that remained as solid as ever, but inside where nothing could physically touch. He needed to come. He wanted it to stop. He never wanted it to end. He could do this all day and into the night.
Dean turned his head to the side to nestle his head into the bed for a minute, seeking just one moment of respite. In a way, he sought sanity, but it seemed his sense deserted him. He didn't mean to, but he couldn't help it. He wrapped his legs around Jay's waist after all and urged him on, jerking with his legs, so that he used Jay to get what he wanted, using him like a living dildo, making his cock stroke in and out. In a haze, he glanced at Jay's face to see if he was hurting him, or if there was any disappointment on his face. To his consternation, all he saw was a self-satisfied and very smug grin. Somehow, he still gave Jay exactly what he wanted and there was not a damn thing he could do about it; he couldn't stop.
He couldn't keep going, either. He wanted to. As disturbing as he found the idea, he just felt too damn good to stop. Jay's nails were cutting him up now and even that pain didn't make him want to stop. Fuck, Jay's nails were sharp, but all it made him do was hiss, and he wanted to drive Jay to scratching him up some more. Those brown eyes closed. A frown tightened Jay's face as his body tensed. He wasn't the only one just barely holding off. He opened, forced Jay to spear him deep. Things tightened, drawing up, closing down, and pushing forward to that one moment when all you knew was that you were completely alive. He reached down and added his hand to Jay's, tightening the grasp, only barely registering he could, yet knowing he shouldn't have been able to. He didn't remember Jay untying his hands. Those last few, hard strokes, brought him off. He bucked, all of his muscles expanding and contracting in one huge release. It was too much for Jay. To Dean's utter shock, he felt Jay flood into him, a liquid heat shoot inside, in time with a matching pulse. Even as he did, he heard Jay gasp and felt him pull out. The sound was one almost of pain. The movement was sudden and unexpected. That was when he realised he'd been squeezing Jay's cock with those strong internal muscles. No wonder the poor sod pulled free as soon as he finished.
He didn't wait for their breath to ease, their heartbeats to slow. He gathered Jay up in one arm and pulled him through the sticky pool of his own sperm that coated his stomach and chest. He glanced at the tie as he did so. One of the cords hung broken and dangling. His right hand was free but the left remained fastened. He met Jay's gaze and lifted his eyes towards his bound wrist. Jay smiled a little. The look was almost a smirk, and it seemed a giggle might not be far behind. His friend reached up and then frowned. His words came out on a soft breath that somehow managed to contain worry. "You've pulled this one really tight."
Yeah, he had. Now that he was cooling down, his circulation knew it. Even the cord around his free right wrist bit in. Overall, it took them ten minutes to get Dean free of the bed and they needed scissors to do it.
\*
The ache in his butt was one thing. The scratches on his arms were quite another. "Geez, you're going to have to cut your nails," Dean muttered. Realising what that implied, his face warmed a little. He hesitated, where he was smoothing on some antiseptic cream. It stung a little and then eased the soreness. From the quiet way Jay watched him, it appeared his comment wasn't lost on his audience. He didn't think he was ready to answer those kinds of questions right now.
"You don't have to promise anything," Jay said softly.
"I'm not." He hadn't meant to say that. It came out too quickly. "I mean, I can't. Not right now." He gave a soft smile, trying to ease the sudden awkwardness. "How do you expect me to think straight with all these tiny cuts stinging? I really didn't know you got like that."
Jay's lips twitched and then spread out into a wide, closed-mouthed grin. "You're lucky," he murmured.
"How?"
"I sometimes bite as well."
Dean couldn't help it; he laughed. Standing up, he leaned forward, bending over Jay, bringing their faces together. "You," he said, "have the face of an angel, but I'm beginning to think maybe you're a little devil." Their lips touched and he let the kiss happen. It was soft, a gentle exploration of lips, and the slightest heat of their tongues pressing. When he pulled back, it wasn't too soon or too long, but just at the right moment. He had the feeling the same look of wonderment he could see on Jay's face was alight in his own eyes. What he was going to do about that remained a tantalising and frustrating mystery.
He should stop staring into space, and, yet, he couldn't help it. Every time he started doing something, all he could see was Dean under him, his hands tied above his head, pulling the long lean line of his muscles taut. The man had never looked so beautiful as in that moment when he asked Jay to fuck him. A few hours later, he left, telling Jay he would call in a couple of days.
Even so, Jay couldn't allow that small, dark flame of hope, to smoulder. Jay had no conflicts. He knew what he wanted. He wanted to belong to Dean. What they had done the other morning was so completely fantastic and if they could be lovers if only for a little while, then he wasn't adverse to it happening again, but ultimately, it wasn't what he wanted. He didn't know what had come over him, and when Dean insisted he release his legs, he'd half-expected to go on to release his hands and have one of those large appendages fasten around his neck to shake him in fury. Instead, Dean wrapped his body around Jay's hips, encouraging him. He'd been too far gone then. He wanted to be inside Dean just once. From here on out, he didn't mind if he never managed to do that again. He didn't mind topping occasionally, didn't mind indulging in any kind of play that would make Dean hot and willing, but he wanted to be the one pinned to the bed by Dean's weight, Dean's heat. He wanted that dark, penetrating gaze to pierce him along with other things. He wanted to belong to him.
"Well, Dean, you've got yourself a whore," Jay said softly and shivered, a sudden cold trembling through him, so that he gave himself a hug. He only spoke to test out the word and now knew it for an unforgiving truth. Silently, he added, now what are you going to do with him but he couldn't bring himself to ask that aloud. If Dean wanted him, but wanted it to remain a secret, he would have gone along with it, if he didn't think the truth would out in the end. Yet, he couldn't say no to him. Was he such a little tart that he would just give himself over to someone like that so completely?
He closed his eyes and saw Dean leaning in over him, calling him a demon with the face of an angel, and then moving in to kiss him. Those pupils expanded until he could see nothing, but that cool, drowning colour. Their lips brushed, their tongues teased gently, and all he noticed was warmth and affection from the other man while it was happening.
The phone rang. Jay jumped almost guiltily. Without his knowing it, his tongue had made lazy circles against his lips. He walked over and picked up the phone automatically.
"Jay, mate?" The voice had a question in it. He nodded, realised the person on the other end of the phone couldn't see, and said, "Yes."
"It's Mark. Your car's all done."
He frowned. The date was only a couple of days into January and the day a Friday. Usually Dean and his crew would be back at work, but seeing as the date fell on a Friday, he and his father had given everyone time off until the Monday. Dean refused to say what was wrong with the car. He would only say there were things he still needed to check out first. Still, Jay hadn't expected to hear it was repaired and ready so soon. When Dean said he would call in a couple of days to let him know, he had the suspicion that Dean actually meant he would let him know about other things as well. Either way, he hadn't expected a call from one of Dean's men.
"I thought ... Why are you working today?" he asked, trying to be careful of what he said, though unsure why he felt uneasy.
"Overtime," Mark said. "You coming down or what? Dean said I could go home after you picked up the car."
Well, if it was ready. "Is Dean there?"
"Naw. He's cosy home with his friends and family. Me, I need the extra dough. Still, I'd like to hightail it outta here soonest."
"Oh. Fine. I'll be there in about twenty minutes." He hung up, frowning, and glanced at the clock to see it read just after five. Well, at least even if Dean chose not to call, he would have the car for the weekend.
The phone rang again just as he was heading for the door. He hesitated, decided to leave it, and then let go of the open door and went back to get the call, after all. Some small, helpless part of him rather hoped it would be Dean. April's voice came down the phone line. He had managed to avoid her since the fuss on New Year's Eve, claiming he wanted his rest.
"Is Dean still with you?" Her tone sounded interrogating. Jay almost sighed aloud.
"No. He left yesterday."
"Then you won't mind a visit from your sister today."
A cold sort of horror blanched through him. April would only have to take one look at his face and she would know what he and Dean had been doing. That, after he promised her at Christmas to give up moping after a man he probably couldn't have seriously. He'd lied to her, of course. That was why he hadn't been surprised when Dean told him about the most recent of their arguments. "No, I, err..." Yeah, that was a real show of intelligence, very coherent. "I have to go out right now," he said more intelligibly.
"So, I'll pop by later."
"I might go out then, as well." A thick silence seemed to drift down the phone line the moment he said it. He shouldn't have to explain his reasoning, but April always made him feel as if it were necessary. "I'm just going to get the car back, so I might use it and see a couple of friends I missed over the Christmas break." He lied to her yet again, and beheld a sudden vision of sitting out in his car in the middle of nowhere just to avoid his sister. If he wasn't careful, he might freeze to death after all.
"Oh. Well, then maybe I'll catch up to you over the weekend."
That meant she would drop it for now, but he only postponed the inevitable. April would question him whether he liked it or not.
\*
Dean's mobile phone rang and vibrated at the same time, making him appreciate what the phrase, to jump out of one's skin, meant. "Excuse me," he said to John, and turned away from him, ignoring the expression on the man's face. He could hardly explain his reasons for being oddly jumpy. "Hello?" he said into the phone. The line crackled and popped. He gave John an apologetic look and moved to the window. He had taken up enough of John's time. To take a call in the middle of their conversation after disturbing him at home like this, and with the man's pregnant wife glaring at him, it didn't seem fair to take the call. Still, life programmed you by habit. A phone rang and you answered it. The line cleared a little and a feminine voice spoke to him though he couldn't make out who did the talking. "Who is this?"
"It's April. Look, I just want to know..." Static took over her voice for a moment, but he got the gist of it.
"I'm not playing at anything."
"Sometimes you..." More static interfered, then he heard, "know you fucked him again." Heat flared up in his face. He glanced at John, trying to look apologetic only, hoping he wasn't about to turn pink, and not wanting to have this particular conversation right here, this minute.
"...sodding about with the car."
"What?" He only caught the end of that. "What are you talking about?"
"I said, why are you sodding about with the car? What did you do? Did you do something to it? Is this your sick idea of a joke? It couldn't have been that bad for you to fix it so quickly."
"What are you talking about? It's not fixed." He moved as close to the back door and as near to the outside as he could without opening it. The chill of the glass bit into the side of his face. "It needs a new engine."
"Then why call Jay to pick it up?"
"I didn't." There came a pause from her side.
"Then why is Jay on the way there now? Who called him?"
Dean couldn't be sure, but considering what John had just told him, a strange sick feeling welled up inside. No one would knowingly hurt Jay ... would they? No one would have done something so petty as to simply not do the work on his car on purpose. Not even...
Dean swallowed, fighting panic. Even then, it took two attempts before he could breathe again. If that bastard so much as touched his friend...
"Meet me at the garage," he snapped into the phone. He didn't wait to hear April reply. He was already moving.
\*
The garage could seem a warm and friendly place, almost like a second home when filled with laughing, smiling faces, and general hustle and bustle. On a dull evening like this at the beginning of January, with only one person working, it contained a cold unwelcome atmosphere. "It's fixed?" Jay asked, looking up into Mark's face.
"All done." The mechanic sounded pleased.
"What was wrong with it?"
"Nothing Dean couldn't fix with that magic touch of his."
The tone changed. Mark no longer sounded happy. The first stirrings of true uneasiness began to creep through Jay. The sensation was similar to someone you didn't like stroking you in intimate places. "Well, thanks. I guess I'd better be going."
"Not going to settle the bill?"
It seemed arrogant to say he didn't think there would be one. "I'll settle it with Dean."
"Yeah, 'course ya will." Mark wiped his hands on an oily rag. "You gonna blow him for it?"
Cold shock lanced through him first, and then anger replaced it. He turned his face towards Mark. "You know, I just might do that."
Those hard little eyes seemed to glitter, unimpressed. Instantly, Jay regretted standing up to him. Mark clearly didn't care. He couldn't even be sure it registered.
"How about you blow me for it instead?"
Jay took a step back and Mark matched the pace. "Just give me my keys," he said. Mark ignored the request and took another step. Jay tried not to back up, but as Mark took a third step towards him, he couldn't help it. He moved to the side. "Just give me my keys and I'll be going." He didn't care about the keys or the car. He tried to gauge the distance to the door and if he could make it around the other two vehicles. Unfortunately, they created a zigzag obstacle course and Mark would be on him before he could reach it. He glanced at Mark's face and knew he wasn't imagining things. "What the fuck's wrong with you?"
"Plenty."
Mark threw the rag aside, but he hadn't managed to clean much off his hands with it. The black oily marks on his hands seemed to be just another part of his skin, of his personality. His shaggy black hair and black beady eyes made him appear particularly rat-like. Jay didn't want him anywhere near him, but as he dodged around a car, Mark almost ran to cut off his retreat. Jay backed up, panicked.
"Bad enough we have to put up with the sight of you moaning and moping around after Dean, low and behold he's been hanging round at your place. Most of the guys ain't noticed. They're none too bright. Well, the way I sees it, what you can do for Dean, you can do for me. For any of us. You should provide a free service, seeing as we're expected to give you free services."
Jay frowned, just as he slammed into the workbench. A sharp pain flashed through his hip. The hard ridge of the worktop pressed against his lower back. He ignored the pain and leaned on the bench with his hands close to his sides. His eyes flickered to the left trying to see whether anything he could use for a weapon lay within reach. "Dean paid for the service out of his pocket, as a favour."
"Like hell. We did that for nothing. Even if that were true, why would he do that?"
"As a favour to April."
"Yeah, sure. Then you get the car. If I'm expected to be a fucking grease monkey for a cum-slut, then I expect you to suck my dick. Hear that, slut?" Mark came right up and pressed next to him in a long line against his body. It took all of Jay's strength not to whimper. He swallowed as acid seared the back of his throat. The threat was bad enough, but the thought of doing anything sexual with this dickhead made him physically nauseous, and that wouldn't have changed, even if he wasn't currently stuck between a rock and a hard place. The bench pushed painfully insistent into his back. Mark's erection pressed into his navel. For the first time in his life, Jay cursed that he wasn't just a little bit taller. Still, the thought of feeling that hardness against him anywhere was enough to make him retch. He controlled it, though with no idea how. Maybe only the thought that it would irritate Mark further kept him from gagging.
His mind drifted back to a few weeks ago when Mark started teasing him and Dean about that stupid kiss. Crap. Was the guy a closet case or something? Worse still, it looked as if he intended to take out his irritation on yours truly.
"Now, I'm going to take out my prick and you are going to drop to your knees, bitch."
Jay shook his head. He glanced around to the other side. Who would have thought he would be in a goddamned garage without even a screwdriver in sight. Why did Dean have to keep things so neat and tidy?
He wished he hadn't thought of a screwdriver when he saw that was exactly what Mark held in his hand. The other man leaned in closer still, bringing with him a wash of stale smells. Mark needed to clean his teeth, let alone the fact that he was obviously sweating a treat, probably in part due to fear and part to excitement. On top of this, that oily, greasy smell was cloying.
"We all know faggots got no choice. Wave a dick in your face and you're gagging for it."
He was gagging all right, but not for that. He would rather die first. The thought proved painful, but he accepted that as the truth. In a fight, he'd probably lose, but if it came to that, he would go down struggling. Likely, he was about to be beaten to a bloody pulp. He looked Mark in the eye. "I wouldn't suck your dick if it was the last one in the universe."
The pain took him sudden and sharp. It made him gasp, the cry strangled in his throat by shock. He looked down automatically. Mark had rammed the screwdriver into the top of his hand. It hadn't even penetrated far, but the shock of it made his stomach roil. The hard pressure turned cold, numb, and then it began to burn. His blood looked very red. Mark leaned down on the screwdriver and this time Jay cried out loudly. Christ, the guy was going to skewer his hand to the table!
"You'll do as I..."
The sentence cut off and the body in front of him suddenly lifted away. The first thing he saw was April's frightened face as she rushed in front of him. "Oh, god, Jay, are you all right?" She took hold of his injured hand where he now cradled it. The screwdriver had fallen away and really, the wound wasn't that deep. It hurt enough, though. April turned her back to him and ran forward.
"Dean, let him go. For gods sake let him go!"
The panic in her voice rang out clear. Jay looked up and around her to take in the sight of Dean with his hands around Mark's throat. His friend's eyes were blank, showing no emotion, just this frightening intense stare. His lips pulled back to show his teeth in what looked like a snarl. Mark dangled from Dean's large hands, barely touching the floor with the tips of his toes. Even as he took in the sight, Dean started to shake him. Not that Jay wasn't enjoying the spectacle, but he couldn't let Dean get into trouble. He ran forward and added his strength to his sister's who already pulled on Dean's arms and hands, trying to pry him off.
"Dean, stop it. You'll shake him to death." Their desperate efforts finally seemed to get through to him. Dean glanced at them, looked back at Mark, then practically threw him away with a small sound of disgust. Mark tumbled, landing on his backside. A hand clutched his throat and he made choking, gasping noises.
"You shouldn't have done that." April looked at Dean with a worried expression. He turned to face her with that unforgiving stare, so that she flinched backwards. Jay blinked. He had never seen April flinch from anything, but seeing the look in Dean's eyes, even he almost jerked away, and Dean was only taking hold of his hand to examine it.
"He never did the service," Dean said, while he looked at the wound and pressed on either side of it. A small amount of blood oozed, but the wound was already clotting. "Move your fingers." Jay did. It hurt, but he could move them easily.
"What?" April sounded stunned.
"John gave the job to Mark. He never did the service. The timing belt needed replacing. Any mechanic could see it, but he didn't do it. He hardly did anything. I never knew that until a short while ago. I figured out what happened, but not who did it. I went to see John to ask him if he'd done the service or if he handed the job on to someone. He gave the job to Mark, who didn't do it.
"You'll be all right," he said directly to Jay. "It doesn't even need stitches."
Jay hated to think how much worse it would feel if stitches were required. April stood there, seemingly struggling with what Dean said. Amazingly, Jay didn't feel any surprise at all. The only thing he felt sorry for was that Dean would blame himself for not checking the car personally.
"I'm going to press charges." Mark recovered enough to get up off the floor. He stood there bent over, taking rasping breaths, a hand still pressed to his throat. There were more surprises. Jay expected Dean to turn angrily. Amazingly, April turned with an incredulous expression on her face. She took a step towards Mark, and Jay could have sworn Dean tensed, as though he would reach out to stop her. If that were his intention, he obviously thought better of it.
"I don't think an attempted rape on a man will do you much good, reputation wise."
Mark laughed. "Like anyone will believe it. It's one word against another and you're his sister, and I know he's Dean's tart. That won't look too good either."
Strangely, Jay took the word calmly. Earlier, he'd experienced misgivings as to whether he was such a little tart that he would just give himself over to someone completely. Well, he might be, but it wouldn't be to anyone. Only a very specific someone and that didn't hurt him at all. The thought warmed him throughout.
"Jay has an injury." April protested.
"And I'm the one with the bruises around his throat."
"You'll have more than that in a minute." April moved to take another step and this time Dean reached out and grabbed her shoulder. She seemed to have forgotten so recently berating him for giving Mark those bruises and apparently wanted to add a few of her own.
"They need another witness, they got one. But I don't think it'll come to that. Will it, Mark?" John emerged from the back of the garage. He carried a wrench in one hand that he stroked almost sensually with the other. His voice and the look in his eyes were calm, complacent, and very frightening for all that. Mark swallowed. He glanced first one way and then the other. "I think you should leave now," John told him. "I think you should just walk out of here ... while you can still walk. Dean will mail you what you're owed."
"But don't expect a reference," Dean added, sounding amused by the development. "Oh, and leave the key, before you go."
The black-haired man needed no second bidding. He shot them all a filthy look, but they could let that go, and then hurried out of there.
"You," April rounded on Dean, "should be more careful which employees you give keys to." She made it sound as though this were all Dean's fault. He raised his hands in the air in an attitude of surrender.
"Hey, he's worked here long enough. You can blame my father, not me."
April didn't seem to take any notice. She looked and sounded bewildered, lost in her own thoughts. "What I don't understand is how he knew to set this up. How did he know the car was even in the garage?"
John sniggered. "The guy's a weasel. He's probably been poking around in here when it isn't his business."
Dean visibly winced. No doubt, he was thinking all kinds of unsavoury things. Jay immediately wondered if anything was missing or if Mark had done anything on the plush back seats. It wasn't worth thinking about. He watched Dean turn back to John, frowning slightly. "What are you doing here, anyway?"
John smirked. "The way you ran out, are you kidding? Bat out of hell took on a whole new meaning." He nodded to Jay. "You okay?"
"Yes. Thank you." It all felt a bit surreal, but sometimes life was like that.
"Let's get that cleaned up," John nodded towards Jay's bleeding hand, and with a single glance towards Dean, Jay followed the other man.
\*
"I wish I'd never told you," April said. Dean didn't look at her, just stared at the screwdriver lying on the floor. The tip of it harboured a spot of Jay's blood. "Now, do you see what can happen when you're living a lie? Even without this, Jay deserves a proper life with someone. How can you hurt him like this?"
"I didn't mean to." He looked at her then and by her expression judged that she wanted to strangle him.
"It's all a game to you. Life. Everyone in it. You just march all over them and the only important one is Dean Chapman and what he wants out of it. Why did you have to walk all over my brother? If you had to play around with a man, why did it have to be him?"
"Don't you see," he told her softly. "It couldn't have been any one else."
She stared at him, frowning. "You can't care for him."
Not so long ago, she had suggested that maybe Dean loved Jay, but his survival instinct warned him that this was not the time to remind her of it. Besides, her statement sounded similar to a plea. "How can you say that? Of course, I do."
"No. I don't believe it. He's just a toy that you're going to cast aside when you're done playing." He shook his head but she wouldn't let him speak. "No? Then what are you going to do, Dean?" There was laughter in her voice. "Set up home with him?"
He thought of going home and the image that came to mind wasn't his house, but Jay's flat with all its poky corners and overcrowded rooms and cluttered shelves. The vision warmed him. April was still telling him how thoughtless he was, but he hardly heard a word of it. He stood there and took it, nodding to show he heard, but in truth only catching the odd word. He stood silent and thought of his life without Jay in it, and it felt bleak and cold, uninviting. The trouble was, he couldn't just be with Jay when it suited him. It wasn't fair and although most of what Mark said was probably bluster, in truth, if he started spending nights over there, people were going to notice, and sooner rather than later. That left him with two choices.
\*
"I want a few minutes. I want a few minutes!" He said it the second time more forcefully. Jay looked from Dean's face to April where she stood in the door of the office glaring at him. She glanced towards Jay where he sat in a chair by the desk, and then back to Dean's face. She nodded, retreated a step.
"I'll be waiting," she said. She looked across to him as Dean started to close the door. "I'll take you home."
Dean closed the door in her face before Jay could say anything. Her shadow remained on the other side of the frosted glass for a moment, and then moved away. As she did, Dean turned the key in the lock, the movement undeniably careful. As April failed to return to bang on the door, she couldn't have noticed. Dean turned, ran a hand through his hair and came towards him. "You okay?"
Jay nodded. "John said he would talk to you after the weekend. Not that I think you have much to say to each other, but he thought we should be careful until we're sure Mark's gone. He said he thought he would run a mile though. He said that sort usually do."
"He's right. He didn't expect you to stand up to him." A hint of pride thawed Dean's voice and Jay looked at his eyes. He looked different somehow; calm, decided. He sat on the edge of the desk facing him.
"How do you feel about me, Jay?"
He looked away, not wishing to discuss this. Dean reached out and lifted his head by the chin using only one finger. Jay couldn't resist it, not physically or emotionally. He looked up into those eyes. "No lies, no bullshit. Be honest."
"I think you're too arrogant for your own good at times. I think most of the time you have good reason to be. You're good-looking, charming, funny, sexy, and you know it. I think someone should have put you over their knee when you were growing up."
Clearly, that was not the answer Dean expected, so Jay told him what he wanted to hear. "I love you. You know that. If you need me to say it, fine. I love you. I probably always will, no matter how much you walk over me."
Dean looked thoughtful. "You know the only way someone could put me over their knee now is if I let them." His grin looked mischievous. Jay just gaped. He gasped a little when Dean reached out and pulled him up, lifting him a bit so that he sat balanced on his knee. The position was precarious. If Dean let go, he would slip to the floor before he could save himself from falling. He wrapped one arm around Dean's neck and pressed the other hand to his chest instinctively. Despite the bandage, he could feel Dean's heart beating. Dean's left arm held him securely, while the right touched his face, brushed back his hair, moved to clasp the back of his neck. He sat quietly through the examination for that was how it felt---as though Dean examined him. It reminded him of when he walked home in the snow.
"I really am okay," he said. "It's just my hand."
"It's not just your hand," Dean whispered so softly, if they weren't so close he would never have heard him. "Don't tell me Mark didn't hurt you in some other way."
"I was scared, if that's what you mean."
"You know what I mean."
Jay nodded. No one had the right to do that to you, to make you feel like that. He felt violated; right up until the point Dean sat him on his knee. Now, the emotion was a memory only.
"I don't mean to walk over you as you put it. It doesn't feel that way to me. At least not when I'm doing it. Sometimes, I've hated myself afterwards, because I know..." Dean paused, looking him thoroughly in the eye. "I do know that it's not what it should be, because we're not a couple. We're not lovers. Not officially. I've wanted to believe this was just a bit of fun for me. I've been afraid to think it was anything else. I only began to realise I was kidding myself when I thought you were lost in the snow and then now, when Mark attacked you. I didn't want to see you hurt. I didn't want to lose you."
Pain suffused his throat. Why tell him all this? Why now? "What are you doing?" he whispered, almost too afraid to hear the answer.
"Well, I'm about to call my father and tell him what happened with Mark, and then I'll take you home, if you'll let me."
Jay moved his head back a little. "April," he said, that one word meaning everything. She wouldn't just let Dean walk out of here with him, not without screaming about it. Dean surely knew that but Jay reminded him of it anyway. Dean said nothing. His gaze just swept back and forth over Jay's face.
"If I said I wanted this, would you have me?"
"Have?" Jay frowned in question.
Dean stroked his face. "You know what I'm saying."
What could he do but be honest. "If I could have a life with you, a real life, I'd be happy. But that's not what you want. I can't ask that of you. So if you care at all..." His voice broke and to his horror, tears flooded his eyes, "I think it's best April be the one to take me home."
Dean nodded. He swallowed, turned his head, and looked down as he reached for the phone. He rang his father while keeping one arm firmly around Jay's waist. Jay closed his eyes and leaned his head against Dean's chest. He breathed in his smell, his warmth, listened to his heart, the tones of his voice. It would only last a few moments, but this was his moment to keep always. Right now, he felt loved and safe.
"No. I think he's gone. There'll be no trouble. Dad, before you hang up," Dean added, in a louder voice. It made Jay open his eyes and look up. Those big blue eyes were looking down at him. "There's something else I have to tell you." Jay frowned, shook his head, no. He would have struggled, but he couldn't move if his life depended on it. He just stared, aware his eyes had grown very large and round. "What Mark said about Jay and me, he wasn't lying."
Privileged to one side of the conversation only, all Jay heard was "Okay," followed by, "We'll talk then." Dean hung up the phone, looking at the receiver thoughtfully.
"What did he say?"
"He said if we're a couple, and I take you into the business, at least the paperwork will get done."
Dean looked as surprised as Jay felt. "Why did you do that?" He couldn't speak above a whisper. Dean turned his head to look down at him, gathering him up in his arms.
"Because if I didn't, I'd never get to do this again." With that, he kissed him.
When he came up for air, Dean maintained a grip on Jay's chin, forcing him to meet the other man's gaze. "There's one thing," he added.
"What's that?"
"I say I still get to be the guy in this relationship."
Jay swallowed, trapped against Dean's side, in the big man's grip, in his life. "You know, I'm perfectly happy with that arrangement." In truth, happy didn't even begin to cover it. Dean relaxed his grip.
"One other thing. I'll try to stop holding you so tight. Holding you ... down." He looked a little embarrassed. "If I do it again, tell me, and I'll apologise."
"Er ... actually," Jay's fingers fiddled with a button on Dean's shirt. "I'd rather not say anything." He flushed, turning his head into Dean's shoulder, gazing up at the large man with little furtive glances. "I kind of like it. I've never had such a..." he coughed, "large man. The other day was nice, but mostly I like things just the way they are."
"Oh, you do?" Dean sounded altogether too pleased as he nodded and grinned down at him. "Well, I think things are going to get a whole lot better."
Dean stood up, still holding him, Jay's body sliding against all that hardness. Left standing as Dean dropped to his knees in front of him, he held his breath and closed his eyes while Dean's fingers deftly undid his jeans.
A firm grasp shrouded his cock in heat.
Jay opened his eyes to the light of the room and looked down. Still crouched before him, Dean lifted that hardness to his face. He stroked it gently against his cheek, brushing it against the side of his mouth. The sensation was soft and rough at once. A small gasp escaped Jay's lips. Dean hadn't taken that solidity into his mouth and, in truth, Jay didn't expect it, though who knew ... one day ... but all the same, that tender gesture swelled his cock to full hardness.
When April knocked on the door, Jay told her to go home. She must have heard something in his voice, because without a word of argument, she left them in peace.
A few months later...
Jay moved through an unyielding sea of boxes and packing crates. He almost tripped over the mattress on the floor and groaned yet again at the sight of the bed in pieces. It had arrived five days ago and they still hadn't got around to assembling it. It needed at least two pairs of hands, or perhaps a brain surgeon to figure out what was wrong with the person who wrote the instructions, but anyway, at least more hands than he had available. So far, their hands had been too busy to get around to the chore. If they didn't do it soon, they might spend the rest of their lives sleeping on a mattress on the floor; that, and having sex on it. That was the reason the bed lay in wooden fragments and their belongings stood around in packing crates.
Jay had given up his job in the library. He now worked part-time with Dean at the garage, taking care of the paperwork and running the office. That left time for him to take the course he wanted. He worried more about what people would say than Dean did. Most of Dean's 'mates' consisted of the men at the garage. They just seemed happy Dean had shacked up with someone who could run the office. As for other friends, Dean, short of spare time before, now found even less. What spare time either of them could find they spent together, much to April's chagrin.
"Why can't you find yourself a nice young man?" she kept saying, as though Dean weren't even in the running. She liked Dean well enough, and despite what she said, she wasn't very good at hiding it. April was just scared for her brother and that was sweet, though somewhat irritating. It didn't help her temperament that his folks were delighted. They loved Dean and loved the idea that Jay 'caught' such a fine-looking man. As his mother kept saying, Dean was the finest fish in the sea. Then she would gaze at April with a look that set his sister's teeth on edge. That look said 'see what you can catch if you put some effort into it'.
He glanced at the clock now and grinned. He needed to hurry.
Hearing the car pull into the driveway, Jay rushed to open the door. He squirmed on the way there and continued to squirm while he waited for Dean to turn off the ignition, open the door and get out of the car. Dean moved as he always did, lazy and unhurried. He didn't need to hurry. The son of a bitch knew why Jay couldn't keep still and it was nothing to do with the anticipation of hardness and everything to do with the hard object already inside him.
His lover came towards him, face complacent. Jay was used to the act. Dean didn't always text him to ask him to do this, but when he did, Jay got a thrill of expectation in view of their evening, as well as from the idea of complying. Dean slipped an arm around him and leaned in for his welcome home kiss. As their tongues entwined, a hand slipped down to cup his backside, squeezing lightly, increasing the pressure. He writhed on the small, but solid object stretching him, making him eager and ready.
"How is my little angel?" Dean whispered.
Horny didn't seem an appropriate response. The half-garbled sound that left his throat should be answer enough. He cleared his throat. "Is it always going to be like this with you?"
Dean smiled. "Only if you're lucky. One good thing. We won't need to buy an angel for the tree next Christmas. Just do a split and I'll put you up there instead."
Jay slapped at him, though Dean only ever said something like that to goad him. Laughing, keeping his slaps at bay, Dean made a sudden grab for him, easily lifting Jay over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. Jay distracted by the fine, if topsy-turvy view of Dean's butt, let him. Dean carried him inside whistling, pausing on the way to the bedroom.
"Where's the plant?" he asked.
"I've planted it. I said I would. I think it will take nicely." The new house---their new home---came with a garden. The plan was to learn how to live somewhere between Dean's idea of showroom neatness and Jay's sense of organised clutter. So far, both their lives continued to exist out of boxes. The Helleborus niger---the Christmas Rose---had found a new home in the garden.
Dean patted his bottom, making the object within him move and causing him to jump. "Well, if that's settled in nicely, I take it you're staying."
Dean entered the bedroom still carrying him, and carefully laid him out on the mattress. "Don't even joke," Jay said, looking into his eyes.
"Who said I was joking? Mind if I shower first?"
"What if I do?"
"I thought ... you ... didn't ... like ... it ... dirty," Dean said between kisses.
"I love it dirty. I love you dirty. I love you." Strange how he found the smell of the garage off-putting when it came from Mark, but on Dean, he didn't care in the slightest. "It reminds me of what a bit of rough you are. I've my own regular grease monkey."
Dean's brow rose a little. "Oh, that's nice. You're an angel and I'm a grease monkey. Hmm? Yeah. That'd be right." Dean nodded, started making chimp noises and started tickling. Jay laughed. He wriggled. It made the butt-plug shift inside him. It eased his tightness down there and in his chest. It made him open his heart and give Dean his trust. Although he was very much aware the universe might be playing some kind of cosmic joke on him, he needed to trust Dean wouldn't hurt him. The man had just as much, if not more, invested in this relationship, and no reason to lie to him. Dean's words were nice, but the way his body responded, the way Dean kissed him, the way the large man's cock hardened at the sight of him, opened him up completely.
THE END
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