Dean hid something from him but dragging what it might be out of the big man wouldn’t be easy. Jay’s only certainty: Dean was not having an affair.
That blue gaze searched his. Good thing the hard, fast grip on his hair served as a discomforting distraction. He might have laughed otherwise.
I can see you thinking.
No doubt, Dean thought the same thing. Plenty of thoughts spun through their minds, read in their eyes, but none so far made it to their mouths.
Dean’s lips found Jay’s at last, the big man’s body relaxing, muscles unwinding under him. The grip on his hair vanished. A small sound of pleasure escaped Dean, heating Jay’s blood. Hell of a turn on the big man reacting that way. Many never saw this side of him. No longer did others have the privilege of hearing Dean cry out, let loose. No one but Jay ever heard Dean’s strangled moan echo around their bedroom. Not that Jay wanted an audience, but oh, if they were to see…
No one knew what Jay knew when he heard, smelled, tasted Dean. Lust made Jay dizzy. Need so intense it became disabling, left him clinging. He ran through every sexual position he’d ever used, trying to choose.
They were open to taking turns, but he’d be kidding himself to think Dean wanted screwing. He’d allow it, enjoy it, but given the choice, Dean wanted to be inside Jay every time. Fine by Jay. Should he keep Dean under him, or switch positions? Let Dean take charge?
Jay sat up. He shifted until Dean’s hot, thick cock nestled where it so often wanted to go. Jay rocked, making Dean’s cock ride his crease, but they also connected in other places. Jay would never get enough of Dean’s bare skin against his, that hard line of muscle flexing under or above him.
“God, Jay…” Dean’s eyes closed. He tilted his head back a little. A shudder passed through him. His large hands moved to Jay’s hips. Helped him rock back and forth. Would they last? Time to force things along.
Jay dipped, sucked in one of Dean’s nipples, no finesse required. He made the touch harsh enough to cause Dean to groan. A curse followed, “Oh fuck…” and Dean pushed up with his hips, bucking.
Ninety percent sure he’d be penetrated, and cock or fingers made no matter, Jay had squeezed lube where he needed it most. They kept the tubes everywhere. One of these days, a relative would find one, but he’d dispense with the embarrassment. This time, he’d used the tube in the bathroom. Dean on his way out of the room after his shower, had stared first at the tube and then at Jay, his gaze hard and intense. He’d left, providing privacy, not because Jay needed it, but as a signal. Even as Dean walked out, his cock had swelled and lifted, pointing the way to the bedroom. Now the man’s dick pointed to what would be nirvana for both men.
Jay positioned himself, hesitated to take one more glance into Dean’s eyes, and went down on him.
His body gave, Jay sinking as Dean’s hips lifted off the bed as if by their own volition. Dean hissed again, head flung back, twisted, whole upper body tense, his mouth slack. The look came across as painful yet divine; a silent scream of immense joy.
This beautiful man is mine.
Something troubled Dean, but it wasn’t what April likely imagined. No lover so abandoned could seek sex elsewhere. Well, maybe they could, but he didn’t believe it of Dean.
“You feel so fucking good.”
Dean’s declaration brought Jay back to the moment. He’d taken Dean into him, sat…deeply full, his own cock pulsing and twitching. His balls crawled; his cock strained for attention. Jay took one more moment to savour Dean inside him, and the man struggling under him…then Jay was ready for movement.
Jay squeezed.
Sweat broke out on Dean’s brow. He shook his head, twice. “You’re evil.”
Jay chuckled, the sound rolling over them. Without warning, he rose…fast, began a slow descent. His reward came by way of the garbled sound falling from Dean’s mouth. When Dean appeared able to breathe and focus again, he glared. “Like I said, evil.”
“Think it’s easy for me?” Jay choked the words out, not having expected the shivery pleasure the hard rise and slow fall caused. Could he stand to do that again? Maybe not.
“Lie back,” Jay whispered. Something slid through Dean’s eyes—consideration, no doubt. Dean didn’t often do as others told him. Not even when it was Jay. Tonight, he might. Dean fisted the sheets, but the tension eased out of him. Jay moved, long, slow, deep.
Despite obeying, Dean’s hips twitched, made short thrusts of which the man was in little control. The gritting of his teeth spoke of his struggle. When he caught Jay’s gaze, he gasped out, “Want…to…thrust.”
“Keep it shallow.”
They moved together for more minutes than Jay tracked, yet, as the orgasm crawled through his body, for what appeared no time at all. Sweat dewed Dean’s brow, his upper lip. Might be from the effort of trying not to come as much as his need. When Dean said, “Squeeze me,” Jay did, using his internal muscles, expecting and smiling at the cry that erupted from Dean. The grip gave Dean what he appeared to want—another few minutes’ grace, his holding back so they might finish this race together.
Not a minute went by before Dean choked out his name. “Fuck, Jay.”
That was the idea. Jay rolled his hips, undulated, bearing down, riding Dean the way both wanted. On top, Jay controlled the movement, receiving those frustrating yet delicious strokes in the right spot every time.
Grip of steel on his hips, but helping, lifting, taking his weight as Jay increased speed at Dean’s urging. Dean’s baby-blues, gaze intent, so full of want and longing, and understanding.
“Ride me.” The simple instruction conveyed another meaning: Take your pleasure.
Jay did, giving and receiving. What fell from Dean’s mouth now sounded like pain. Jay’s stomach tightened, every muscle taut, quivering. One word and Dean would spin him, thrust into him, lost in the mindless rush to climax. Not what Jay wanted. He laid a hand on the big man’s chest, holding Dean in place as if he’d tied Dean there. Once had, but not this time. The only thing making Dean lie on his back were his feelings for Jay. Their feelings for each other, shared. Always. Together.
Still Dean’s hands forced Jay to movement, not that he was of a mind to resist. Their bodies slapped, hips snapped. His cock, lonely until this moment, spasmed the moment Jay took a grip. Dean growled, arching up, filling Jay’s body as Jay jerked his way to orgasm. At the last, a hand covered his, a fraction before his whole being shattered. Someone yelled, and Jay, deaf to everything but the blood thundering in his veins, couldn’t tell which of them shouted, or whether they both bellowed.
* * * *
“What do you understand with respect to bisexuality?” Candice had moved them over to the sofa arrangement as the roadworks were complete. Candice sat cross-legged and to one side of Dean on an identical two-seater sofa, a long, slimline coffee table between them. Did a nefarious design to the arrangement exist? Hard to tell, for sure. He wanted to fidget, afraid to move.
He nearly reached for his coffee, again—the beverage Candice had given him implied a friendly atmosphere—but refrained because he half-believed if he tried the stalling tactic too often, she’d take everything away. The coffees, the cushions, even the sofa, and make him sit on the floor. He paid for torture, and they’d barely begun.
He still hadn’t replied, and the seconds ticked on. Dean could only withstand one lecture—okay, “chat”—on how this was his time. How he had her attention. Of how rapport was as important as trust, which she said she intended to earn. What she hadn’t spoken of were those things he’d inferred from articles he’d read.
He’d not studied bisexuality, though—not been able to bring himself to do so.
“It’s…an attraction for both sexes.” Best not to make that a question. Either she knew something he didn’t or was being obtuse.
“True, when plainly put, we’re talking sexual orientation. What I want you to consider first is what that means to you.”
“You don’t plan to as
k about my sex life?”
“Not until or unless it becomes relevant.”
“If I’m bisexual, how is my sex life not relevant?”
Candice took a moment, maybe thought gathering, or for effect.
“Dean, when you mention your sex life, correct me if I’m wrong but you are referring to having sex.”
Dean gave her a faltering nod.
“The relevance here is your sexual orientation…”—Candice paused and this time her purpose came across as more one of choosing the right words—”…not how you do the deed.”
Okay, that made…sense. A series of twitches flashed across his face, tugging and disconcerting; he struggled to bring his reaction under control. If Candice noticed, she said nothing.
“To return to my question, if I say bisexuality is a sexual orientation, what does that mean to you?”
“The obvious. Men and women who like both sexes, sexually.” Did she think him dim? “But you see that’s where it applying to me falls apart. I never wanted to sleep with another man other than Jay. Still don’t.”
“And that pleases you?”
Her question floored him. “I…Well, yes. I mean…no.” His momentary excitement dissolved. Until that point he hadn’t realised he wanted to rebuff her every suggestion.
I’m paying for this.
Though not the biggest issue why pay for something only to fail? What did he fear? The truth? “I’m a wanker.”
“Pardon?” Though she kept her tone cool, this time Candice failed to hide her amusement. She gave it away in her gaze, in the lilt of her voice.
“Sorry. It’s something Jay’s sister calls me. I realised…” He shook his head, falling silent.
“Please, share. Otherwise, what are you paying me for?”
“Funny. I entertained the same thought. I came here in good faith, I believed. Now it’s occurred I’ve been hoping you can’t help, that nothing you say makes sense.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Maybe I won’t like what I hear. Maybe the truth won’t make me happy.” He slumped back in his seat, hands linked and hanging between his knees. “I don’t want to find men attractive.” There, he’d said it. “So yeah, the idea I’m not attracted to any man other than Jay pleases me.”
Candice waited several beats, but he wasn’t ready to add anything more.
“When you say attracted, are you once again referring to sex?”
“Well…yeah.” Whatever did she mean? What else was there? Dean searched his mind, trying to work out the implication. “I mean, I guess I can recognise a handsome man when I see one. Take Jay’s sister’s new bloke.”
“You find him good looking?”
“Many would.”
“Are you attracted to him?”
Did it grow warm in here? He nearly looked round in search of a thermostat. A long time had passed since he felt like a menopausal woman. How dare she imply…what? He wasn’t sure; couldn’t be confident what she meant by the question.
“He’s a nice guy.”
“But that’s as far as it goes?”
“Of course!”
“Why of course?”
What in the world? Dean’s head spun. “He’s not gay.”
“How do you know?”
“He’s dating April!”
“Like the many women you dated?”
Dean laughed. “Oh…good one, Doc. Sorry.” She had told him to call her Candice or Ms Hemingway, whichever he preferred—another tactic to make this less formal, no doubt. The few times he called her Doc had ultimately made her wince and ask him to refrain, so even therapists had their hang-ups. Did she know? Did self-awareness amount to a cure?
Aware his thoughts wandered whenever he preferred to procrastinate, Dean forced a reply over his lips.
“Doesn’t matter what he is. I wouldn’t…He’s April’s new bloke. I mean, I won’t…I don’t….” Through how many unfinished sentences could he stumble? “I’m with someone and I don’t find Brian interesting, not that way.”
“So you can distinguish various forms of attraction?”
“What? Of course I can.”
“Would you say recognising another man as attractive doesn’t have to mean you are attracted to him even if he is good-looking and his personality is appealing?”
“Yyyyyes.” He needed to tread with care.
“So what does bisexuality mean to you?”
Dean took the time to give the question more thought and Candice let him. No reason she shouldn’t—he paid for every passing second. Aware of pounds slipping away, he fought his way to an answer. “It’s a sexual attraction for both men and women.” He could tell Candice wanted something more. “Both a sexual and romantic attraction. It’s when someone likes both sexes the same way, finds them equally appealing.”
“So a bisexual person feels the same for men as they do for women and vice versa?”
“Yes.” Though he answered more readily, his tone dropped in pitch.
“Does it surprise you to hear an equal attraction to both sexes is not essential for many, if not most, bisexuals?”
“But I’m not attracted to any man but Jay.”
“You’ve just told me you’re attracted to April’s new boyfriend.”
“No. What? No!”
Candice stared.
“I said he’s attractive and appealing, but that’s not the same thing.”
“No, it isn’t, but you’ve established you can distinguish between romantic and sexual attraction, and finding someone attractive who is pleasing on the eye. Many men wouldn’t want to admit to that.”
“I get that. You’re taking things too far. He doesn’t appeal to everyone, but you’d have to be blind not to see…” Dean picked obvious choices, “Hugh Jackman, or Johnny Depp is handsome. Doesn’t mean I want to jump into bed with either one.”
He at least made Candice smile.
“No. No, it doesn’t. But I believe you grasp what I’m saying.”
He did, but a nod wouldn’t suffice. In these sessions, Candice wanted him to elaborate. “You’re saying being bisexual doesn’t mean one has an equal attraction to both sexes. A person might prefer men, or prefer women, and still be bisexual.”
Candice nodded. “Have you heard of Alfred Kinsey?”
“Yeah.” The man responsible for a sexuality report or a series of them or something. “I’d heard he’s debunked as Freud.”
“Not quite. Though both may have flaws, specialists still adhere to good points raised by both. Kinsey’s reports are inaccurate because various circumstances weren’t taken into account, but he brought to light that a high percentage of men had—”
“Yeah. Had sex with both men and women. I likewise know why that’s flawed. Things happen in prison as they say. We may skip this part. I don’t, for one moment, believe a homosexual experience dictates who you are fundamentally.”
Candice gave a slow nod. If she told him he was astute again, he might walk out.
She placed a piece of paper in front of him. “Where do you place yourself on the Kinsey scale?”
He gave it a brief glance. “One.”
“Predominantly heterosexual, only incidentally homosexual?”
Dean gave a hesitant nod.
“Are you sure?”
She had a point. He’d been living with Jay for three years; not what one might call ‘incidental’.
“Two?”
“Are you asking me?”
Dean took another look at the list. “Yes, two.”
“Predominantly heterosexual, but more than incidentally homosexual.”
“Yeah, that.”
“Why?”
Dean scanned the list again. “None of the others fit.”
“I’m not surprised. Many people don’t fit these categories. You said one, and then picked two. You might be one-point-five for instance. A few years ago you might have placed yourself at zero—exclusively heterosexual.”
Dean nodded.
>
“A few years from now the scale might change again.”
Dean shook his head.
Candice raised an eyebrow as if to ask, “Why not?” She said, “For now it matters not. Things for you may change or they may not. Life is fluid.”
Dean had been staring at the list then snapped his head up. “I like that.” He spoke without thinking.
“Which part?”
“The life being fluid part.”
“Is that how you feel?”
“Yes. No. Maybe. Maybe I do. Maybe I have.”
“In this fluidity, is there any room for you being bisexual?”
An involuntary tic tugged at his left eye. He resisted licking his lips, which Candice might take for a nervous reaction.
“I’ve admitted I am.” He gestured to the Kinsey scale. Candice sat studying him. Dean gave a soft laugh. “I thought I’d come out when I moved in with Jay.” He wasn’t fooling her or himself. “Is this where you tell me the first step to recovery is honesty?”
“Only if you need me to say it. It’s not something you must do now, or right here.”
What the hell. He may as well get it over with. Words couldn’t hurt. Dean met her gaze. “I’m bisexual,” he said, though it felt more as if he savoured the word, rolling it around in his mouth. Testing it. Trying it out. I’m bisexual. What did that mean, though?
The real reason he sat here crept into his soul and the chill it brought with it made him want to quake.
“Well this was a waste.”
“Was it?” She looked amused. “You’ve at last admitted to yourself that you’re bisexual and you’ve now learned something regarding bisexuality you didn’t know. Can you tell me what that is?”
“Being bisexual doesn’t have to mean a fifty-fifty split of attraction.” Trouble was, if he liked women more than he liked men, what did that mean for his future with Jay? There lay the reason for the sudden chill that refused to go away.
Thank goodness the first hour drew to a close. He might not cope with further revelations although…not a revelation. Deep down he had known.
Two minutes remained, so he might as well hit the road, but Candice had one more question for him, to which he didn’t hesitate in supplying the answer.
Christmas Angel Page 6
