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?
Chapter Seven
“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, smearin
g 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.
Snow Angel Page 8
