Snow Angel

by Sharon Maria Bidwell

  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 f
rom 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.

  Chapter Fourteen

  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.