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.” Strang
e 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.
Sharon Maria Bidwell
Sharon Maria Bidwell was born one New Year’s Eve within the London area. Since having her first short story accepted and the editor announcing her as “a writer who is going places,” her work ‑‑ poems, short stories and articles ‑‑ have appeared steadily in print and online publications. Previously, she kept the erotic side of her writing separate. The genre appealed though as it allows her the freedom to create something more expressive, less oppressive. She firmly believes that having a chance at such “free reign” reflects favourably in her work. It has always been a part of her personality in that she likes surprising and delighting people. She links her most favoured and often most successful work closely to fantasy, though her writing crosses genres.
She loves reading, the movies and going to the theatre and spending time with a few very special people. Her friends are waiting to discover something she isn’t good at. She often thinks about moving but lives primarily in a world of her own. Visit this diverse writer’s site at: http://uk.geocities.com/theviewoveraonia.
Snow Angel Page 19
