Dean leaned back in his chair and covered his eyes with his hands. Perhaps it was time for a different approach. If he were a woman, what would he want? Really want, not dream about? After an agonizing half hour, during which he almost despaired over his lack of imagination, he decided to switch tactics again. What would he want? If he had a lover like Marcus, what would he want from him? Dean thought for a couple of minutes. Then his fingers started to dance on the keyboard.
Marcus’s fingers gently massaged the naked, alluring butt presented to him. He kneaded the taut flesh until he saw shivers running down his lover’s spine. Dean moaned in helpless pleasure as Morgan entered him first with one, then two fingers. He was painfully aware of the presence at his back, of Morgan’s sheer mass and heat. It turned him on even more than the kisses and the touches. Knowing there was somebody who desired him like crazy was a heady feeling, one he had missed in previous encounters. Now he was arching his back, inviting his lover to take him, to make him his. When Morgan’s thick cock finally entered his body, Dean cried out in sweet rapture.
Head tilted slightly to the right, Dean read what he had just written. It was a lot tamer than his previous drafts, and never mind the change of names in between, but it touched something inside him. Of course, he would have to alter some minor details, but it was a start. Perhaps he could make this scene outrageous in a different kind of way.
“My, my, my. What naughty things you are imagining.”
Dean almost fell off his chair when Morgan’s voice resounded right next to him. Hastily he pulled himself upright, feeling heat rushing to his head and some other places while his face turned crimson.
“What are you doing here?”
Morgan was still standing too close, his breath caressing Dean’s skin like a soft breeze.
“Well, I came here for business, but you were so caught up in your writing, you didn’t even register my presence. And after reading what you just produced, I’ve forgotten what I wanted to say. I have some different ideas now.”
Soft lips skimmed lightly over Dean’s right earlobe, making him shudder. He knew he had to put an end to this before things got out of hand. He wasn’t cut out to be in a relationship, not even one that was only about sex. He was too terrified of intimacy, of having to open up to somebody else even in the slightest way. It wasn’t that he disliked his forward suitor—Morgan was beyond everything he could wish for in a partner, straightforward, intelligent, gentle, even polite when it suited him, and so handsome it took Dean’s breath away whenever he looked at him. He was simply too perfect to be true, which was why Dean shied away from letting him get under his skin even deeper.
But now Morgan’s big hands were touching his arms oh so carefully, and he felt his mind going blank. Morgan’s sensuous lips started trailing toward his face, leaving feathery kisses on his throat and cheeks before they connected with Dean’s mouth. When Morgan’s tongue delved into his mouth, Dean couldn’t stifle a moan. He felt like he was drowning in the sweetest honey. Morgan tasted of coffee and caramel, and he used his tongue with so much skill it made waves of heat wash over Dean’s body. Instinctively his arms snaked around the solid, warm torso in front of him, which steadied his trembling limbs but also ignited his lust even more. Morgan picked him up from the chair, his voice a rough whisper against Dean’s lips.
“Let’s move this to someplace more comfortable.” He grinned. “And I promise, I’ll be even better than you imagined.”
Dean wanted to rebuke Morgan for his banter, but before he could start talking, Morgan had sealed his lips with another kiss. In the bedroom, he put Dean down on his king-size bed, looming over him like a hungry wolf while he was busy stripping the shirt, denims, and boxers from Dean’s delectable body. Dean made a last weak attempt to stop him, but he was simply overwhelmed by Morgan’s unbridled need.
When Dean was finally naked, Morgan started caressing his skin, leaving trails of fire all over his body while Dean’s senses went into sensual overload. It had been decades since he had been caressed by anybody, and certainly never as skillfully as this. Helplessly, Dean clung to Morgan, digging his fingers into the bulky muscles while he lost himself in the sensation of skin on skin.
Morgan was gritting his teeth, seeming to try his hardest not to come right on the spot. He focused his attention on Dean’s nipples, taking his sweet time fondling them until they were as big and hard as pebbles and Dean was gasping and moaning under his assault. With a wicked smile, he sucked one nipple into his mouth and reached for the hard balls pressing against Dean’s thighs.
Dean screamed, unable to keep it in any longer. It only took two strokes before he came like a madman, his hips bucking under Morgan’s weight, unable to escape the sweet agony. While Dean was still twitching underneath him, Morgan used the semen to lubricate the taut, hidden opening between his butt cheeks. Morgan was so skillful, Dean didn’t even realize when two fingers slid into him in search of his sweet spot. He was too busy clinging to his lover’s massive frame and trying to comprehend the alluring contrast of their different skin tones. White as snow, black as ebony. It was enough to tip him over the edge again. When he was finally able to talk once more, he touched Morgan’s face lightly with his fingertips.
“Not just me. Please, I want to feel you.”
Morgan’s eyes clouded over. His face was now a mask of barely restrained lust that made Dean shiver in anticipation.
“Are you sure?”
While saying this, Morgan guided Dean’s hand down to where his cock was jutting from his open fly to let him feel how big he was. Dean gulped, but there was no way he could stop halfway. He wanted—no, he needed—to feel Morgan inside him. If Morgan didn’t enter him right now, he would surely go crazy.
“I want it. Please. Do it to me.”
Growling deep in his throat, Morgan reached for a condom from his back pocket, tore the foil open, and rolled it on. Then he turned Dean around and helped him to get on all fours. The tip of his massive cock grazed the taut ring of Dean’s anus. Slowly, so as not to hurt Dean, Morgan eased himself in. When he was buried to the hilt, he paused for a moment, and Dean moaned in despair.
“Please, Morgan! Stop teasing me and start moving. I can’t bear it any longer!”
With a feral grunt, Morgan complied. He started moving in long, measured strokes, steadying Dean with his hands. Dean whimpered and groaned, his hips bucking in perfect harmony with Morgan’s thrusts, which were coming harder and faster now. Dean felt another orgasm building up. His insides tensed around Morgan’s big cock hurting him so deliciously, and his back arched up. Morgan gripped him tightly as he neared his completion as well. Then Dean felt a throbbing inside, and Morgan’s hot essence gushed into the condom. Sobbing with pleasure, he too came once more, glad that Morgan was still holding on to him. Otherwise he would have collapsed on the spot.
They lay in silence for a while, their bodies still most intimately joined. Morgan’s big body engulfed Dean with warmth and a musky scent that made him drowsy. He tried to move away from the tight embrace, making Morgan chuckle.
“Don’t you dare think you can get away from me now. You and I, we’re nowhere near done with each other.”
Dean groaned. “Don’t be so insatiable! I’m worn out.”
“No, you’re pleasantly relaxed. There’s a difference. And I’m not insatiable. But you can’t expect me to neglect the feast in front of me after just a few meager bites.”
“You call that meager? We went at it for almost an hour!”
“Then look forward to the rest of the day.”
Still grinning mockingly, Morgan started kissing Dean while his hands busied themselves once more with the sensitive nipples in front of him. Dean managed to resist for almost a minute, then gave in. It was simply too wonderful, this feeling of being touched, of being worshipped and pampered and loved. Except for his sister, he had never felt appreciated by anybody else before. With a certain surprise, he realized that he was genuinely happy.<
br />
THE FOLLOWING morning Morgan woke to the wonderful smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of industrious typing. Dean was sitting next to him on the bed, laptop in front of him, chewing his lower lip while his fingers flew over the keyboard.
“Hey, why’re you working so early in the morning?”
Dean held up one hand. “Shh. Let me finish this. Then we can talk.”
With a grunt, Morgan sat up and reached for the mug standing on the bedside table next to Dean. While he enjoyed those first refreshing sips of caffeine, he glanced over Dean’s shoulder at the screen. It was the same file he had been working on the previous day, but now it was a lot bigger and had a polished feel to it. Dean was just going over the sex scene once more, deleting a word here, adding a phrase there. When he was finally done, Morgan rested his chin on Dean’s shoulder, breathing warm, coffee-scented air in his ear.
“I’m pretty sure that’s impossible for anybody who hasn’t spent a lifetime doing yoga at least four hours a day. And even then, it can’t feel good.”
Dean chuckled. “I know. But that’s kind of the point. It’s a fantasy, just like when Tom Cruise slides over the asphalt clinging to a motorbike. People are aware how highly unlikely or even impossible it is, but it doesn’t make it less cool. Plus I added some very tender, down-to-earth moments to this story. It needed at least one outrageous, athletic sex scene to balance it out. I’ve been laboring on that for days now, and to think having a little sex myself would unlock my writer’s block….”
“A little sex? You were singing a different tune yesterday. Seems like I didn’t work you enough. A mistake I’m not going to make again.”
Morgan slung his arms around Dean, who hastened to put his laptop on the nightstand. Morgan chuckled and pinned him down on the mattress. He reveled in Dean’s eager response to his touch. The day before, he had held back because Dean was clearly inexperienced and Morgan knew how important it was to go slowly. Now things were different. After just one night, Dean oozed sexual sensuality and he also knew what to expect. Morgan couldn’t help but smile like a hungry wolf. Time to up the game.
MUCH LATER, when they were eating pizza on the bed, still half-naked and drowsy from their exertions, Morgan glanced at the scars on Dean’s body. “Are you going to tell me where you got those?”
Dean felt like a three-legged mouse who had just glimpsed a hungry cat. His reaction must have shown on his face, because Morgan hurried to soothe him.
“You don’t have to, if you don’t want. I’m sorry if I crossed a line here.”
Dean closed his eyes for a moment. This was the reason why he avoided other people. Talking about his past was painful enough without the trained, socially accepted, and often fake pity of strangers directed at him. But somehow Morgan was different. He didn’t ask out of obligation or to cure a perverted curiosity but out of genuine interest in Dean as a person. Not to mention that he didn’t seem to be repelled by those marks on his skin.
“It’s okay. I’m just not used to this. Having bodily contact and all.” He paused, and Morgan was empathic enough not to disturb his musings. “I was eighteen when it happened. I’d never been a social butterfly to begin with, and I had just come to terms with the fact that I’m gay. I wasn’t ready to come out yet, but I had found a lover, or more precisely, an acquaintance, who shared those first guilty moments of kissing and touching the wrong kind of person with me.
“That day I had gotten my sister’s car to drive my parents into town. They wanted to do a little shopping and then go on a bingo binge. My mother loved bingo. I was just driving up the main road when a truck suddenly rammed us from the side. The driver was dead drunk, and later they told me it was a miracle he had managed to operate his vehicle. The truck hit the passenger side. My mother was dead instantly, crushed by all the steel. My father was hurled against the opposite side of the car and broke his neck. By then the truck driver had lost consciousness, and the truck pushed our car into the building on the other side of the street. The car windows broke, and all the glass from the store windows crashed down on me. It hurt like hell, and I could feel the edges cutting my body open everywhere. The last thing I thought about before everything went dark was how angry Alice would be when she heard I had crashed her car.
“When I woke again, I was in the hospital covered in bandages. Alice was sitting beside me, desperately trying to appear strong though I could tell she had been crying a lot. But my sister is a tough one—she never once broke in the course of the following weeks, not when she organized our parents’ funeral, not when we attended it, not when they removed the bandages and it was clear I would look like this from now on. She’s always taken care of me, but from that day on she became like a lioness, protecting me as fiercely as if I was her child, not her sibling. I owe her my life.
“After the accident I got depressed, but Alice not only kept me from ending my miserable existence, she also led me back to life. She was the one who suggested writing as a kind of therapy, and she also found a publisher for my very first book. Most people would probably say the money I made since then is consolation for what’s happened, but to be frank, I’d gladly give it all up and spend the rest of my life in poverty if I could undo the events of that day.”
While he spoke, Dean stared at his food, scared to look into Morgan’s face, dreading what he might see there. Now he gathered all his courage to lift his gaze. His fears proved baseless. There was no pity in the dark eyes, and no contempt. Only a heartfelt understanding of what he had gone through. Morgan didn’t judge, he just listened, and somehow that was exactly what Dean needed.
“Thank you for telling me this. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for you.”
Dean smiled shyly, painfully aware of Morgan’s overwhelming presence. “You’re the first I’ve ever told. So thank you for listening.”
“It’s fine. You can tell me everything.” Morgan quirked a brow, his eyes now lively with mischief. “All your dirty little secrets. I’ll make sure to find them out.”
Dean couldn’t suppress a laugh. He was still a little tense from what had just transpired between them and grateful for the diversion Morgan was offering.
“There aren’t that many. Just a few.”
“Then tell me! Why are you hesitating?”
“Two reasons. First, I enjoy seeing you so eager. Second, I’m hungry. You’ll have to wait until I’m done with my food.”
Morgan reached over for the remains of Dean’s pizza and caught a slap on the back of his hand for his troubles.
“I just wanted to help.”
“And your generous offer hasn’t passed unnoticed. But I’m perfectly capable of dealing with this viscous assembly of carbohydrates and mushrooms all on my own. You sit back and wait.”
Morgan complied, a calculated expression of mock offense on his face. “As you wish. But don’t come complaining to me when the ’shrooms start their counterattack.”
“SO A certain hunk is now practically living with you, or so I’ve heard.”
Alice’s voice over the phone was syrupy sweet. Now that her little brother had met the deadline for the short story, a weight had come off her shoulders. It wasn’t like him to be tardy, and she had feared his depression might have returned.
Dean’s tone was a little sour when he answered her. “And how do you know that, sister mine?”
“In case you haven’t realized it yet, I know everything about you, my cute little brother. It’s part of being an older sister.”
“Ha, ha. And seriously, how do you know? You haven’t been here during the last week—for which I’m grateful, by the way.”
“Well, it wasn’t easy, I have to admit. What with the deadline approaching and all. Bethany and I are friends, and she told me Morgan hasn’t returned home for the past four days, so I drew my conclusions. I’m happy for you!”
“Thank you, Alice. He’s really great.”
“That’s what Bethany told me.”
&n
bsp; Alice sounded so smug, Dean felt suspicion creeping up on him.
“Alice, did you play matchmaker on me? You know how I hate that!”
“I thought you were happy? And no, I didn’t set up anything. Bethany and I just realized that two men very close to us were missing something profound in their lives, namely a stable romantic relationship and social contact. So we arranged for you to meet, with the very nice side effect of getting that ruin you call home renovated. I didn’t force you into his arms, nor did Bethany tell Morgan to screw you. It just happened naturally, so be glad and be grateful and stop whining.”
Dean chuckled. He normally hated it when Alice meddled in his affairs, but this time her intuition had been spot-on. He was so happy, he found it easy to forgive her.
“I’m not whining. I just wanted to confirm. And now please excuse me, for I have work to do. Books don’t write themselves.”
“You don’t have to lie to me, Dean. You can openly tell your big sis when you’re off to have some adult time with your hot boyfriend.”
Dean shuddered delicately.
“First of all, even if I were, I’d surely not feed that dirty mind of yours with indecent images—and secondly, ‘adult time’ is reserved for the night, since both of us have work to do. Real work, not sex.”
Alice laughed out loud. “You do realize you sound like a boring old gramps, don’t you? If I were you, I’d certainly—”
“And this is where our conversation reaches its inevitable end. See you in two days, Alice.”
Before his sister could say her good-byes, Dean ended the call. He just wasn’t ready for this kind of banter yet. It was a wonderful, heady feeling to be in love, but he had been alone for so long, it was still hard to get used to the presence of another person in his most private space. To hide his insecurity and doubts, he buried himself in work, pretending to be on a writer’s high so he didn’t have to deal with Morgan’s overwhelming presence all the time. Dean knew he was acting like a coward and that his new lover—he still couldn’t bring himself to think boyfriend—had probably realized this as well, but he needed time to get used to not being alone anymore. With a sigh as deep as if he were carrying the weight of the world, Dean sat down at his desk again. It was time for some serious spy action to get his mind off such gloomy thoughts.
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