Snow Angel

by Sharon Maria Bidwell

  “I’ll come down for a drink tonight,” he heard himself saying as though from a distance, or as though he didn’t have control of his anatomy, including his mouth. That didn’t surprise him as much as it should have. Worse, he intended to go through with it, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to or was even sure why. He didn’t especially wish to go.

  * * * * *

  Lillian said she would join him for a drink during her break. Dean sat at one of the booths and waited for her. The Mixer was always busy, but this was a weekday and they were far from packed. Dean sat in a booth alone. Lillian emerged from behind the bar carrying a drink in each hand, one for herself and a fresh one for him. She was tall, platinum blonde, leggy, and the boobs were fake, something Dean didn’t like, but he never turned down an opportunity even if the operation was a bad one. He knew how to spot a bad boob job. Many woman had too great a distance separating their breasts. Even if they hung a little low, he preferred the real thing. He preferred flat-chested women, if it came to that.

  Mentally, he took a step back and ‘listened’ to his thoughts. Was this how he viewed all women, by their body parts? He didn’t think he was a bad guy at heart. He just wasn’t interested in getting serious right now. If he met the right woman, he was sure he would know. It was a new century. Women commanded equality. They were entitled to a little fun as much as any man. Right now, the perfect woman for him would be one who didn’t complicate things, fake boobs or no. That was why Lillian’s opening remarks and his reaction to them were so surprising.

  She slid into the opposite side of the booth, placing his drink down and then taking hers to her lips. Her mouth made the perfect ‘O’ around the straw poking up from her cocktail. He wanted to remark that if she kept doing that, in a few years she would have lines around her lips. He almost wanted to tell her she should put her lips around something larger. Why was he feeling so belligerent? She drank and set down the glass, raising her eyes to meet his gaze.

  “You know, we could have a few of these and we could chitchat and we could even go on a date or two, but that would cost you and it would take up my time.”

  Dean raised an eyebrow. What made her think he was going to pay the bill? What happened to going Dutch?

  “Or we can get to the point. I like the look of you.” Her gaze swept up and down. “I don’t have to see you naked to see you have a great body. I have a great body. We should use them. So I guess the only question is your place, or mine.”

  The expression was so clichéd, he fought the urge to laugh. Her mention of his having a great body was both flattering, yet strangely irritating, her confidence arousing, amusing and annoying all at once. Usually, he would have liked a forthright woman. Okay, her lines needed some work, but she got to the point. He felt a little bit like a piece of meat, a succulent steak chosen for her main course, but that was all right with him. Again, in one context that was flattering, and, besides, men had been doing that with women for years. He was a guy. An attractive woman just told him she wanted to have sex with him; the only question was where.

  He threw down some money on the table to pay for the drinks and stood up. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “You go to your place, and I’ll go to mine.”

  The smile, which had been growing, faded from her face. She frowned. “Then how can we ... ?” The light dawning illuminated her eyes. They grew harsh. He had probably killed any chance of eating at The Mixer again. She would probably spit in his food. Still, he’d made the right choice. The only trouble was, as he left the establishment, he didn’t know what that meant ultimately.

  Outside, he stood gulping down cold air. “What have I done?” he whispered. Then he screamed inside his mind. What have I done! He walked out on an attractive woman who wanted to have sex with him. What had he done!

  He walked to within two blocks of Jay’s home before he even realised where he was going. He stopped in the street, turned about, lifted his arms and stroked his fingers through his hair in a despairing gesture. He had just decided he couldn’t stand to see Jay tonight when he turned and the man was standing there.

  * * * * *

  Believing only he could be surprised to bump into Dean on the street, the thought washed away the moment Jay looked into the man’s eyes. They stood and stared at each other for a moment and then Jay asked, “Are you coming up?” He could hardly fail to catch the hesitation, but then Dean nodded. Now, they were in his flat.

  “I’m sorry about the phone call,” Jay said.

  “You don’t have to apologise.”

  “For my sister, no, I probably don’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

  “It was probably worse for you on the other end.”

  He couldn’t argue with that. The numerous and increasingly odd glances they had received in the burger restaurant at lunch, no, he didn’t need reminding of that. The silence grew. “You’ve been drinking. Where have you come from?” He could smell it on the man’s breath when Dean walked past him at the door, entering the flat.

  “The Mixer.”

  Jay nodded. “Having an after work drink with the mates.” He gabbled out words to fill the empty stretches of sound. To his surprise, Dean shook his head.

  “I just turned down a hot date.”

  What did that mean? Jay asked his question with a frown. Dean’s expression showed something he could only call irritation.

  “I screw around, but I don’t screw around with one person while I’m with another.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought I counted.”

  “You’re still a person, Jay. And, no, that wasn’t an implied insult.”

  He was going to argue, but Dean’s expression stopped him. “So ... what? You stay faithful while we screw around and then you move on?”

  “I ... don’t know.”

  That was the trouble. He couldn’t know. “It’s okay,” Jay said. “I’m the one that’s being stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid.”

  “Aren’t I? April’s right, isn’t she? I’m not blaming you,” he added, when Dean looked at him. “She shouldn’t have said anything, but she’s right, isn’t she? She told you how I feel and you would never have come around here if it weren’t for that.”

  “That’s not true. I was desperate to apologise that day.”

  “Apologise sure. Nothing more.”

  “What kind of crap has April been feeding you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change things. The question you need to answer is why you started this, because now it’s out of hand, and when you realise, when it truly hits you, I’m the one you’ll blame.”

  “No. I won’t do that.”

  “Be honest for once, Dean. You screwed me because you could. Because you knew I would let you. Because you knew I wanted you to. It’s all a game to you.”

  His friend stared at the floor, but it didn’t look as though he were seeing it. “It wasn’t just a game and it’s not a game anymore.”

  Jay nodded, slowly. “Well, I thank you for that. That one bit of honesty means something. But one fact remains.” He waited until Dean gave him his full attention.

  “What’s that?”

  He drew in a deep breath before he answered; speaking the truth as he’d considered and accepted it the other night. Odd, that on the most intimate, loving night between them, the truth shone so bright and clear, undeniable. Alas, the moment he said it, he wouldn’t be able to retract it. He looked up to meet Dean’s cool blue gaze. “I can’t have you.”

  * * * * *

  “What do you want? To set up house?” Dean didn’t need Jay to elaborate. He didn’t mean sex for a night, or even a few. He meant a relationship.

  “With someone, one day, yeah.”

  Well, of course he would. Why not? Why hadn’t he thought about that? Why didn’t he think in those terms other than in the vaguest sense when he considered his own future? Dean paced, running the fingers of one hand through his hair, feeling the longer length at the s
ides flop back.

  “So what happens now?” Dean didn’t like the erratic way his heart beat in his chest. He tried to pay attention to Jay and analyse his feelings at the same time, not an easy thing to do. Part of what he felt was fear, and he had to accept with a sick dread, that it was the fear of Jay telling him to leave and never darken his doorstep again. He didn’t like that the idea worried him so much. April was right. He was an arse-wipe. Jay was right also. He had screwed him because he could. The trouble was, he discovered he liked it. The sex between them was good. Jay was just the right height, build, weight for him, and the sparks ... He couldn’t explain it, but he ‘slid’ into a place, a zone, the moment anything turned intimate between them. He liked that place. He liked how it made him feel. He felt alive then, his skin tingling. He felt ... in control. Hell, he liked Jay pliant and willing. He liked the way Jay allowed him to hold him down. Many women didn’t like that. He didn’t do it because he was a sexist jerk. It just felt natural to him to be in control. Now, the idea made him wonder if Jay liked it or just went along with it.

  “Fuck.” The word whispered out of him before he could stop it. Only then did he realise Jay had been talking, probably replying to his question and he’d failed to hear a word of it. He just shook his head at Jay’s questioning look and surprised silence. April was right. He was a control freak. Did that make him perverted? He didn’t think so. Some people liked to dominate; some liked being the one dominated. There were women out there ‑‑ and men ‑‑ who liked it one way or the other, or even took turns. His problem was he had never experienced such a huge kick out of it before this; now he did, all because he knew the person’s heart was involved this time. Jay loved him. He used that. He was a louse, though he doubted a true louse would care what the other person thought of him. Ultimately, he didn’t truly want to hurt Jay. The best thing he could do was walk away. He couldn’t. Jay was like a drug to him. Even now, he wanted to have sex again and it had little to do with his own physical pleasure. He wanted to look into Jay’s clear eyes and watch them go unfocused and glaze over with need. He wanted to hear Jay’s moans and soft sighs and know he was the cause of them. He wanted to make Jay feel so good he screamed his name. Surely, April was right and egomania had something to do with it, but the trouble was he also cared about Jay in this. He wanted Jay to be happy, to feel good, to be ...

  ... with me.

  The idea froze him. He closed his eyes. It didn’t matter where that crazy idea came from and how easily it might solve a few things; he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t even certain he truly wanted it, and he wouldn’t do that to Jay. He wouldn’t offer him something only to take it away again. So far, he hadn’t offered Jay more than sex and some affection. He wouldn’t offer him love to snatch it away again. For all his faults, he would rather someone cut off his right arm than be that much of a bastard.

  This shouldn’t be about what you want. It should be about doing the right thing.

  “I’m just a source of amusement to you, aren’t I?” Jay said.

  He looked up to meet Jay’s gaze. The other man stood there shaking his head almost sadly, and then something in his expression hardened. “Let’s see how amused you can be.”

  Reaching out, Jay took his hand. Dean almost drew away in surprise and then he hesitated, trying to convince himself the time had come to leave. He should walk out of here. Jay moved to the bedroom and Dean only realised he followed when he stepped through the doorway. Too often lately, he performed actions in a trance-like state. He opened his mouth to apologise for everything and to say it couldn’t happen again when Jay kissed him. Perhaps they were right and the transference of blood did dull a man’s commonsense.

  * * * * *

  Secret sighs filled a darkened room. Flesh hardened under clothing. That was fine. Skin would soon rub against skin. Keep it moving softly, but keep it hard.

  Lips came into contact in the lightest exploration before deepening. Roaming souls searched to find each other in a sleek touch. Dropping to his knees, Jay rubbed his face against that hard centre tenting the blue denim. His hands grabbed Dean’s hips to tug his lover forward so he could bury his face in that obscured warmth. The man bent down and dragged the concealing shirt upwards, forcing Jay to close his eyes and lift his arms. The moment the shirt was gone, his hands returned in worship to squeeze and tempt the hidden cock to greater rigour. His reward came in feeling it swell within its textile dwelling.

  Glancing up, a great darkness fluttered like a large bird or giant bat flapped its wings in the gloom. The shadow fled to reveal the flush of flesh. The fluttering shadow had simply been his lover undressing. Seeking, asking with caresses, Jay’s fingers worked at buttons. He tugged the zip down. The prison gaped. The prisoner sought early release. Jay took the naked captive and soothed the punishment with kisses.

  A tongue licked. Fingers wandered, dropped off fabric skins revealing a heady beat of life within. The warm wet cavern opened, sucked in softness. The serpent throbbed with life’s sweet beat. The dance of the ophidian, his sister called it, a venomous threat of snake-like licks, flickering, tapping, licking, stroking, amid the threat of teeth. Strings of pearls glistened from cock to lips. He picked up speed.

  The connection broke. Left bereft, adrift, he whimpered, ashamed to hear the cry sound so loud in the night. Warmth returned, good and strong, to carry him to the bed. He cast the last piece of restricting fabric aside. Heaps of discarded garb lay like dark secrets to trip up unwary trespassers.

  Hands stroked over shoulders, down arms, travelled over unmarked roadmaps finding hidden desires on the journey. Fingers grasped and lips parted to gasp. The urgency increased. Temptation’s voice sounded louder than any word they spoke.

  Rock hard. Everywhere he laid his hands, they slid over smooth hills and valleys, dipping into vales that begged for slowness, rising over crests that required speed. They writhed, changing pace as need dictated. Arms gathered him into another kiss. Lips touched lips, tongues entwined and danced on a sigh. They shared breath and other things in the joining.

  Dean’s cock was just as hard and smooth as the rest of him. Fascination made exploring fingers linger at the curve of his backside. Their necks tilted for another kiss and their cock-heads touched in mimicry. His soft cry came in warning; he could have exploded then. Whispers told him no, not yet. He would know just when.

  Fingers moved to thighs, gliding gently down then back up again. Willing to beg, if it were required of him, Jay took up what he wanted, though it proved larger than his hand. With slow, gentle strokes he spread the tears that small eye shed. Dipping his head, he took up a single drop. Dew on a morning leaf never tasted as sweet.

  He suckled. Engulfed, the organ twitched. A throb stronger than a heartbeat filled his mouth. He opened up, drawing his love in, tracing the outline with delicate licks, drawing a blueprint his heart and mind could never forget. He touched it with his lips, his tongue, his chin; he breathed it in, closed his eyes and let it block his sight.

  Hands wove into his hair and held him there.

  Dean bucked. He fucked, penetrated as far as a long, slow stroke would allow, and then speeded up, short hard thrusts until Jay had to ask, plead for air with questing fingers. He gasped in air through parted lips. The hand at the back of his head was his only warning. As soon as he nodded, that thickness came home. His body tingled with need. His mind screamed silently yes, yes, yes, use me. Breathy gasps and tightening muscles said Dean planned to do just that. Short of air, still he closed his mouth around the shaft and sucked.

  It proved too much for both of them. Those large hands gathered him, fingers lacing in his hair, holding him there. He heard his lover breathe out the word, “Angel” and then they were both lost to the face fucking. The offering was warm and thick, liquid silk on a lapping tongue and drowning them in need.

  * * * * *

  “I can’t keep doing this.”

  Dean wanted to tell him to be still, but he just swallowed. He c
ouldn’t speak.

  “I can’t let you keep doing this to me.”

  At last, he found his voice, but it emerged strained. Even Jay ought to hear the struggle he fought to overcome. He’s right. This is it. Let him go.

  His arms tightened in response to his timely thoughts. It made Jay raise his head from where it rested on his chest to look at him. “You don’t want this, Dean. You don’t want me. Not really.”

  That gave him cause for consideration. He asked himself that very question and tried to answer it honestly, but couldn’t. He just didn’t have the answer. All he knew was that he didn’t want to let go right now. Jay wanted more than that, though, and, if he couldn’t give him what he wanted, what he needed, then the only fair thing was to release him. “You mean you want more than I’m prepared to give.”

  Jay’s eyes narrowed as he stared. He gave a slight shake of his head. “Please don’t do this to me, Dean. Don’t leave it all up to me.”

  Dean never understood or appreciated the true meaning of tongue-tied until now. He stared at Jay’s eyes glistening with unshed tears and couldn’t say a thing.

  Chapter Twelve

  “You sure you need to leave today?”

  “Mum, you know I promised April I’d be at her party. She’ll be furious if I miss it.”

  “The forecast doesn’t look good.”

  “They’ve gritted the motorways. I’ll make it home okay before the snow comes.”

  His mother didn’t look convinced. His father rolled his eyes as though to say she was fussing. In truth, his mother probably had a point. He should see sense and stay, but he just wanted to get home now to his own surroundings. Jay waved before driving away. He would have left earlier, but his mother liked him to leave with a full stomach so he had stayed for dinner. Still, it was only a two-hour drive back, even if he took it slowly. He would make it okay.