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THIS WORK DEALS WITH A FICTITIONAL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN TWO MEN. IF READING ABOUT HOMOSEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS OR SEXUAL CONTACT BETWEEN TWO MEN IS EITHER ILLEGAL IN YOUR AREA OR OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READY ANY FURTHER.
ANY SIMILARITIES TO ANY PERSON LIVING OR DEAD ARE PURELY COINCIDENTAL. THIS WORK IS ENTIRELY FICTITIONAL.
DYLAN'S HOPE
Michael A. Raburn
Chapter 3
Turning the lock on the front door I felt Dylan's breath on the back of my neck.
"I love you." He whispered.
"Dylan..." I started.
"Shhh." He pressed his body against mine, wrapping his arms around my neck. Instinctively I gathered him in my arms, looking into his eyes. His hand left my back and pulled me by my neck to meet his lips. What started out on my part as a quick fatherly kiss quickly turned much more passionate. Only when he pulled back from my lips did I realize how incredibly turned on I was. And the war in my mind began anew.
"Dylan..." I started, stepping back from him. "Do you want something to drink?" I turned towards the kitchen.
"Jon, what's wrong?" He grabbed my by the elbow, turning me to face him. I couldn't make myself look in his eyes; I knew I would be lost.
"Baby, I, I don't know." I stammered.
"Let me get us a couple of glasses of water. Have a seat in your favorite chair and I'll be right back."
He returned only a moment later with two large tumblers of ice and spring water. Kneeling beside the recliner, he handed me one. He took my free hand in his, gently caressing it with his thumb. I had started to the kitchen not because I was really thirsty but to get away from the situation and the confusion that I felt. I sipped the water quickly, my body finally telling me what it needed; too much wine and not enough other forms of hydration. I finished the glass and sat it on the side table.
"Dylan, this is hard for me." I stood. Everyone that I'd ever worked with knew that I couldn't talk effectively sitting down. I thought best on my feet. Dylan moved to my chair and watched me pace. "See, what I don't understand is why you want me to be your, hmm, partner? I'm old enough to be your father and in many ways I've acted like your father all these years." I stopped to look at him.
"You're just twenty two, I'm forty. Do you really want to be tied down to an old man? When you're thirty I'll be almost fifty years old." He started to answer me but I threw up a hand signaling him to hear me out. "Now that I think about it, I realize that you are a handsome young man and I'm really flattered and turned on by your attention. But I don't think this is the best thing for either of us. You need to find someone your own age to build a life with." Again I paused to look at him.
"Maybe you're right." He stated, simply. "But I don't see it happening that way."
"Huh?"
He rose and walked over to stand beside me as I looked out the window into the night.
"Logically, I understand your argument. There is an age difference between us, and there is a lot of history. I know I will never love anybody like I love you right now. If that's all there is between us, then I can live with that. You've always been there for me when I needed you. No, not always like a father, but I suppose that's part of it. You've always been the person I wanted to grow up to be like."
"When did you decide it was more than...?"
"Love for a parent?"
"Yeah."
"Actually, it was Andrea that figured it out. I couldn't stop talking about you. Finally one day she just up and asked me 'who do you think about when you, you know?' I almost flipped out when she asked me that."
"Leave it to my daughter to be blunt." I giggled.
"Shy, she's not. But it got me to thinking. I finally admitted to myself and later to her that you were always in my fantasies."
"Me?" I asked, looking down at my body. Years of nonstop work had done nothing good for my physique. Any musculature that I had in college had been covered over with a softer layer. I wasn't overly fat, more bearish I guess.
"Yeah, you. I saw that self-appraisal there. You look great. Cuddly, strong, and all that great hair all over you. Makes me want to snuggle up and hibernate with you, among other things." He leered.
"You've had too much wine. I know I have."
"Come on, let's get you to bed."
"Dylan..."
"Just to sleep. I promise." He held his hands up in surrender.
I eased away from him as slowly and carefully as I could, tucking the blanket back around him. He looked so peaceful even though he was hogging my favorite pillow. He rolled over into my place and hugged the pillow to him. I'd sleep a couple of hours but frightening dreams had awakened me. I lay with his back spooned to my hairy chest until my bladder told me it needed attention.
I walked back to the bed and just stood watching him for several minutes. I glanced at the clock on the bedside table, four o'clock in the morning. Not wanting to wake him, I walked over to look out the French doors into the night, trying to shake the vestiges of the dreams from my head. The crescent moon was visible through the bare branches of the huge oak tree. The swing the kids hounded me to build years ago moved gently in the breeze.
Three nights he had slept with me, afraid to return to the guest room, to be alone. He had not been back in his house since the search started and refused to talk about returning there. He convinced Andrea and Robert to go get his clothes and books for him. They were all three sophomores at Emory that year and Dylan was trying to be an adult and be responsible, but was feeling overwhelmed by the suddenness of his parents' deaths.
Even after those three nights that he asked if he could sleep with me, he would still slip into my room after he thought I was asleep. For the two weeks he lived with us I would awaken to the slight movement of the bedsprings when he would ease in beside me. I never said a word, just pulled him to my chest and pulled the covers around us. I would always awaken in the mornings alone, searching for him, but only finding his fragrance on my pillow. Later he would emerge from the guestroom with that crooked grin on his face.
He moved to the dorm after those weeks. I would still awaken in the middle of the night expecting to feel him beside me.
"Jon, why are you up?" He asked, wrapping his arms around me. "God, you're freezing." He turned me around. I was only wearing my boxers as I stood looking at him, but not really seeing him. "Why are you crying? How long have you been up?"
"Couldn't sleep...remembering." I mumbled.
"Remembering what?" He was pulling me towards the bed, back toward the warmth.
I was incoherent, couldn't stop the tears. He pulled the blanket over us and pulled me, shivering, to his chest. The roller coaster was back, this time with a vengeance. The build up to the wedding, the nightmares, and the realization that I truly did love Dylan, and always had, all raced through my mind. My exhaustion must have caught up with me because I had no conscious thought after he pulled me to him, other than I was safe and loved.
Sunday I woke to the smell of bacon and coffee. Groggily sitting up in bed, I tried to remember who I was and where I was. I grabbed my robe and padded off to the bathroom. While I was using the toilet I reached into the shower stall and started the water to warm.
"Breakfast is ready, Jon." Dylan's voice called. I was about to answer when the shower door opened and he joined me. "Need someone to wash your back?"
"Best offer I've had all morning." I answered, pulling him to me. "When did you get up?" I leaned down to kiss him.
"Just now." He laughed, grinding his groin into my leg. "What about you?"
"Yeah, me too." I turned, aligning out hard cocks between our bellies.
"You must be feeling better this morning. Oh, wow! It's huge." He reached down to grasp both our hard cocks.
"It's not that big." I started.
"Yeah, right." He snickered.
I pulled back from him and grabbed the soap. "Turn around, I'll get your back." I indicated.
"Just be careful where you point that thing."
Spreading the soap around his back, I began to knead the muscles of his athletic body. Working downward, my fingers slid into the crack of his bubble butt. "This where you're talking about?" I kidded as I teased his pucker with my finger.
"Hmm. Yeah, right there." He pushed back. "Honey, I don't think I can..." He started to say before the spasms took over his body. I grabbed him with my left arm so he wouldn't fall and continued to circle the tight rosebud with my finger. "Oh God!" he yelled as his cum spurted onto the shower wall.
I held him securely as the shaking subsided, whispering how much I loved him. After a few minutes he raised his head to look at me.
"I love you." He kissed me. "How did you know?"
"I didn't, you showed me. Just a small part of learning how to love you."
"Your turn." He stood up from my arms.
"You don't have to." I stammered.
"Try to stop me." He kneeled and grasped my staining dick in his hands.
"It won't take much." I started to say as he popped my cock between his lips and swirled his tongue around the head. "Fuck!" I started pumping my sperm into his mouth. I grabbed the towel bar to keep from falling myself.
"Rain check." He giggled as I regained my strength.
"Huh?"
"Never mind. Let's get out of here, the water is getting cold."
"We need to get your car sometime today."
"Oh, that's right. It's still at the church. What else do you want to do?"
"Nothing special, just spend time with you." I reached across the table for his hand.
"You old softie." He cooed. "Andrea said you'd be like this."
"Like what?" I scoffed.
"One hundred percent."
"Dylan, I learned a long time ago in business that there is only one way to do something. And that's all the way. Anything less and it usually fails. That's not going to happen with us."
"I love you."
"I love you too, baby."
TO BE CONTINUED