Dean did decide to move into the riverside flat. It all happened remarkably quickly as the previous tenant had already moved out and Dean had very little stuff to move. That also meant the end to our shared car journeys, much to my regret. But then again the relationship between us was not quite like it was before the rug incident anyway. The work and daily routine continued the way it did before, but there seemed to be a new awkwardness between us. Whenever we were alone together, whether it was a business discussion or just having lunch, he appeared to be stiffer and more guarded than before. That easy rapport which had been developed between us was still there, but somehow it felt less warm.
As for me, I was racked by self-doubt. I tried very hard to wipe them out of my mind but every time I saw Dean the same questions would resurface. What would have happened if I had taken our last encounter further? What does Dean think of me now? What should I do? I began to treat Dean more warily, not because I wanted to put distance between us, though no doubt that was how it came across, but because I was trying so hard to observe his every gesture and to guess what they could mean. I had also lost pretty much all interest in sex. What's the point of having sex if I can't have it with Dean? I don't believe in second best.
A few weeks after Dean moved into his new flat he decided to throw a house-warming party, to be held on a Saturday night a few weeks before my last day at the bank. The party was supposed to be a small affair, but many more people than I had expected turned up. Our whole team at work was there, as were a few of my friends whom I had introduced to Dean. Much to my surprise quite a few of Dean's friends were also present. I guess he does make friends easily and there is a large network of expatriate Australians in London.
Dean was in his element. Wearing a pair of fashionably faded jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt that was just tight enough to show off his broad shoulders and defined chest without appearing too much of a show-off, he managed to look effortlessly casual and sexy. He spent all night moving between the groups of guests, introducing people and filling up glasses with Australian white wine, all the time displaying his magnetic smile and charming everybody around him. He was happy, confident and in control, a king surveying his kingdom. I desired him more than ever.
As the night wore on I got chatting to an Australian friend of his.
"Alright mate? I hope you have some alcohol in that juice you're drinking," he said pointing at my glass.
"Well actually it's plain orange juice. Have to drive home later you see." The real reason for my abstinence was right beneath my feet -- the rug in Dean's living room reminded how foolish I could act after a few too many drinks and I was determined not to repeat the same mistake again.
"I'm Pete, by the way; Dean's mate at university in Sydney." He said as he proffered his hand, which I promptly shook.
"Nice to meet you! I'm Tom, one of Dean's colleagues at work."
"Ah, so you are Tom," Pete exclaimed as looked me up and down, pretending to scrutinise me, "Yes you are just the way Dean described you, especially the funny hairstyle."
"Oh yeah?" I grinned and turned red with embarrassment as I sub-consciously ruffled my slightly messy hair. I never quite understood why people pick on my hairstyle. It is supposed to be quite trendy, though I guess it will never be appreciated in the conservative world of banking. I was also secretly happy that Dean mentions me to his friends. "What else did he say about me then?"
"Oh nothing much. Something about you being a typical stuck-up and repressed Brit." Pete smiled with a glint in his eye.
"Yeah right," I narrowed my eyes in a mock vindictive expression, "And you can tell Dean he's a lazy bastard with not enough respect for his elders. His funny accent is not going to fool anyone you know."
"Ha ha, dead right there," Pete laughed, "Actually he said you're a very nice guy."
"Is that it? Just a very nice guy?" I felt just a little bit disappointed.
"Well he also said something about your dry sense of humour and you being the clumsiest person he's met," Pete replied, pointing at the stains of spilt orange juice on my sleeve.
Well, to be fair I dill spill a glass of juice earlier in the evening. But at least I managed to avoid the death-trap that is Dean's living room rug.
"So, tell me something about Dean. I guess he must be a real heart-breaker back home in Sydney."
"Yeah you're right about that too. You should meet his girlfriend Michelle, a real stunner and great personality too. I doubt it would last too much longer though, what with him being in London and her in Sydney. Can't quite imagine Dean in a long distance relationship."
I froze when I heard that, though I tried hard to act normal.
"Well, I'm sure he'll do very well with the talent pool here," I shrugged, "We'll just have to find him a girl who's not so stuck up and repressed."
We both laughed, but in my heart I wasn't laughing at all. In fact it felt like something had died inside me. I knew it, I sighed and thought to myself. So it's good that I stopped myself from going in deeper. Somethings in life are just too good to be true.
From that point onwards my orange juice was swiftly replaced by pretty full glasses of white wine. I pretended I was celebrating my newfound freedom, when in fact I was drowning my sorrows. What the hell. As I became more and more loosened up I began to feel the weight that had accumulated over the past few weeks being lifted off my shoulders. I was happy and relaxed, chatting to everyone in sight and truly enjoying the party. I remembered Dean throwing the occasional glance at me, the usual questioning, contemplative look, which I returned with a carefree wink. We chatted, though I can't remember what about.
In fact, I can't remember much of what happened at all.
When I opened my eyes all I could see was bright whiteness. My mind seemed to be turning more slowly than usual as I struggled to work out where the hell I was. I was in a bed, which was nice, but I don't remember such large windows in my bedroom. I lifted my head by half an inch and was immediately hit by a sharp pain in the head, quickly followed by an intense sense of nausea. "Uggghhhh," I moaned as I sank back into the bed. I think my hangover had woken up as well. After a few more minutes, when I had got used to the throbbing in my head, I finally got out of bed.
As I squinted my eyes and looked out of the window, the beautiful river view could only mean one thing: I was in Dean's flat. I looked at my watch. It was ten thirty.
I shuffled out from the bedroom into the living room and plonked myself down in the nearest sofa. I could hear someone whistling from a distance. The living room looked disconcertingly tidy. After what seemed to be hours (funny how time always seems to drag when you are vegetating) Dean strolled in from the kitchen, wearing little more than a towelling robe and a big grin.
"So, how are you feeling, sleepy head?"
Even in my dreadful state I couldn't help but notice how alluring Dean looked. His robe was short enough to show his muscular tanned legs, which were covered with thick, dark blonde hair. The opening of the gown also revealed tentalising glimpses of his well defined chest and six-pack, also covered with hair. With his hair floppy and wet after a shower and arms folded across his chest, Dean looked rugged, manly and utterly irresistible. As my groin began to stir I looked down and realised, to my horror, that I was wearing nothing more than my boxer briefs.
"Uggh I feel like I'm dying. Oh no where are my clothes? Oh god what have I done? Aaarrgghh could you turn off the sun please?" And so I carried on mumbling, semi-coherently, for some time.
"Hey chill, buddy, let me get you some coffee." Dean said, obviously enjoying watching me in my state.
Half a mug of coffee later I was at least feeling half human. I eventually found my trousers and managed to look half presentable too.
"Okay Dean. You don't need to protect me. I'm a big boy, I can handle this. Just tell me what did I do last night?"
"You really don't remember, do you?" Dean smiled as he relaxed into the armchair opposite mine. As he stretched his legs in his familiar laid back pose I couldn't help but to follow the line of his muscular legs up to his crotch. I could see his eyes wandering over my bare upper body too, but I was too pre-occupied with my hangover to think too much about that.
"Well, where should we start? Let's see," He creased his forehead and pretended to look serious, "After single-handedly finishing half my stock of wine you began to chat up everyone in sight with jokes which nobody understood. You then challenged me to a game of strip poker, I refused to play but that didn't stop you from stripping off half your clothes anyway." I gasped in horror. "Well, by the time you got down to your underpants Pete and I decided we had to do something, so we knocked you out by hitting you over the head with an empty bottle."
"Oooooh nooooooo..." I was lost for words as I clutched my head, "That would explain the headache then. How on earth am I ever going to face my friends again?"
"Well actually I was only kidding," Dean broke into a hearty laugh, "You're very well behaved when you're drunk. Your mom would be proud."
"Oh I'd rather not bring my mom into this." I felt better, but only just. "So what actually happened?"
"Nothing much actually," he shrugged, "We all had a good time and you got drunk. After a while you kind of disappeared and I found you sleeping in my bed. So I just tried to make you more comfortable by taking your clothes off. Nice shirt you wore last night, by the way. Where did you get it from?"
I was aghast and began to think that maybe I prefer his original version of what happened last night. I felt equally excited and appalled by the thought that Dean had touched my body.
"Oh I'm so so sorry. I hope I didn't snore too much."
"Don't worry you're very quiet in bed," now it was Dean's turn to turn red, "But after a while I decided you were a bit distracting so I moved to the guest room."
My god, I had slept with Dean, at least for a while.
"So did I say anything stupid last night?" I asked, trying to divert the topic away from our sleeping arrangement.
"Oh nothing too outrageous," Dean carried on in a matter-of-fact tone, "Though you did confess your deepest and darkest fantasies to me."
Oh no. I can't believe it. This is getting worse and worse.
Dean took a pause and carried on with a cheeky smile on his face and an inquisitive tone in his voice.
"You said there's someone you really fancy at work. Is that true?"
My heart skipped a beat. Did I really confess all to him? Maybe this was the opportunity for me to come clean. I thought hard but courage once again deserted me and I fudged the answer.
"Dean, what difference does it make if I fancy someone? I might know exactly how I feel, but it takes two to tango you know."
"Then you're a lucky man. At least you know where you stand. Sometimes I think I have no idea how I feel any more."
My ears perked up. This revelation of a vulnerable side to his personality was news to me.
"I've decided to break up with my girlfriend." Dean said, looking down with a frown, "My life has changed so much over the past couple of months I feel I ought to take a step back and think more carefully about what I should be doing. It can be a bit confusing sometimes."
At that point my heart leapt. For once I felt there might be hope after all. One part of me yelled "This is your chance! Go in!" whilst another part of me counselled patience. "You should not take advantage of the poor guy whilst he is feeling vulnerable. If it's meant to be, he will eventually be yours."
"I know you'll be alright," I smiled.
"Yes, I know." He smiled back as we looked into each other's eyes. His door has been pushed open by another inch and I felt his beautiful deep blue eyes were sending out fresh messages, "Just give me time."
That day, as I walked home after helping Dean clean up his flat, I felt like a prisoner who has just been set free. There is hope and the future is all to play for.
After the party, my last two weeks at the bank just flew by. Dean was back to his normal self, brimming with charm and good humour. As he had taken over pretty much all my day-to-day tasks by then, he became way too busy to spend time with me on personal issues, which was fine by me.
As for me, I had more time to reflect on life and my relationship with Dean. I became more and more convinced of my feelings for him and gradually the defensive walls I had built around me began to crumble. How could I be so self assured about quitting my job and giving up the life I know to start my own business, but yet be so timid when it comes to telling Dean how I feel about him? Dean is worth much more than anything I have to lose. At some point you just have to follow your heart.
My final day at work eventually arrived. Michael took the whole team out to lunch, during which he made a speech about my achievements over the past five years and presented me with a leaving gift. I cringed through the speech as I really don't take compliments well, though I was genuinely touched by the affection they all showed me. Dean, for his part, was unusually subdued and looked thoughtful and pre-occupied all day.
There were many loose ends to tie up at work so I ended up staying late that day. One by one my soon-to-be ex colleagues came into my office to bid their fairwells as they left, until only Dean and I were left in the office.
At about seven I prepared to leave for the last time. I gathered up my personal belongings and my courage and went across to Dean's room.
"Hey Dean."
"Hi," he looked up from his computer, "So this is it then."
We did the customary Good Lucks and Thank Yous, but when it came to saying Good Bye neither of us could quite bring it to our lips. I guess we both felt there was so much more to be said.
I finally plucked up my courage and broke the silence.
"Look Dean, it's been a huge pleasure getting to know you over the past few months," Dean opened his mouth but I raised my hand to stop him speaking. Frankly, I was so nervous I just wanted to finish my speech.
"I think you'll be great in this job. I don't think I've met a person as competent and self-assured as you are. Hell, sometimes, especially now, I wish I could be just half as laid back as you are. Anyway. On a personal level I don't think I've met a person as charming, as funny or as beautiful as you."
I bit my lip, took a deep breath and looked straight into his eyes.
"Now that we are no longer colleagues and I may never see you again, I just want to say this before I leave this office for the last time. You have changed me a lot over the past few months and I've never felt more attracted to anyone the way I'm attracted to you." There, I said it. I sighed as I felt a millstone finally loosened from my neck.
There was an uncomfortable pause and Dean looked away from my eyes.
"Wow, Tom," he folded his arms and took on a wide-eyed, surprised expression, "This is a bit overwhelming. I don't really know what to say."
I knew it. What made me think Dean could love me? For all I know he's probably not into guys. Even if he was, why would a good looking hunk like him find me attractive? I felt crestfallen but relieved at the same time. At least I had given it a go.
"It's okay," I bit my lip and turned away, "I understand. Good bye." With that I turned round and walked out of his office.
"Tom!" Dean called after me but I did not look back. Instead I headed straight to the lift and down to the garage. Once inside the cocoon of my car I felt completely drained, both emotionally and physically. They say crying is good for you, but I've never believed it. "You'll get over him," I kept telling myself, "Be strong and get over it." But some emotions are harder to dam up than others. In Dean I had caught a glimpse of my future, where my happiness and completeness as a person is tied up with him. How can you not feel inconsolably sad when you can't get something as perfect as this? I gunned the engine to life and drove home, tears running silently down my cheeks.
When I got home I slipped out of my suit and dived into the shower, willing the hot sprays to wash away my disappointment. I had lost my appetite and could only manage a large whiskey, which I nursed by the window with the lights of the city twinkling outside.
At about nine the doorbell rang. Still preoccupied with my thoughts, I went over and opened the door, forgetting that I was dressed only in my skimpy dressing gown. Imagine my surprise when I saw Dean standing outside, leaning casually against the wall, with a bottle in his hand.
"Well, hello stranger."
"May I come in?" He asked with a nervous smile. I showed him in, closed the door and leaned against it, not too sure what to do next. Dean took a few moments to look around the living room before turning round to face me.
"Nice flat! What a view. Hey I've brought you a bottle, but I see you are well sorted in the drinks department." He said with a cheeky little grin, pointing at my whiskey.
"I've only just started. Honest! This is hardly touched!" I raised my tumbler and pointed to it in protest. I felt the atmosphere lightening up already.
"Well, whatever, I'm sure we'll be needing more." He smiled and found a sofa to sit on. I joined him on a nearby armchair.
"So why did you run out of my office like that? You're not very good at letting me finish my sentences are you?" I shrugged my shoulders and opened my mouth, but Dean raised his hand and silenced me. Unlike me earlier on in the evening, however, he did not appear to be nervous at all and was positively enjoying his little speech.
"Well, I came here to thank you for being so honest with me. I think you have changed me a lot over the past few months too. At first I thought you're just a typical stuck up and closed up Brit, but the more I got to know you the more I got to like your self-deprecating sense of humour and the way you could be so smart and modest at the same time. Without knowing at the time, I have been falling steadily under your irresistible personality."
My cheeks were turning red now, and that's not because of the whiskey I had been drinking.
"I knew I felt different whenever I'm with you, but I didn't know what it was until that night you slept in my bed after my house warming party. Now I have to come clean I guess."
I raised an eyebrow.
"That night I actually laid next to you in bed. Nothing naughty though, I swear! I spent all night tracing the contours of your body with my eyes, listening to your breathing. I love the little dimples in your cheeks, I love your smooth, defined body, and I love the way you would sub-consciously bite your lower lip, just as you do when you're nervous. I wish I could wrap my arms round you but I just didn't dare. I realised then that I wanted you more than anything else."
"So what about your girlfriend then?" I ventured.
"Yeah, well, you also made me realise what I have with Michelle is not really what I'm looking for. That's why I decided to break up with her. I've been with guys in the past, but somehow you're different. I guess I've never been in love with anyone the way I'm in love with you."
By now it was hard for me to restrain my joy, but I tried.
"So, Mr Hudson, what do you propose we do now?" I asked with the straightest, most serious tone I could muster.
"Well, let me think. Now that we're no longer colleagues, I guess we could start our relationship from scratch. What do you reckon?" Dean asked as he reached out his hand for me to shake.
"That's a deal." I replied with a grin almost as wide as Dean's.
I reached up from my armchair to shake his hand, not quite believing my luck at how things have turned out.
Instead of a handshake, however, Dean grabbed my hand with an iron grip and pulled it firmly.
"Whoa!" I exclaimed as I lost my balance and collapsed on top of him, sending what's left of my whiskey flying through the air, though somehow I didn't care too much about that anymore.
"Ha ha, gotcha! That's payback for your devious manoeuvre on my living room rug!" Dean exclaimed triumphantly as he held me firmly in his strong arms. Unlike our last tangle, however, I knew exactly what to do next. Looking into his deep blue eyes, I moved my head slowly towards him until I could feel his warm breath on my cheeks and his wonderful scent once again conquered my senses. As my lips touched his, I knew our fate together was sealed. Soon we were consumed by passion, as lips and tongues were joined in an ecstatic dance.
When we eventually separated with some reluctance, I caught my breath and asked softly, "Dean, did you say you're in love with me?"
"Hmm did I?" he arched an eyebrow and pretended to ponder the question, "I think I need another kiss just to be sure."
With that, he tightened his hold on me, sealed his lips against mine and gave me the most teasingly delicate and sensual kiss I have ever tasted. I still had my eyes closed, lost in pleasure, when his lips parted from mine and he started to stroke my cheek gently with a finger.
"Yes Tom, I love you."
There was no hesitation on my part as I opened my eyes and looked straight into his.
"Dean, I love you too."
At that point, no more words were necessary as we both let ourselves be taken over by passion and lust. We resumed our kiss with renewed fervour as we sank into the sofa, our bodies pressed against each other. I pulled his shirt-tail slowly out of his trousers and began to stroke his back gently. I could feel his muscles tightening and flexing as he turned to his side to give me more access. I felt so comfortable in Dean's arms that I wish time could stand still. At the same time Dean loosened my dressing gown and explored my body, his hands running over my chest and back.
It wasn't long before Dean's shirt came off, soon to be joined by his trousers, shoes and socks. His tight white briefs and what's left of my dressing gown were the only barriers that remained between us. As our legs entwined I marvelled at how good his body felt next to mine. I loved the way the hairs on his body rub against my skin, I loved his scent and I loved the way his lips caressed mine, as if they were speaking a secret language that only I could understand. But Dean obviously decided there is much more for his lips to explore. He turned me round so that I was on my back, held my hands tightly and started to make a trail of kisses from my face down my neck and to my chest. I shivered in excitement as his tongue touched my flesh.
Dean was making me so horny that I decided it was time he was rewarded for his hard work. With some effort I released my hands from his grip and sat upright, pinning him against the sofa. Now I had the full view of Dean's body in front of me, and what a view it was.
He had the broad shoulders of a swimmer, the toned muscular chest of a bodybuilder and defined abs that would put any washboard to shame. The hairs on his chest, which taper down to a line running to his navel and beyond, serve to emphasise his magnificent masculinity further.
As I feasted my eyes on his body, Dean curled up his lips to form a wide grin, the mischievous glint in his eye beckoning me to do more. He is obviously proud of his body and was glad that I was enjoying it so much. I did not need any encouragement and dived hungrily in, exploring every inch of his body with my tongue. As I licked and then sucked on his nipples, Dean closed his eyes and tipped his head back in ecstasy. But there was no letting up, as my lips and tongue made steady progress down south, following the line of rough blonde hair, stopping briefly to poke and circle his navel before eventually arriving at the destination.
I held back and salivated over the view of Dean's thick cock straining against his tight white briefs. I traced the outline of his cock with my tongue and teased him until he moaned and pushed his groin against my face, urging me to take it. I succumbed to the temptation and pulled his briefs down slowly, revealing his hard, throbbing manhood. I admired it for a moment before engulfing it with my lips, the salty taste of pre-cum overwhelming my taste-buds. Soon Dean was moaning in pleasure as I licked his bulbous cock-head and played with his foreskin with my tongue. The moaning intensified as I slid his eight-inch length past my lips and down my throat, caressing every inch of it with my lips and tongue.
I loved sucking Dean's cock and played with it as if it was my private toy, until Dean raised me back up and reclaimed my lips with a hungry kiss. He obviously felt it was time he took control and I was all too happy to capitulate. With our lips still locked in a passionate kiss, he turned his body and laid me down on the sofa. I relaxed as he kissed me gently from my neck down to my chest, his tongue circling my nipples until they stood erect.
All was fine and lovely until he prodded his tongue at my sensitive armpits, upon which I shuddered and tensed up. Dean immediately raised his head, a surprised look on his face.
"You aren't ticklish, are you?"
"No, of course not," I held his hands as tightly as I could, "What made you think that?"
Dean's face slowly creased into a wolfish grin, his eyes full of mischief and conspiracy, "You are ticklish, aren't you?"
At this point all hell broke loose. I did not even have the chance to protest as Dean grabbed both my wrists with one hand and pinned them above my head, all at lightening speed. This left his other hand free to stroke my sensitive waist. At the same time his tongue dived into my armpits and started to tease me with long sensuous strokes interspaced with firm, rapid dabs. I was soon reduced to an uncontrollable mess, my body bent over double in laughter one moment, and then overcome by uncontrollable spasms the next, as Dean's industrious tongue and hand found yet another sensitive patch of my body to tease. My ears, the back of my neck, the inside of my thighs, nowhere went unexplored. I squirmed, yelled and begged Dean to stop, though in truth I was rather enjoying this erotically charged mixture of pleasure and pain.
Dean eventually let me go, leaving me panting with exhaustion on the sofa.
"I don't think I've ever met someone so sensitive!" he exclaimed with an amazed look on his face.
"Uggghhh -- just wait till I find your weak spot!"
He smiled and embraced me tenderly, our lips met once again in a passionate kiss.
"I'm sorry for being so naughty, I'll make up for it."
Dean was true to his word as he made a trail with his tongue down the front of my body, stopping to pay special attention to my abs, tracing the shape of the well-defined muscles. After all this tickling my cock was standing at full attention, the cock-head glistening with plenty of pre-cum; a shiny beacon for Dean to home in on. I was soon overcome with lust as he first licked and then sucked my cock, sending ripples of pleasure through my body every time his lips slid over the ridge of my cock-head.
Not content with giving me the best blowjob I had ever received, Dean intensified his pleasure offensive by licking and sucking on my sensitive balls. I closed my eyes and moaned very loudly. By the time his tongue reached the sensitive triangle between my balls and my hole, I was putty in his hands. My moans became louder and more frequent as he raised my legs and started to encircle and prod at my hole with his tongue, each contact filling me with pleasure and anticipation for more. I begged him to take me.
"Oh don't stop there Dean, it feels so good..."
"Hmm... Would you like me to fuck you?" Dean asked with a sweet smile.
"I'm yours -- as long as you promise not to tickle me again!" I answered with a grin on my face.
We eventually found our way to the bedroom and settled into the king-sized bed. My heart was racing with excitement and anticipation as Dean unrolled a condom slowly over his hard cock and then smothered it with a generous squirt of lube. We did not exchange any words, but by the look in his eyes I knew he would be gentle with me. My confidence in him was fully justified as he raised my legs to his shoulders and aligned the tip of his cock against my hole. With barely discernable increases in pressure, he slowly pushed his way into me, while at the same time stroking my legs and chest with his hands.
"Hmm, that is nice..."
When I felt his whole length inside me, Dean leant over and kissed me with a hunger that left me longing for more. Our lips parted as he gently slid his cock in and out of my hole, lengthening each stroke only when he felt I was ready and comfortable. Well, I was very ready and started to moan in pleasure and buck against him, urging him on. Dean responded by building up a rhythm that tested the limit of what I could take but which always left me yearning for just a bit more. Never once did he thrust just for the sake of his own pleasure. We were united in one, consumed in our combined pleasure and passion.
As we both raced towards the inevitable climax, Dean tightened his embrace and turned up the tempo. I began to play with my own cock as the pressure built up. Dean seemed to read my mind and just as I was approaching the point of no return, he stopped his thrusting and pushed his cock-head against my prostate, which sent me way over the edge.
As the moment arrived, my body tensed up and my mind momentarily went blank, the void quickly replaced by the overwhelming pleasure of release as I shouted and squirted strings of cum into the air. It was an incredible orgasm which left me panting with exhaustion and filled with satisfaction.
Dean slid out of me slowly and tore off the condom. It was his turn to stroke his cock furiously, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted in anticipation of the eruption of sensations that soon overcame him. I started to stroke his balls and, as if on cue, he arched his back and moaned in ecstasy as strings of cum shot out of his cock.
After a few moments, we both looked in amazement at the volume of cum that had collected in little pools all over my torso.
"Hmm, looks like we've made a bit of a mess here! I wonder which patch of cum is yours and which is mine?"
"Yes," I laughed, "Next time you'll have to be more careful where you shoot. I guess it will come with more practice."
"In that case we should pencil in some more sessions," Dean said as he moved his lips towards mine, "Looks like I need a lot of practice."
Well, we didn't really care which pool of cum came from Dean and which was from me, nor was it possible to separate our lips as we embraced in a deep, emotional kiss.
Afterwards, as we slept in each other's arms, I woke up suddenly in the middle of the night thinking that maybe all this was just a dream, only to be reassured by the tingling sensation of Dean's breath against the back of my neck. I turned and found him awake, his eyes slowly tracing the contour of my back. He smiled and tightened his embrace by the merest degree, as if I was his most precious treasure that he was never going to let go of. I drifted back to sleep with a sigh of happiness that came from the deepest reaches within me.
The bank I had worked for might have found the perfect replacement for me, but I knew that in Dean I had finally found the missing part of my soul that nothing can ever replace.
THE END