Page 45

He reached out, unable to help himself from taking Dean in his grasp again. They were good at talking, and they were good at being around one another, but they had always been at their best when they were touching. Contact between them had always come so easily, and even with everything twisted and confused in his head, Sloane still took great comfort in touching Dean.

The sensation was muddled not only with Sloane’s ache over what he’d been inadvertently putting Dean through for years but the memory of their drunken night together. Never once had he looked at Dean in a sexual way. Dean was just Dean to him. Now, though, his mind was filled with the memory of Dean’s body pressed against his, the feel of his lips on him, and the sight and sensation of Dean’s mouth wrapped around his cock.

Since that night, Sloane had been stuck with the constant nagging feeling of being different. Logically, he knew it had to do with what happened between him and Dean, and despite his conversation with his mother, the reality hadn’t completely clicked into place. Now that he was staring Dean in the face, feeling his skin against his, Sloane was starting to understand. Something inside him had flipped, altered, rearranged, or whatever word he thought might apply to the moment.

Dean cocked his head. “Sloane?”

Sloane shook his head. “Look, Dean, I-I don’t know how I feel.”

“I can understand that. There’s been a lot thrown at you.”

Sloane sighed. “I can’t imagine what it must be like for you.”

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but after nearly six years, I’ve gotten used to it. Don’t give me that look. It’s not bad, it means I’ve had more practice. Plus, I mean, I don’t know exactly what’s going on in your head right now, but I know you’re confused,” Dean said.

Sloane looked down at their feet. “I am, but that’s not...a bad thing? I mean, you got a little more hands-on with me than usual.”

“I did.”

“And then you?—”

“I did.”

Sloane looked up, scanning Dean’s face. “And...I liked it.”

Dean sucked in a breath. “You did?”

Sloane frowned. “I shouldn’t have, you know? I’ve never thought of any guy like that, and I’ve definitely never thought about you like that. Hell, whenever someone brought up the idea that you and I might be like that, I just shrugged it off. Come to think of it, I always wondered why it bothered you more, but now I understand.”

Dean leaned his face onto Sloane’s hand, smiling. “I never realized you noticed. And here I was, thinking I was so subtle.”

Sloane watched him, touched by the softness on Dean’s face. “I always notice what’s going on with you, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes flashed open, dark in the dim light but full of wonder and warmth. A slow smile spread across his face, and the sight sent Sloane’s heart skipping like never before. It was as though, in kissing Sloane, Dean had somehow flipped a switch inside Sloane that he’d never known existed.

“And I meant what I said. I did like what happened, but it’s just...jumbled in my head. Like, I shouldn’t have liked it, but at the same time, I want more,” Sloane said softly.

Dean blinked slowly, hope shining from his eyes. “Yeah?”

Sloane nodded. “I just...don’t know how.”

Dean chuckled, reaching up to place his hands on Sloane’s upper arms. “You’re already partway there, big guy. It’s just a step further than what we normally do when we spend time together.”

Sloane chuckled. “I think it’s a few steps further than that.”

“You know what I mean.”

And Sloane did. In truth, Dean and Sloane had never been afraid to touch, lean against one another, or cuddle. One of Sloane’s admittedly short-lived friends with benefits had witnessed him and Dean together while watching a movie. She had stopped by to pick up the tablet she’d accidentally left behind in Sloane’s apartment and had found the two of them curled up on the couch. She’d given them an odd look but said nothing, yet Sloane hadn’t heard from her again and hadn’t thought twice about it.

Sloane stepped forward, bringing his hands down Dean’s sides slowly. There was more muscle than Sloane was used to, and none of the curves. Dean sidled closer as he allowed himself to press their bodies together. Again, Sloane noted the difference in how hard Dean was compared to the softness of his previous partners.

Weird as it was mentally, his body stirred to life, albeit with a bit of confusion. While he most certainly wouldn’t say he was going to start finding guys worth fucking, some part of him simply translated the confusion to ‘it’s Dean.’ And at the end of the day, that was all that really mattered to him. Angry or happy, hurt or healthy, the fact that he was a guy, Dean was Dean, and Sloane wanted Dean.

Sloane bent his head, pulling his arms tighter around Dean’s waist and pressing their lips together. He barely noticed how Dean’s lips were firmer than Sloane was used to as a zing of electricity shot through him. For a moment, he was lost betweendisbelief at what he was doing and surprise at how pleasant the sensation was.

Then, Dean shifted, wriggling his body as he gained a more stable footing, and Sloane’s worried thoughts slipped away. Pulling Dean as close as possible, Sloane leaned him back, kissing him even more firmly. Beneath Sloane’s touch, Dean’s body became firmer yet softer, as though the man was melting against him.

Sloane broke the kiss, letting out a sharp gasp. Dean was staring up at him with a doe-eyed, dazed expression. His cheeks were pink, and his lips were ever so slightly swollen, an indication that Sloane might have kissed him harder than he thought. There was a warmth and a need in Dean’s dark eyes Sloane had never seen before, and some deep-seated part of him never wanted Dean to look at anyone else like that.