Page 11 of Men of Fort Dale: The Complete Series

A jolt shot through him at the pressure on his leg, and whatever Sloane might have shot back was lost in his shock.

Glad Dean wasn’t paying attention, Sloane gazed down at his friend in wonder.

They’d done this several times, with Dean curled and comfy, holding onto Sloane.

He’d never given it any thought before, taking it for what it was.

Sloane reached down, hesitating for a moment before finally resting his hand on Dean’s head.

That, too, was normal, with Sloane’s fingers rubbing against Dean’s head and down over his neck gently.

Little touches, gestures, ones they had done a million times before, except now Sloane knew what had been locked away in Dean’s head.

Had there been more than just struggle, disappointment, and bitter hope for Dean in their affectionate moments?

Had he also laid his head upon Sloane’s lap and known he was mere inches away from Sloane’s cock?

Sloane had never given too much thought to the sexual side of Dean’s life, but surely he had to have had thoughts, desires.

If Sloane were in his place, he would have thought of it easily, especially when their bodies were so close and access to his fantasies was within reach.

Dean closed his eyes as Sloane’s fingers reached his neck, digging into the muscles with practiced ease. At the same time, Dean’s fingers stroked Sloane’s thigh, a low, happy noise rumbling out of him.

“You okay?” Sloane asked, bewildered as his heart pounded.

Dean slid his head further up Sloane’s thigh, nodding. “It feels really good. Maybe you could be a masseur if you ever get out.”

Had Dean ever been turned on by Sloane’s touches?

The thought wouldn’t leave Sloane, bringing a surge of unbidden images to mind as he gazed back on all the times they’d sat like this.

Dean pressed against his lap, fingers lying casually upon Sloane’s body, but in his mind, Dean’s head turned toward Sloane’s crotch, careful fingers finding their way to his zipper and button, slowly undoing them as he reached into Sloane’s pants.

Sloane closed his eyes, shaking his head as images of Dean’s mouth closing around him came next.

Pressure against his thigh brought his eyes open. Dean had turned around, using one hand against Sloane’s leg to prop himself up. His dark eyes swam with worry as he looked at him.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

Sloane cleared his throat. “I don’t know.”

He didn’t; he really didn’t. Never had he dared to think of Dean in a sexual sense, and now he was staring at Dean’s lips and wondering.

Was it because of Dean’s confession, digging its way into Sloane’s skull and leaving him to wonder in an attempt to understand Dean’s perspective?

If that were true, why was his heart beating so hard, and why were the thoughts so damned intrusive?

Dean frowned, his mouth opening and then freezing in place.

For a moment, Sloane wasn’t sure what was wrong until Dean’s fingers twitched against his cock.

As one, both of them looked down to where Dean’s hand pressed against Sloane’s leg and stared.

Without realizing it, Sloane had grown rock hard right along the inside seam of his pants until it had pressed against Dean’s fingers.

Dean looked up, eyes wide. “Sloane?”

He was hard because of his thoughts about Dean, because of Dean himself.

“Oh,” Sloane whispered.

Time stood still as Dean gazed at him, and Sloane gazed back.

Neither moved as Sloane’s cock pressed insistently against the fabric of his jeans, and Dean never moved his grip.

Sloane knew he needed to say something, explain it, make it easier, anything at all, but he could barely keep his breathing in check.

Then Dean’s hand moved, fingers closing around the impression of Sloane’s cock, and what left his mouth was a low moan.

Dean’s dark eyes grew almost black as his pupils swelled in response to the sound, licking his bottom lip.

Sloane stayed still as Dean’s fingers traced their way up the length of his cock, stroking back and forth in slow, exploratory motions.

“Sloane?” Dean asked, voice breathless.

He wasn’t even going to attempt talking, licking his lips and nodding instead.

It was all he could manage, but it seemed enough for Dean, whose hand slid to the button of Sloane’s jeans.

Watching closely, Sloane’s breath stuttered as Dean undid the button, gripping the zipper and sliding it down.

Dean’s eyes never left his face as he reached in, hesitating when his fingers found bare skin instead of fabric beneath Sloane’s jeans.

“Commando again,” Dean said.

Sloane huffed. “Again?”

“Think I never noticed that you do it a lot?”

And there it was, confirmation that Dean’s attention to Sloane hadn’t been totally pure.

The realization should have been startling, uncomfortable even, but Sloane’s cock gave a twitch instead.

Dean’s fingers stroked the base of Sloane’s cock, and Sloane slid a little lower on the couch, trying to give the man better access.

Dean pushed away from the couch, moving steadily as he crouched, and knelt between Sloane’s legs.

Sloane’s heart thudded so hard, he was shocked they couldn’t hear it as Dean took hold of his jeans and pulled them down to his thighs.

Sloane’s head swam as he watched his best friend kneeling before him, taking hold of the base of his cock to pull it to freedom.

Dean’s eyes were locked on Sloane’s cock as his fingers ran over the entire thick length, and Sloane wondered if he was going to lose it right there.

He froze as Dean leaned forward, wrapping his lips around the head.

Warmth spread over his cock, and Sloane let out a low whimper as he felt it slide down further.

Sloane didn’t know what was more erotic, the sensation of Dean’s mouth around his cock, or the sight of his best friend inching his mouth further down.

If he’d been a little more clearheaded, Sloane would have been impressed by just how much of his cock Dean was able to take.

Instead, a low moan broke from his lips, and his hand curled behind Dean’s head as the muscles of the man’s throat gripped him tight.

Pulling back, Dean nursed gently on the head, pulling another low, desperate noise from Sloane.

When Dean pushed forward, moaning deeply, Sloane’s back arched as pleasure zinged through him like a bolt.

It seemed to be all Dean needed, however, and he began to bob in earnest, sucking Sloane into the back of his throat deeper each time.

Sloane sucked in a breath, letting it hiss out between his teeth as Dean’s lips, tongue, and throat worked him over.

He didn’t know if anyone had ever sucked him like this, a mixture of desperate and reverent.

Dean’s hands gripped Sloane’s exposed legs, squeezing the thick muscles as he drove himself forward, embedding Sloane’s cock in his throat and holding it there.

Squirming, Sloane pushed his hips up, trying to keep the grip, the warmth, of Dean’s mouth around his cock.

The muscles of his body curled up, building in pressure and pleasure as Dean allowed him to thrust up into his throat, moaning as Sloane did so.

Before completely losing his mind, Sloane willed himself back, panting as he hung at the edge.

“Dean,” Sloane groaned, not wanting to force him.

Once more, Dean never hesitated to drive his mouth forward, taking Sloane entirely again.

Sloane gave a low cry, fingers tightening into a fist in Dean’s hair as he came hard.

Around his cock, Dean’s mouth and throat vibrated with a groan as Sloane’s cock swelled and poured forth.

Sloane watched, unable to do anything else, as his orgasm cascaded through him.

Dean pulled his head back, holding only the head of Sloane’s cock in his mouth and letting him spurt over his tongue.

Sloane was left panting for breath, and Dean eased his mouth gently from Sloane’s cock. Dean didn’t move from between Sloane’s legs, gazing up at him with a blank expression. When his head cleared a little, Sloane gazed back at his friend, his mind a racing, incomprehensible storm.

What had they just done?