Make Me Soar (20 page)

Alan stared at him. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

Dorian gave him an innocent look. “What?”

Alan narrowed his gaze. “He’s not exactly well endowed, is he?” His lips twitched.

Trying not to laugh, Dorian pretended to consider his words. “Hang on.” He pulled out the carrot and replaced it with a slightly bigger one.

Alan folded his arms. “Not much of an improvement, wouldn’t you say?”

Dorian bit his lip. “Are you saying it’s not true to life?” This was fun. When Alan gave him a mock glare, Dorian let out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, then. Let’s make it a touch more realistic, shall we?” He took out the carrot and withdrew the last one, which was about eight inches long. He pushed it into position, inserting it his snowman’s “mouth,” and then stepped back. “How about that?”

Alan burst out laughing. “Now
that’s
more like it.”

The joyful sound lifted Dorian’s spirits even higher. He gazed at their efforts with a grin. Heaven knew what the neighbors would make of it if they peered over Alan’s fence.

Then Alan pulled out the collar of Dorian’s jacket and thrust icy snow down his back. “But
that’s
for the first carrot.”

Dorian squealed. “You sod!” Cold trickled down his spine as Alan’s evil chuckle rang in his ears. He scooped up a handful of snow, launched it at Alan, and hit him in the chest.

There was a moment’s silence. Then Alan’s eyes gleamed. “Let battle commence.”

Dorian ducked as a snowball sailed over his head. “Hey! This battle is a bit one-sided! I’ve got a busted hand,
and
I’m using my left. Talk about an unfair advantage.” He grabbed snow and did his best to pat it into firm balls, but Alan was quicker. One landed on his head, and he let out a shriek. Snow slid down under his collar.

“Who said anything about playing fair? Don’t they say ‘all’s fair in love and war’?” Alan said with a wicked grin. “Besides,
you
started this!” He lobbed another volley at Dorian. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before you give my snowman a tiny dick.”

Another snowball hit him on the chest.

Dorian did his best to fight back, but there was no way he could compete. He knew when he was beaten. He held up his hands. “I surrender!” His hair was wet, clinging to his head, and his sweater was already damp beneath his sodden jacket.

Alan tossed his last snowball to the ground and fist-pumped the air. “I win!”

Dorian shook his head, laughing. “Yeah, some victory, fighting against a crippled opponent. Still, if that makes you feel good….”

Alan smiled and then shivered. “I don’t know about you, but I’m suddenly freezing. How about we go in and I make some more of that hot chocolate?”

Just the idea made Dorian feel warmer. “That sounds great.” He took one last look at their snowmen and chuckled. “They do look good, though.”

Alan followed his gaze. “At least my neighbors will be entertained if they see them.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Especially Violet. She’s a little old lady, but don’t be fooled by her appearance. There isn’t much she hasn’t seen in her lifetime.” He headed toward the house.

Dorian followed him into the kitchen, where they discarded boots and jackets. Dorian shivered violently, and Alan regarded him with a frown. “Go and get out of those wet clothes and then get in the shower. There’s plenty of hot water.” He glanced at Dorian’s hand and pulled open a drawer. He handed Dorian a plastic bag and an elastic band. “Put this over your hand if you want to keep it dry.”

Dorian thanked him and went up the stairs. A shower sounded like a very good idea. He’d really enjoyed himself out in the garden, but now he wanted warm, dry clothes. The thought of sitting in front of the fire afterward was a pleasant one.

Once undressed, he deposited his damp things into the laundry basket and then pulled on his robe to go into the bathroom. It was a decent-sized room, with a toilet, washbasin, bath, and shower. Dorian couldn’t imagine Alan taking many baths. It was far too small to allow him to lie down in it. But the shower was nice and wide, built into the corner, with a rainwater showerhead on the ceiling and a separate showerhead on the wall.

Dorian removed his robe and then slipped the plastic bag over his hand, securing it around his wrist with the elastic band. He got into the shower, pulling the sliding door closed behind him, and soon steam filled the air as hot water cascaded from the ceiling. Dorian turned his face upward and closed his eyes, luxuriating in the feel of the water against his body. It felt wonderful. He dipped his head and let the water rain down on him, soaking him from head to toe.

He heard the shower door open and blinked away the water from his eyes as Alan stepped in. “I thought you might need some help.”

Dorian stared at him, his mind momentarily thrown into confusion. “Help?”

Alan moved closer until his body was inches away from Dorian’s. “Seeing as you’re trying to shower one-handed.” His voice was low and husky.

Dorian held his breath as Alan reached behind him to the glass shelf where the bodywash and shampoo were located. The movement brought Alan’s chest to brush against him, and the light touch sent a tingle running through him. Strong hands moved gently over his scalp, the action both soothing and arousing. Dorian kept his hands by his sides, although he ached to run them over the wide, firm pecs before him. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensations.

“You like it when I wash your hair, don’t you, boy?”

Dorian murmured in agreement, caught up in the headiness of it all: the scent of the shampoo; the feel of those dexterous fingers raking lightly across his scalp; the close proximity of Alan’s body to his; the smell of him, warm, earthy, male. He kept his eyes shut and let his other senses take over.

Then Alan’s words finally registered.
Fuck
. Dorian opened his eyes. “Sir,” he said breathlessly.

Alan nodded in approval. He tilted Dorian’s head back to wash away the shampoo. “And now to wash the rest of you.” He squeezed bodywash into his palm and then proceeded to stroke over Dorian’s skin, hands moving slowly from his shoulders down over his chest, pausing to rub his thumbs over Dorian’s nipples. Dorian held on to the groan that threatened to spill from his lips as Alan continued to tease him, rubbing in circles.

Alan leaned closer to whisper, “Does that feel good?” He circled Dorian’s waist, squeezing the flesh and then stroking up his back with his fingertips.

Dorian made a real effort to keep his breathing even. It felt better than good—it felt
amazing
. “Yes, Sir,” he whispered. He bit back a gasp when Alan took his earlobe between his teeth and sucked on it before licking a line down his neck to his collarbone. He could feel Alan’s shaft, hot and heavy, as it rubbed against his belly, Alan’s hands sliding down his back to squeeze his arse. And then the world came to a juddering halt when Alan slowly pushed a single finger into his crease and rubbed over his hole.

The sensations suddenly threatened to overwhelm him.

“Fuck, Sir, I….” He was dizzy with it all.

Alan froze. “Does that hurt?”

Dorian shook his head. “No, Sir, it’s just….” He couldn’t get the words out.

Alan moved his hands higher, to his lower back. “Tell me what you’re feeling right now.”

Dorian breathed deeply, thankful that Alan was giving him a moment. “This is just so… new.” He watched the water hit Alan’s shoulders and run down his chest in rivulets.

Alan cocked his head to one side. “You’ve never shared a shower with someone?”

He shook his head. “Yes—I mean, no—that is….”

Alan waited, his gaze focused on him. Dorian sighed.

“Justin’s idea of sharing a shower meant fucking me while I stood there, braced against the tiles. Not that I didn’t enjoy it,” he added.

Alan grinned, and the tension in Dorian eased a little. He took another breath.

“What I’m trying to say is that no one has ever….
touched
me like you do. And it’s like… my senses can’t cope with it.”

“Yes, they
can
,” Alan stressed. He stroked up and down Dorian’s spine, his touch light. “It feels good, doesn’t it? When I touch you?”

Dorian nodded, and Alan smiled at him.

“Then just enjoy it, Dorian, because I’m not about to stop. Remember what I told you about sensuality, how powerful it can be? This is just the beginning.”

Dorian was lost in that mesmerizing gaze. “Yes, Sir.” He closed his eyes for a moment to pull himself together, only to open them again when he felt Alan’s fingers on his cheek. Dorian exhaled. “I… I trust you, Sir.” Every instinct told him this was true.

Alan regarded him, face glowing with pride. “Good boy.” He took Dorian’s face between his hands and drew him closer, their lips meeting in a soft kiss.

When Alan released him and poured out more bodywash to resume washing him, Dorian felt a frisson of disappointment. He could easily become addicted to Alan’s kisses.

Then Alan moved closer still, rubbing his dick against him, his mouth once again on Dorian’s neck, kissing him while he slid a finger into his crack, pressing lightly against his entrance. Dorian couldn’t keep quiet any longer. He pushed out a heady groan.

“Fuck, do you have any idea how you’re making me feel?”

Alan’s chuckle tickled his neck. “What—you thought I’d finished?” Wry laughter bounced off the tiled walls. “So you like it?”

“Yes!” Dorian howled, shivering in spite of the heated water while Alan kept up the sensual onslaught. His cock stiffened, and all he wanted was to wrap his hand around it and bring himself to orgasm, but he knew better.

Alan halted, all motion ceasing, and Dorian trembled as Alan held him close. “That’s it, lad. I think I’ve pushed you far enough, don’t you?”

The water rained down upon them, and Dorian closed his eyes, his tremors dying away as he felt its warmth on his skin. His breathing became more regular, and through it all, Alan held him steady. “Yes, Sir.”

Quite far enough.

L
UNCH
WAS
finished, and Dorian was doing his best to dry the bowls with a tea towel until Alan took both items from him. “If I let you continue, there are sure to be breakages. I appreciate that you want to help, but—”

Dorian held up his hands. “I understand. I’m a liability right now.”

He turned to leave the kitchen, but Alan called him back.

“There
is
something you could be doing.”

When Dorian gazed at him inquiringly, Alan’s expression grew more serious. “You have a phone call to make, remember?”

For a moment Dorian was at a loss, and then it came to him.
Justin
. “Oh, yeah.”

Alan nodded. “It’s obviously important enough for him to track you down at the club. Why don’t you go into the lounge and sit by the fire? I’ll keep out of your way to give you some privacy.”

“Thanks.” Dorian gave him a grateful smile and then exited the kitchen. He closed the lounge door behind him and sat down on the thick rug in front of the fire. One look at it told him another log was required, so he carefully placed a thick one on top and watched the flames lick at it, already starting to devour it hungrily. He pulled his phone from his pocket and stared at it. Concentrating on
anything
had been difficult ever since he’d gotten out of the shower. He could still feel Alan’s hands on him, that solid dick making its presence felt against his belly, smell the air heavy with steam, the scent of patchouli bodywash, and desire. And that initial slide of Alan’s finger over his hole, taking his breath away.

The worst part of it all? When Alan had stopped.

There was no getting away from it. Alan was already under his skin.

Dorian let out a sigh. Ruminating on the event wasn’t helping. He scrolled through his texts and found the one from Pietro with Justin’s number. He gazed at it in silence, pondering, not for the first time, what on earth his ex could want after all these years.

Well, sitting here
thinking
about it won’t make things any clearer
.

He made the call, and Justin answered within four rings. “Hello?”

“Hi, Justin, it’s Dorian. I got your message.”

He heard the sigh at the other end of the phone. “Oh, thank God. I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna call.” There was a pause. “How are you? Your friend said you hadn’t been to the club in a while.”

“I’m fine.” Dorian was anxious to cut to the chase. “What’s up, Justin? It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, I know. Look, I need to ask you a favor, all right?” There was an edge to his voice, something Dorian couldn’t quantify.

“Go on.” This didn’t sound like the Justin he remembered. That young man had been laid-back to the point of being positively phlegmatic—except when he was having sex.

“I split up a few months ago from my boyfriend. Nothing heavy, it’s just that we both wanted different things from the relationship. Anyway, I got to talking one night with some mates in a club and I mentioned him. They all looked at me like I’d grown another head or something.” Dorian heard Justin’s swallow. “They wanted to know,” he continued, a quaver in his voice, “why I’d considered going out with a guy who was poz.”