dark room to reveal a whole brightly lit world beyond it.
Gem is a guy.
He’s Joel’s dad.
No wonder he thought my question about Julian being Joel’s father stupid. I wonder if he’s flattered I didn’t know.
“Gem wasn’t always as he is now. In the beginning I didn’t deal with the whole cross-dressing thing very well. I was a kid. I didn’t understand.”
I reach out for his hand across the hallway. I can accept his past. Understanding takes effort, but it’s an effort I know we are both willing to put in.
W IDE - EYED WITH a kind of sleepy, muted excitement, we make each other cups of sugary tea and round after round of toast slathered with jam.
Cassey said we could use the supplies in the back room’s kitchen, as long as we didn’t use all the supplies in there. I figure she’d give us all the toast we could eat anyway.
I feel a lot better. Weary, but better.
The bits and pieces Gem left us are in a black bin bag by the door. Julian tips it out, and we eagerly sort through the odd assortment of T-shirts and trousers (smelling wonderfully of some flower-scented washing powder) to find something warm to sleep in. There are also a couple of towels, some soap, shampoo, toothpaste, and toothbrushes.
“There’s a bath down the hall,” Julian says, awkwardly wrapping all the toiletries up in a towel one-handed.
What about your dressings? I sign.
“I can get them wet; you’ll just have to help me put new ones on after.”
Already my heart is beating erratic and quick.
I kneel beside him and twist the ends of the errant towel together, brushing my fingers against his. The atmosphere between us is all of a sudden heavier somehow, our movements weighted down, drawing us closer.
Slowly, his fingers stroke down my arm, and I turn and press into him, burying my face in his shoulder, breathing in the sharp, familiar scent of him.
I feel him swallow, and his words vibrate through me, urgent with longing. “Come on.”
The ancient fan heater up on the wall groans into life as we wash out the grimy bath.
Does it hurt? I sign, gently touching the gauze wrapped around his wrist as he holds it out of the way of the water for now.
He shakes his head in bemused wonderment. “The painkillers they gave me are opiates. Doesn’t hurt at all.”
His eyes lock with mine, and he brings the fingers of that hand tentatively up to my face, traces the outer edges of my lips until I reach for his fingers and kiss them, and he looks on, lost in some sort of helpless desire.
Emboldened and somehow weak at his reaction, I suck each finger deep into my mouth, feeling my cock stiffen painfully in my jeans. I need more . And apparently so does he, as he suddenly reaches out, grips the back of my skull and, in a heartbeat, crushes our mouths together, the both of us struggling frantically to get closer, until we crash, shocked, against the concrete bathroom floor.
“Fuck. You okay?” he gasps.
I nod, my skull still ringing from the impact, even as I pull him down heavily on top of me, searching for his mouth, his skin, at last.
God , his skin , warm yet shivering beneath my fingers as I trail them up the long muscles on either side of his spine, under his top, causing him to arch and push his hips down against mine as he kisses me slow and deep.
So much sensation, I lose myself in it, in him. In every grind of his hips, in every rough stroke of his tongue. Our world narrowed to a single bright strip of touch, of taste. Why on earth would we need anything more?
It’s only when the bath begins to overflow onto the floor that we come back to ourselves.
Julian laughs as we both grab wildly for the taps, breathless, giddy. Glowing.
I try to tell him, but he doesn’t understand. Perhaps he just can’t see it.
Shyly, we undress, pulling our tops off over our flushed faces and just dumping them carelessly on the wet floor.
Julian hesitates before unbuttoning his trousers, and I just watch him because I’m
Gem is a guy.
He’s Joel’s dad.
No wonder he thought my question about Julian being Joel’s father stupid. I wonder if he’s flattered I didn’t know.
“Gem wasn’t always as he is now. In the beginning I didn’t deal with the whole cross-dressing thing very well. I was a kid. I didn’t understand.”
I reach out for his hand across the hallway. I can accept his past. Understanding takes effort, but it’s an effort I know we are both willing to put in.
W IDE - EYED WITH a kind of sleepy, muted excitement, we make each other cups of sugary tea and round after round of toast slathered with jam.
Cassey said we could use the supplies in the back room’s kitchen, as long as we didn’t use all the supplies in there. I figure she’d give us all the toast we could eat anyway.
I feel a lot better. Weary, but better.
The bits and pieces Gem left us are in a black bin bag by the door. Julian tips it out, and we eagerly sort through the odd assortment of T-shirts and trousers (smelling wonderfully of some flower-scented washing powder) to find something warm to sleep in. There are also a couple of towels, some soap, shampoo, toothpaste, and toothbrushes.
“There’s a bath down the hall,” Julian says, awkwardly wrapping all the toiletries up in a towel one-handed.
What about your dressings? I sign.
“I can get them wet; you’ll just have to help me put new ones on after.”
Already my heart is beating erratic and quick.
I kneel beside him and twist the ends of the errant towel together, brushing my fingers against his. The atmosphere between us is all of a sudden heavier somehow, our movements weighted down, drawing us closer.
Slowly, his fingers stroke down my arm, and I turn and press into him, burying my face in his shoulder, breathing in the sharp, familiar scent of him.
I feel him swallow, and his words vibrate through me, urgent with longing. “Come on.”
The ancient fan heater up on the wall groans into life as we wash out the grimy bath.
Does it hurt? I sign, gently touching the gauze wrapped around his wrist as he holds it out of the way of the water for now.
He shakes his head in bemused wonderment. “The painkillers they gave me are opiates. Doesn’t hurt at all.”
His eyes lock with mine, and he brings the fingers of that hand tentatively up to my face, traces the outer edges of my lips until I reach for his fingers and kiss them, and he looks on, lost in some sort of helpless desire.
Emboldened and somehow weak at his reaction, I suck each finger deep into my mouth, feeling my cock stiffen painfully in my jeans. I need more . And apparently so does he, as he suddenly reaches out, grips the back of my skull and, in a heartbeat, crushes our mouths together, the both of us struggling frantically to get closer, until we crash, shocked, against the concrete bathroom floor.
“Fuck. You okay?” he gasps.
I nod, my skull still ringing from the impact, even as I pull him down heavily on top of me, searching for his mouth, his skin, at last.
God , his skin , warm yet shivering beneath my fingers as I trail them up the long muscles on either side of his spine, under his top, causing him to arch and push his hips down against mine as he kisses me slow and deep.
So much sensation, I lose myself in it, in him. In every grind of his hips, in every rough stroke of his tongue. Our world narrowed to a single bright strip of touch, of taste. Why on earth would we need anything more?
It’s only when the bath begins to overflow onto the floor that we come back to ourselves.
Julian laughs as we both grab wildly for the taps, breathless, giddy. Glowing.
I try to tell him, but he doesn’t understand. Perhaps he just can’t see it.
Shyly, we undress, pulling our tops off over our flushed faces and just dumping them carelessly on the wet floor.
Julian hesitates before unbuttoning his trousers, and I just watch him because I’m
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