Violated by Jamie Fessenden Page A

slipped his hands down the back of Tim’s pants to grasp the tight mounds of his ass. Tim moaned, and Derek tried to caress him. But through all of it, his insides felt cold and dead, and his cock refused to harden.
    Tim eventually discovered his lack of arousal when he brought his hand up to Derek’s crotch. “Having a little trouble waking up?” he asked playfully.
    Derek didn’t know how to respond to that, but Tim didn’t wait for an answer. He slid down the length of Derek’s torso, lifting his T-shirt to lick at each nipple, flicking his tongue down the treasure trail from Derek’s belly button to his sweatpants, and then tugging with both hands at the elastic waistband. Derek lifted his hips to allow Tim to pull the sweats down. A moment later, his cock was in Tim’s mouth. Tim was good. He knew how to tease and caress Derek’s cock like a virtuoso playing a flute. Normally Derek would be standing at attention in no time. Tim had once bet Derek he could make him ejaculate in under a minute. It was just horsing around, but Derek had timed it and Tim won the bet easily.
    But not tonight. No matter how much Derek tried to focus on the sensations Tim was producing in his cock, the damned thing refused to grow hard. Tim finally gave up in frustration.
    “I’m sorry,” Derek said.
    “What’s the matter with you?”
    “It’s not your fault, hon. My body just… doesn’t feel right.”
    Tim frowned. “What do you mean? Are you still sick?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe.”
    “Well,” Tim said coolly as he sat up, “maybe you should make an appointment with your doctor.” One of Derek’s hands was still down the back of his pants, but Tim withdrew it as he stood, found the television remote, and switched the TV off.
    “Maybe I should,” Derek answered glumly. He didn’t want to talk to Dr. Cassidy about what had happened. How the hell could he even bring it up? And what the hell could a doctor do about it, anyway? It was a done deal. But there was at least one thing Cassidy could do to ease his mind.
     
     
    T HE SEX was good, at least from an acrobatic point of view. Russ would definitely give it nine out of ten stars. It probably would have been a ten, but there was a little stumbling on the dismount—Ian spilled the contents of the condom all over Russ’s bedspread. Then there was the hasty scramble for clothing and hurried exit. It had felt great, lasted a couple of hours, and left Russ with a body that was thoroughly exhausted and satisfied.
    He also felt more alone than before he’d started sleeping with Ian. He lay on his bed for several minutes after Ian let himself out, hating the feeling of sadness that welled up in his chest, pooling around his heart, threatening to overflow into his lungs and drown him. It wasn’t sadness caused by Ian. At least, not completely. Russ had already grown used to the idea that this was just for fun. And it was fun.
    But fun wasn’t what he’d been after when he went to the gay men’s group. He’d hoped for more. Was a little cuddling too much to ask for?
    Max trotted into the room, now that the door was open, and hopped up onto the bed.
    “Watch out for the wet spot, pup,” Russ murmured. But he turned his face toward the dog and let Max give him a sloppy kiss. “Oh, sure,” he laughed. “You say you love me now. But I’m onto you. You’re just hoping for a doggy snack.”

C HAPTER F OURTEEN
     
     
    “I T ’ LL BE relaxing,” Derek persisted.
    Tim snorted. “It’ll be cleaning . Lots of it. I’ve only just barely gotten the kitchenette and bedroom in order.”
    “The place isn’t that dirty.”
    “By your standards, perhaps.”
    Derek sighed. “You don’t have to clean if you don’t want to. I can do it. Or we can just… leave it for another time. I really just need to get away this weekend.”
    “Why?” Tim asked suspiciously. “You were away last weekend.”
    “A business trip isn’t my idea of relaxing.”
    It was useless.