considers the cold ice pack and the question that looms in front of him as clear as day.
Reese watches him, but says nothing.
He has regarded this question and the associated thoughts over and over for the past two and a half hours. Has pondered Miles’ words—dissected them over and over, reviewed them from left to right and then again from right to left—looking for an opening, a weakness he could exploit.
Nothing.
Miles was fucking with him. Telling lies.
Had to be, right?
Guys fuck with one another, right?
Poor choice of words, considering the circumstances. But the answer still is no.
There’s no way what Miles said could be true. What Miles was implying couldn’t be true—not in Ryan’s case.
Could it?
A woman’s touch. He felt it on his face and chest, moving downward, experiencing the fingernail as it grazed skin and navel before ending at the top edge of his boxers. He held his breath, and held his cock in his palm, as in offering. Take it, he willed her, before I go insane.
Could what Miles be implying be true?
Ryan didn’t know.
So, he forces himself back to that evening.
Measures the details as if he were reliving the entire episode frame by frame.
The feeling was indescribable. Her mouth was an oven and he thrust toward the back of her throat as he reached for her locs, the ferocity within causing him to tremble. Toes curling on the cool carpet, legs outstretched, holding her head in his hands while bucking his hips slowly. Darkness settled around them like a blanket. Occasional house creaks and groans, spiking the otherwise silent hush of the night.
And finds nothing.
Nothing of substance to clear him from the truth.
Am I a faggot?
Because I let another man…
“STOP IT!”
Reese glances up sharply. He is yelling—not at her. Not at anyone in particular.
He drops his head and shakes it forlornly. This whole thing has been blown way out of proportion, and if he just closes his eyes, blinks back the tears that seem to be waiting in the wings, he’ll be alright.
He’ll wake up tomorrow, snug and warm in the confines of his bed, Carly on her side, spooning him as she’s fond of doing, everything the way it was before. Everything okay.
He hasn’t done what Miles alleges.
Ryan blinks.
He did not allow another man to fellate him.
He did not.
Could not.
Blinks again.
No heterosexual man in his right mind would.
Or could…
Right?
Ryan looks to Reese for an answer.
She smiles sheepishly when their stares meet and lock.
Sorrowfully, she lacks the answer to this fundamental question.
Chapter 10
Miles listens to her breathing. It’s like the slow, steady hand of a Swiss watch—predictable. She has been asleep for over thirty minutes now. Olivia faces away from him, covers pulled up to her neck, clad in a silk nightgown that comes down to mid-thigh. It is after one in the morning, yet Miles is wide awake. He stares at the patterns of shadow and light dancing off the stucco wall and listens to the wind howl. He can’t sleep, not with things left in this unresolved state.
Miles considers the things he has to do…the people he has to see.
Ryan.
His thoughts have not strayed far from his friend this past evening.
Their conversation went badly. Not at all the way he had planned.
Miles had rehearsed it a thousand times. Was hoping and praying Ryan would understand…would see things his way, open his eyes to this new way of thinking, this new way of existing.
But not yet…
Miles, for one, marvels at his newfound freedom…this newfound lifestyle. It’s amazing how differently things look now. Colors more vibrant, air more pungent. Miles is loving life. He is, in a word, alive.
His thoughts race back to his shower. Miles had wanted to be alone—needed time to decompress, to sort things out. But Olivia had violated the sanctity of his temple by entering the stall.
His shower…
But it was okay.
Olivia is his wife. He loves her. He still desires her. And above all else, he still wants her in his life.
No contradiction as far as he’s concerned.
Miles smiles in the near darkness, then reaches down and takes hold of himself, feeling the blood rush.
Oh yes, it was fine that Olivia came in when she did.
For that is the beauty of this, this new thing—Miles can have his cake and eat it, too!
He suppresses a giggle.
Yes, he’s having his cake and eating it, too.
Making love to his wife was exactly what the doctor ordered. In some small recess of his mind, he had fantasized about delicious things happening between Ryan and himself tonight, but he knew it was too early to happen. Ryan’s response was typical, and Miles was not the least surprised by his reaction. Poor guy didn’t know what hit him. He kind of liked doing that—witnessing the deer in the headlights look, all confused, unable to make any sense of what was being said. But then all the pieces suddenly dropped into place. And in time, sooner rather than later, Ryan would come around…just like Miles had.
Ryan will come to understand the power of male sensuality—the bond two men can share.
After all, he had passed the first test by allowing another man to take him in his mouth.
Oh yes, he will come to crave it the way vampires crave blood.
That he will. Miles was sure of it.
Miles pulls on his penis, which is semi-hard. Thoughts drift like tendrils of smoke back to that wonderful evening, the night when he was able to consummate his lustful fantasies with action. Ryan had been so far gone, so consumed with obsession that he would have fucked a stump if he’d thought it belonged to Olivia.
Miles
