Freed, page 9
“Flipped a switch in you?”
He nods. “Yeah. It made me realize that living like I have been – living a lie – takes a toll. And not just on me,” he says. “After I gave it some thought, it made me realize I need to change some things about myself.”
“I don’t want you changing who you are because you think that’s what I want, Dylan,” I tell him. “I want you to become the man you really are for yourself. This is only going to work if you embrace yourself – for yourself – and not for anybody else.”
“I am doing it for myself, Wes,” he says. “I’ve been living somebody else’s version of my life for far too long. You’ve helped me see that but it’s up to me to change it. I understand that now.”
I look at him for a long moment, searching his face for the truth in his words and come away convinced he’s being sincere.
“That’s good to hear,” I tell him. “I think you’re going to find that if you live your best life and be true to yourself, your life is going to be a much happier place.”
He nods but I can still see the fear and uncertainty etched deeply into his face. I know this is going to be difficult for him. It’ll be the hardest thing he’ll probably ever have to do in his life. Blowing up your entire world and having no certainty about the outcome is beyond terrifying. There are no words to describe the fear – or the courage it takes to do it.
“I’m proud of you, Dylan.”
He gives me a small smile and steps over to me, pulling me into a tight embrace. It’s not what I was expecting but I can’t deny enjoying the feeling of being pressed against his hard, firm body.
“Thank you, Wes,” he whispers, his warm breath tickling my ear pleasantly.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I say. “This is going to be a long, tough road. Just know that I’m here for you, Dylan. As long as you’re serious about this, I’ll be with you.”
He pulls back for a moment and I find myself swimming in his cool, green eyes and my stomach churns. The aching inside of me is strong and before I can stop myself, I lean forward and press my lips to his. I feel the hesitance and uncertainty in his kiss at first, but a moment later, he melts against me. Our tongues writhe and swirl together in his mouth and he pulls me even harder against him.
As I slide my hands down his back and cup his ass, squeezing it firmly, I feel him grab hold of my cock through my jeans. He rubs and strokes it as I slip my hand around and do the same to him. Our kiss grows harder and more passionate as we grip each other’s cocks and my moan is lost in his mouth, relishing every moment of this.
I raise my arms gingerly as Dylan slides my shirt off and tosses it across the room. He leans down and I gasp when he gives one of my nipples a firm nip. But that small pinch of pain melts into sheer ecstasy as I feel him sliding his tongue all around my chest as he tightens his grip on my cock.
His movements are still slightly tentative. Hesitant. I can tell he’s still trying to get comfortable with himself – and with me – in an intimate setting. There’s still doubt running through his mind about having sex with a man – he’s trying to overcome all those years of being told it’s unnatural. But I can also tell he’s trying to push past it.
I get his shirt off and toss it aside, running my hands over the hard angles and planes of his toned chest. He shivers beneath my touch as I run them down his taut belly and grip his pants, making quick work of his belt and buttons. Sinking to my knees, I pull his pants down with me as I go, the sight of his stiff cock before me fanning the flames of desire burning bright within me.
I look up at Dylan and see the fear in his eyes. Making the conscious decision to have sex with me by the light of day has to be a lot more frightening for him than the hurried, frenzied, not giving himself a chance to stop and think about it fuck we had the other night. This is a choice he’s making. This is him admitting he’s gay and I can see by the swirl of emotions in his eyes that he knows it.
Leaning forward, I run the tip of my tongue around the head of his cock, flicking it over the sensitive spot underneath. Dylan shudders and lets out a soft moan as I tease his dick. I reach out and grab hold of the base of his staff, squeezing it tight as I plunge him deep into my mouth. I move my hand and mouth in unison, sucking and jerking him in the way I know he likes. I feel his body tightening beneath my touch as he groans low.
Dylan grips my hair hard, pushing my head down on his cock roughly. He starts to roll his hips, fucking my mouth in a hard, steady rhythm. I tighten my lips and take his balls in my hand, squeezing them tight as he pumps his staff into me. His moaning is soft but insistent and his body is tensing. I grip his balls tighter and swirl my tongue around his cock. Dylan gasps and takes a step back before he can finish in my mouth. He gives me a lopsided smile as I get to my feet.
“I wasn’t ready for it to end,” he says, his breath husky.
“Good. Neither was I,” I tell him.
I drop my pants and step out of them, kicking them aside. Dylan swallows hard as he looks at me naked for the first time. His eyes linger on my long, thick rod and I can see the sheer desire in his gaze. He reaches out, grabbing it firmly and gives it a couple of hard strokes as if testing the waters. Feeling him gripping me sends shockwaves through my body and I gasp in pleasure.
I grab Dylan by the back of the head and push him down to his knees. I see his eyes widen as he swallows hard. No doubt, this is a critical moment in his life and he’s terrified. I felt much the same way before I gave my first blowjob. Not wanting to give him time to overthink it, I step forward and slide my cock past his lips and into his mouth.
I slowly roll my hips, moving my staff against his tongue. Dylan tightens his lips around my length and starts to move his head in time with my gentle thrusts. He’s slow and tentative, his inexperience along with what I’m sure feels like a dose of the surreal combining, adding to his fears and unease.
It isn’t long though before he seems to relax and let himself go. He moves his head up and down my length, sucking on my cock hard, and draws a long, loud moan from me. Dylan grips the base of my cock, mimicking my actions, and jerking and sucking me simultaneously. For being as inexperienced at this as he is, Dylan is incredibly good and he has my body humming with erotic electricity.
Not wanting to come too soon, I pull him to his feet. He looks at me uncertainly, as if he wasn’t doing something right. I give him a smile to put his mind at ease.
“That was amazing,” I reassure him. “I just want more.”
Dylan’s smile is a blend of nervousness and breathless anticipation for what comes next. I push him down onto the couch and stare down at him, drinking in every inch of his firm, hard body. He is quite the sight and I can’t get enough.
I collapse down on top of him and our mouths crash together. Our kiss quickly grows frenzied, our tongues dashing together and the feeling of his long, stiff rod pressed against me inflames my desire.
I plant a line of kisses down his neck and chest as I grab hold of his legs and part them. Dylan wraps them around my waist as I guide my cock to his opening. I spit on my hand and coat my rod with my saliva and then press the head of my cock against his ass. Dylan is nervous and his entire body is tight.
“Just relax,” I tell him.
He swallows hard again but his body slightly relaxes. As I slide the head of my cock into him, he gasps and his jaw clenches. Slowly, I slip into him deeper, inch by inch until I’m buried to the hilt inside of him. Being that this is his first time, I’m doing my best to be slow and gentle, so I give him a minute to adjust to the sensation of having me inside of him.
“You okay?” I ask.
He grimaces but nods. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he chuckles softly. “I guess I’m just realizing how all of my old girlfriends must have felt.”
I can’t stop the laughter that bursts from my throat and together we crack up for a minute, sudden, shared mirth easing a lot of the tension in the room and helps the both of us to relax. Dylan grips my forearms as I start to roll my hips, moving inside of him. He lets out a soft moan and presses his fingers into my arms harder.
I start to move myself a little harder and faster, plunging my staff deep into his ass. Dylan moans and chews on his bottom lip as I fuck him. The sensations rolling through my body are intense and I cry out, feeling my balls tightening already.
Dylan raises his legs, allowing me to pierce him even deeper. As my body tenses, I quicken my pace then reach down and take his cock in my hand. I squeeze his staff hard and he lets out a sound of pleasure that’s more animal than human. I fuck him at the same time I’m stroking his dick in a hard, steady rhythm and we’re both moaning loud in unison.
“Fuck me,” Dylan whispers. “This feels fucking amazing.”
I thrust my hips, plunging into him deep and hard as Dylan rolls his hips with me. Our bodies crash together in a passionate rhythm. My body is swelling with emotion and sensation as my balls tighten. I know I’m not going to last much longer so I grip Dylan’s cock even harder and jerk him off even faster as I thrust myself into him.
We’re both moaning loudly as I drive my cock deep into him one last time and hold myself there. Dylan’s cock begins to pulse in my hand and with one last stroke, he erupts. Thick streams of his warm, sticky come shoot all over my chest and stomach and slide down my hand. A moment later, I cry out as I burst and shoot my seed deep into him.
Out of breath and wrapped in the warm tendrils of post-coital bliss, we remain where we are for a long moment. Dylan looks up at me with an expression of wonder on his face. I lean down and kiss him, half-surprised when he kisses me back. I admit there was part of me expecting him to bolt like the last time we had sex. But he embraces and kisses me deeply.
I roll off him and we curl up on my couch, my head on his chest and our limbs all tangled together, our bodies slicked with our sweat and come. We lay together like that for half an hour before Dylan stirs.
“I need to get on the road,” he says. “My parents are expecting me.”
I nod but don’t say anything. Part of me is wondering if what happened between us today will encourage him to come out to them or if he’ll continue to keep his secret for now. I’m not going to push him though. For now, it’s enough that he seems to finally be accepting who he is. It’s a good first step.
We clean ourselves up as best as we can and get dressed. Dylan’s fallen strangely silent and I look over at him.
“Everything okay?”
He nods. “Yeah, just nervous about going home, I guess.”
I pull him into an embrace and plant a kiss on his forehead. He doesn’t resist but he’s a bit stiff and uncomfortable.
“You don’t have to force yourself to come out to them right this second,” I assure him. “I mean, this is something you’re probably going to want to work up to.”
He gives me a lopsided grin. “Right now, my concerns are more practical – I’m worried about what they’re going to say about me being suspended.”
I nod. “Understandable.”
He gives me a quick peck on the lips and disentangles himself from me. “I have to go,” he says. “But I’ll text you.”
“Good luck.”
He gives me a smile and then heads out of my apartment and I’m more hopeful today than I have been. I’m hopeful that Dylan will finally learn what true happiness is and to live life on his terms. I’m hoping he’ll stop letting others define him and take control of his life. And of course, I’m hopeful that as he embarks on this journey, I’ll get to be by his side every step of the way.
I just hope Dylan has the strength and the fortitude to handle what will surely be coming his way.
Chapter Eleven
Dylan
After getting settled in, I’m sitting on the bed, lost in thought when there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I call out.
The door opens and Rosemary – our house manager – is standing there. I give her a warm smile, genuinely glad to see her. Rosemary is a middle-aged woman who’s been working for my family since I was a kid. Her once midnight black hair is now shot through with gray, her figure has grown a bit plump, but her disposition is as kind and charming as ever.
She’s never been anything but nice to me and given how many social obligations my parents had, pretty much raised me. I often call her my second mom – something she outwardly rejects but something I know pleases her since she never had children of her own.
“It’s good to see you, Dylan,” she beams. “It’s been too long.”
I stand and cross the room, pulling her to me in a warm embrace. “School is keeping me busy,” I tell her. “But I’ve missed you.”
She pats my stomach and makes a disapproving cluck. “You’re too skinny,” she chastises me. “You’re not eating enough at school.”
I laugh. Some things never change.
“Oh, I eat enough,” I tell her. “The coaches run it all off of me though.”
She tsk’s and shakes her head. “You look sickly. I’ll make your favorite meal tonight and I expect you to have seconds. Maybe thirds.”
I laugh. “Deal.”
Her smile slowly fades and she looks at me awkwardly. I know she was sent to fetch me since my father isn’t the type to come to me on his own.
“How upset is he?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. But he wanted me to bring you to his study.”
“Of course he did,” I give her a grim smile. “Well, let’s get this over with. After all, I have a hearty dinner to eat tonight.”
Her smile returns and she laughs. “Yes, you do.”
We make small talk as we walk from the wing of the house my room is in, down to my father’s first floor study in the rear of the house in the other wing. With every step I take, my sense of dread grows stronger and I realize how amazing it is to me that even at twenty-one years old, being summoned to my father’s study still inspires the sort of fear it did when I was a kid. Back then, my father’s study was where lectures were delivered and discipline was meted out.
Rosemary opens the door and steps aside for me to enter. “He said he’ll be here in a moment.”
“Thanks, Rosemary.”
“Of course,” she says and tips me a wink. “Good luck.”
I smile at her as I step inside and she closes the door behind me. I walk around the study, taking it all in. Floor to ceiling bookcases made of a rich cherry wood line three walls and the hold thousands of books – most of which I know my father has read at least once. The fourth wall is made of glass and looks out over the rear grounds of the house.
The room is dominated by a massive, ornately carved cherry wood desk that’s clean with a nearly fanatical sense of organization. There’s a twenty-inch flat screen computer monitor and a keyboard discretely tucked under it. Two plush matching wingback chairs sit in front of the desk with a round table set between them. The air is redolent with the aroma of my father’s pipe and furniture polish – the only sign anybody has ever been in his study other than him.
Unless I was getting in trouble, I was not allowed inside my father’s study. This is his inner sanctum and place of Zen. This is where he comes to get away from everybody to have a quiet drink or just some time to himself. Nobody is allowed in here unless you’re summoned – and my father rarely summoned anybody here.
It’s amazing that even now, this room has the power to intimidate me and I wonder if it will ever lose that mystique.
“Last time you were in here, I think it’s because you and your friends were drunk and skinny dipping in the principal’s pool.”
A smile touches my lips at the memory from my senior year of high school. I nod and turn around to face my father who is standing in the doorway of his study. He’s a tall man – a couple inches taller than my six-foot-two frame. With broad shoulders and a trim frame, my dad is still in pretty good shape for a man his age. He’s got hair that’s mostly silver and stylishly cut, along with a goatee that is still more black than gray, and eyes like mind – a cool, frosty blue.
“I remember that,” I tell him. “And if I remember right, you took my car away from me for a week.”
He grins. “Well, I couldn’t let you off scot free,” he says. “But, boys will be boys.”
I smile as I take a seat in one of the chairs sitting in front of his desk. My father closes the study door and drops down into the chair behind his desk. He leans back in his seat, steepling his fingers in front of him and looks at me, saying nothing for a long moment.
“So, I talked to Dean Hilton,” he begins. “We had a long talk about what happened.”
I nod. “Yeah, it wasn’t a great situation.”
He shrugs. “I tried to talk her out of the suspension,” he goes on. “I didn’t think it was fair that this was going to be on your record when you didn’t actually assault this – person.”
I know what he wanted to say and frankly, I’m surprised he held back. He’s never been shy about throwing out slurs for gay people before. It makes me think of Wes though and of what we did before I left campus for the week. There’s a small part of me that wants to hit him with that just to see what he’d say. But I know I don’t have that kind of courage. That would take a set of balls I do not possess.
“Yeah, Dean Hilton is brutal,” I say. “She takes no prisoners.”
“So I gathered,” he mutters. “Candy ass liberals want to appease everybody.”
I purse my lips. “Dad, it’s as much my fault as it is anybody’s,” I admit. “I set the ball in motion and what happened was wrong. Wes didn’t deserve to be beaten like that. He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“From what I understand, he was harassing you,” he says, his voice low. “Hitting on you in public. I’d say that’s pretty wrong, Dylan. These people need to learn not everybody thinks their lifestyle is acceptable.”
I want to tell him that sixty years ago, people said much the same thing about African Americans and bi-racial marriages but I remain silent. I just want to get through this without antagonizing him. I don’t want this little meeting to last any longer than it has to.
