Chapter 10

Dan's faceheld a mixture of avidness and innocence as he traced the curves of Joel's shoulders. He didn't seem to mind that Joel's body was a bit scrawny, pale, and hairy (a winning combination, not).

Slow dancing with Dan had unearthed a recent dream Joel had forgotten. They'd been seventeen again, waltzing in their meadow, shirtless like then, like now. Present-day Sam had been lounging in a nearby beach chair, sipping a strawberry daiquiri, his cocktail umbrella the same lime-green as the umbrella shading him from the sun. He'd raised his glass to Joel and Dan, then smiled up at the naked waiter who'd appeared at his side, played by the magician guy from Arrested Development.

Dreams were brain garbage—salvage art at best—nothing more than the processing of leftover thoughts and memories. Their only "meaning" came from the narrative one wove after waking. Joel didn't need a dream to tell him Sam would be cool with this encounter.

Well, he'd be cool with what Joel was doing, but not with what he was feeling.

Dan drifted a fingertip over Joel's left nipple, then turned his head to look at the not-so-subtle twitch inside Joel's khakis. "You like that?"

"Are you surprised?"

"Nothing about you surprises me." Dan tilted his head. "Nothing but everything."

Joel smiled and threaded his fingers through the thick hair at the back of Dan's head. The auburn waves were softer than they looked, and still a bit sweat-damp underneath. What would it be like to bury his face in this hair?

Keeping their gazes locked, Dan moved forward until his mouth reached Joel's right nipple. He drew it between his lips and teased it with his tongue, still tweaking the other with thumb and forefinger.

Darts of pleasure made Joel release a breathy moan and tighten his grip on Dan's hair. Dan moved his hand lower, fingers trickling just below Joel's ribs.

"Aaah, ticklish."

"Sorry." He hovered his palm a few inches lower, just north of Joel's belt buckle. "How about here?"

"Ticklish there, too."

Down and to the left, and closer, the warmth of Dan's hand radiating through two layers of clothes. "Here?"

"Yeah." Joel's stuttering breath made his voice tremble. "But not as much."

"What about…" Dan hovered his palm over the bulge straining for his touch. "Here?"

Please please please. "N-not ticklish. Not at all."

Dan paused for a moment, eyes crinkling, as if daring him to beg out loud.

Joel swallowed and pressed his lips together. This was a fun game, but he wouldn't try to make anything happen. If Dan was experimenting with his sexuality, the next few moments would be a crucial test, one that could produce an inconclusive or even negative result.

Contact came at last, enveloping his cock in heat and pressure. Joel groaned but kept his eyes open, watching for a reaction.

Dan bit his lower lip, then leaned in and kissed the edge of Joel's jaw. "To finally feel you…"

"Yes." The whisper ached in his throat. "Touch me."

Dan slowly slid his hand up and down, spreading his fingers to encompass him. Joel arched his back, digging his heels into the bed as he writhed, helpless, doubtless.

"Does that feel good?" Dan whispered.

"So fucking good. Almost too good." He reached down and removed Dan's hand, then turned on his side so they lay nose to nose. "I like taking our time."

"Me too."

He studied Dan's face, shadowed by the lamplight. "Funny, it's been forever since we were together, but you feel so familiar. Probably because I never truly stopped thinking about you. I kept you alive in my head."

Dan's eyes softened. "I know what you mean. I was always aware of you, out there, as this distant possibility."

Possibility for what? A dangerous question with even more dangerous answers.

He tugged Dan's hair to bring him into the deepest kiss yet, partly to search for any remaining reticence and partly to reaffirm that yes, kissing Dan was better than kissing anybody else ever.

A distinctive piano riff, played on the lowest keys, emanated from the CD. "There's the mambo I was talking about."

"I think a dance would chafe something fierce right now," Dan said.

"We could take off our pants." He sat up. "What do you say? A good old-fashioned pants-off dance-off?"

Dan rolled onto his back. "I don't think pants-off dance-off means actual dancing."

Fucking hell, he looked like a supermodel in that pose, with one arm curled over his head and the thumb of his other hand tucked into the top of his jeans. And that muscular chest…excellent exoskeleton, indeed.

"Okay, forget the mambo." Joel hooked a finger over Dan's brass belt buckle. "But pants off, yeah?"

Dan swallowed. "Yeah."

"It's okay to be nervous." He leaned over and kissed the center of Dan's breastbone. "I know I am."

"You've done this at least a h—" Dan cut himself off. "A heck of a lot more times."

"You were about to say ‘a hundred times,' weren't you?"

Dan made an exaggerated innocent face. "Was I?"

"Busted. I have done this a heck of a lot of hundred times." He met Dan's eyes as he undid the buckle. "But never with you."

The surgein Dan's pulse wasn't only from what Joel was about to do, but from the words he'd said—just now, but also a minute ago, about keeping Dan alive in his head all these years. They did share a unique connection, an invisible tether that could stretch, unbroken, through time and distance.

Joel slipped Dan's belt out of its buckle—slowly, as if it might snap in half if he pulled too hard.

"You don't have to be careful with me," Dan said. "I'm all in. For anything." For everything.

Joel's brow smoothed out as he smiled. "Better to ask permission than forgiveness."

That made sense, and maybe Joel's asking was a hint that he wanted to be asked, that maybe he had his own something that would feel like too much.

Besides, it was definitely a turn-on to say Yes to Joel, over and over and over.

He said it again now, with Joel's fingers poised on the button of his jeans. It came undone easily, inevitably.

Then came his zipper. Dan exhaled hard at the sudden relief.

"I like your boxers." Joel ran a finger along the elastic waistband. "They match your eyes."

So he'd made the right underwear choice this morning before stumbling out of that Terre Haute motel on four hours' sleep. "Considering my trip here was spur of the moment, I was lucky to have a decent pair on hand."

"I'll never get over the fact that you drove across the country to see me." Joel got up, went to the foot of the bed, and started untying Dan's sneakers. "By the way, I'm not doing this out of appreciation, like I feel obligated to make your long trip worthwhile."

Dan put his hands behind his head so he could see Joel's face when he answered the next question. "Why are you doing it?"

"Because I want to." Joel pulled off one shoe, giving Dan's heel a quick, reassuring squeeze. "I'd want to do this no matter what, but the fact is, nobody's ever gone to lengths like that for me before." He wore a serene smile as he removed the other shoe and started on the socks. "I'm not a romantic guy, but I'm also not immune to grand gestures."

"It wasn't a gesture." That word didn't come close to capturing the soul-deep desperation spurring Dan to jump in his car yesterday morning. "It was instinct." He lifted his hips to let Joel tug down his jeans.

"Instinct. Now you're talking a biologist's language." Joel laid Dan's jeans atop the dresser, then toed off his own shoes. "Guess it's only fair if I go pantless too."

"Wait." Before he could chicken out, Dan slid off the bed and went down on one knee—the good one—in front of Joel. "Let me do that for you?"

"Holy shit, yeah." Joel stared down as Dan undid the belt, button, and zipper, with more speed but less grace than his jeans had received. "Gotta say, I never dared picture you kneeling before me."

"Then we had totally different fantasies." He dropped Joel's pants to his ankles, then offered a hand to steady him as he stepped out. "Here." He held up Joel's khakis. "I don't know how much you care about wrinkles or?—"

"Don't care." Joel tossed them on the floor behind him. The belt buckle rattled against the bottom of the wooden dresser.

He gazed up at Joel, their combined breath audible over the mellow music. Then he slid his fingertips under the waistband of the silky, traffic-light-green briefs.

Joel gave a shaky nod.

Dan got the briefs halfway down, then stopped. He needed to taste him. Now, before he lost his nerve. Now, before he died of thirst.

"Ohhhhh fuck," Joel said at the first drift of tongue up his full length. From below, his face was pure rapture, eyes closed and mouth curved in a dreamy smile.

Dan licked his lips, then wrapped them tentatively around the tip. It jerked at his touch, and his own erection swelled in response, like an echo from one body to another.

He took more, until the entire head lay upon his tongue, smooth and firm. Curling his lips over his teeth, he slid it in and out.

"Shit." Joel bent his knees to withdraw from Dan's mouth. "I need to sit down or I'm gonna fall over." He stepped out of his briefs and perched on the edge of the bed. As Dan shifted to move between his thighs, Joel put a hand on his shoulder. "You're still okay with this, now that you've tried it? No hard feelings if you want to stop."

"I don't want to stop." It was hard not to shout this truth. "I really like it."

Joel beamed. "Well, I really like that you really like it."

"Good." Slowly, Dan took in more of him, letting his tongue trace every new inch.

Joel's breath shook as he inhaled. His exhalation began with "Oh…" and ended with "…Danny."

Dan's mouth watered. Why was it so fucking hot to hear Joel say his old name? Was it because this was how he'd come to reenact that day in his mind? If they'd had more time in that meadow, gone further than dancing, maybe they would've stayed in touch.

Dan took him deeper, then deeper still, until Joel was clutching the bedspread in his fists and grasping Dan's thighs with his bare feet, making little beseeching noises that drew every drop of Dan's blood southward.

He added his hand, and Joel's whimpers bloomed into a moan, which cut off suddenly.

"Okay, stopstopstop." Joel held Dan's head still. "Otherwise I'm gonna come in, like, two seconds."

"And that would be bad because…"

"Mmmm, sorry, I can't finish that sentence." Joel laughed, sounding almost drunk. "Hey, you're not naked yet. Get up and let me fix that."

With a deep breath, Dan stood. He bit his lip as Joel drew his boxers down, first with his hands, then his foot.

Joel leaned back to examine the whole of him, his brows pinching together.

What was that look for? Was he missing a special secret gay tattoo? "What's wrong?"

Joel shook his head. "You're just so beautiful, I think I might cry."

So much for not feeling self-conscious.

"I still can't believe you're here at all," Joel continued, "much less standing naked in front of me like some sort of demigod."

"I think a demigod would have more of a clue what to do next."

Joel glanced down at the bed. "For starters, any demigod worth his salt would help me get rid of this comforter I'm sitting on. It probably contains the fluids of dozens who have literally come before us."

"Ew."

"Sorry, not very sexy of me." They stripped the bed of everything but the sheets. Joel stretched out upon them, patted the other pillow, and smiled almost shyly. "Join me. Wonders await us."

Dan lay down facing him. He took a long moment to drink in the sight of Joel, his dark eyes gleaming in the lamplight, his black hair stark against the expanse of white sheets and pillowcase. Finally he reached out and traced Joel's jawline with a single finger.

"Show me what you want." Joel turned his head and planted a soft kiss on the inside of Dan's wrist. "I'm all yours."

Not true, not in the larger picture, but all that mattered right now was the small, specific picture of this bed.

"Luckily, I'm a simple man with simple wants." He took Joel's hand and guided it downward.

Joel let out a soft laugh. "You're anything but a simple man." His caress was light, each nimble finger sending a zap ricocheting to the base of Dan's spine and back again.

Dan kissed him, conveying his awe through lips and tongue. He pushed into Joel's hand, which tightened around him.

Yes, this. Yes, this and more.

"Dan…" came a breathless murmur against his mouth. "You want me to suck you?"

"Yes." He would beg if Joel made him beg.

But Joel didn't make him beg. Without another word he shifted down the bed, dragging his lips down the center of Dan's abdomen, scraping stubble against his skin, descending below his navel, creating a warm, wet path to?—

Oh God. Oh yes.

Joel moaned, as if matching those thoughts in Dan's head. Then he latched onto Dan's hips with both hands, looked up to meet his eyes, and began.

Dan could only stare back in wonder. This was nothing like his other blowjob from a man, that bearded guy in the UW knit cap he'd met at a bar last November who'd invited him out back "for some fresh air." That had been quick, almost brutal. His lasting memory was the white silhouette of the cap's Wyoming Cowboys logo, a man on a bucking bronco, moving back and forth in the dark, like stop-motion animation.

His orgasm that night had been more relief than rapture. The UW guy hadn't even wanted one in return, saying Dan was too drunk to do it right, and "Maybe next time." Dan hadn't returned to that bar, terrified of expectations.

But here with Joel, he wasn't afraid. He might never be afraid again.