Dean crossed some bizarre barrier. One word shone brightly out of his confusion: commitment. Such a decision shouldn’t have any links to the organ in his mouth, but it did. The act he’d chosen wasn’t purely physical, but emotional.
He tested his own resolve. What a time to come to such insight. So not the time for such considerations.
Dean strove to clear his mind, not to think but to feel, to taste, to stroke with his tongue, suck with his lips. Funny how seconds passed in which he floundered, uncertain what to do next, hating the idea of being inept. What did he, as a man, like? The easiest decision was to give to Jay what he’d always taken.
Surely, Dean should be able to do this on instinct, if he were, in fact, gay. Shouldn’t this come naturally to him?
I’m thinking too much.
Conc
