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A Brown-Eyed Handsome Man By DC Juris For every transperson who struggles, who questions themselves, who

A Brown-Eyed Handsome Man By DC Juris

For every transperson who struggles, who questions themselves, who defends and explains themselves more than anyone should ever have to. And for my husband, John, who never made me feel like anything other than a brown-eyed handsome man.

Music blared around him and bodies writhed on the dance floor under a giant multicolored disco ball, but he couldn't enjoy the ambiance. He glanced down at his watch again. Twelve-thirty. He couldn't stay much longer. Jason would start to wonder what was taking so


long and start calling, and then he'd have to lie. Again. God, he hated having to lie. This wasn't the way people were supposed to live. He didn't know why he'd even bothered to come. It wasn't like he was going to meet anyone. Who'd be interested in him, after all? Certainly none of the beautiful people who surrounded him. He turned on the stool and gazed out at the crowd. Look at them all. So young and happy. So confident. So real. And he was anything but. He glanced down at his chest, sat up straighter, and sucked his stomach in a little before letting it back out and turning back to the bar with a

defeated sigh. Who was he kidding? He hadn't been any good as a woman, and it seemed he wasn't any good as a man, either. Life lived in limbo sucked. Another glance at his watch revealed the time to be twelve forty-five. He really, really ought to leave. But as depressing as the scene around him was, the one at home was worse, and he couldn't bring himself to put his feet on the floor and walk away. "You got a plane to catch?" A sultry, deep voice with a Southern drawl purred in his ear. He jumped and nearly choked on his mouthful of beer. "What?" "That's gotta be like, the twentieth time you've checked your watch." The man slid onto a barstool and smiled. Gorgeous. Utterly gorgeous. He couldn't think of any other word to describe the man. That long hair his fingers wanted to tangle in, those broad shoulders he wanted to nibble along, that massive chest he wanted to

rub his face against

And those eyes! Dear God he'd

... never seen anything so blue in all his life. He cleared his throat. "No. No plane."


The man held out his hand. "I'm Rocky." "



Shit. What was the name he'd picked out?

"I'm Drake." Drake? What the fuck was that? Sounded like something out of a trashy romance novel, something that should be preceded by Lord and followed by of Wellington. Wellington made him think of beef Wellington, and that drew a gurgle of nauseous protest from his already tied in nervous knots stomach. Well this was going fantastically. "You sure about that?" Rocky quirked an eyebrow at him. Drake laughed. "Yeah." "What're you drinking? I'll buy you another." Rocky waved the bartender over.

Oh shit. This was it. This was really happening. He was being hit on. In a bar. By a man. Time to panic. His heart rate sped, and it was all he could do to keep a quiver out of his voice. "I really should be going. I've gotta be somewhere." "Oh." Rocky frowned. "Well, okay then. Do you live around here? Maybe I'll see you somewhere?"


no. No I live ...

in Seattle." Seattle. Right. Pick

the one fucking city you know nothing about.

"Well, I guess in that case it was nice meeting you." Rocky held out his hand again. "You, too." Drake hopped down from his stool and pulled out his wallet. He took out a twenty dollar bill, threw it on the bar, and in doing so his hand collided with the mug, sending it careening into a spin, dousing Rocky with suds. He grabbed up a napkin and dabbed at Rocky's clothing. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"It's nothing, really." Rocky added another napkin to the fray. "It'll wash out. Don't worry about it."


"I'm usually not






confronted with sexuality in human form. Rocky reached out and took Drake's hand. "Really, it's fine." Drake's eyes went wide, and he snatched his hand away. "I have to go." "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend--" "I have to go!" Drake did the only thing he could think of to salvage the situation. He fled.


"How was your night out, babe?" Jason called from the bedroom. "Good." Short and sweet. That was the plan. The less details she gave, the better. Angela shrugged off the flannel shirt, wadded it up, and threw it into the clothes hamper in the laundry room. She frowned. She'd caught a whiff of something as she'd taken the garment off. Rocky's cologne, maybe? Jason stuck his head in the door. "You and the girls get frisky with anyone?" "Of course not." She tried to keep the scowl off her face as she turned to him and kissed his cheek. "Wanna get frisky with me?" Jason nuzzled her chin. Not particularly. "I have an early morning tomorrow, remember? And it's already after one." He stepped away and narrowed his eyes at her. "Whose fault is that?" Angela glared right back at him. "Mine." She pushed past him and marched down the hall, headed for the bathroom. "Where are you going?"


"To shower." She slammed the bathroom door behind her, wincing at the resulting clatter of miscellaneous crap in the medicine cabinet. She readied the shower water and stepped in, grinding the heels of her hands into her eyes and willing herself not to cry. Fuck Jason. He didn't understand what she was going through -- wasn't even trying to understand. They'd talked and talked, but nothing appeared to be sinking in. He existed under the impression that everything in their lives was just the way it had been for the past five years. Just fine. Just dandy. Not falling apart around them. In reality, nothing had been fine, even five years ago. Angela had been searching and uncertain, even then. But wanting to wear a man's shirt every now and then and telling your husband you wanted to pursue hormone therapy and surgery to become a man were two drastically different things. Cut him some slack, her therapist had said. Give him some time. Don't expect miracles. How much slack? Sitting idly by, biting her tongue while he and his buddies shared gay jokes and threw around the word fag? How much time? More than the year he'd already had? And was it really a miracle for him to be supportive of her? It wasn't like there hadn't been signs. It wasn't like she hadn't told him when they'd first started dating that she wasn't completely comfortable in her skin. She didn't want him to fall at her feet and declare himself an expert on all things transgender in nature. She just wanted him to talk about things and try to understand. Her thoughts shifted back to the bar. To Rocky. Had Rocky known she'd really been a woman? She didn't have big tits; after all, sometimes people mistook her for male. Had he? What did that mean, if he had? Had he


actually been attracted to her? Was that even possible? She smiled in spite of herself as she whispered the name she'd chosen. "Drake." She said it aloud; thrust her hand out in front of her as if to offer someone a handshake. "Hi, I'm Drake." Drake. Angela smiled. Not so bad after all.


Angela stood in line at the grocery store, leaning her forearms on her cart, idly scanning over the magazine rack. She snickered at a tabloid running a story about a man-woman who claimed to have given birth to a cow- human hybrid baby, with a horribly photoshopped image emblazoning the cover. She picked up the paper and flipped through it, finding more absurd stories. Did people really buy these things? "Well, well. If it isn't Seattle Drake."

Angela froze, her body going rigid. Oh no. Oh God. Oh, dear God no. She turned to her right to find Rocky leaning up against the end cap beside her. "You're still in town." Rocky looked her up and down, grinning. "I didn't think I'd see you again."

"Yeah. Um

what luck, huh?" She laughed

... nervously and looked away. That laugh had sounded feminine. She glanced down at herself. At least she wasn't wearing a dress. Jeans, t-shirt, sneakers. Nothing that would give her away. Hopefully. "Sorry about the beer bath the other night." Rocky shrugged. "It washed out, just as I suspected it might. So." He pursed his lips and nodded toward the cart. "Shopping, huh?" Angela burst into laughter. "Yeah. Shopping. You?" He shrugged and grinned again. "Shopping."


"Right. Well, this is the perfect place for it." Oh, good fucking grief. She looked down at the floor, hoping it might open and swallow her up. The thought of

swallowing made her look over at Rocky

then down at

... his crotch. She yanked her gaze away and fiddled with the cart handle.

"You doing anything later?" Rocky asked. "Not you." The heat of a blush spiraled up her neck and cheeks, and her eyes went wide with

embarrassment. "I mean


mean I can't

I can't um

I meant um I'm busy."


Not with you. I

... Rocky's shoulders shook with his laughter. "You


know, I think that's about the cutest way I've ever been told to take a hike." "I didn't mean it like that, honestly." She reached out

and laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. I just


... Rocky wasn't paying attention to her, though. His gaze had fallen to her hand. He shivered and raised his

eyes to look at her again. He took a step closer. "I really wish that wasn't the case." "Me too." She squeaked out the response through her dry throat and breathless chest. "Well, Seattle Drake, I'd best let you get to it." He nodded to the now non-existent line in front of her. The cashier stood looking at her with an eyebrow arched, as if to ask, are you checking out or not?

"Right. It was um

it was good to see you." She

... pulled her hand away and gasped when he reached out

and took it between his own. "You have no idea." Rocky raised her hand to his lips, kissed the back, and then turned and walked away. Angela thought she'd faint. Her chest hurt and her heart pounded hard and fast as she reached with shaking hands for her groceries and loaded them onto the


conveyor belt. Tears stung her eyes, and she cleared her throat, shaking her head. Nope. She wouldn't cry. The fact that Rocky had walked into her life at the wrong time was no reason to cry. Nope. No reason at all. She paid the cashier and wheeled the cart out into the parking lot and over to her car. Angela gasped. Rocky again, just one parking space away. He sauntered over to her and held up his hands in surrender. "Don't go all worried on me, I'm not stalkin' you, I swear. But I do have a confession to make." "I'm not a priest." She wrinkled her brow and turned away from him, flabbergasted at her own words. She pressed the button on her keychain to pop the trunk lid open and started hastily tossing bags into the car. "Naw, but you're downright handsome, and if a man can't find a priest, I suppose a brown-eyed handsome man is good enough." Rocky lifted two of the bags out of the cart and deposited them in the trunk. "Aren't you at all curious about my confession?" Angela turned and found herself face-to-face with him. Or rather face-to-broad-manly-chest. She frowned at the twinge of jealousy that gripped her. She'd never look like him, no matter what she did. She'd never be the kind of man he was. "I suppose," she muttered. "My confession is that I wasn't just shopping here today. Well, I was, but not for groceries." "Then for what?" He dipped his head and pressed his lips against her ear. "For you." He straightened and smiled down at her. "I watched you leave the other night at the bar, and I saw what car you left in." "So I'm the only one in town with a blue Chevy Cavalier?"


"No, but I'm willing to bet you're the only one in town with a Chevy Cavalier that has a Sometimes the Dragon Wins bumper sticker." He pointed to the red and white sticker.

"Ah." He did have a point there. "So when I spotted it again today, I had to find you.




He kicked the license plate. "That says

New York. Not Washington." Damn it. She looked away and sighed. "I get the feeling there's more to you than meets the eye." Rocky reached out and ran his fingers through the spikes on top of her head. "If you only knew." She looked up at him and for a moment she wished he'd just take what he wanted. It wouldn't be her fault then, would it? If he just grabbed her and kissed her, bent her back over the cart and let his mouth have its way with her. If he just pulled her close ... called her Drake ... "I'm trying to tell you I want to know." "I'm female." She blurted. And despite her best intentions, despite her brain screaming at her to shut up, her mouth kept moving, spewing out more verbal diarrhea. "And I'm married. I'm not a real man, I'm a woman but I want to be a man, and I'm married and his name is Jason and he's an asshole and he doesn't get it, he doesn't understand me and that's why I was at the bar and I'm sorry I led you on, well, maybe I'm not sorry because I wanted you to like me because you're handsome and powerful and all the things I'll never be and all the things I want and I couldn't believe you walked up to me and I just--" Angela let out a squeal as Rocky pulled her into his iron grip and lowered his mouth to hers. His lips plundered and took, and she let them, opening her own


for him. His tongue invaded, twisting and twining with hers until he had her writhing against him. He broke the kiss and held her at arm's length. "One, I know your body is female. Two, you're definitely a

man. Three, Jason is a son of a bitch if he can't see what "

he has. And four

He reached into his pocket and

... pulled out a business card. "This is me. The address is my home office."

Angela took the card and turned it over. Delavana Photography. Seventy Nine Maple Lane, Horseheads,

New York. Maple Lane wasn't far from where she lived. How had she never seen Rocky before? "Why are you giving me this?" "Why do you think?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "But I'm married." "I heard you the first two times." He chuckled. "Look, you're not happily married, that's for certain. "

Whatever this is between us

He ran a hand through

... his hair and sighed. "I don't know what it is. But I do know you need a friend, and if you keep hanging out in

dive bars, you're going to find the wrong kind." She smirked. "I found you in a dive bar." "That's cause I own the place." "Oh." No wonder she'd never seen him. She'd never ventured into a bar in her life before last week. "So, what's it going to be, Seattle Drake?" "My real name is--" "Drake." Rocky dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "Your real name is Drake, baby." He tapped the card. "Use it." Rocky turned and walked over to his car, got in, and drove away. Angela looked down at the card. A friend. She really could use a friend. So tempting. So very, very tempting. And why not? Besides her therapist, she had no one to


talk to. Every time she tried to broach the subject of being transgender with Jason, he either got angry and yelled at her or brushed her off. And after three- hundred-sixty-five days of being yelled at or brushed off, she'd had enough. She'd try one more time. She owed him that much. Or maybe not him, but herself. She'd put a lot into her marriage. She couldn't just walk away. Could she?


Angela stood in the doorway of Jason's gaming room, waiting for him to acknowledge her. "What's up, honey buns?" He glanced over his shoulder at her, then returned his attention to the game, the rat-a-tat-tat of simulated automatic weapons' fire booming off the walls. "Can we talk for a minute?" "Yeah, sure. Shit!" He ducked and bobbed unnecessarily as his character came under heavy fire. "That bastard is kicking my ass!" Angela sighed. "It's kind of important. If you could pause that?" Jason glared back at her. "I'm in the middle of a mission. Can it wait?" She shook her head. No more waiting. "No, I don't think it can. I want to talk to you about the whole transgender thing again." Jason's eyes widened, and he frowned. "We've been over that, haven't we?" "No, we haven't. I've talked, and you've yelled or changed the subject. I want to have a real conversation this time."


"Why don't we go out to dinner and talk about stuff then? I'm in the zone right now, baby." His fingers worked fast and furious over the controller, his tongue sticking out between his teeth as he continued to bob and weave. Angela stood there for a moment, deciding. He'd used the let's talk over dinner out tactic before, and she knew how that would go. They'd get to dinner, she'd try to start a conversation about her being transgender, he'd silence her because what if someone hears you and tell her it wasn't proper dinner conversation. Then when they got home, he'd be too tired from dinner, or too stuffed, or dinner would've made him sick or whatever other excuse he came up with. She took a deep breath, walked over, and yanked the television cord out of the socket. "Well now you're not in the zone." "What the fuck, Angie?" Jason stood and threw the controller down into his chair. "You want to talk, fine, let's talk. I'm not a fag, and that's the end of it. I married a woman, not a man. I'm attracted to women, not men. Plain and simple. You've got a lot of nerve to keep this up, you know. I've been patient with you. I've gone along with this whole frumpy dumpy thing for way too long." He waived his hand up and down at her. "This whole dressing like a little boy thing is getting old." "I've got nerve? I've got nerve? You've been making me feel insignificant and worthless for years now, and I've got nerve?" Angela held her hands up and took another deep breath. "This isn't what I wanted to do. I don't want to fight with you. I want to sit down and talk. Have a real conversation." Jason shook his head. "There's nothing to talk about." "But there is! Me being transgender doesn't make you gay."


He narrowed his eyes at her. "How does me living with, fucking, and being married to a man not make me gay? Explain that to me." "Because nothing about you is changing. And really, nothing about me is changing. I'm still the same person I was. I still have the same thoughts and feelings, the same ideas and beliefs. I'm still the person you fell in love with." "No, you're not. You're not the woman I fell in love with. The woman I fell in love with liked frilly things. She liked perfume, not cologne. She liked blouses, not shirts. She liked pink, not camouflage." He pointed at her black and green camouflage shirt. "She liked her hair long and flowing, not chopped off in a high and tight like a Marine." Well, at least they were talking. Now how to get him to see that those things didn't define her as a person? "I didn't really like any of those things. I just pretended I did because I thought I should, because that was what everyone wanted. But none of those things matter. They don't define me anymore than what you wear defines you. You have a pink shirt you wear to the office sometimes. Does that mean you're a woman on the days you wear that shirt?" "Of course not! I wear that damned shirt because my boss said I needed to add color to my wardrobe. You know that!" "Exactly." Angela nodded. "That's my point. We're not defined by how we look." "If that's your logic, then why do you dress the way you do?" He picked up a framed photo of the two of them together on their honeymoon and pointed to the pink dress she was wearing. "Why don't you still dress like this?"


"Because I don't want to look like that. I want to



Angela swallowed down the words like a man.

... Jason was right, in a way. "Because you want to look like a man, right?" he

asked. He put the photo back and sat down heavily in his "

chair. "I love you. I do. But this


He gestured to her

clothing again. "I don't want to be seen in public with you dressed like this. Maybe if you only did it at home, maybe I could get on board with it. But taking you out, dressed like that? Calling you a man's name? Referring to you as he?" Jason shook his head. "I don't have that in me. I'm sorry you're confused and upset. I wish I could fix this for you. I wish I could make you normal again, but I can't. And I just can't sit by and watch this happen. I can't be a part of it." "So it's you or Drake?" Angela whispered. Jason frowned. "Who the hell's Drake?" "That's the name I chose. My transgender name." His eyes went wide. "Oh. Drake." He snarled the word as if he'd just tasted a mouthful of something putrid. "Yeah, then I guess it's me or Drake." Angela bit down on her tongue to keep from bursting into tears. She'd suspected it would come to this, if she ever pushed the matter. But truth be told, she'd never planned to push the matter. Not until Rocky. Everything had changed now. She turned and went out into the living room, grabbed her coat from off the hook by the door. "Where are you going?" Jason stood in the doorway of the living room, leaning against the doorjamb. Angela faced him. "To make a decision."



"I shouldn't be here." Drake said it for probably the twelfth time. He sat at the small wooden table in Rocky's postage-stamp sized kitchen. "Yeah, you should." Rocky handed him a mug of

coffee. "I told you to use my card, and I'm glad you did. "

I don't know why you did, but

He shrugged.

... Drake sighed. "I had an argument with Jason. I guess it was an argument. In any event, he can't wrap his head

around this

around me being a man. Said he wasn't

... attracted to men, said he couldn't be married to one, said

he wasn't a fag." Rocky snickered. "Nice language." "I get where he's coming from, really, I do." He held up a hand as Rocky started to speak. "No, seriously,

think about it for a second. Jason is straight. He can't be gay anymore than you could be straight. Or anymore than I could not be transgender. That's just what he is. Who he is. And if I'm asking him to respect who I am, I have to respect who he is, too. He does love me." "Do you love him?" Rocky asked quietly. "Angela did. That's my birth name. Angela. She loved him." He frowned sadly, wondering how true that really was. "But Drake doesn't?" Drake shrugged. "Drake does too, maybe. But Drake wants more. I'm tired of playing dress up every day to soothe someone else's conscience." "Well, you can rationalize his reaction if you want, but I still think Jason's a cock-sucking asshole." Drake burst into laughter at the mental image of Jason's face, screwed up into a scowl of disgust, Jason holding his nose as he attempted to suck another man's

dick. "Sorry, it's just


Jason would never suck cock."


Rocky grinned. "Reason number three hundred why you should leave him. People change. They evolve. And if you can't evolve with them, you get culled from the herd. Cull him." "Yeah, I know. I've told myself for so long that it couldn't be like that. We've been together for so long. There were things to consider. I mean, we don't have kids together, but we both own the house, and you'd

better believe he'll kick me out. I've told myself I couldn't just walk in one morning and tell him I was leaving. It wasn't that simple." Drake shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. "But at the same time, what was I supposed to do? Not live? And what was I supposed to do if I managed to meet someone? String them along until they got tired of being my dirty little secret? Jason isn't a bad person, but he doesn't understand me, and he's never going to accept me. I guess I've just finally had enough." Rocky laid a hand on Drake's arm. "I'd like to think I had something to do with that." "You did." Drake slid his hand over Rocky's and squeezed. "If I hadn't met you, I might still be pining away. There's just something about you that moved me. "

If a man like you can look at me and think

He paused

... and swallowed hard. "Did you really mean what you said in the parking lot? About me being a brown-eyed handsome man?" A sweet smile spread over Rocky's lips. "Of course I did. I'll admit, I don't know anything about you -- hardly anything, anyhow. I'm not saying I'm in love. But I want you, Drake." Drake shivered. Just hearing his trans name on Rocky's lips was intoxicating. "Am I wrong to think you want me too?"


"No, you're not." Rocky stood and held his hand out to Drake. "Ever worn a strap-on?" Drake frowned as he took Rocky's hand. "No. Why?" Rocky tugged Drake up, wrapped his arms around Drake, pulling Drake close. "You know why." He ground their bodies together, pressing his groin against Drake's thigh. "I want to make love with you, Drake. I

want you so bad it hurts. I don't care about the rest. Stay with him if you want. Or leave him. It doesn't matter.


please. Can't we have this?"

... "Say it again." "Which part?" "My name," Drake murmured. "Say my name again." Rocky leaned down and kissed Drake's earlobe. "Drake," he whispered. "Please, Drake." A full-body shiver coursed through Drake, nearly taking his knees out from under him. "Yes." Rocky pulled away and met his gaze to Drake's. "Yes? Are you sure?" "I want you. I want this. Us. You. Now." He clawed at Rocky's shirt. Rocky chuckled soft and low and leaned down to trail kisses along Drake's neck. "Slow down there, tiger.

There's plenty of time." Drake shook his head. No, there wasn't. There wasn't enough time in the world to make up for how he'd been living, to make up for the things he'd missed out on, to make up for how much he hated himself for letting it all go this far. Rocky took Drake's face in his hands. "You okay?"

Drake nodded. "Yeah. It's just man is kinda new for me."


being treated like a


"Get used to it, baby." Rocky took Drake's hand and pressed it to his groin. "'Cause Little Rocky only wakes up for men, and he's wide-eyed and bushy tailed right now." Drake palmed Rocky's hard cock in amazement. He'd never dreamed this would happen -- that someone would find him attractive. Him. Rocky pulled Drake close again for another kiss Drake arched against Rocky, digging his fingernails into Rocky's upper arms as Rocky's hands slid down to grip his ass. Rocky broke the kiss and stepped back. He took Drake's hand and led Drake out the kitchen and down the hall to the bedroom. Drake stopped at the door, just short of crossing the threshold. If he went inside, everything became real, and there'd be no going back. A wave of guilt tugged at his heart. He was about to cheat on his husband. Drake frowned. No, Jason was Angela's husband. Jason had made that crystal clear. He looked up at Rocky, who stood waiting patiently for him to make a decision. "You can say no," Rocky offered. "I won't be offended." Drake shook his head. "I can't say no." He leaned his head against Rocky's shoulder. Rocky slid his arms around Drake and led him into the bedroom and over to the bed. He gave Drake a gentle shove and followed down to the bed, straddling Drake's waist. "May I take your shirt off?" Drake blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected to be asked for permission. "I've dated a couple transmen," Rocky explained. "I don't want to touch you anywhere you don't want to be touched."


Drake's vision blurred with tears. Though his chest was admittedly on the flat side -- he barely filled out an A cup -- he was still self-conscious about it and didn't care to have it touched; it was something Jason had never been respectful of. "I'd rather keep my shirt on, if you don't mind." Rocky smiled and ran his thumb across Drake's cheek. "I don't mind at all." He leaned back and slipped his own shirt off over his head. Drake reached up and ran his hands along Rocky's sides and up his chest, over those gloriously sculpted pecs. "I wish I could look like this," he murmured. "Do you plan on hormone therapy and surgery?" Rocky asked. "'Cause if you do, there's no reason you can't look like this." He flexed his arm muscles. "This is just from the gym. The last transguy I dated was a gym rat like me. You should've seen the pecs on him." "Yeah?" Drake couldn't deny a surge of excitement at the idea. He'd been dreaming of starting hormones and scheduling surgeries. He pulled Rocky down for a deep, slow kiss, lips sliding lazily, taking his time and enjoying the flavor of Rocky's mouth -- the taste of vanilla-flavored coffee with a hint of something completely Rocky. Without breaking the kiss, Rocky moved his hands down to Drake's jeans, slipped the zipper open and eased Drake's pants and underwear down past Drake's hips. Rocky scooted down the length of Drake's body, pulling the jeans along with him. A fiery blush spread out along Drake's cheeks as Rocky rose from the bed, doffed his own pants and boxers, and went to the dresser in the corner. He pulled something out of the top drawer and came back to bed.


The bed dipped with his weight, and he grinned down at Drake. "Is that for the strap-on?" Drake had only seen harnesses on the Internet, never in person. He took it from Rocky and ran his hands over the soft and worn, supple leather, and wondered just who else had donned the contraption. "It's mine, if you're wondering. I had a back injury a few years ago, and it messed with my ability to ah ... perform. I'm okay now, though," he added quickly. Drake smiled up at him. "I wouldn't care if you weren't." Rocky grinned. "Well, that makes one of us." He took the harness back and slid it up Drake's legs, fastening it around Drake's hips. "Fit okay?" Drake nodded. He wiggled his hips, surprised by just how well the harness fit him and how much he didn’t notice its weight. Rocky got up again and came back with a dildo and a bottle of lube. He quickly and deftly attached the dildo, then squirted out a palm full of coconut-scented lube. The aroma made Drake's mouth water. "That smells delicious!" "It is," Rocky assured. "One of my favorite treats!" He laughed and wiggled the dildo. "Coconut Cocksicle." Drake sucked in a harsh breath as Rocky fisted the dildo and started stroking. The eroticism of the sight took him completely off guard. He'd expected it to look hot, but what he hadn't expected was the connection he felt to the dildo. Seeing the thing jutting up there proudly, between his own legs, made it feel like the organ was actually alive. Actually his.


"You've got such a big cock," Rocky murmured. "I can't wait to feel it inside me." He lowered his head and swiped his tongue across the tip of Drake's cock. Drake moaned and thrust his hips up experimentally. "You look hot down there between my legs." He whispered the words through his cracking voice. He'd never talked dirty to anyone, but in all the pornos he'd watched, that had always been something that had flipped his switch. "This is where I belong." Rocky looked up and met Drake's gaze. "Between your legs, servicing you, worshipping you. This is all I want to do." He lowered his head again and took a long, lingering lick up the side of Drake's cock. "Fuck." Drake's breathing sped, his heart hammering loudly in his ears, blood thrumming through his body in a frenzy of lust. He reached down hesitantly, placed a shaking hand on the back of Rocky's head. "Please." Rocky's eyes went wide for a fraction of a second, and Drake feared he'd gone too far. But then a dazzling grin split Rocky's face just before he took Drake's cock into his mouth. Drake moaned and twisted his hand in Rocky's hair. Though he couldn't feel anything, he had imagination to spare -- and he knew what licking, sucking, and tugging felt like elsewhere. Those sounds Rocky made, little grunts and slurps, drove him wild with need. He rocked his hips, thrilled when Rocky took him deeper. Rocky raised his head and turned that brilliant blue gaze on Drake. "I need you inside me," he whispered, his voice harsh and husky around the words. "Now. I can't wait any longer." Drake nodded and tugged on Rocky's hair, pulling Rocky up and pressing their lips together in an urgent,


nibbling kiss that went on and on, threatening to consume him. He kneaded his fingers in the soft flesh of Rocky's ass as Rocky ground their bodies together, softly whimpering. Rocky broke the kiss at last and reached for the lube. He slicked Drake's cock again, and then Drake watched with wide-eyed fascination as he impaled himself with a deep, long groan. "Fuck that feels good!" Drake gripped Rocky's hip with one hand; the other hand he slipped under the top edge of the harness. He let out a hitching gasp at the first touch on that little spot. He didn't move his hand for a long moment, just lay

there watching Rocky ride him, watching the way Rocky's body moved, the way Rocky thrashed his head from side to side, how he bit down on his bottom lip and his eyes rolled back and closed. Rocky lowered one of his hands to his hip, wrapped his fingers around Drake's as he pinched and tweaked his nipples with his free hand. He gasped and moaned, taking Drake's cock to the root on every downward thrust, his movements furious and quick, as if he couldn't get enough fast enough. Drake moved just the tip of his finger in a little




letting the pressure build

... inside him, making himself wait when all he wanted to do was just speed up and end the blissful torture. Rocky opened his eyes and looked down at Drake. "Feels so good to have your cock inside me, Drake." He put emphasis on Drake's name, drawing the word out so it lingered between them like an invisible cord, tethering them together. Drake moaned and bucked his hips hard, drawing a harsh gasp and a plea for more from Rocky. He bucked again and again, until Rocky's moans and cries were




little more than guttural utterances, no rhyme or reason to them -- all fueled by pleasure and instinct. Drake

throbbed and pulsed at his core, muscles tight and ready

to snap. "Please

I'm close."

... Rocky took Drake's hand and guided it down to his cock, covered his hand over Drake's. "Make me come for you," he rasped. Drake wrapped his fingers around Rocky's cock and started stroking. He tried to keep things slow and deliberate, but that idea quickly disintegrated in the face of the blinding ache inside him. Movements jerky and hard, he worked them both until he lost all concept of reality. Pinpoints of light burst behind his eyes, and his body tensed and shook as he found his release, the warm wetness of Rocky's climax splashing over their entwined hands. Rocky fell forward and grabbed for Drake, capturing Drake's lips in a greedy kiss. He pulled back with a sigh. "Wow." Drake fought to slow his breathing. "Yeah?" "Yeah." They fell silent, simply looking at each other, and it occurred to Drake that he'd never experienced anything like that in his life -- simple intimacy without demand or reason. Just two people looking into each other's eyes in the afterglow. At some point, maybe tomorrow, maybe tonight, he'd have to go home and face realty. He'd have to deal with his failed marriage and the fall out from his decision. But for now, all he had to do was bask in the arms of a man who wanted him, who saw him for who he really was, and that was a sweet, sweet feeling. The right side of Rocky's mouth turned up into a smile. "You know the beauty of making love with a transman?"


"What's that?" He rolled to his side and reached down to stroke his softening cock. "Stamina." "Ah." Drake chuckled. He slid down so he could lick and suck at Rocky's nipples. "So that's why you like me." Rocky cupped Drake's cheek in his hand. "Nah. I just got a thing for brown-eyed handsome men."


If you liked this book you might like: "Where He Belongs," "Raine Fall," "Asian Persuasion," "Down on the Farm," "On Solid Ground," "Tenacious Bea and the Bite of Destiny," "The Best Kind of Prize"


A Brown-Eyed Handsome Man

Copyright © 2012 by DC Jurs

All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX


Printed in the United States of America.

Torquere Press, Inc.: Sips electronic edition / August


Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680


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