The kind of man he is

      The dress is taunting him – Andrew’s sure of it. It’s like he can hear laughter, his inner turmoil a source for its entertainment.       But Andrew’s alone in the room with his thoughts as companions. That’s never a good combination.       What kind of man are you, the jeer continues. A freak.       Andrew inhales sharply. He’s heard it a few times before, but it’s always worse when it comes from his own head. Can’t he have nice things without sabotaging himself every step of the way?       The dress might not look like anything special – a classical maid dress, black with white frills, and long enough to reach his knees. But for Andrew it’s the fanciest piece of clothing that he’s afraid to touch, in fear of ruining it. And in fear of what it’ll entail.       Andrew’s been experimenting with Neil, the ‘good girl’ being a frequent thing during sex now. But they haven’t gone further than that, neither of them pushing the boundaries.       Once again, Andrew can’t believe that Neil’s real, with his stupid wide eyes that are so trusting and full of understanding. Ugh.       But Andrew quickly became greedy, wanting even more, not satiated enough. And he shouldn’t want – that’s the problem.       Too raw, the thought comes back.       There’s a knock at the bedroom’s door, and Andrew flinches. He curses himself for getting lost in his head again.       “Andrew?” Neil’s head peaks in, some of his auburn curls falling over his forehead. Andrew clenches his hands to stop himself from doing something stupid like brushing Neil’s hair away.       “You’ve been here a while,” says Neil, walking towards Andrew. It’s not a direct question, but it’s hidden behind the statement, so that Andrew’s defenses won’t go up instantly. Another thing to the list of things that Neil’s been doing to accommodate Andrew’s needs. Insufferable.       He knows too much,his mind nags, and Andrew wishes blocking his ears would help here. How nice it would be to silence the voice just like that?       “Maybe I need some peace and quiet from you.” Neil doesn’t back away at the harsh words, and instead comes up to Andrew. He looks between him and the dress, then his eyes settle back on Andrew. Why does it feel like his chest is being pried open to look inside?       “You don’t have to wear it, you know,” Neil says eventually.       “What if it’s not me?” Andrew shoots out the question. Neil looks at him questioningly, so he adds, “After I wear this.” He doesn’t make sense, he realizes, and the urge to punch himself only grows. The touchy-feely stuff isn’t his forte despite what Bee says. Now Neil will leave the room for sure, Andrew being too much to handle.He’ll become tired of you.       “Can I touch you?” Neil asks, and makes sure that Andrew sees his every move in the mirror in front of them. After a confirmation from him, Neil hugs him from behind, his hold loose, so that Andrew doesn’t feel trapped. “This okay?” Neil makes sure.       “Yes.” Because it really feels nice today. Andrew sees the small smile in Neil’s reflection, looking out of place next to Andrew’s stoic face. But somehow, they fit together.       “Someone once told me”–Neil looks at Andrew with this stupid smile that always makes Andrew so, so mad–”that you can be whoever you want,” he finishes, putting his chin on Andrew’s shoulder.       The words feel like a painful hit to the stomach, but are oh so liberating at the same time. For a moment, Andrew forgets how to breathe.       “Don’t use my words against me,” he manages to say without choking, but it’s a near thing.       Neil only grins, and Andrew wants to throttle him. He’s a stupid junkie who isn’t afraid to chip away at Andrew’s walls, brick by brick, for however long it takes.       They look good together in the mirror, Andrew has to admit. And it’s way to meet Neil’s eyes that way rather than head-on.Always too soft.       “What if I’m not a man?” The question leaves his lips before he can ponder it. Dread engulfs him, making him still as a stone statue.Stupid. This time he agrees wholeheartedly.       He doesn’t dare look in the mirror where Neil’s reflection, full of disappointment, awaits. His heart clenches.You ruin everything you touch.       Before Andrew can spiral further, Neil’s voice cuts through his thoughts, “That’s okay.” And just like that, Andrew resurfaces, the tension leaving his body. When he blinks and takes in his surroundings, he realizes that he’s sitting on a bed, Neil just next to him, so close that Andrew can feel his body warmth on the skin.       When did Andrew get here? He doesn’t remember sitting down.       “So,” Neil starts, and Andrew braces himself for some stupid question, “has something changed?”       “No,” replies Andrew quickly. It’s the truth because he’s still a man, but his doubts made him question everything, even something solid like Neil’s promise to stay.       “Help me,” says Andrew before he can chicken out, and tugs the dress off of the hanger. The blinding smile he gets in return nearly makes him take his words back, though. Stupid junkie.       When he’s done smoothing out the dress, he turns back towards the mirror nervously picking at the material, with his eyes downcast. A hand threads through Andrew’s, stopping his fidgeting. The reassuring squeeze he receives gives him enough courage to finally look at himself.       ‘Goddamn’ is his first thought. The dress fits him perfectly and he looks so fucking hot in it. It’s just like he imagined, and the previous worries feel so stupid now. Andrew is a man in a dress, and it’s perfect.       He notices then, in the mirror, how Neil’s gaze seems dark and hungry, like he’s ready to devour Andrew. And yeah, Andrew feels himself react to the situation too, the need to do something spreading through his body.       “Can I eat you out?” Neil’s voice sounds urgent, like he’ll die if he doesn’t get his way. It only spurs Andrew’s want further       “Yes.” Andrew is glad that it comes out somewhat normally, despite all the emotions churning within him.       Neil gets down on his knees before Andrew and fuck– it shouldn’t be so hot. The man looks at him deviously one last time before disappearing under the dress. At the first touch of Neil’s lips around his cock, Andrew nearly falls over himself, the sparks of pleasure nearly overwhelming. Luckily, he manages to catch himself on the closet and leans on it for support. Neil doesn’t seem to care about what he’s doing to Andrew because he continues his ministrations, touching in all the right places.       A grunt escapes Andrew when Neil’s lips touch his slit, licking into him. Andrew’s thighs grow weak, trembling from the effort of holding himself up and from the attention his pussy is getting. By now, his stomach feels like there’s fire inside, waiting to consume him whole.       Neil’s tongue traces back to Andrew’s clit, and he gives a small nibble to it. That’s the last straw and Andrew’s orgasm is ripped out of him, the pleasure so overwhelming that his knees nearly give out.       While Andrew tries to catch his breath, Neil comes back out from under the dress, the stupid grin back on his face. His chin is covered with Andrew’s cum, but he doesn’t seem to care. To Andrew though, it’s the hottest thing at the moment, and it’s a crime that Neil doesn’t realize this.       Andrew leans down and kisses Neil because he just can’t help himself any longer. When he licks into Neil’s mouth, he can still taste himself, which only urges him further, the kiss growing more desperate. Neil follows his lead, his need reflected in the small moans he lets out.       Well, it seems like round two is in order.