Dmitry

I caught myself staring at him again. This guy had been working for me for a month now, and every day was turning into my personal hell.
What the hell is wrong with me? I'm a general, not a snot-nosed brat. And I'm definitely not gay! So why the hell am I constantly hot and cold?
He stood by the table. I devoured him with my eyes: his devilishly handsome face, smooth skin, graceful features, slender wrists. No masculine roughness there. I was shaking with an incomprehensible craving and wild shame.
“My general?” he looked up at me. “Are you okay?”
“Come here,” I croaked.
The guy approached. I stood up, extended my hand, and touched his face with my calloused fingers. The skin was incredibly soft. The guy flinched in fear.
“Listen...” I blurted out, taken aback by my own stupid question, “Do you like men?”
He froze, his eyes wide.
"Hell, no! I mean... That's not what I meant!" I blurted out quickly and pulled my hand away.