Chapter 8
eight
I strolled into Micah’s bedroom, opened the mirrored closet doors, and threw the clothes into a bin on the floor, then turned to look around, raking a hand through my long bangs, sweeping them to the side. An unmade grey quilt and darker gray sheets rested over a queen-sized bed with a black headboard. Black nightstands rested on either side of the bed with retro chrome lamps sitting on each one. One dresser sat against the far wall with a television and a few colorful boxes on each side. Clothes littered the floor. The place would be nice if someone picked it up. I walked around the bed, grabbing clothes, and throwing them in the basket in the closet, my beaded bracelets jangling.
I made the bed and threw black striped pillows I found on the floor over the regular pillows, then went to the bathroom and bent over to pick up more clothes. As I stood, I glanced at the sink. A few prescription containers cluttered each side. How much shit was Micah on? I peeked toward the main room and stepped to the sink, setting the clothes down on a tile counter. Should I look? I listened. The sound of water running filtered in from the kitchen.
I picked up a plastic container and read it. Alprazolam. Must be Xanax . I picked up another one. Diazepam. My heart skipped a beat. Wasn’t that Valium? I picked up another. Fluoxetine. Generic for Prozac. “Holy shit.” If Micah was on all these meds, how did he even function? I picked up a few more containers and read the labels. More of the same. I released a harsh exhale. “Damn.” We should probably have a conversation about this. If we didn’t, this thing would fester inside me. This much I learned from Lane’s addiction. I walked out into the main room. “Hey.”
He looked up from wiping the kitchen counter. “What?”
“Can I talk to you about something?” I stepped to the couch and took a seat behind a coffee table.
Micah rounded the kitchen counter, strolled to the couch, and dropped in beside me. “What is it?” He cocked his head.
“When I was picking up in your bathroom, I noticed all these prescription bottles on your counter. What’s up with that?” I peered at him, steadying myself. He better be straight with me.
He released a puff of breath. “Oh, yeah.” He glanced at me and his eyes rounded. “I-I don’t take all of that all the time. It’s just there if I need it.”
“Prozac? Isn’t that something you’re supposed to take every day?” I leaned closer to him, eyeing him. Was he telling me the truth?
“I only tried that for a few weeks.” His gaze locked on mine. “The side effects were not good.” With a smirk, he held up his hand with a straight index finger and curled it downwards. “If you know what I mean.” He snickered.
“Oh.” I flashed a smile. “Yeah, that’s no good.” My attention drew to the patio doors and the fog floating by outside. “So, what about the Xanax and the Valium?” Those were the ones that worried me the most.
“You inspected everything, didn’t you?” His smile faded, and he rocked once, drawing a deep breath. “Well, you know I take the Xanax when I need to. It’s supposed to be for when I get anxiety. The Valium I only take when I need help sleeping or when the Xanax isn’t enough. It seems to be stronger.” He placed a hand on my thigh. “Look, it’s all under the supervision of a doctor.”
I placed my hand over his. If he was telling the truth, why did I still feel so uneasy? “Then why do you have so much?”
“I don’t take it all the time, so I had some left over each month when I refilled the prescription. I guess it built up.” He sighed. “Listen, a doctor diagnosed me with PTSD. I don’t really have depression in the clinical sense. Just grief.”
I tightened my hold on his hand. That made sense. It was good to hear he had more pills on his prescription than he actually took. “Thanks for being honest with me. I can understand how what happened would have caused PTSD, for sure.” I leaned in and pressed a tender kiss on his lips. “How often do you see your doctor?”
He twisted his head away. “I quit.”
I lifted my brows, widening my eyes. “You quit seeing your doctor?” I swayed on the couch, attempting to see his face. “Why would you do that?” Maybe this was why he took more than the prescribed amount sometimes. Maybe what he did was more like binging, and that was also a problem.
He slumped his shoulders. “We went through the treatment for PTSD, so as far as I was concerned, I was finished anyway.”
“What sort of treatment?” I tipped closer to him, as if I could hear him better.
“It’s a thing called EMDR. I had to recall the event in my head while watching this light thing go back and forth. It’s supposed to unstick your brain or something.” He gazed at me with glistening eyes. His breath hitched. “I had to relive being in my kitchen with fucking blood and shit everywhere, all over me.” His hands spread out around him. “Over and over. I was just done.” He blinked, and a tear escaped down his cheek. “I couldn’t do it anymore.”
I draped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. “I’m sorry. I get it.”
“I did what they asked me to do. After all that, the money started coming in, and I had to get away from all of it. So, I came out here where I didn’t have as much of a chance of being reminded of it.” He sniffled. “Everything down there reminded me of it. Places we ate at, the places we went to. I sold my condo. There was no way I could live there after that.”
My chest ached for him. What a horrible thing to go through. “So, why not throw out the Prozac if you aren’t using it?”
He stood from the couch and paced to the patio doors. “I was keeping it in case I changed my mind.” He turned and faced me. “I can still call my therapist and talk to him if I really need to. I don’t think I need to though.”
I creased my brows, thinking back on the sad Micah sitting on the beach and the late nights on the patio. “Are you sure?” I rose from the couch and approached him. “I mean, you’ve been pretty...” I should choose my words carefully. “Well, sad since I’ve known you.” Though sad seemed like quite an understatement.
Micah took my hands in his. “I’m getting better. I feel better. I feel like maybe there’s a light at the end of the tunnel now.”
My chest squeezed. Am I the light for him? My heart warmed, despite a gnawing feeling in my gut. I glanced outside at the rolling waves of the ocean. “We’ll get through this together.” If I could keep this in mind, then maybe I could keep myself sane.
He hooked his arms around my neck and tugged me in for a lingering kiss. “Thank you.”
I smiled at him. “You’re welcome. Now let’s finish cleaning this place.” We definitely had better things to do.
He huffed a sigh. “Okay.”
* * *
I watched the setting sun over the ocean from Micah’s patio doors and plopped down on his sofa. “Damn, I’m tired.”
Pressing a button on the upright vacuum with his foot, a cord rolled in with a snap. “Me, too. Watch a movie tonight?” He rolled the vacuum into the closet, strolled to the couch, and sat beside me. “I mean, now that this place is so clean, we might as well enjoy it.”
“Uh, okay. I sort of had other things in mind, but I guess that can wait a little longer.” It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to push anything with him. I should let him make the first move. I forced a smile and draped my arm around his shoulders, pulling him into my chest. “Maybe we can order some pizza or something. I really don’t feel like going out again.”
“That works.” He rested his head on my shoulder and his hand on my thigh. “What sort of movies do you like?”
“Pretty much anything.” I focused on the warm hand resting on my thigh. Cuddling with him on the couch through a movie might end up being the longest foreplay session of my life.
He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and turned on the television resting against the far wall, pressing buttons on the screen until he had a selection of movies showing. “See anything that interests you?”
“How about that underground movie?” It didn’t matter what the movie was. It wasn’t like I was going to pay much attention to it. I slipped further down in the couch and his hand slid next to my groin. I sunk my teeth into my lower lip, stifling a moan. God, I wanted to feel his touch right now, but I’d wait. It would be that much better when it finally happened.
He hit buttons on the remote and started the movie. As the opening credits showed on the screen, he set the remote down and nestled into my chest, placing a hand low on my stomach and one remaining on my thigh.
My balls tingled. He had to notice the swelling in my board shorts. Maybe he was teasing me on purpose. I let a grin quirk the side of my lips, tightening my hold on his shoulders, and placed a soft kiss on the side of his head. I needed to focus on the movie.
* * *
As the movie ended, Micah picked up the empty pizza box, strode to the kitchen, and set it in the trash bin. Then he returned to me, bent over, and took my hand. “Come on.”
I stood. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He led me down the hallway and into his bedroom. “Lay down with me?”
I couldn’t stop the corner of my mouth from lifting. “I thought you’d never ask.” All the pent-up frustration from the movie shivered through my body, hardening my cock.
Backing up to the bed, he climbed up, keeping his gaze fixed on me and his hand tightly wrapped around mine.
I followed him onto the bed, my skin heating.
Pulling me down on top of him, he said, “Kiss me.”
I claimed his mouth with a deep kiss, opening my lips and penetrating him with my tongue.
With a soft moan, he rocked his hips, pressing his firm cock against mine. He kissed me back with intensity, roaming his hands up and down my back.
I kissed my way from his mouth to his neck, taking everything in. The way he felt, the way he sounded, the way he moved. Sensitivity lit up inside me. I craved it all.
Becoming breathless, he set his hand on the back of my head, urging me on. Silky moans escaped him as he closed his eyes and ground his hips against me in an urgent rhythm.
While I nibbled at the flesh of his neck, need soared inside me. I licked under the edge of his shirt. In a breathless voice, I said, “Take this off.” I sat upright over him and lifted his shirt up and over his head.
He gazed at me with hooded, darkened eyes and parted, swollen lips.
Yanking my shirt up and off, I threw it to the floor, then lowered over him, skin touching skin. “I want to make love to you.” I flicked at his nipple with my tongue.
He groaned and writhed under me. “Not yet. Soon.”
I could wait and take him a little at a time. After all the nights of quick, meaningless fucking on tour, waiting for him was exactly what my heart needed. A shiver of desire worked up my spine, and I ground my firm dick against him through my board shorts, letting sweet pressure and friction ripple through me.
As I reclaimed his mouth, I unfastened his shorts and slipped my hand inside, stroking his leaking cock.
He let out a muted cry. His body shuddered, and he closed his eyes.
I swirled a bead of pre-cum over the head.
“F-fuck.” He bit the side of his lip and thrust his hips.
Pumping his cock, I enjoyed his sexy responses, grinding my dick on his thigh. I ached at the edge of release. With all the couch snuggling and his teasing, I wouldn’t last long.
He skimmed a hand down, unfastened my shorts, and worked his way inside. He found my shaft and slid his hand over it.
With a shudder and a sharp gasp, I gazed into his eyes. “Careful, I’m already close.”
“S-so am I.” He worked his palm slowly over my cock. “Come together?”
Against his neck, I said, “Yeah.” I pumped his dick, slick with pre-cum.
He stroked my shaft in a relentless rhythm, his body trembling.
As my peak engulfed me, I moaned and shut my eyes, letting each wave pulse through me. My cock spurted cum into his fingers.
His dick became even more rigid in my palm and he thrust his hips, gripping tightly to my ass cheeks. With one last thrust, he groaned and spilled over my pumping hand.
As everything slowed, I laid my head on his shoulder, allowing my breath to relax.
Wiping his hand on my stomach, he rested his arm over my chest. “Stay with me tonight.”
I sucked in a breath, still caught up in a post-climax haze. “Sure.” I cuddled further into his neck.
He sniggered. “At some point, you’re going to need to let go of my cock.”
Letting a faint smirk quirk my lips, I asked, “Why?” Everything was perfect, just like this.
“Okay, then don’t.” He held me tighter. “But we won’t get any sleep.”
“Who needs sleep?”
“We do. I want to take you to San Francisco tomorrow.” He kissed my cheek. “We can do all the touristy things.”
I’d like to lick my hand off, but he hadn’t done that. Maybe he didn’t like it. I opened my eyes and wiped my hand on him, then propped on an elbow. “Really, like what?” Was this a date? It was silly, but I loved the idea of having a date with him.
“We can go to Pier 39 and Lombard Street. Maybe ride a cable car and get an Irish coffee at Buena Vista.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “You are beautiful, you know.”
I gave him a shy smile. “You’re gorgeous.” I pressed a gentle kiss on his lips and thought about our date. “How about Haight Ashbury? I’ve always wanted to see it. Can we go there?”
“Sure.” He released a quick laugh. “I suppose you want to see the Grateful Dead House.”
“Yep. It’s why I wanted to come here to record. I love all those old hippy bands. There’s so much culture and history here.”
“There is. It’s a nice place to live, too.” He glanced at his ceiling. “How about you go get us something to clean up with?”
“Sure.” I hopped from the bed, strolled to the bathroom, and wet a washcloth. After cleaning myself off, I fastened my shorts and came back to Micah, handing him the washcloth.
He wiped himself and gave the washcloth back to me. “Hurry and get under the covers with me.”
As warmth flooded my chest, I laughed. “Are we going commando?”
“Yes.” He slipped off his shorts and boxer briefs, then slid under the covers of his bed.
I padded to the bathroom, rinsed the washcloth, and hung it up over the glass shower door, then stepped into the main room and turned off the lamps from a switch on the wall. As I came back to the bedroom, I undressed and climbed into bed behind him.
I shimmied close to him, my chest resting against his back, and draped an arm around him. The memory of the drug-induced nap flooded my mind. I hadn’t been able to sleep next to him that day. Tonight would be very different.
He tugged my arm tighter around him and kissed my knuckles. “Ash?”
“What?” I nestled my head into the pillow.
“Thanks for not pushing it. I need to go slow.”
“Yeah. You know what?”
“What?”
“I do, too,” I said and closed my eyes.
* * *
I fluttered my eyes open. A faint, but familiar, high-pitched sound floated over the rhythmic, muffled ocean waves. I reached for Micah. Nothing. With a start, I sat up and felt around the bed, forcing my eyes to see in the dark. Where was he? “Oh, no.” I clamored out of bed and fumbled around for my board shorts, then skidded them up my legs.
After jogging out of the bedroom and into the main room, I peered toward the glass patio doors. “Shit.”
He sat on a patio chair in a black hoody and jeans, his knees drawn up, his arms wrapped around them, and his head resting on his arms, rocking.
With the moonlight filtering in through the doors, I searched the room for my sweatshirt. It lay over a chair at the table by the kitchen. I snatched it and dropped it over my head and down my chest, then strode to the patio doors and slid them open. “Micah.”
Lifting his head, he gazed at me with wet eyes, wrinkling his brows. He frowned, his face pallid. “I-I had a nightmare.”
I padded over the cold cement to his side. We shouldn’t be out in the cold. “Come inside and talk to me.” I took his hand.
He stood and followed me into the main room.
Sitting on the couch, I tugged him down beside me.
He threw his arms around me and buried his face in my neck, clinging to me. His breath shuddered.
It hurt so much to see him like this. How could I help him? As I wound my arms under his shoulders, I shushed him.
“I-I dreamt I was back in my condo. In the kitchen. The blood...” He released a weak sob. “It was everywhere, all over me. B-but it wasn’t Matthew.”
As I brushed a hand down his head, I kissed his cheek. “Who was it?”
A ragged breath racked his body. “It-it was you.” He wept.
Damn. How could I ease his pain? I hugged him tightly. “Micah, I’m right here.”
“I know.” He took a deep breath and calmed. “I know.”
“Nothing is going to happen to me. Nothing.” I placed another kiss on his cheek. “Look at me.”
He raised his head and focused on me with dark, vulnerable eyes.
Placing both hands on his cheeks, I said, “I’m here for you. I’m strong. Okay?”
“Y-yeah.” He sighed and relaxed his shoulders. “It was so real.”
“Nightmares are. I know I had my share of them after my brother died.” So many nights I’d woken up to the same vision of Lane with the needle in his arm. I released him and caressed his back. I wanted nothing to hurt him ever again. Maybe it would help if I held him in bed. “Do you think if we went back to bed, you could sleep?”
With a long exhale, he let his jaw go slack, his eyes dulled, and all expression on his face faded. “Yeah.”
Something wasn’t right. I tilted my head. “You okay?” I looked him over.
“Now I am. The Valium kicked in.” A lopsided grin worked over his mouth. “Let’s go back to bed.”
I clenched my jaw. I didn’t like him using Valium like this. But what could I do? I wasn’t exactly a therapist. Still, him using drugs this way to numb the pain didn’t feel right. “Okay.” I stood up, took his hand, and led him to the bedroom.
Once there, I removed my clothes as he did the same. We climbed under the covers, and he lay on his back with me across him, enclosing him with my body as best I could, gripping him. I kissed his sallow cheek. “I’m here for you.”
With a faraway voice, he said, “You feel wonderful.”
I tightened my hold on him. “Good.”