Chapter 54
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
“Where should I…” I look at the hotel bed. Micah and I agreed that maybe we should vacate the townhouse until further notice, but now we’re trapped in a small hotel room with nothing to do, two animals who hate each other, and a body hanging over our heads.
It’s been…something to say the least. I think I’m going nuts.
“Bed,” Micah says as he wraps his tattoo machine.
Oh god. What am I doing? This isn’t anything like when I got my last tattoo. Is it sanitary? Oh my god, maybe this is a bad idea. And yet, the throbbing rage and terror and overwhelm from the last few days are pounding in the back of my head.
So I sit.
“Lay down.” Micah waves at me.
Reluctantly, I do, staring up at the same ceiling I have for days. Immediately, I’m met with the same thoughts–we killed someone, we’ll always be on the run, what is my life now?
“You nervous?” Micah has shoved the one chair next to the side of the bed. He goes to sit in it, but his knees bump into the mattress, and he has to hunch over, reaching over his own knees.
“Corn nuts.” Micah moves the chair sideways, but then he has to twist his body in a way that looks uncomfortable.
“Here.” I scoot deeper into the bed so he can sit next to me.
“Improvise, adapt, overcome. I like it.” Micah grins and settles next to me. At first, I stiffen. What am I doing? He’s going to have to touch me. A lot. Right by my groin.
I can already feel his presence and feel my dick hardening. Fuck!
Micah leans over, fingers warm, and starts freehanding the design with a marker. His touch is light and gentle, making goosebumps run up my torso.
Focus, Maddox.
His breath brushes against my skin, and he chatters away, but I stare up at the ceiling to stay focused. It’s a butthole ceiling with all kinds of starbursts stamped on it, resembling the shapes of multiple assholes.
“You like?”
I glance down. Micah has sketched a realistic sugar glider, the pen already almost covering the A. How did he do that?
“If you want any changes, let me know.”
“No. It’s good.” It’s more than good; it looks just like Nippy, only this one is spread wide in flight. It’s free. I feel an odd burning in my eyes. He’s free. Maybe, just maybe, I can be free too.
Micah gets started, and the pain immediately settles my nerves, giving all the buzzing energy somewhere to go. It’s methodical and consistent. The needles bite, but Micah’s hands are so warm and gentle even under the gloves. It hurts so good, and yet it’s so gentle at the same time.
It feels good. So good it shoots to my dick.
He’s going to notice. My cheeks flush, which, of course, only makes them burn more, and my breathing picks up.
I try to hide it, but more feelings start pouring in.
Micah is bending over my torso with such care and attention.
He’s hurting me so carefully, and the fucked up part of me is sending every feeling straight to my dick, which is already hard.
Shit, I gotta stop this. I clench the hand furthest away, digging my nails into my palm. I have to think of something–anything–to stay focused.
“You okay?” Micah asks, lifting the needle and glancing at me.
“Yeah.” I look away as soon as our eyes meet, but it’s not soon enough. I’m already thinking about Micah. Everything Micah. Pain and Micah. Micah’s hands. His body. Pleasure and Micah.
For the first time since everything, the rest of the world melts away.
“You need a snack?” Micah asks, still not having put the needle back on my skin. I can feel him watching me. Studying me. Trying to figure out how to best please me.
It only makes more blood rush to my dick because now I’m thinking of all the ways Micah could please me. Micah on his stomach, arched for me. Micah letting me do what I want to him, trembling in his need to obey. Micah whimpering in pain and pleasure.
I choke out a no.
I know he can see it. I have a raging boner; there’s no way he can’t see it. Oh my god, I’m watching what he does for work and getting a hard on. What the hell is wrong with me?
I squeeze my eyes shut. This is mortifying.
The needle touches my skin again, the buzzing filling the silence. He has to feel harassed or demeaned. I can’t believe I allowed this to happen.
“Sorry,” I grunt.
“Sorry?” Micah squeaks. “What do you mean?” Then he glances at my groin. “Oh, that? So you’re into pain, too? This is kinda like the best day of my life.”
Is he mocking me? I open my eyes to look at him. Micah’s cheeks are pink, and his lashes flutter.
“I mean like, everyone that I’ve been with before has all been like super macho top, so they’re always giving, not receiving.
” Micah’s talking fast. “Not that I want to be giving all the time, it’s just I didn’t think anyone understood.
” He glances up at me, eyes wide. “I mean, I’m a bottom, don’t worry, I’m not asking to top you all the time!
” Now his face gets even redder. “I… Wow, this is coming out all wrong.” He goes back to the tattoo.
My stomach does a weird flip at the fact that he assumes I’m a stone top. Do I give off that energy? Because if so, I’m a fraud because I’ve never topped anyone before. My stomach does a weird flip because he’s talking about fucking me. Regularly.
“I get it,” I say, voice gravelly. “About the pain.”
“It’s so good, right?” Micah dips the needles in the ink by the bed, then goes back to me. “Just makes everything better, you know?”
I nod. The heat in my cheeks has reduced, and my breathing has slowed.
“What else do you like?” Micah asks.
For a moment, it feels like my chest freezes up. Why is he asking? Is he going to mock me? Tell me that I’m disgusting?
“You don’t have to answer,” Micah says quickly. “Sorry, I get too excited. Foot in mouth now. I’m done talking, I’m sorry.”
I let out a breath. Micah isn’t Arthur. Not even close.
“I uh…I used to do whatever my partner wanted…” I say. The hesitation hangs in the air. God, I’m bringing up my ex, classy move. The ex we both killed. Oh my god.
“Oh my gosh, same.” Micah keeps pressing the machine into my skin, giving the most delicious tingles. “But they were all kinda lame. Just wanted to get off and didn’t worry about me. You know, typical men.”
I huff. Sounds familiar.
“What do you like?” I ask. Will he give me this information? Willingly?
“Getting off.” Micah grins, then says, “No, for real though, I like knowing that my partner is having a good time while they also make sure that I’m having a good time. I don’t know, that connection is so hot.”
I think I know what he’s talking about. Occasionally, Arthur and I had it at the beginning. Just that feeling of intimacy and togetherness. I forgot that was a thing, actually.
There’s a pause so long that I want to close my eyes. Close my eyes and run from the discomfort. I’ve never done this before. Pretended people acted like they do in the movies. Like Micah actually wants…intimacy or whatever.
Micah wipes my skin again, and I’m jerked back to the current moment.
“I’m trying to be good,” Micah says.
Be good? I glance at him.
“I expect a round of applause.” He keeps inking my skin. “I’m keeping my mouth shut.”
My chest tightens. Why? Is it bad? Something I missed? Is this where the happy script takes a turn?
“Oh, it’s not bad, I’m just not sure you’re ready to hear yet.”
My chest gets even tighter. “What?” I think I might be sick.
“I was going to say that I’d let you top me.”
All the air is sucked out of the room. Did all the air get sucked out? Because I can’t breathe.
My dick hasn’t gotten the message though.
It’s hard and throbbing because now I’m picturing topping Micah.
Picturing him spread out in front of me, letting me massage his asshole until he can’t see straight.
Letting me finger him until he’s thrashing.
Letting my dick slide into him all the way to the hilt…
My breathing has picked up again, like I’m trying to find any available oxygen. Because fuck, I want that. I want to top Micah Stevens.
Then the machine turns off, and Micah wipes my torso. “Done.” His voice sounds strangled. My heart takes off like I’ve just started a race, and I sit up.
Micah pulls out what looks like saran wrap and places it over the tattoo. I glance down at it and suck in a breath. It’s a beautiful sugar glider right where my old tattoo used to be. I can’t even see the old one anymore.
I like it. I really like it. But what I’d like more?
Those hands back on me. I’d like to see Micah looking up at me while I play with his body, making him feel all kinds of things.
I’d like to see the look in his eyes when he decides I’m in charge, the one when I wring nothing but pleasure out of him, and the one when I don’t stop even after he comes.
I breathe heavily and glance at Micah again to see he’s frozen, halfway through taking his gloves off, staring at me. His mouth opens, then shuts before he swallows hard.
What is he doing?
I glance at his groin. He’s also hard. Like, pitching a tent hard.
Fuck. I am too. We’re both there, staring at each other’s obvious boners. And yet, Micah waits. He waits, and his gaze flutters up to mine. Like he’s asking. Like he wants to be told what to do.
I hesitate, some old part of my brain taking over, but that part is overridden by the soft plea in Micah’s blue eyes.
“Come here,” I demand.
“Thank freak.” Micah rips his gloves off and launches himself at me.
I meet him halfway, and our lips smash together.
As soon as he’s there, his scent of bergamot and sandalwood hits me with a force.
He kisses me, and I kiss him back, biting at his lips.
Micah parts for my bites, letting me press his face into mine, and it makes my dick ache. I want him. I want him so fucking bad.
I twist, pulling Micah to the bed so he’s under me. He leans up, grabbing the back of my neck and pulling me down. I collapse on top of him, the sudden bite of pain from my tattoo sending a shiver through my body.