Chapter 17 #2
“We are real.”
He stares at me for a long moment, his blue eyes piercing in a way I’m not used to. “Are we?”
“Mike—”
“I’ve been alone for most of my life,” he says, and his words scare me more than Jason’s anger ever did. “I know how. I’m good at it.”
“But regardless of that, I still asked you, for once, to give me something, and—”
He stops and shakes his head, the tears in his eyes doing something terrible to my heart. “It doesn’t matter. Forget it.”
“Don’t do that—”
“I’m not doing anything.” He looks up at me, and the look on his face… “I’m just tired.”
He doesn’t wait for me to respond before he leaves the room, and I don’t know what I would even say. Something to stop him from going into his bedroom he hasn’t used in months, and shutting the door with a final click.
Mike doesn’t come to bed for the first time since that day in October when I told him he could always sleep here, sex or no sex.
I lie there staring at the ceiling for a long time, listening to the quiet of the house, and for anything that could be him. His half of the bed is cold. I keep reaching for him without thinking and finding nothing.
I don’t even know exactly what I did wrong.
I know I hurt him. I watched it happen. But I can’t figure out where the line was, whether it was the Christmas thing or the being in the closet thing, but either way, I’ve never seen Mike like that.
He’s never been that angry with me, and knowing that I caused it without even trying—
I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to figure out how I can fix it.
And then the door opens.
I find him in the doorway again, with my hoodie hanging off of him. He stands there for a second, and I don’t say anything because I don’t want to say the wrong thing.
But apparently, it doesn’t matter, because he crosses the room and climbs onto the bed, and then onto me, straddling my lap.
He falls forward, wrapping both arms around me the best he can, pressing his face into my shoulder. I wrap my arms around his back automatically.
“I’m sorry,” he says into my neck, sniffling, even though it’s been hours since our fight.
“No.” I squeeze him tighter, kissing the side of his head. “I’m sorry.”
We stay like that for a long time, holding each other, taking in the comfort of whatever this stupid fight was being over. He lifts his head to look at me, and in the light of the lamp on my bedside table, he says, “I want to fuck.”
He doesn’t wait for a response before he pulls the hoodie over his head in one motion, revealing nothing but pale skin underneath, his cock still soft, but hardening in anticipation.
Sitting up to help him, he tugs my shirt off too, then my pants, as efficiently as possible without having to move too much.
I reach toward the nightstand where we keep the lube, but he stops me. “I already prepped,” he says, grabbing my hand. “I’m serious. I’m ready.”
He brings my hand around him, exhaling when my fingers reach him.
I feel the base of the plug.
He watches my face, smirking when I open my mouth and can’t quite close it because holy shit. I press lightly against it, and he moans, his hands landing on my shoulders.
“How long have you had this in?”
“A while.”
I grab the base and twist it enough to feel the give, and he drops his head forward with a groan. I do it again, working it gently, as his fingers dig into my shoulders.
“Alex—”
“Hm?”
He groans when I pull the plug out and push it back in, but he doesn’t allow it for long, grabbing my arm and moving my hand away. “I’m in charge tonight.”
I prop myself up on my elbows to watch him slide down my body until his mouth is hovering over my cock. Looking up to meet my eyes once, he wraps a hand around the base of my cock and licks a slow line up the underside of it.
I exhale through my nose as he does it again, taking his time. His tongue traces the vein, up to the tip, never taking me fully in. “Mike.”
He hums against me.
Not helpful.
When I think he’s finally going to take me into his mouth, it’s only the tip, only enough to make me want more. My hips shift, and he pins them down with a hand on my stomach.
I drop my head back with a groan and accept my fate.
He goes so fucking slow. Giving me a little more each time and then pulling back before I can get used to it. “You’re doing that on purpose,” I force out.
He pulls off entirely, to smirk and say, “Obviously,” before taking me back in to tease some more.
When he starts going deeper, I’m so on edge that I can already feel my orgasm building, and it takes everything in me not to thrust up, to chase it. “Mike, please.” My voice comes out wrecked. “I need more. I’m close—”
He pulls off completely.
I look down at him, breathing hard, my cock slick and untouched, and he’s looking back up at me with dark eyes and his lips swollen. A small, satisfied expression on his face that makes me need it even more, and he won’t give it to me.
He brings me to the edge three more times before I’ve had enough.
The third time, I reach down and cover my dick from the torture device that is his mouth. “Okay. Stop. I’m gonna die, please.”
He laughs, that high one that makes my heart flutter, muffled against my leg. “You’re being dramatic.”
“Mike. I am begging you.”
“I know.” He presses a kiss to my thigh, biting at the skin before I push him away. “That’s the point.”
I throw my arm over my face with a groan while he crawls back up my body. I feel him settle over me, his hands bracketing my head, and I move my arm to look at him.
His hair is falling forward, curtains over his eyes, his mouth still curved at the corner. He leans down and kisses me, and I think I like this better.
He pulls back, trailing kisses from my cheek to my ear, where he whispers,“Be a good boy and stay still for me.” And my brain comes to a screeching stop at those words.
I should pull him down. Flip us over. I’m bigger than him, and I’m the one who does the fucking and—
That’s not the point.
The point is, those words have goosebumps covering my body, and my cock leaking more than it ever has, and he sees all of it.“Okay?” He asks, his voice going soft.
I nod quickly, feeling helpless against how much I need him. He kisses me one more time. “Good.”
He reaches between us and lines my cock up with his hole. I don’t even know where the plug went. He must have taken it out at some point. We’ll have to reintroduce that when he’s not putting me inside of him.
He sinks down deliciously slow, making my fingers dig into his hips hard enough to leave marks. Once I’m fully inside, he stays still, breathing through the initial stretch.
He feels so good and, Jesus, it takes everything in me not to move.
I don’t.
I’m being good.
He lifts his hips and drops back down, just once. “Mike, please.”
“Shh.” He rolls his hips, and I almost stop breathing. “Be still.”
“I’m trying—”
“I know.” He does it again. “You’re doing so well.”
I moan, from the praise or the feeling of him around my cock, I have no idea, but I stay still.
For someone who claims he didn’t bottom much before me, he sure knows exactly what he’s doing. And he’s using every bit of that knowledge against me.
My hips move, only a little, chasing more of that feeling.
He stops completely, raising an eyebrow.
“Sorry,” I say, too fast. “I’m sorry. I’ll be still. Please.”
It goes on like that for what seems like forever. Mike taking me apart and then moving away from it right before I get there. I’m sweating all over. My hands are moving from twisting in the sheets to grabbing at him, back and forth, desperate for something.
Until he takes them and pins them above my head by my wrists. I don’t even fight it. I just look up at him, completely out of my mind. “There you are,” he says softly, running a hand through my hair.
“Mike,” I think I say, but I’m too on edge to fully know what I’m saying at this point.
“I’ve got you, baby,” he says, sitting up, and everything from before is no longer valid because this.
This.
The slow teasing movements are gone as he rides me hard and fast, his hands braced on my chest, while I keep mine above my head the way he told me to.
And fuck, I’m loud.
I can’t help it. I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. Begging him to ride me harder even though I’m already about to burst. I’ve always tried to keep myself controlled, even with him. But right now, I’m gone, giving in totally to the pleasure.
He slides his hand up without stopping and pushes two of his fingers into my mouth, and I close around them, grateful for something to shut me up.
I suck on his fingers, making his rhythm falter for the first time. Good. I suck harder, feeling immense pride that I affected him.
He rides me harder in response.
My orgasm builds fast now. He doesn’t tease anymore. He doesn’t stop when I tell him I’m close, muffled around his fingers. My hands come up from above my head and find his thighs, gripping hard, and he doesn’t make me put them back.
And then his fingers curl against my tongue.
“Come on, baby,” he says, a little breathless, watching my face. “Fill my ass.”
It hits me like nothing I’ve ever felt. I can’t breathe through it. My back arches off the mattress, bringing him with me, and I groan around his fingers, my fingers digging so hard into his skin that he’ll probably have bruises, but I can’t even feel bad right now.
While I’m lying there, looking up at him in the aftermath, he starts to stroke himself, his head thrown back, his thighs trembling against me.
This is the thing about Mike that undoes me. He always lets me see him like this. He never hides from me.
He’s beautiful.
I’ve known that since the first time I saw him, but right now, with his head back and his mouth open and his hand working over himself while I lie here, only able to watch—
Something shifts.
It’s probably been there for a long time. I’ve been pushing it away, trying not to look too closely at it, but with him in my lap, his hole clenching around my cock as he brings himself over the edge, I can’t look away anymore.
I love him.
The thought arrives with a certainty that threatens to spill out of my mouth in this moment.
“Please,” I say instead, and my voice comes out wrecked, but I know it has nothing to do with the orgasm I haven’t fully recovered from. “Please. Come on me.”
He opens his eyes, meeting mine—
He spills across my stomach, a few drops landing on my chest, and I watch in awe, his face open and trusting, and I’m so in love with him that I think it actually, physically hurts.
When he’s finished, and he collapses forward onto my chest, I wrap both arms around him again, holding him as tight as I can.
“Alex,” he mumbles into my neck.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think I can feel my legs.” I laugh with my whole body, and he joins me, groaning when my cock slides out of him.
He doesn’t make any move to get up, so I don’t either, closing my eyes while he relaxes into me.
I love him.