Chapter Seven #4
As Michael began moving, Graham was breathlessly staring up at him. Their eyes were locked together, and nothing was said.
Michael was ball’s deep in the man, and it scared him.
Why?
Because it was all back.
All the emotions.
All the feelings.
Everything.
He’d done what he’d planned not to do. He had gone back to the rodeo, and all he could hope was that this didn’t bite him in the ass.
Speaking of asses…
Michael kept moving, and the tempo had changed. They were no longer fucking. This was slower, gentler. This was about reconnecting on a different plane.
As they made that climb together, he used his one hand, the one from the injured shoulder, and stroked the man’s erection to get him off.
What Michael wanted was to make that climb together. He wanted them to take that fall as one.
As the heat built, the glide in and out of Graham’s body was too enticing.
Michael couldn’t hold on. He hoped that the man was ready to take that fall with him.
With one last slide home, he hit that perfect spot, and both men erupted apart, their bodies joined as one.
Graham came, feeling the explosion to his toes. The whole time, he was floating—until something hit him.
His cum was all over the man, and his dick was in his ass. Also, he’d let him blow him without protection.
He tensed, and that had Michael’s attention.
Slowly, he lifted his head, and his brilliant blue eyes were filled with confusion.
“You’re not okay.”
No, Graham wasn’t.
He fought to get out of his arms, and Michael let him go. The whole time, he knew he was about to get hurt.
Goddamn it.
He’d let himself do this all over again.
As Graham pushed away, putting space between them, Michael’s first instinct was to run.
AGAIN.
Only, this time, he’d matured, and he wasn’t that young soldier anymore.
“Talk to me,” he said, reaching for the man’s hand. “Tell me what just happened.”
Graham was rattled.
“We had unprotected sex. I’ve done stupid things. I didn’t protect you.”
There was both calm and worry.
Michael was protected.
Only, the last thing he wanted was to see Graham sick or dying of HIV.
They were all watching Chris Leonard fight for his life on a daily basis, and they knew the foe would win on that one eventually.
Tears filled Graham’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Michael didn’t want him to be upset. That he was more concerned for his wellbeing than anything was sweet. The fact this wasn’t blowing up in his face was even better.
They could work with this.
“Come here.”
He blinked back tears.
“I’m foul. You don’t want this,” he whispered.
Oh, contraire.
He absolutely did want him.
“How about you let me make that decision? That’s how we got into this mess in the first place,” he said, calmly.
There was something about the patience and peace in his voice. That was what had drawn him to D’Artangnan all of those years ago.
It was his cool, calm, collected nature under pressure. Basically, that he was a Marine, ready for anything. It gave Graham stability.
Instead of arguing, Graham did as he asked, and he laid against him.
They didn’t move for a while.
Graham was tucked into his body, and D’Artangnan was just holding him.
What Graham wanted was to go back in time in the worst way so he could not have sex with all the assholes he had in order to punish himself.
Finally, he spoke.
“I hope I didn’t just get you sick,” he whispered. “Because I’ve done questionable things.”
Oh, he knew.
They both had.
It wasn’t like Graham was the only person in this bed who had fucked around and found out. He’d slept with women, and he didn’t even like women.
That said a lot about his breakdown after he and Graham had fallen apart.
If he felt horrible about his choices, Michael dared Graham to prove he’d gone that low. For him, that was hitting rock bottom.
Instead, he needed to know, so he kissed him on the temple.
“Are you sick?” he asked.
Graham shrugged.
“I don’t know. I’m afraid to go find out. I promised Gryphen I would, and Tony, too, but I’m a coward. I probably am because every time something good happens in my life, it crashes.”
Yeah, like when he’d been loved and cherished by this man, until it fell apart.
Michael was honest.
“I’m on HIV antivirals.”
Graham looked over at him, and then sat up. His heart was racing.
And Michael expected the worst.
“Oh, God. Are you sick? How can I help you? What can I do for you?” he asked, no longer thinking about himself, but thinking about the man beside him.
Yeah, that wasn’t what Michael had expected. In fact, it gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling that Graham was worried about him. When he’d told Riley he had to take the anti-virals, he’d made him get tested so he could see the paper to make sure.
As if he’d lie about something like that.
That should have been his first clue that the SS Cuckoo was a bad ship to be on.
“No, I’m not sick, Graham. Christopher Leonard has HIV. We all take it because if he gets hurt, or bleeds, we’re in danger if his levels aren’t in control. I’m clean. I was tested a few months ago.”
Graham wished he was.
He felt anything but clean. In fact, most of the time he felt incredibly dirty and unworthy.
Like now.
He gave the man the option, since he’d been the one who made the mess of his life.
“If you don’t want to be near me…”
Michael stopped him.
“It’s okay, M'eudail,” he said, catching him off guard by using Scottish. “I want to be near you. We both did things we shouldn’t have, and because of that, we’re not punishing each other for that.”
He still sat there, saying nothing.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. “If you do, I’m willing to listen,” Michael offered.
Graham didn’t know what there was to talk about.
Honestly, he was embarrassed by what he’d done the last few months.
“I was barely holding on,” he admitted, knowing D’Artangnan would listen like he said. “I wanted to hurt myself.”
Oh, well, he saw that last night.
And it was scary.
That was the ONLY reason he was hesitant now because of what they started.
Michael didn’t know if he’d be enough to keep the man here. The last thing he wanted was to find him dead and to be alone again.
“And how do you feel now?” he asked.
Graham shrugged.
“Scared. I’m afraid this is a dream, and I’m going to wake up and you were never here. When I heard you scream, and I knew you were in the lake, I was terrified.”
Oh, well, he knew that feeling.
He’d been scared too.
“When I ran down there, and saw the bubbles, and then none…”
Michael ran his hand up and down the man’s abs as he leaned against him.
“If you didn’t survive, I was dying with you,” he admitted. “I can’t do this without you. I’ve tried, and I’m at the point that I don’t want to be here. Letting you walk away was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”
Michael was curious.
“In your letters, you said you looked for me.”
Because a picture, or in this case, an email, was worth ten thousand words…
He reached for his phone that was still on the nightstand, and opened his email. When he pulled one up, he handed it to D’Artangnan.
The man read it.
‘Mr. Lainey,
I wish I was contacting you with better news, but we haven’t been able to find D’Artangnan Graves. I know I told you that it should be easy with the complexity of his name, but we’ve not located him.
We tried to contact the military, and they’ve offered no assistance with any help in finding him.
It brings me sadness to say he might be dead. That is the ONLY possible reason we haven’t been able to find him. My colleagues are continuing with that avenue, but I want you to be prepared for the inevitable.
He might have passed.
Since he was a Marine, we’re reaching out to Arlington National Cemetery to see if he has a grave there.
If you’d like, and we do find him there, we can take an engraving of his stone to send it to you.
One of my associates will be walking the stones to see if we can find a name match that way.
It’ll take a longer period of time, but it's our last option if Arlington won’t give us the information.
I wish there was more, but as far as we can tell, D’Artangnan Graves is no longer of this earth. I’m sorry, and if you need any more assistance, or you get more information, please let me know.
Yours,
David Wentworth
Private Investigator.’
He looked up, and Graham’s face said it all. In that moment, Michael knew. That was why he went over the edge so easily.
He’d been mourning his ‘death’.
Oh, and Michael felt horrible that he’d not left breadcrumbs for the man to find him if he’d tried. A decent person would have, even if they’d moved on—considering how they’d ended it.
That anger had made him…cruel.
And that wasn’t the person he was, and he knew it. For that, he was sorry.
“That’s only one private investigator,” he said.
“I paid a few. I had hope, until I didn’t.
Then, I didn’t want to live anymore, but I was a coward.
I couldn’t just do it to myself—until I saw you last night, and you walked out again.
In that moment, I at least knew you were okay, and I could finally let go.
I could finally have peace. I knew I’d never get you back, but I was okay with that.
I lost us, and this was on me. I just wanted to know you were alive, safe, and happy. ”
He held him.
What did he say to that?
Michael felt horrible that he’d put the man through this much when it was all his fault.
He’d lost faith.
Saint Michael of the douchebags hadn’t been a good person, and he was seeing that.
Oh, he was alive, barely safe, and hardly happy. Coming here had been a way to hide, and it changed everything.
“I’m here now,” he admitted.
And that was all it took.
Those words were enough to make the dam break, and the emotions overwhelmed him.
Graham broke down all over again. This time, for something completely different.
Only, still, he wasn’t sure if he was worthy.
He’d lost so much of himself.