5. Chapter 5 #3
The night had been a warm one, the summer air humid and heavy on our shoulders.
No obstacle to nakedness. “I licked your stomach.” His skin had tasted of sweat and whiskey, intoxicating beyond anything I’d ever known.
“Then I went to my knees, pushed down your shorts, and licked your cock clean.” He’d needed time to get fully hard, the alcohol slowing his responses.
But he’d made no sound, just watched me, his eyes glowing gold as I coaxed him to swollen erectness.
“I don’t remember that part,” Micah whispered.
“I thought you did. I thought you remembered that when your skin was clean, I took you in my mouth and brought you off.” He’d said nothing when I touched his furry balls with a fingertip, just widened his stance to give me more room as I stroked and sucked.
His seed had been salt-bitter and slimy and yet the food I hungered for most in all the world.
“I thought you remembered me giving you head.”
I stopped my pacing to look at him. Under his normal deep tan, Micah’s face had gone pale. No, he really hadn’t remembered.
That was probably enough self-exposure. I could stop there.
But I needed to get all of this out, the splinter under my skin that I’d thought was a memento but now festered and ached like an abscess, needing to be lanced.
“After you came, I licked you clean again, and then, kneeling at your feet, I said I loved you. You set a hand on my head, tugging at my hair, and said, ‘Me too.’ We lay on the blankets, too tipsy to stand. You kissed my cheek. I kissed your mouth. You let me.”
More than let me. I’d cherished the memory of his tongue against mine, his hand cupping my head, his demanding lips against my own half-numb with whiskey. I hadn’t been the only one in that kiss.
I forced myself to continue. “Then we fell asleep, and woke not much the worse for wear.” The same wolf metabolism that made it hard to get drunk had shortened the hangover.
“Sloshing bellies, a little headache, a lot of sweat. Both naked, but it was a hot, sticky summer. Both smelling of sex, but mostly drowned out with the booze. You said, ‘What did we do?’ And my heart almost stopped, waiting for your judgement.”
“I remember waking up…”
I’d waited for a punch, a kiss, something. Instead, he’d blinked and looked away. I reminded him, “You said, ‘Did we swim in that booze? Bletch, my mouth tastes like the bottom of a birdcage. Let’s swim and drink some water before we go home.’ So we went to the creek.”
My mouth had tasted like his cum. I’d assumed his might too, from that kiss.
I’d assumed he remembered, and was telling me that our secrets in the hidden cabin would remain there.
I swam and gloried in seeing him naked, keeping my admiration as secret as he seemed to be keeping his.
Then, a couple of days later, when I suggested we might take an hour to go to the creek— wink, wink— he said he was busy. He had a date with Janet.
At which point, I decided he was saying he’d ignore what happened, but he wasn’t like me. Wasn’t queer. Didn’t want a repeat. My heart had broken, but at least he was still my friend.
When he’d actually meant he had no memory and didn’t care.
Micah eyed me. “We swam the whiskey off our skins, collected the blankets and empties, and headed back to the pack. You were never quite the same after that night.”
“I showed you who I was. I told you my truth. I was waiting for you to say something, or do something, and you were pretending that never happened.”
“I wasn’t pretending about anything. What do you mean, who you were?”
Anger boiled up in me, acid burning my throat. “How dense are you?” I whirled to glare at him. “I sucked your dick. I enjoyed it. I said I loved you. I’m as queer as the day is long, always have been, always will be.”
Micah blinked at me, his lips parted, as if that was a shock, even after all I’d said.
I backed away. “Keys are in the truck. I’m going to run home.
You can clear your stuff out of my place long before I get there, if you want.
You can drive to Yellowstone and leave my truck there.
I’ll get it back somehow. Don’t forget to ditch the hat and dress where they won’t be found.
And if you don’t show up at the sheriff’s to testify, well, you’re just a drifter passing through.
I doubt he’ll hunt you down.” I know I won’t.
“Lee.”
The need to run, to escape Micah’s stunned, wide-eyed gaze, thrummed in my veins. I fought my despair down to say one more thing. “But Micah, when I kissed you? You kissed me back.”
I whirled and sprinted off between the trees.
Half of me was afraid I’d hear Micah coming after me.
Half of me desperately hoped I would. But the soft thud of my boots on the leaf-littered ground was the only sound I heard.
So I ran, skidding on pine needles, hurdling fallen logs, pushing myself until the rasp of my breath filled my head and there was no room for anything else.