Chapter 50
CHAPTER FIFTY
MASON
Neither Micah nor I were speaking as he drove us both away from Dakota’s place. It was clear he didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to leave, either.
But sometimes we didn’t get what we wanted.
With Aamon no longer alive and focused on Dakota, I had no reason to prevent her from having a sleepover with her best friend. She deserved it whenever she wanted it. Mila was clearly a better person than me or Micah, and I barely even knew her.
“Do you want to go to your apartment?” Micah asked, but his voice was so monotone it hardly felt like a question.
“I don’t care.” No. Not really.
His kapnos was already infiltrating all the air in the car, making my dick thicken in my pants. I’d rather mess around with him for half the night than jerk myself raw alone at home. The week without him had been less enjoyable than I imagined. My expectations were managed fine.
“I’m not in the mood to drive that far,” Micah said, but it was an excuse. My apartment wasn’t that far from Dakota’s place compared to his, wouldn’t be much farther of a drive. In a way, I was grateful for the excuse. It made it easier to accept what this was.
Micah and I hardly made it inside his house before we were tearing each other’s clothes off, and I almost hated myself for that. For how little I ever resisted doing this shit with him. Over and over and over.
Pressing into the wound and pretending I wasn’t.
Eventually, it all would end again, and all we were doing now was prolonging the inevitable. But I wasn’t ready to stop—I was convinced I’d never be ready. I was supposed to hate him for so many different reasons now—and I did—but it was still him.
I couldn’t think about it as Micah shoved his hand down my boxers and started stroking me, sucking along the side of my throat.
We stumbled towards the stairs, making our way into his upstairs hallway, a few faint blood stains still pressed into his carpet from my heel.
I grabbed his ass, kissing him deeper, feeling that fire burn low in my stomach.
He shoved me, sending me crashing into the doorframe of his bedroom, my shoulder taking most of the impact.
But he was back on me again in the next second, grinding his hips into mine.
I slid my tongue along his tongue, reaching around to push his waistband halfway down his ass, sliding my fingers underneath it.
“No.” He shook his head, his lips becoming even more vicious on mine, his grip tightening on my body to the point of pain.
“You aren’t only a top with me,” I growled against his mouth. “So that doesn’t mean twenty-four-fucking-seven I’m the one getting my ass torn up. It’s your turn.”
I wasn’t even sure why I’d been letting him fuck me like this for so long. Always from the back and always with him topping. Maybe some part of me deep down was worried about him, but it wasn’t like he was talking to me about anything.
“Maybe I’ve decided to give you the same treatment I give everyone else,” he snarled, clearly pissed off.
“Bullshit.”
I dragged him into the bedroom, blood pumping hot and hard, violence brewing between us. I pushed him and he hit me. He fisted my cock and I took the opportunity to sink my teeth deep into his shoulder. We escalated and escalated until our hits weren’t pulled at all, until we were really fighting.
Micah was throwing punches across my jaw as I shoved him off, our arms tangling with each other as we stumbled across the room. I slammed his side into the corner of the dresser, shifting the heavy furniture, then he got a better hold on my shoulders and whipped me around to the ground.
There was blood on his face and blood on my face, but I had no idea who it was even coming from—or where. My cock was throbbing in my boxers.
He crushed his mouth to mine, biting at my lower lip, gripping the back of my neck hard. I pulled him even closer, aligning the full lengths of our bodies so I could feel how hard he was. I was so fucking keyed up it was a miracle I hadn’t come in my pants already.
We tripped onto the bed, Micah landing on top of me, his weight pushing me into the mattress. But I’d been holding my breath, so it was easy for me to flip us, reversing our positions.
I put Micah on his stomach then pushed him down, hard, thrusting my erection against his ass while my palm pressed between his shoulder blades.
He tried to roll me off of him, but I was a lot stronger than he was right now.
I kept him pinned, covering his body with mine, reaching down to tug his boxers all the way down and expose his perfect ass.
He planted his palms on the bed, trying to push upward, but again—Thrausian strength.
I leaned forward to run my mouth up his spine, then bit his shoulder right next to my previous mark as I pulled my own boxers down, finally.
I wasn’t going to last long fucking him like this, but I couldn’t find a single shit to give about that. His body stiffened.
“No,” he said.
“Yeah, Kill. I’m gonna fuck you.” I scraped my teeth over his muscular back, his skin hot against my lips.
“Stop—”
“What—”
“Get off of me! Get the fuck off of me!” he shouted, startling me with the volume of his voice.
I instantly pushed off of him and straightened my underwear, backing up a few steps as he got to his feet, my hands held up, palms facing him. My heart was slamming hard, my pulse up in my throat.
Never in my life had I seen Micah look the way he did now. Like a trapped animal. Shaky and unstable, defensive, ready to lash out if I got too close.
Afraid.
It rattled me. Badly.
I stepped back, away from him, my throat squeezing so tight I could hardly breathe.
The floorboards creaked under my shifting weight.
He didn’t move, his whole body locked up, almost cowering away from where I stood halfway across the room. His stare remained locked on my face, the whites of his eyes flashing in the darkness.
The sight of it struck a horrible chord so deep inside of me it ached in my marrow.
I tried to swallow, but the crush of my throat made it impossible, adrenaline and regret dumping into my bloodstream as I backed away from him further.
Neither of us said another word, the silence strange and unsettling; somehow vacant and suffocating at the same time.
I left his bedroom, then retreated to the guest room, my fingers trembling and my mind racing.
Sickness coated my tongue like acid. I wished I could go back in time and undo whatever I’d just done to make him react like that.
But that wasn’t really the truth. I knew what I’d just done.
I’d tried to top him.
Fuck.
He’d never reacted to me like that before. Not even the first time.
My lips pressed together in a flat line.
It was dead silent in the house, so I could tell he hadn’t moved from the spot where he’d been standing—I would’ve heard his footsteps, heard the door shutting.
My gaze flicked towards the open door of the guest room, focusing on the dark hallway while my heart thrashed unsteadily in my chest.
Guilt was making me nauseous.
If I didn’t know him, I might’ve tried to go back and apologize. But I did know him, so I knew that was the last thing he wanted me to do.
It wasn’t the same as the gashes on his forearms, his silence when Dakota miscarried his child, his grip on the back of my neck as we admitted truths that were better left unspoken.
All of those things he could control. He could keep himself guarded, never let me see him without at least some armor on.
I could talk to him about those things for the most part.
But this—the sheer fucking vulnerability I’d just seen in his stare, in his posture, in the choppiness of his breathing—was different.
This was his deepest, oldest wound. And I fucking knew about it. I fucking…
I was the only man Micah had ever let top him, but not the only who ever had.
There was someone before me.
He never gave me details, and I never asked.
It’d only ever been mentioned twice in all the years we were together.
I knew what’d happened. He didn’t need to spell it out to me.
I could see how badly it hurt him, how deeply it affected him, how completely incapable he was of speaking about it, even to me. Even when we were together.
His need for control hadn’t come out of nowhere.
It stemmed from a single moment, a moment where he’d had none at all.
And he knew he never wanted to feel that way ever again.
I slowly went to the bed and laid down, then held perfectly still until I heard him move a few minutes later. He shut the door to his bedroom, and I heard the shower turn on.
Sleep didn’t come for a long time.