“Hm, yeah,” Micah murmured, his fingers tightening in my hair and holding me in place. “Suck it.”
Micah’s words didn’t sound like a command. It was a plea. His voice quivering on the edge of begging. I latched on to the hard nub, humming encouragingly at the resulting moan. As I switched between teeth and tongue, Micah continued his hums of approval, his grip on my hair unwavering.
This was good. So good. The question that’d been pounding in my head at practice was answered by the hitch of Micah’s breath, the trembling muscles of his stomach. Being with him felt dangerous, but worth it.
A part of me wanted us to take it slower than we had before, coax more sounds out of him, and learn how to make Micah melt under my touch. There was still so much to learn and catalogue, so many places to explore, but I also wanted to get these fucking clothes off.
Micah let out a confused hum when I released his nipple and pulled his hand out of my hair. His eyebrows scrunched together when I stepped out of his reach when he tried to rock his hips against mine. My hard-on was just as frustrated, but I didn’t want this to end too quickly, even if there was the promise of a round two.
I reached out to Micah’s belt and dragged the leather strap out of the buckle, the metal tinkling after I let go. He watched me work open the fly of his pants, and when I slipped my hand inside his briefs to release his cock, he exhaled a harsh breath.
“Fuck, I was so close to just doing that myself,” he said, his head hitting the back of the wall with a small thump. “Thought you were trying to edge me or something for a second.”
“Naw, that ain’t my thing,” I said while I carefully tugged his jeans over his ass and down his thighs.
I brushed my knuckles over the newly exposed skin and ran my fingertips across the crease where Micah’s thigh and hip met, coming dangerously close to the base of his cock. He hissed a breath between his teeth, his hips jerking forward, nose flaring. I could see he was gearing up to say something, but I reached for his hand and wrapped it around his cock.
Micah’s eyebrows rose, and I watched, mesmerized, as his long fingers adjusted into position before he slowly jacked himself off. He kept a steady pace for a bit, pressing his hard-on against his stomach as his other hand slithered below and touched his balls.
He exhaled a breath that held a hint of a groan before his other hand took a hold of his cock again, the art adorning the muscles of his arms dancing as he picked up a rhythm.
A fever took control of my body, burning my blood and making my skin itchy. Desperately, I yanked my joggers low enough to free my cock, the relief so good my knees went weak. I planted a hand on the wall, spat into the other, and matched Micah’s pace.
Sex was, in general, a messy process from start to finish, and it usually took a few rounds to leave the awkward stage and into more familiar territory. I half expected the awkwardness to show up, but it didn’t, even when our wrists knocked into each other or an elbow got in the way when one of us tried to adjust. It felt natural, sharing moans and breaths, swears, and declarations to god.
“Nik, look at me,” Micah said, the words choked but his voice pleading.
I’d heard these words before, out of the mouths of countless people: lovers, family, friends, dealers. There were people I’d had to do things with out of desperation for a fix, them spitting out a command while holding on to my throat.
I’d heard it through the sob of heartbreak from people who loved me, my body shaky to get back to my dealer, holding back the bile that threatened to punch out of my mouth.
But no one had ever comeas close to saying it the way Micah said my name, hushed and special, filled with heat, arousal, and desperation all at once; it was an experience branded in my mind forever.
Being witness to Micah like this—bottom lip wet and reddened from his teeth, cheeks flushed, and mouth parted as small bursts of air pushed out of him—was also something I knew I’d never forget. It was startling to know that I had made him look like this.
That knowledge also spurred me to the edge, until Micah’s eyes widened a little, and his mouth dropped, and he let out a shocked moan. Warmth splashed on my stomach and my hand, evidence of Micah’s orgasm, and the warmth of it was the very thing to rush mine to the finish line.
Without warning, I pitched forward and sunk my teeth into his shoulder, screaming into the heat of his skin while I came so hard my knees nearly gave out. Micah’s shocked gasp was distant over the roar in my ears, his fingernails abrading a sinuous trail down my spine to my ass.
I ripped my mouth off his shoulder with a pop, stroking my tongue around the indentations and pressing a small kiss on it. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be pissed about me ripping into him. “Sorry, I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late.”
The snort I got in return vanquished any worry. “I don’t break that easily. Don’t worry.” Micah shifted under me, and as we separated, I caught the wrinkle bunching up along the sharp slope of his nose. “And these jeans are done. Mind if I borrow something? I promise not to do any untoward harm to them.”
“Sure. Try not to move. I’ll be back,” I said, carefully untangling myself so that I wouldn’t end up with more mess than I already had. I gave a quick assessment and lifted a hand.
It was certainly comical having to walk to the bathroom with my joggers still hanging off my ass, but the giggle it got out of Micah was worth it.
“Next time we’re doing this in the bedroom,” I said, handing the washcloth to Micah to clean up his hand. “At least there I have baby wipes on the bedside table.”
Micah smirked at me for a moment and returned to cleaning up a rather impressive spot on his jeans. “Won’t hear me complain about that.”
“Hey, you hungry?” I asked as I walked into my bedroom to grab two options of sweats from my dresser and one of my shirts with sleeves that covered my elbows. I put the shirt on, catching Micah walking toward my bedroom out of the corner of my eye.
“Starving, actually,” Micah said, leaning in the doorway, his fly still open. He hadn’t fully adjusted his briefs yet, a patch of moist pubic hair exposed. Jesus, he was like a walking sex idol even with a jizz stain on his skinny jeans.
I held up a black pair and a gray pair of sweats, lifting my eyebrows in question, and Micah pointed to the black ones.
A lamp I snagged at Goodwill for cheap on my nightstand was the only source of light I had in the room. It was awful at its job, but even in the weak glow, Micah was the hottest dude I’d ever hooked up with. He shimmied out of his pants before sitting on the bed so he could tug and wiggle the ankle loose enough to free a leg.
Standing in my sweats, shirtless, with every bit of ink on his body exposed, Micah’s beauty was on full display. His hair was a mess, eyes still dazed, and I wanted to kiss him so badly it made my heart hurt.
Instead, I spun around to head to the kitchen. Micah followed.
“So, my friend Duncan cooks a lot and gives me all the leftovers. I’m not sure what you’re in the mood for, but he makes an incredible pad Thai if you’re up for that. But if you’re not feelin’ it, that I always keep at least two emergency pizza-esque dishes on hand at all times.”
“Yeah, I’m down for the pad Thai. But I’m intrigued—why two pizzas?”
With a shrug, I opened the freezer and pulled out two servings. “Sometimes bad days can turn into two, and I’ll never stop hearing my therapist tell me how getting out of bed and having a meal at least once a day is better than staying in bed and not eating at all.”
I braced for Micah to give me some sad eye look because that’s usually what everyone did in his position. And I hated it when people did that, looked at me like I was some beaten up puppy the SPCA put in those ridiculous commercials. But I got nothing but a simple nod, and then Micah slipped out of the kitchen and toward the living room.
Huh. That was a pleasant surprise. This dude kept me on my toes, that was for sure.
I grabbed the food from the microwave and headed to the living room. Micah stood in front of the bookcase, staring at the pottery more closely. He tilted his head to the side as he studied a photo and pointed at it. “You know, I hadn’t snagged you as a kickball guy.”
“I’m not.”
Micah looked at me. His hair was an absolute riot, cheeks still reddened, a small patch of red under his jaw from my teeth. A smiled played at his swollen lips. “Did you lose a bet?”
