What He Left Behind (13 page)

Michael swallows.

“There’s no hurry. Breathe.”

He takes in a long breath through his nose. Lets it out slowly. Draws another. Starts to let that one go.

Then he bears down.

And the head of my cock is inside him.

And we both stop.

My eyes water. My balance wobbles, but I grip his legs to keep myself steady.

“Fuck…” He stares up at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. “Holy…”

I gently press in farther, and his helpless whimper makes my cock even harder. “This good?”

“So good.” He bites his lip as I work myself deeper. Before long, I’m moving easily, and he’s taking every inch of my cock without that impossible resistance from before.

“Tell me how,” I breathe. “Hard? Slow?”

“Slow at first.” Michael closes his eyes and arches beneath me. “Just…want to enjoy it.”

Oh, I’ll let you enjoy it as long as you want
.

I ride him as slowly as I can stand it. He’s still tight, but with every motion of my hips, he’s relaxing. Yielding to me. Taking me deep, biting his lip whenever I pull out and whimpering softly every time I push back in.

“Is this—”

“M-more.” Michael’s eyes are closed, and he’s stroking himself in time with my slow, fluid motions. “You feel…so good.”

“So do you.” I rock my hips a little faster. Not quite thrusting, but giving him more than before, and he groans as he tightens around me.

“Oh my
God
,” he breathes. “So…good…”

“Fuck, yeah. I could—oh
fuck
!” My climax catches me completely off guard. One second I’m taking my sweet time, enjoying the slick, fluid strokes, and the next, I can’t breathe. I can’t get deep enough inside him. I throw my head back, my hips jerking and toes curling and my vision blurring as release takes over, and then I slump over him with just enough presence of mind to avoid resting my full weight on his chest.

“Holy shit,” I murmur, pulling out carefully. “That was, uh, unexpected.”

He laughs, letting his fingertips drift up my back, which my suddenly sensitive nerve endings can barely handle. I shiver hard and, without thinking about it, grab his arm and pin it to the bed. Panic prickles the back of my neck. Oh God.

But Michael moans softly and presses his hard cock against me. “If you’re gonna be like that, I might have to fuck
you
.”

I lift up and blink in surprise.

He grins. “Please?”

“I’m not gonna say no. Are you—” But I don’t need to ask if he’s sure. Whatever hang-ups he had earlier, they’re gone now, and his eyes are filled with more boldness and certainty than I’ve seen in…hell, years.

“Get on your back.” He pulls me down for a quick kiss. “I like this position.”

“M-me too.” A lot. Holy fuck. Especially when my limbs are still made of rubber. “Go easy, though. Just came.”

“Of course.” He reaches for the lube, and I roll onto my back. After he’s lubed himself up, he positions himself. Twin crevices form between his eyebrows as he steadies his cock with one hand and guides himself to me. He presses against me, glances up to meet my gaze, and a little grin appears on his lips right as he pushes forward. I push back, and for the first time in so many years, Michael’s inside me. And I didn’t know how much I wanted that, how much I’d missed that, until just now, and as he works himself deeper, my eyes sting.

Aside from the winter when we discovered this in the first place, we never fucked much when we were teens—we enjoyed giving head more than anything. But when we first discovered it, we couldn’t get enough, and when we did it, it was always mind-blowing. Gazing up at him now, I hope his mind is going someplace else tonight, and I hope it’s going to the same place mine is. Back to that winter when this was as easy as it was new. When anal was still a novelty, and we seized every opportunity to fuck each other senseless. I savor every stroke, my body lethargic and tingling from the orgasm I just had, while he’s carefully sliding in and out, well on his way to his own orgasm and still making sure he doesn’t overstimulate me now that I’m this hypersensitive. Just like we did back then.

Michael picks up speed. His eyes are heavy-lidded, nearly closed, and he’s fucking beautiful—skin gleaming with sweat, red hair damp and disheveled, lips parted as if he’d be moaning if he could just remember how.

“Come here,” I whisper, and his eyes open. He meets my gaze as I reach for him, and he comes down to me, and then we’re kissing, and moving, and holding each other, and this is beyond perfect. I’m distantly aware of obstacles we still need to work through, but there is nothing about this moment I’d change.

Michael breaks the kiss and buries his head against my neck. His thrusts aren’t faster, but they’re definitely harder, and though they border on too much for my overstimulated body, they feel good. They feel amazing. And every time his breath hitches or his rhythm falters, I know he’s getting closer, and I can’t help moaning myself, because
holy fuck, Michael…

He pulls in a breath. His whole body tenses, but not like all the times he’s freaked out. I roll my hips, clench around him, hold him tight, and he exhales hard against my neck just before he thrusts all the way in and groans. Then, like I did earlier, he collapses. He withdraws but otherwise doesn’t move.

“That went better than I expected,” I whisper.

“Yeah. Same here.” He cups my cheek and kisses me tenderly. “Kinda reminds me of the first time we did this.”

My heart skips. “Me too.”
Quite possibly in more ways than it should.
But I banish that thought. “And it was good for you? Nothing bothering you from the past?”

“Not this time. It was…” He meets my gaze, and his smile does a number on my pulse. “It was perfect.”

I just smile back and run my fingers through his hair.

“I know this has been rough on you.” He kisses me again and barely breaks that kiss enough to murmur, “But thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Michael.”

Chapter Thirteen

After that, we can’t stop fucking. Between him and my insatiable husband, it’s a wonder I can walk over the next week or so, and I love it. The sex is getting better and better, and so is Michael’s confidence.

I’ve been here more times than I can count now, hard and breathless in Michael’s bed, but it feels different tonight.

We’ve been tangled up together almost since the moment I walked in the front door. That kiss hello didn’t stop, and then I had him up against the wall and he was unbuckling my belt. We barely made it down the hallway to his bedroom without tumbling to the carpet and just tearing each other’s clothes off right then and there.

And now we’re here, struggling to shed clothes as we kiss and grope the way we used to when we were teenagers, back when we’d first discovered sex and couldn’t get naked fast enough. When we still had to sneak around and had to make the absolute most out of every stolen opportunity.

We have all the time in the world tonight, but I can’t get enough of him. I want him naked, I want his cock in my mouth, I want to fuck him, I want him to fuck me—I just want him.

“Got some more lube,” he says between kisses. “We were getting low.”

“Already?” I grin against his lips. “Guess we have been going through it pretty fast.”

“Uh-huh. And I want to get started on this bottle. Like now.”

I push him onto his back and press my cock against his. “I think we should get started on it too. And I want you just like this.”

“Yes please.” He drags me down to him, gripping my arms painfully tight as he kisses me. Even as we fumble around for that bottle of lube, and as we struggle to remove the cellophane around the top, we’re all over each other. Every kiss breaks with whispered cursing, and every new one starts with groans of relief and pleasure. I can’t get enough of him, and he’s matching me kiss for kiss, grope for grope, and when that bottle comes open, it’s a miracle we don’t wind up with lube spilled everywhere. Though at this point, I can’t convince myself that’d be a bad thing—then we could just keep kissing until one of us slides into the other. Or something. Fuck. I can’t even think.

Michael’s lips separate from mine. “Finally.” He holds up the lube bottle, grinning triumphantly now that it’s open and unsealed.

“P-put it on.”

He almost drops the bottle, but catches it, and when he closes a slippery hand around my dick, I’m surprised I don’t pass out. And we’re kissing again. Breathlessly. I thought he was going to fuck me, but now I’m the one with lube on my cock, and he’s stroking me like this just turned into a hand job instead, and I’m completely okay with that.

Anything you want, Michael. Just don’t stop.

He stops, though, and nudges me, so I lift my hips. He spreads his legs, and we both exhale as I come down between them. With some more fumbling, clumsiness that would’ve mortified me in my younger days but doesn’t bother me in the slightest now, we guide my cock to his ass, and I push in. He’s tight since we haven’t done a thing to prep him so far, but he slowly relaxes, and I sink into him. After some careful strokes, he’s taking me easily, and I start moving faster. Fucking him effortlessly, as if there’s never been any physical or mental resistance.

Something’s definitely changed tonight. With every stroke and every touch, I’ve been sure he’s going to recoil or tense up, but he hasn’t. As I thrust inside him, he holds onto my arms, digging his nails in and rocking his hips to encourage me to fuck him harder, and there’s no sign of anything in his expression besides pure lust.

And slowly, it becomes clear why tonight feels different—though Steve is there in the back of my mind, he isn’t
here
. For the first time, it’s only Michael and me.

He meets my eyes, grabs the back of my neck, and pulls me down into a kiss. Between kissing him and fucking him, I can’t find nearly enough oxygen, but I don’t care. I’m more than happy to black out if this is the last thing I feel before everything goes dark.

“You feel so good,” he whispers.

“So do you. God, Michael, you feel amazing.”

He grips my arms tighter. “Harder.” He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I bury my head against his neck, slide my hands under him, hold on to his shoulders, and I fuck him hard, the way he always begged me to when we were younger.

He’s damn near sobbing, egging me on with slurred curses and sharp gasps. Arms around me, he drags his nails down my back, carving lines of delicious burning pain that spur me on.

Then he pulls in a sharp breath. His entire body goes rigid, his muscles tense, his fingers digging hard into my back and his ass so tight around my dick I can barely move, but I keep right on fucking him anyway.

All at once, he lets go. He releases his breath, and he releases me, and hot semen’s hitting my chest and stomach, and then I’m coming too, driven by his soft little moans and the way he’s trembling beneath me.

With a sigh, I slump over him, holding myself up on shaking arms. Somehow, I manage to pull out, but otherwise, I don’t move. Eyes closed, body trembling all over, I rest my forehead against his shoulder and just breathe.

“Oh my God,” he murmurs after a while.

“Yeah. My thoughts exactly.” Though it’s a struggle, I push myself up.

When Michael meets my eyes, there’s definitely an extra shine in his, but the smile tells me it’s not a bad thing this time. He reaches up with both hands, draws me back down and kisses me so tenderly, he almost moves me to tears too. Then he breaks the kiss and wraps his arms around me, and this time, a couple of hot tears slip free.

Your ex really wasn’t here tonight, was he?

It was just us.

Finally.

Our gazes meet again. He smiles. So do I. We both wipe our eyes and, without a word, pry ourselves apart to clean up.

Moments later, we’re lying in bed again, facing each other on our sides.

He closes his eyes and smiles serenely. “Jesus. I honestly never thought I’d like it that much again.”

I kiss his forehead. “I knew we’d get there.”

His eyes open and his expression darkens a little. “So now comes the next hard part.”

“Which is…?”

He swallows. “Being okay with all of this when it’s someone I’ve never been with before.”

My chest tightens. I hadn’t even thought about that part.

“There’s always Dr. Klein.” He sighs. “Except what if we get to this point and it doesn’t work?”

“Michael.” I stroke his cheek. “If you get to this point with him, and he can’t be patient and accommodating, then he has no business being in bed with you anyway.”

“True. I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m quite ready for that yet.”

“Then don’t push it.” I kiss him gently. “We can do this as long as you need to.”

“You’re the best,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around me. “You’ve made such a difference.”

I kiss him again and hold on to him. “Anything I can do to help. I want you to be able to enjoy this again.”

“I already do.” He smiles up at me, but it fades. “Maybe one of these days, I’ll even get to where I can go down on someone again.”

My heart sinks. Ah, yes. The one thing he hasn’t even tried to face down yet.

I study him. “He really traumatized you with that, didn’t he?”

Gaze distant, Michael nods. He gnaws his lip, his brow furrowed as if he wants to speak, but doesn’t know what to say.

As much as I don’t want to kill the mood and send him back, maybe the answers will shed some light on why this is such a battle for him at every turn. My mouth is starting to go dry as I finally ask the question that’s been echoing in my head since day one: “What did he do to you?”

“A lot of things I’d just as soon never talk about again.” He gulps. “But oral was his favorite form of punishment.”

My stomach turns. “Punishment?”

“Yeah.” Michael’s lips twist.

I don’t push. Something tells me I won’t have to.

Michael draws a slow, deep breath. “One night, we were arguing about something—I don’t remember what—and he backhanded me.”

I hold Michael tighter. Jesus Christ.

He goes on, “It wasn’t the first time, and it definitely wasn’t the last, but that night, my tooth caught the inside of my cheek. It was one of those cuts that just bled
everywhere
. Not a deep one or one that needed medical attention, but…you know what I mean.”

I nod, tamping down the nausea in my throat.

“Anyway, it finally stopped. And we finally calmed down.” Michael’s eyes grow distant, but he squeezes my hand, as if he’s letting himself go back to that place as long as he’s got an anchor in this one. I squeeze back. With a subtle shudder, he continues. “He was starting to sober up too, so he decided he wanted to take things into the bedroom to”—he made air quotes with his other hand—“put the fight behind us. One thing led to another, and I was…” He gulps, and shifts as if he’s trying not to shudder again. “On my knees. Which is where I always ended up when we were making up.”

He runs his tongue alongside his teeth, as if he’s searching the inside of his cheek for a phantom cut. I cringe at the idea of sucking cock like that.

Michael clears his throat. “He got a little rough, and I felt the cut come open again, but he wouldn’t stop and wouldn’t let
me
stop until after he came.”

My stomach lurches. “Fucking bastard.”

“Yeah. So of course, my mouth was bleeding, which meant there was blood on him.” Michael rolls his eyes. “He freaked the fuck out.”

“Even though he was the one who cut your mouth and wouldn’t stop.”

“Yep. It was actually kind of a blessing in disguise.”

“A—
what?
”

“He was kind of a germaphobe, and even though we’d both been tested a million times over, he was absolutely certain we both needed to be tested
right fucking now
for HIV.” He laughs bitterly. “Like he thought the virus would spontaneously manifest now that he’d come in contact with my blood.”

I arch my eyebrow. “And that was a blessing, how?”

“Because he wouldn’t touch me until the tests came back.” Michael closes his eyes and scrubs his hand over his face. “The first few days, I felt horrible. Rejected, abandoned. But the longer it went on, the more I realized my body didn’t hurt anymore, and I was sleeping better because I didn’t have to worry about waking up to…” He pauses, then shudders. “Anyway. I think that was when I realized I needed to get out.”

My mouth has gone completely dry. “How long after that did you leave him?”

Michael stares up at the ceiling, and his voice is hollow as he whispers, “Two years.”

“Holy shit.”

He exhales. “That incident wasn’t an isolated one, let’s put it that way. He fucked up my jaw a few times. And my gag reflex.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he says, “He took it personally once when I said I needed two or three weeks before I could go down on him again. He decided that wasn’t acceptable, and, well, didn’t give me much choice.” Michael lowers his hand and meets my eyes. “Apparently having your wisdom teeth out isn’t a good enough excuse.”

I’m surprised my mouth doesn’t literally hurt just hearing that. “I think that would put me off blowjobs for the rest of my life too.”

Michael’s lips tighten, and he nods. “Lucky for me, the blood put him off that time too. But damn.” He shakes his head.

“I can’t even imagine.”

“You don’t want to.” He inhales deeply through his nose, then lets it out slowly. “It wasn’t that horrible all the time. Honestly, we had good sex more often than not. But if he got drunk, or if he got pissed at me for something, all bets were off.” He closes his eyes. “And here we are.”

I slide my hand up his arm to his shoulder. “And you’ve come a long way. There’s no way in hell someone’s going to do that to you again.”

“He won’t get away with five fucking years of it, anyway.”

“He does it once,” I growl, “they’ll never find the body.”

He meets my eyes, and smiles. “If it happens again, I’ll definitely take you up on that this time.” Then he scowls. “So, you can see why blowjobs are such an issue.”

“Yeah. Definitely.” I kiss the top of his shoulder. “Question is, how do we get you past that?”

Michael sighs. “Fuck if I know. Because with this one, there’s two things I need to get over. One, I’m afraid I’m going to get hurt. Physically. Two, I can’t even think about doing it without feeling like I’m being punished or degraded. Even when I know that’s not the case.”

“I can see why.” I gently draw him into my arms, rolling onto my back so he can rest his head on my shoulder. As we settle, I stroke his hair. “Give it time. It took time to get to where you are tonight, but you made it. You’ll get past this, and you’ll be able to be with other guys.” I kiss his forehead. “And I’m not going anywhere until you do.”

“Thank you.”

And God help any man who so much as looks at you the wrong way.