What He Left Behind (8 page)

“I’m fine.” Ian wraps his arms around my waist and kisses the side of my neck. “Listen, um, on the drive home, I did a lot of thinking. About Michael. And you.”

My stomach tightens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I told you guys tonight I had some reservations.”

I turn around in his embrace and meet his gaze, but don’t speak.

Ian swallows. “After everything Steve put him through…” He takes a deep breath, and the intensity in his eyes startles me as he whispers, “You have my unconditional blessing to give Michael
anything
he needs to put that son of a bitch behind him.”

“Are—”

“I’m absolutely sure.” He cups my cheek with an unsteady hand. “After tonight, whatever doubts I had, they’re gone.” He draws me in, and our lips brush as he murmurs, “And he’s damn lucky to have someone like you.”

“I think I’m the lucky one right now.” I kiss him softly. “I can’t imagine anyone else who’d let me do this.”

“I trust you. I know both of you.” He draws back a little, and that intensity is still there, but different now. Clearer. As if he’s…
haunted
. “I just can’t live with the idea of him struggling through this by himself.”

Before I can respond, Ian kisses me, and he holds me so tight, it’s almost painful.

He breaks the kiss just enough to murmur, “Anything he needs.”

“Noted.” I nudge him toward the doorway. “Tonight? Anything
you
need.”

“Good. Because right now, I need the same thing he does.”

His kiss ends the conversation but fills in what he left unspoken:

I need
you.

Chapter Eight

On the way up to Michael’s apartment, my pulse is already pounding and my palms have been damp since I left work.

Please, please, let this go well. Michael deserves it.

I reach for the knob, but the door opens.

And I meet Michael’s gaze.

He grins. His eyes are gleaming and narrow, as if he’s been plotting and scheming.

Oh fuck. It’s going to be a good night, isn’t it?

He closes the door behind us.

I shrug off my jacket. “You’re in a good mood.”

“Yep. I am.” And just like that, he’s against me, kissing me.

My jacket falls forgotten to the floor. We stumble back into the wall, and Michael’s kissing me like he did way back when. Breathlessly, passionately, telegraphing loud and clear that he wants it and he wants it right now. But how much can he
handle
?

“Bedroom,” he murmurs. “I can’t wait.”

He takes my hand, and we hurry down the hall to his bedroom. As soon as we cross that threshold, he’s in my arms again. Fuck, this must be a good sign.

“T-tell me what you want to—”

“I want you to fuck me.”

I freeze. “Michael, are you—”

“Please. I want… God, I want you so bad.”

“But are—”

His kiss answers me. Still…

“Are you sure you don’t want to top me first?” I moisten my lips. “Small steps?”

“I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about this all day.” He rubs against my hand—fuck, he’s already hard as a rock.

Goose bumps prickle beneath my shirt. “Have you?”

“All day.”

“Well then.” I pull him in and kiss the side of his neck. “Who am I to deny you something you’ve been fantasizing about?”

Michael shivers. “Please.”

“Then why do you still have clothes on?”

Without missing a beat, he pulls back. His shirt is off before I can even start on mine. We strip down to nothing, and all the while, my heart’s going crazy—I had expected this to be a long process, but after just one night together and a reassuring conversation with Ian, he’s ready to move this far forward? God, yes.

We climb onto his bed, hands and mouths all over each other, and my head is spinning faster and faster. Now that I have his body against mine, I’m as impatient as he is. I could make out with him all night, stroke him and tease him and turn him inside out, but I want him
now
.

I kiss my way up his neck, and then sit up. “Get on your knees.”

Michael starts to turn around but stops. He closes his eyes. Breathes slowly. Deeply.

I touch his shoulder, and he flinches. Subtly but unmistakably. “Michael? You okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “It happens sometimes. Just spaced out for a second. I’m good.”

I raise my eyebrows. “We can slow down.”

“No! I want to keep going. I’m good.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I don’t want to second guess him and undermine his confidence, but I also don’t want to push him too far.

Michael faces me fully and curves a hand around the side of my neck. “I want this.” He kisses me, and there’s that boldness again—he pushes my lips apart, explores my mouth, teases my tongue. Then he touches his forehead to mine. “I’m okay. I promise.”

I hesitate but finally nod. “Turn around.”

Another shiver runs through him, and he grins. After one long, knee-shaking kiss, he turns around.

Heart thumping, I run my hand over his beautiful ass and up his narrow waist. The thought of being inside him is more than enough to send my body temperature soaring.

I put some lube on my fingers first. As I press my fingertip against him, he exhales slowly, and he curses under his breath.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just really,
really
want you to fuck me. Like,
now
.”

I grin. “I will. After I tease you a little.”

“Fucker,” he mutters.

I laugh, and some of the tension in my neck and shoulders eases—his sense of humor is intact, so maybe he really is ready for this.

I tease his anus with a lubed fingertip. He groans and lets his head fall forward. Teasing him drives me as crazy as it does him, and this view is just…beautiful. His muscles, his freckles—I could stare at him all day. The only way this view could get any better is with my dick sliding in and out of him.

“Josh,” he moans. “Fuck me.”

With pleasure.

I gently press my finger into him, but it takes work. Even when we were both doing this for the first time, back when we were nervous kids, he wasn’t this tense. Or maybe I just don’t remember. Either way, he hasn’t been touched in years, so I take my time. He slowly yields to my finger, though it’s still a tight fit.

“Can you handle more?”

He nods. Is he breathing?

“Michael? Are you—”

“More. Please.” His voice is tense too, but he leans back against me as I’m withdrawing my finger, so I slide it back in. I crook it slightly, seeking that spot inside, and when I find it, he moans. He’s still tight, still tense, but his voice is made of pure pleasure.

“M-more,” he whispers again. “Please.”

I add a second finger, and damn, the tension is even more obvious now. Though some additional lube helps, I can still barely move my hand. I keep finger-fucking him slowly, gently, letting him relax, but he stays tight as hell. Even as I stroke his prostate, driving soft little moans from him, he doesn’t relax.

He shifts, and the sheen of sweat on his shoulders catches the light. The ends of his red hair are darker now too. What the hell?

He turns his head, revealing more perspiration on his forehead and temple. “I want you…” He pauses, as if he needs to catch his breath. “I want you to fuck me.”

But are you
ready
for me to fuck you?

“A lot of this is on Michael, not you,”
Ian’s voice echoes in my head.
“You’re not fixing him. You’re giving him a safe place to work through the stuff that needs fixing.”

I swallow. Michael knows what he’s ready for. If he wants it, and he says he can handle it, then he does and he can. Right?

“Literally all you have to do is be the safe, kind, giving lover that you already are, and let him do the rest.”

And maybe that’s the key—letting him do the rest. Giving him control so he can call the shots.

I slowly withdraw my hand. “Why don’t I get on my back so you can be on top?”

Michael considers it for a second and nods. We change positions—I lie back, and he straddles me. I steady my cock with one hand and cover it in lube with the other. Once I’m good and slick, Michael lowers himself until the head is pressing against his ass.

As he eases down slowly, I grit my teeth. He’ll relax. Once he’s taken a few strokes, he’ll relax. Won’t he?

“Breathe,” I whisper. “Just breathe and take your time.”

He nods. Exhales. Inhales. Lowers himself a little more. The head of my cock breaches him, and my breath hitches.
Fuck
, he’s tight.

He doesn’t move. Eyes shut tight, lips apart, he’s still for several seconds before he lifts off and comes down again. This time, he takes me deeper, but every inch is a challenge. Despite being in control, he’s still painfully tight—I can’t imagine it’s comfortable for him. That taut grimace all but shouts that it’s not.

“Michael, are—”

“I can’t.” The words are strangled, almost a sob. “Fuck, I—”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. We don’t have to.”

He lifts himself off me, and I exhale as my cock slides out. A shudder runs through him that sends a chill through me, and he releases a choked, panicked sound.

“Easy.” I embrace him gently and guide him down to the bed. Holy fuck, he’s shaking. “Michael?”

“I can’t. I’m…” He shudders hard. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

“Shh.” I press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Just breathe for a minute.”

He’s breathing, but way too fast, so I hold him close and remind him over and over to breathe, that I’m here, that he’s safe and no one will hurt him. All the while, I silently curse Steve. Wherever he is now, I hope to God he’s alone and miserable, that he hasn’t gotten his hands on anyone else.

Eventually, Michael exhales, and the shaking slows. “Jesus. I’m sorry.”

You’re not the one who should be sorry.

“You all right?”

He nods, and as I carefully release him, he settles on his back. “I guess I wasn’t ready for that after all.” He stares up at the ceiling. “Weird. Everything’s fine, and then suddenly it’s not.” He’s breathing more steadily now, but his heart’s still going a hundred miles an hour.

“We can go slower.”

“Question is, how slow?” He turns to me and scowls. “I mean, the thought of you fucking me has had me so turned on all day, I couldn’t concentrate at work. Didn’t raise any red flags in my head. Didn’t make me feel panicky or anything. I just…wanted it. But then when we tried…”

I grimace and kiss his cheek. This really is going to be a minefield, isn’t it?

Michael sighs. “I don’t know what will be a problem and what won’t. For all I know, you could fuck me into oblivion, tie me up, slap my ass, and I’ll be fine, but then one kiss in the wrong place, and I’ll fall apart.” He combs through his hair with shaky fingers. “What the fuck is the matter with me?”

“Nothing’s the matter with you. You’ve been through hell. That’s going to leave—”

“It’s been
five years
.” He rubs his eyes. “Damn it. After the other night, and talking to Dr. Hamilton on the phone today, I felt good about everything, you know? Felt like I could handle anything. But I should’ve listened to you. When you hesitated.”

“You didn’t know what was going to happen. We’ll get there, Michael.”

“Do you know how frustrating that is?” He covers his face with his hands, then lets them drop onto the bed. “I wasn’t this wound up when I was a virgin.”

“Of course you weren’t.” I touch his arm, and when he doesn’t recoil, I move my hand to the middle of his chest. “Nobody had hurt you then.”

He closes his eyes and shudders.

“Nobody’s going to hurt you now,” I go on, “but it’ll take time for your mind to catch up with that. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

He sighs. Neither of us says anything for a while. Eventually, Michael breaks the silence. “Can I ask you something kind of weird?”

“Sure.”

He opens his eyes and stares unfocused up at the ceiling. It takes him a good thirty seconds to finally ask, “When did you know Steve was…”

“An asshole?”

“Yeah. That.”

“Why?”

Michael shrugs. “Just curious.” He turns toward me. “I guess I’m trying to figure out how long I was the clueless idiot in the gilded cage.”

“You weren’t an idiot, Michael. He manipulated you in the beginning, and he scared you in the end. And he fooled us all. Early on, we all liked him.”

His eyebrows jump. “You did?”

“Sure. He seemed like a nice guy. Charming as all hell.”

“Yeah, he was.” Michael sighs, sinking back against the pillow. “And he wasn’t always a total asshole. We even had some good days right there toward the end.”

“Really? Even after everything he’d done?”

“Stockholm Syndrome will do that to you,” he mutters. Then he shakes his head. “Honestly, he was a terrible person, but he could be a good guy at times. You know how some people are perfectly nice most of the time, but sometimes they’re just insufferable because they’re in a bad mood, or they’re drunk, or whatever?”

“I do, and most of those people don’t do the things Steve did.”

“No, but he was kind of like that. To an extreme. Both extremes, actually. He was really good at making up for it when he was an asshole, and I stupidly ate it up every time.” He laughs humorlessly. “If I had a nickel for every time he convinced me he’d changed.”

“Like I said, he had us all fooled.” I absently run my fingers up and down Michael’s arm. “The closer you are to a situation like that, the harder it is to see the truth. Especially when you’re being played by someone as manipulative as he was.”

“There is that.” He inches closer to me. “The fact that that he wasn’t all bad all the time makes it worse. I mean, sometimes…” Michael moistens his lips. “Even now, I have to admit there were times when he was genuinely a good guy. Like when my mom died. He was a fucking
saint
.”

“That doesn’t negate the other things he did.”

“Of course not, but those things don’t negate the fact that he got me through that period.” Michael turns to me. “I’m not making excuses for him or trying to paint him as a decent guy. To be honest, I
need
to remember those good times because if someone like him comes along again, I’m afraid of not seeing the red flags because, hey, he’s such a nice guy.”

I shudder at the thought, and take his hand. “Another guy like him comes along, he’ll have to get past me. Assuming there’s anything left after Ian gets his hands on him.”

Michael smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, you’ll see it before I did. You saw it with Steve.” He pauses. “When
did
you see it?”

Now it’s my turn to stare up at the ceiling. It’s hard to imagine there was ever a time when I didn’t wish a fiery death on that man, but as sickening as it is to look back on it now, there was. Finding the dividing line, that moment when I began to see him for what he was, isn’t so difficult now, because there are few things in my life I remember more clearly.

I clear my throat. “Your sister’s wedding.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’d started getting a weird vibe off him for a while. Ian and I both felt a little ‘off’ about him, but couldn’t put our finger on why. That night…” I shift my gaze toward him. “You’d been acting really strange the last few times I’d seen you.” I cringe at my own stupidity. “I thought you were just exhausted from school. It was getting close to finals, and it didn’t even occur to me that there was something else going on. And he was kind of short with you whenever I saw you guys together, but… I don’t know, I guess I didn’t see it, or I didn’t want to see it.” I lick my dry lips. “But that night…”