by Lissa Kasey
“I have no reason to be mad at you.”
“Everyone gets mad at me for some reason or another. Either because I don’t listen to what they say, or don’t believe what they say, or a little of both. But I’m just being me.”
I thought about that statement for a minute and could identify with it myself. It mirrored Lukas’s comment about me being flighty. Maybe Micah was a little flighty too. And that was okay since he seemed to work through it fine and get things done. “Being you is not a bad thing.”
He sighed. “It is sometimes. I went outside last night. Sat in the garden.”
“Like late? Or early I mean? When the noise usually comes?” That shocked me a little as he’d been so terrified of it.
“Yes. I needed to… I don’t know, face it or something. I’ve been running scared for so long, hiding from what I feel and hear because no one ever believes me. Even Sky who hears it brushes it off as something that can be explained or simply noise. And then the video of the cat—but it can’t have been the cat the whole time. I’ve only been here a year, and the other places I lived were all over town.”
“I did think of that,” I told him. “I wanted to give you some sense of peace that maybe it wasn’t something terrifying in your garden waiting to snatch you up the moment you let your guard down.” I thought about him sitting out alone in the dark last night and it made me worry, though there he sat, unhurt and seeming more confused than afraid. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” he admitted.
“Was there noise?”
Micah nodded. “I waited until I heard something before going outside. Even checked the cameras Tim installed, but there was nothing. I waited for it to happen again and when it did, I went outside and there was nothing…”
How frustrating and relieving all at once.
“I sat down beneath the tree and waited, terrified, but not willing to keep running away. For the first few minutes I thought my heart would explode with fear. But there was nothing. It makes me think it might really be something wrong in my head.”
“I’ve heard it too,” I reminded him.
He looked at me, his expression very serious. “But each time you’ve been willing to check it out, run toward it instead of away.”
“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t afraid. It may mean I’m stupid. I mean who runs toward danger?” I tried to joke.
He wasn’t that easily distracted. “When you saw something scary in the desert you didn’t run away.”
“No, but running away would have gotten me killed,” I said, telling him what I believed true from that day. “Only staying put saved my life and the lives of the men I held on to.”
“But you were afraid?”
“Terrified,” I agreed. “And without choices. We were in the middle of nowhere.”
“An entire army of soldiers and helpless,” Micah said.
“Not exactly an entire army. A unit.”
“But all trained with guns and self-defense.”
“Of course. Our troop was pretty well seasoned. I think the newest guy in was on his second tour.”
“But they all died and you didn’t.”
“There was a storm. A sandstorm, I guess. And I saw something in the swirling wind.” I thought about that terrifying vision that I’d blocked from so many of my memories only for them to replay in nightmares. It was a faceless man, or creature, like something out of a horror movie. Not real, everyone told me. I’d been the only one who had seen it, so it had to be all in my head. “The weather reports from that day claim there was no storm, yet everyone died, ripped to shreds. The army says I misremembered a missile attack, but I know what a missile attack looks like. This was something I had never seen before.” I watched him as he went back to sewing strips and worrying at his bottom lip in thought. “This is not a competition of who is braver, Micah. I would never have willingly gone out into that storm. I reacted on instinct and really most people would think I was a coward for staying in the tent when everyone else ran out to die.”
“Because being dead is better than being a coward?” He squinted at me. “You saved two men.”
“By laying in the doorway of the tent and sobbing like a baby.” Holy crap did that hurt to admit. How long had I swallowed that bitter pill of reality, hiding it from everyone because it made me feel worthless, weak, like, “A coward.”
Micah crawled to me, leaning over me to kiss me lightly on the lips. “Surviving doesn’t make you a coward. Doing what you have to do to survive doesn’t make you a coward. You saved two men. It’s not like you threw them to the wind to save yourself. You held on to them, kept them safe.”
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes and I swallowed hard. “Fuck, I thought I was over this.”
“Survivor’s guilt?” He asked.
I nodded.
“Not sure it’s something anyone gets over.” He glanced down and sighed deeply. “You know when I got back, from wherever, I had family members of others who were still missing show up to ask me questions. Like I could somehow point them in the direction of the person they lost. Some had found their loved ones dead and I felt like they were mad at me for surviving, for being found. And everyone expected me to have answers. Only I had more questions than answers. I’d lost time, and I quickly found out, everything else. Lots of people still think I’m crazy. Some have said that I’m not really me, but some replacement person, like a changeling or something.” He bit his lip, then pressed his face into my chest for a moment, like he could somehow bury his memories in my arms. “I feel like me,” he said when he looked up. “How do I know if I really am me?”
I blinked at him. “You are you,” I said. “Maybe not exactly the same you that you were before you went missing, but I’m not the same guy I was before that desert attack either. Life changes us. Sometimes it’s for the good, sometimes it’s for the bad, most of the time we’re different. Not good or bad. Just are. And that’s okay because we’re still here.”
He sat up and frowned, his expressions so much less guarded than they’d been a few days ago when I’d first met him. “When you told me you cried as a soldier, I thought maybe it would be okay. That if I was afraid, it was okay.”
“It is okay to be afraid sometimes. You shouldn’t have to live your entire life in fear.”
“That’s why I went outside. I thought that maybe I was being afraid of nothing and I’d let my entire life change because I was living in fear. So I went outside, sat in the garden, and nothing happened.”
“I have to say I’m happy that nothing happened.” My gut ached at the idea of him going missing again, taken by some boo-wiggly or something. “Maybe all the changes in the garden helped.”
“Except I heard the noise before I went out.”
“So maybe it’s not really dangerous?”
“That was my thought as well. But it makes me sad.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I’ve lived the past two years like I was imprisoned. A prison of fear, pretending to be normal, but waiting for the next monster to grab me.”
“Okay, but you can’t change the past. You can only change how you react in the future. What will you do if something makes noise in your garden again?”
He shrugged. “If I keep facing it, will it go away? I worry it will intensify.”
“How about we keep going day by day and see what wonderful things we can make of them, instead of worrying about a lot of ‘what ifs,’ yeah?” I waved at the mess of fabric strips he still had laid out. This also was organized chaos, much like everything seemed in his life. “What are you making now?”
“A quilt top. I’ll have to send it to the longarmer. I don’t have a machine that can do that, though I’ve taken classes on it. I want you to have one big enough you can wrap yourself in.” He sighed. “I can’t justify spending over five grand on a sewing machine.”
“Maybe if you do your photo things again you can save up for one,” I said. “Maybe even sell some of y
our cosplay designs?”
He looked at me, and it was a thoughtful stare. “I never thought to sell the designs. I do have a lot of original stuff.”
“Well, there you go,” I said and waved my hands at him like I’d pulled some magic trick out of a hat.
“Hmm,” was all he gave me and returned to his sewing. Watching the strips fly through his machine was very relaxing. Even the whirring sound and his little snips with the scissors and rotary blade, soothed the anxiety I hadn’t realized being separated from him had caused. Though I’d spent the previous night worried about him being by himself, and then this morning his silence had worried me. I had to admit that having a full stomach, being curled up in the cushy chair-cushion, wrapped around my pillow, watching Micah, I was so relaxed, happy he was there, and feeling safe, that I began to doze.
I must have actually fallen asleep because when I woke up it was to have Micah curled around me and Jet on my pillow. At least this time I felt better rested. I stretched a little, which woke Micah.
“Sorry,” I said.
He didn’t try to get up, only slid his arm around my waist and kissed my jaw. “A nap was good,” he said. “Sunday naps are always good.”
“Yeah?” I kissed the tip of his nose. “Did you get lots of stuff done?” His little sewing setup was put away and I couldn’t see any other projects sitting out.
“Enough to clear my head.”
“That’s fantastic,” I said staring down into his pale blue eyes. The mask was gone, his expression sleepy, but rested. “You’re so beautiful.”
His cheeks pinked again.
I put my hand to his face and ran my fingers over his soft skin. It was odd how I thought we’d been mismatched, him far out of my league. Only there were a lot of little things that fit. Was that why Lukas had wanted us together? He’d seen the ways we would mesh?
“Why the frowny face?” Micah asked.
“Wondering if Lukas saw some of our weirdness and thought we fit that way, or it was luck. Well, I mean if you are interested, ‘cause I’m interested.” And again, I was tongue-tied.
“Remember what I said about the training thing?” Micah asked.
“Um, sort of?”
“When you can’t stop thinking of a person, that’s a training situation.”
“Well I can’t stop thinking of you,” I admitted. Worrying about him was a huge part of it, but his presence helped me relax, and I was fascinated by the little things he did, whether it was his endless knowledge of history, his skill with crafting and a sewing machine, or the fun way he engaged with kids.
“Me too,” Micah said. He kissed me, lips to mine, soft at first, an exchange of breath, and finally tongue. I sank into his mouth, enjoying the feel of him, the warmth, and the flavor of his interest.
We dueled a while, him sprawled beneath me on the little cushion and my pillow. Jet, obviously annoyed by us moving, wandered back to his little bed and promptly fell asleep. I rubbed Micah’s stomach, keeping my hand above the waist, but running my fingers under his shirt to memorize his skin.
“You can touch me,” Micah said. He guided my hand lower, to the button of his shorts. “I want you to touch me.”
“Yeah?” I said, kissing his nose and then his lips again. Breathing in the scent of him, and the thought of us together for real this time, made my heart flutter. Fuck I wanted him so much. Physically, yeah, but not only that. I needed to know everything about him, to take care of him even if he grumbled, and sit with him while he created. Sex would be icing on the cake. I couldn’t help but lick my lips at the thought of tasting secret parts of him. “You with me this time?”
“Mhmm,” he agreed, returning my kisses. His hand found my thigh beneath the kilt, running soft fingertips along the inside in an almost ghost-like caress, and I couldn’t help but let out a long sigh. “Sensitive,” he said.
“You have no idea. I could blow any second,” I admitted, hard as a rock and feeling like I didn’t need much stimulation for him to rock my world.
He gave me a wicked little grin. “You could blow me.”
The idea of my mouth wrapped around his cock, sucking him down… “Fuck, I really am going to come before we do anything.”
He laughed and the sound was glorious. “I like that I turn you on.”
“I would think you’d be used to turning guys on.”
“It’s not the same. Most guys are turned on by the thought of someone touching their dicks.”
“I’m turned on by everything you,” I said, laying it all out there.
He nodded. “Exactly.”
The material of his shorts rubbed against my thigh, and even that was sensual. “I think we need to get you a kilt too,” I said. “Easier access.” I flipped open the button of his shorts, pushing them down a little to tease the skin of his lower stomach, then traced his hipbones, skipping over his bikinis and cock to caress his thighs as he was doing mine. He trembled beneath my touch, letting out a long breath and watching me intently. “You’re sensitive too.”
“In a lot of places,” he promised.
“I look forward to exploring them all,” I said.
“Not cheesy at all,” he teased.
“Not purposely, but you knew what you were getting up front with me. And it’s not a line. I really do want to explore every inch of you.” Inside and out I thought. Not only the sweet lines of his body and trails along his flesh, but his mind and the million avenues of knowledge and creativity.
“Then let’s get started, yeah?” His lips captured mine. His hand found my cock, which nearly jumped into his fingers with the need to be touched.
“Fuck,” I groaned into his mouth. “I’m not going to last long if you keep that up.”
“We have all day,” Micah said. “Plenty of time for recovery and multiple adventures.”
“I am worried I am going to disappoint you,” I confessed. Micah was a former porn star. He knew a lot about sex, right? I didn’t. “My experience is quick back-alley or bathroom stuff. I know sex isn’t like porn. But that’s where most of my knowledge of it comes from.”
“Real sex is messier. Sometimes funny, bumped noses, premature ejaculation, or laughing yourself silly. That’s all okay as long as you’re having a good time and it helps to like the person you’re with.”
“You like me?” I asked.
“I do.” Micah guided my hand back into his shorts and helped me cup his balls through the fabric of his bikinis. The weight of him in my grasp made me feel like I was holding something precious. Not because it was his sex, but because it was his trust.
“You know how you like to be touched, right?” he asked. “What sort of things make you feel good?”
“Sure, I guess?”
“Start there,” Micah instructed. He pushed the shorts and underwear down so they framed his cock, and I marveled at the beauty of him. Micah wrapped my fist around him, his hand over the top and began slow strokes. His sigh was deep, cock weeping in my grip, and I couldn’t help but smile at what I could do to him.
Our lips met, his hand gripping my hair to feed our mouths together. I devoured his passion, enjoying his dominance a little more than I thought I would. A groan escaped me when he twisted my head a little to give him a better angle. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” Micah agreed.
He shoved the kilt out of the way and tilted our hips so the two of us could slide together. The heat of his cock against mine, both of us leaking precome, with his hands wrapped around us, tight and pumping. I groaned and had to fight to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head from the weight of the pleasure.
My hips moved on their own, thrusting in time to his strokes, chasing the heat and friction of his hand and cock against mine. I couldn’t really think beyond the sensation. We battled with kisses and writhing bodies, both of us making sounds that porn could never truly reproduce. His hold on my hair just this side of painful, but so fucking good, I couldn’t help but fight it a bit, adding to the intensit
y.
He bit my lip, not a playful nip, but a quick sting of pain that blossomed into pleasure I hadn’t expected at all.
“Sweet Jesus,” I grumbled, the world spinning as I came, spurting over his fist and coating both of us.
He raced to catch up, fist pumping, hand still closed around mine, though I felt like I was useless at that moment to help. Then he was coming too, his soft cries a melody to my satiated body.
We both breathed heavily, trading kisses while our heart rates came down. My lip ached a little, though Micah lapped at it, sucked it, and gave it small kisses. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t break the skin.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” I assured him. My brain began coming back online. Who knew I had that little kink? How could something so small feel so huge? He reached over and picked up some sort of spare towel or something and wiped off his hands and our spend.
Micah kissed the tip of my nose like I’d often done to him. “Okay?”
“Yes?”
“Is that a question?”
“Been a long time since I came. I think I had an out-of-body experience. You have a book about that somewhere?”
He snorted, which made me laugh and wrap him in a tight hug, to cover him with endless kisses. We curled up on the cushion together, laughing, kissing, and enjoying the moment. “There are actually a few in the shop. Though I think it would be better if we practice and experiment ourselves.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I’d love to show you my toy collection.”
“Let’s nap, then I’m game.”
Chapter 22
I was making another batch of cookies when someone pounded on the door. Micah frowned at the crochet project in his hands, but got up. We’d had an easy afternoon of sweet sex, cosplay idea discussions, and now food. I’d already fed him paninis for dinner—not even I could mess up a sandwich—but he’d requested more peanut butter cookies.
Micah opened the door. I expected Lukas or Sky, maybe even Tim, but it was Jared who pushed past Micah and into the apartment.
