Where Nerves End

by L. A. Witt

  Michael moistened his lips. “That’s why I’m moving out. It’s driving me crazy too.”

  “I know. And I keep telling myself that.” I laughed bitterly and shook my head. “It’s probably just as well we’re moving on now instead of….” God, just thinking about it hurt.

  “Instead of what, Jason?”

  I lowered my gaze. “Look, you know as well as anyone what I’m dealing with.” I gestured at my shoulder.

  “And?” He shifted. “What does that have to do with, uh, wanting each other?”

  I met his eyes. “Shut off the doctor side for a minute. Think about it.”

  He blinked and shook his head. “I’m not following.”

  “How long would you really want to put up with this?” I rolled my shoulder, pretending it wasn’t already getting stiff again. “Because it doesn’t just run my life. Whoever I’m with, they have to deal with it too.” I shrugged with the other shoulder. “That’s why my ex left.”

  Michael’s eyebrows rose. “And you think that’s why I’m leaving? Because I don’t want to deal with your chronic pain?”

  “No. No. I… I guess I’m afraid to push for anything because I can’t make myself believe it won’t fall apart later because of….” I tapped my shoulder.

  “Jesus.” Michael shook his head. “That’s…. I really hope you think better of me than that.”

  “It’s not a question of thinking better or worse of anyone. This is hell for me to live with. I don’t expect it to be easy for anyone else to live with it, you know?”

  “Your ex was an idiot,” he growled. “He obviously had no idea what he had.” Michael swallowed. “I can’t for the life of me figure out why he’d ever leave, just like no matter how hard I’ve tried, I can’t stop wishing we could make this work.”

  My heart skipped. I locked eyes with him. “You… you can’t?”

  “No.” He inhaled deeply and took my hand. “I don’t even know how much sleep I’ve lost over this. I want you. Fucked-up shoulder and all.”

  “Then why….” I curled my fingers around his. “Why do we keep fighting it like this?”

  He shook his head but didn’t speak.

  “I know you want to protect your son,” I said softly. “And I don’t want to confuse or upset him either. But, Michael, Jesus Christ….” I swallowed hard. “You’re here too. And, I don’t know, maybe you don’t want this as much as I do, but if you do, then why are we holding back?”

  “You know why we are.”

  “I know why you say we are.” I took a breath, hoping I wasn’t treading on thin ice. “But I have to wonder, are you really protecting your son, or are you protecting yourself?” I gestured at the floor above us. “Because the only way he’d ever know is if we took it beyond sleeping together. So the only reason I can think of to avoid this if you want it as badly as I do….”

  Michael dropped his gaze. A full minute passed before he finally said, “You’re right. It’s not only Dylan. Or the fact that you are—were—my patient.” He rested his elbows on his knees and combed both hands through his hair. “It’s me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “With you, that was the first time I’d ever let my guard down completely and let myself be what I’ve pretended not to be for so many years.” He slid his hands from his hair to the back of his neck. “And with us living together, it meant going from zero to sixty on a relationship, you know? One minute I’m barely admitting I’m gay.” He lowered his hands and looked at me. “The next I’m living with a man whose presence makes it almost impossible for me to breathe.”

  Speaking of impossible to breathe….

  I forced some air into my lungs and was about to speak, but Michael beat me to it.

  “You’re not the only one who does things to complicate the shit out of his own life,” he said softly. “And if we were to…. If things went wrong….”

  Cautiously, praying to everyone I could think of that he wouldn’t recoil, I reached for his hand. When he didn’t, I laced our fingers together. “Do you want to?”

  His eyes met mine. “Of course I do.”

  “Then…?”

  He held my gaze.

  Then he released a breath and looked down at our hands. “There are so many reasons we shouldn’t do this.” His thumb ran back and forth along mine. “But right now, I have to admit they’re all kind of paling in comparison to the reason we should.”

  I trailed the backs of my fingers along his stubbled jaw. “And that is?”

  He slid his hand into my hair, and a split second before our lips met, he whispered, “Because I fucking want to.”

  And he kissed me.

  Muscles I didn’t even know were tense relaxed as Michael’s lips met mine. My heart didn’t speed up. It slowed down, decelerating from rapid and worried to relieved and calm.

  “I am so sick of being responsible,” he murmured. “Just once, I want to pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist, and do what I want to do.”

  “Then why don’t we ignore the rest of the world,” I whispered, “and take this upstairs?”

  “Thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter 19

  AT THE top of the stairs, Michael hesitated. His eyes flicked toward the closed door behind which his son slept. When he looked at me again, he whispered, “We have to be quiet.”

  I nodded. “We will be.” I drew him in and kissed him lightly. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

  I took his hand and led him to my bedroom, since that put us at the opposite end of the hall from Dylan’s room.

  Once the door was closed behind us, we were in each other’s arms again, and I swore the room vibrated with the desperation that came from being this close to something I’d needed longer than any sane man could live without it. More than once, I had to tell myself this was really happening. Seeing, tasting, feeling weren’t believing when I was this sure I was dreaming. That I’d wake up at any moment.

  But I didn’t wake up, and Michael didn’t snap out of it, and with every passing minute, every moment of holding on to him and losing myself in his kiss, this became real. It became real, and my need for him intensified, and we went from grasping clothes to trying to get past clothes.

  The need for silence slowed us down, though. We opened every button as if one wrong move might set off lights and sirens. Zippers were drawn down slowly and stealthily. I didn’t dare break the kiss, not even to pull in a deeper breath, for fear of making some damning sound.

  And when every stitch of distance had been removed, we sank slowly, near-silently onto my bed. My shoulder still ached, the muscles were still uncomfortably tight, but that didn’t stop me from running my hands all over him.

  He pushed himself up and met my eyes. He slowly ran his tongue across his lower lip, and I wondered if he still had doubts.

  No doubts, Michael, I couldn’t quite convince my lips to say, so I curved my hand around the back of his neck and drew him into a kiss.

  His lips left mine, and he kissed his way from my neck to my chest. As he worked his way farther down, I squirmed and bit my lip, fighting to stay quiet when anticipation threatened to turn me inside out.

  “Oh God, Michael,” I whispered as his lips inched past my navel. I searched blindly for his hair, and when I found it, I grasped it gently, kneading his scalp because I needed to touch him, needed to hold on to him somehow.

  He supported himself on one arm and held the base of my cock in his free hand, and his mouth—oh fuck, his mouth. His tongue drew the most incredible, mind-blowing circles around the head of my cock, teasing me until I was so aroused, my nerve endings were on the verge of igniting. I dug my teeth into my bent index finger, screwing my eyes shut as I forced myself not to make a sound. I held as still as I could, not daring to move, twitch, even breathe, but Michael left me almost no choice as he sucked my cock.

  Maybe he was oblivious to how close I was to crying out, maybe he was beyond caring, because he didn’t stop. He str
oked me with his hand. Teased with his lips and tongue. Moaned so quietly that I was only aware of it because of the spine-tingling vibration against my flesh. Jesus Christ, there was no way this could end without me losing it, and the more he worked my cock as if inexperienced wasn’t even in his vocabulary, the faster he sent me careening toward that inevitable release.

  I bit down harder on my finger, shutting my eyes even tighter. Oh fuck, he was amazing, and I was so close, so damned close, had to be quiet, so close, don’t make a sound, don’t make a sound, oh God, Michael….

  The darkness behind my eyelids turned white, and the dam broke. As my orgasm took over, I dropped my palm to the bed, grabbing a handful of sheets, and didn’t even have to worry about making a sound because all that pent-up ecstasy escaped my lips in a single near-silent rush of air.

  As my vision cleared and my spine sank back to the bed, Michael moved over the top of me. He kissed me, his mouth salty with my semen, and I gripped his hair and the back of his neck as I kissed him harder. I wanted more. Needed more. It didn’t matter that I was still coming down from an orgasm, I was so turned on I couldn’t breathe.

  Fuck me, please, fuck me, my mind screamed as I ran shaking hands through Michael’s hair. Now, please….

  I finally managed to speak, but “Condom” was all I could say. Michael got the message, though. As soon as I said the word, he shuddered, groaning as he pressed his hard cock against my hip.

  We sat up but barely stopped making out, breaking away only when we absolutely had to. Somehow—I’ll never know how—we got our hands on the condom and lube and managed to put them into place. I smoothed lube onto the condom, squeezing and releasing his cock just enough to make his breath catch, until he grabbed my wrist and stopped my hand midstroke.

  “I can’t wait,” he whispered.

  “Neither can I.” I kissed him. “Do you want me to—”

  “This is perfect.” He leaned into me, kissing me again, and used his weight to nudge me down onto my back.

  My shoulder blades had just touched the sheets when he broke the kiss and sat up. He ran his fingertips down the inside of my thigh, and I spread my legs. His brow furrowed, Michael guided his cock to me. The coolness of the condom made my pulse jump, as did the heat of his body, and I swore softly as he pressed in.

  Jesus Christ, there was nothing more intense than taking Michael’s cock so soon after an orgasm. All my nerves were on high alert, hyperaware of everything from his lips brushing mine to his thick cock sliding deeper inside me.

  Our eyes met. Immediately my lips tingled with the absence of his, and I reached for him in the same moment he came down to kiss me. I wrapped my arms around him, parting my lips for his tongue and trying like hell to stay conscious as his hips eased into motion.

  Groaning softly, Michael slid his arms under me and hooked his hands over my shoulders. His hips rocked slowly, fluidly, pushing his cock into me and withdrawing without so much as a squeak from the bed beneath us. Our mouths moved together, our bodies moved together, and the silence demanded slowness, and the slowness made every motion, every touch, go on forever before the next moment of contact ignited the next nerve ending.

  His fingers tightened on my shoulders as his head fell beside mine. A hot breath rushed past my neck. Every muscle in his body—hell, every muscle in mine—quivered from what had to be both exertion and the restraint it took to keep going so, so slowly. The moans he released, warming my shoulder and the side of my neck, were made of equal parts frustration and ecstasy, as if he were a “fuck it” away from thrusting into me hard enough to make it hurt. At the same time, he sounded as delirious as I was from this slow-motion sensory overload.

  A shudder drove him deeper. Another arched his spine. Then he lifted himself up on his arms. He threw his head back, his eyebrows pulling together and his mouth opening in a soundless, breathless cry as he pushed his cock deep inside me and came.

  His elbows buckled, and the bed creaked softly as he slumped over me. Wrapping my arms around him, I closed my eyes and caught my breath as he caught his.

  After a while Michael went into the bathroom to get rid of the condom. We cleaned ourselves up, then carefully eased back into bed as if any creak of the mattress or bed frame would announce to the whole neighborhood that, for the second time, we weren’t just roommates anymore.

  Lying there together, a sheet draped over us and hands gently drifting over skin that was still hot, we gazed at each other, the air between us electrified with a million things waiting to be said.

  So we’d crossed this line. Again.

  So here we were. Again.

  Now what?

  I licked my lips. “Still think this is a good idea?”

  Michael smiled, trailing his fingers down the side of my face. “I’m starting to wonder how I ever thought it wasn’t.”

  I laughed quietly as relief brought my heart rate back down a notch. “I’ve been wondering myself.” Turning more serious, I said, “I want you to stay, Michael.”

  His smile faded. “What if this doesn’t work?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. But I can’t convince myself it isn’t worth a try.”

  His eyes lost focus for a moment, and then he shook his head. “Neither can I.”

  I gently clasped our fingers together. “All I ask is, just be patient when….” I gestured at my shoulder.

  “I will, under one condition.”

  I swallowed. “Okay…?”

  He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “Promise me you’ll ask for help when it hurts.”

  I squeezed his hand. “I will. I promise.”

  Michael smiled. He lifted his head and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. As he settled back on the pillow, he said, “Another thing. If we are going to do this….” He closed his eyes. “Then I need to have a talk with my ex-wife about it.”

  I grimaced. “How do you think she’ll take it?”

  “I don’t know how happy she’ll be. If you thought my upbringing was uptight and conservative….” He whistled and then turned to me. “Her parents, mine, Seth’s—even if our parents weren’t quite as psycho as his, they were all cut from the same fucked-up cloth.”

  “Do you think she’ll try to stop you from telling Dylan?”

  He chewed his lip for a moment, then met my eyes. “It’s possible. Legally, she can’t stop me from doing anything without taking me to court.”

  “Think she would?”

  “I don’t know if she would or not. We’re on speaking terms, the divorce was amicable, but this….” He sighed. “This could be a bit much for her to take. Hopefully she won’t try to keep Dylan from me over it. I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t go that far, but you never know.”

  “Guess we’ll hope for the best,” I whispered.

  Michael nodded. “And if you’re okay with it, I’d like you to be there with me to talk to her. And then, assuming that goes well… Dylan.”

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea for him to know we’re… what we are? I mean, my mom introduced my siblings and me to my stepfather but didn’t tell us they actually had a thing going until she was sure he’d be around for a while.”

  He watched our fingers lace together between us. “And I agree with that.” He swallowed hard, then sat up a little and leaned in to kiss me. “That’s why I want him to know.”

  My breath caught. “You do?”

  Michael nodded. “It might be too early in the game to even be thinking this way, but… my gut feeling….” He paused, collecting himself before he continued. “It wouldn’t have been this hard to avoid if it was just sex.”

  My heart beat faster. “No, I don’t think it would have.”

  “And I don’t know what it is,” he said, “but whatever it is, if we’re going to do it, then I owe it to my son to be honest. I don’t want him growing up thinking gay relationships are strange, and hiding from him is like admitting there’s something wrong with us.” His fingers went
from my face into my hair. “Especially since I think there’s a whole lot right with us.”

  “And if things don’t work out?”

  “Then I’ll explain that the same way I’m going to explain this.” He broke eye contact for a second but then met my gaze again. “Jesus, Jason, I don’t know why I thought I could pretend we were roommates and nothing more.” He trailed the back of his hand down the side of my face. “Not with the way I feel about you.”

  I gulped. “And that is…?”

  “I’m not even sure, to be honest,” he said. “But I do know I want to be with you, and I want my son to know I’m with you.”

  And finally—finally—my heart could beat properly again.

  “That’s good enough for me.” I put my hand over his and turned my head to kiss his palm. “We already live together. Why rush everything else?”

  He smiled, and for the first time tonight, there was nothing tentative or reserved in his expression. Combing his fingers through my hair, he said, “I think I can work with that.”

  “Good.” I pressed my lips to his. “So can I.”

  As I drew back, though, a knot formed in the pit of my stomach.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  “I, um….” I took a deep breath. “There’s something you need to know before we go any further.”

  “Oh?” He gazed at me intently, waiting for me to elaborate.

  “This whole thing has been stressing me out,” I said. “So the other night, I was confused. Frustrated. And I don’t know, I guess I needed an outlet and maybe some advice.”

  Michael’s brow furrowed, and my stomach knotted tighter.

  Wringing my hands in my lap, I went on, “Michael, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about it, and I didn’t realize what I’d said until after I did, but I….” I made myself look him in the eye. “Seth knows.”

  His lips parted. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Seth knows. About us.” I swallowed. “About… you.”

  He cringed. Closing his eyes, he sank back to the pillow. “Oh fuck….”