One Night

by RJ Scott

  "I don't want to fuck you," Micah protested quickly, placing the flat of his hands on Liam's chest to put distance between them. Liam reached between them and closed one hand around Micah's dick.

  "This tells me you do."

  "It's not about fucking—"

  "Stop with the shit, Micah." In a fluid movement, Liam pulled his shirt over his head and then pushed his pants and boxers down, hooking his socks until he stood naked. "Just get on with it and fuck me."

  Micah was torn between doing that exact thing and running for his life. Liam naked, erect, muscles delineating each edible part of his body, was something Micah only saw in his dreams—a broad chest, with very sparse hair, tapering to a narrow waist and hip bones begging to be sucked. The curls at the base of his dick were dark, and the dick itself, engorged with blood, glistening at the tip, was a thing of complete beauty. His mouth nearly watered with the thought of sucking down on that. He palmed his own erection, his brain not functioning at one hundred percent. Liam moved, but not towards Micah. He moved away from Micah, pulling a bottle and condoms out of the drawer, dropping them on the bed, and then leaning over the carved wood end of the four poster, his ass pushed out invitingly.

  "Fuck me," he ordered. Micah didn't know left from right. Everything he desired in a man was here waiting for him, and all he could do was stare. "Micah, just fuck me." Liam's voice was strident and then plaintive, a contradiction in Micah's head, then it was impossible to think any more. How could it hurt to sink himself into Liam's body? Maybe he should push his ideals and his values to one side and for once go with the hot and heavy sex. Just sex. No affection. He took the few steps that bought him within touching distance of the naked man, and on automatic pilot, he stripped his clothes and dropped them in an untidy heap on the floor. The wine buzzed in his head, and the heat in the room felt like a blanket around him, so still it suffocated, and then he touched. Gripping tight onto Liam's hips, he slid his dick up the cleft of Liam's ass and groaned.

  He couldn't help himself. It was both erotic and empowering to have this man opened and ready, begging for prep, begging for him to fuck him. They could go slow next time. All he needed to do was slick Liam, open him, stretch him wide with fingers, find the gland and touch it. He moaned low in his throat, grabbing at the lube and coating his fingers, touching Liam gently, groaning when Liam pushed back against his fingers and the first two forced past the ring of muscle.

  "Get a fucking move on," Liam ground out. "Push them in."

  Micah tried to go slow, but the idea of sex was overpowering his brain until finally, sheathed and lubed, he was buried balls deep into Liam. He tried to set a rhythm, but Liam was out-topping him with desperate lunges and reverses onto his dick, cursing and demanding beneath him, his arms spread, hands grasping at the wooden supports like some kind of sacrifice. His words were like something from a porno—fill me, fuck me, harder— and Micah's base brain reacted with a near savagery he had not experienced before and then suddenly…with a strength of will he didn't know he had, he retrieved his control.

  Using what muscle strength he had in his arms, he stilled Liam's movements. Liam attempted to continue moving, his language upping the stakes, but Micah was back in control of his head and of Liam. He withdrew completely, urging Liam up on the bed, no words left his lips, but he knew what he wanted. He knelt behind Liam, who presented himself on all fours, his head low, his shoulders tight, and finally Micah knew how this would go.

  "Lay down on your side," he ordered.

  "What the hell?" Liam responded with a frantic push of his dick against the quilt. "Just finish fucking me already."

  "Lay the hell down," Micah emphasized firmly, and for a second, it seemed Liam would argue some more. When Liam actually acquiesced, disapproval in every inch of him, Micah curled around him from behind. He slipped back in, seated again balls to ass, one hand curled under Liam's head, the other reaching around to close around Liam's heavy dick. Then he began. He began to talk, but his words weren't flowery. There were no declarations of love or of beauty. They were clinical explanations of profanity, desire and need, and finally Liam stopped telling him what to do.

  He set up a counter rhythm with his hand. Liam had gone from talking and demanding to groaning and writhing on Micah's dick, and it was a powerful feeling to reduce a man who didn't want gentle and insistent to one begging for more. Micah heard Liam's breath hitch and felt his body stiffen as his lover orgasmed. The tightening of muscles around his dick pushed him over the edge, and finally, he allowed himself to orgasm, filling the condom and moaning his pleasure against Liam's back.

  Carefully, he pulled himself out and rolled onto his back, lethargy washing over him, wincing as Liam turned to face him, rigid temper in every line. Clearly, orgasm hadn't taken the edge off.

  "What the fuck was that?" Liam demanded, scrambling off the bed and picking up his discarded pants, come wet on his stomach.

  "Me fucking you. I didn't hear you complaining. In fact I heard you begging for more."

  "I don't know what the hell that was, but it sure as hell wasn't a fuck." He visibly shook with emotion, grabbing his shirt, his eyes sparking with fire.

  "Felt like screwing you from where I was," Micah snapped back, lying through his teeth. "Meaningless, quick, and you're out of the bed." He indicated. Liam forcing his arms through shirt sleeves, temper making his movements uncoordinated and jerky.

  "You don't get to do that to me," Liam ground out, and Micah had reached his limit on patience.

  "What the hell did I actually do here, Liam? I like you. We had a good day. I don't do impersonal fucks; I wanted to make love—"

  "That's not how it should be." Frustration gave his words an edge. "I don't need that shit you pulled. Get the fuck out of my room." Scrambling backwards, he moved into the bathroom, and with a final look of disgust, he shut the door.

  Micah let him stew in his own temper for exactly five minutes, and then pulling on his boxers, he crossed to the closed door and leaned against the doorframe. He wasn't going to push his way in. He didn't fully understand what the hell was going on, but Liam was entitled to privacy if that is what he needed.

  "Liam?"

  "Go away."

  Jeez, was Liam all right in there? He sounded like shit. "Are you okay?"

  "Fuck off, Micah.

  "Liam—"

  "Go back to your own room and leave me the fuck alone."

  * * * *

  Liam waited until he heard the outside door shut before releasing a heavy sigh, but even then, he couldn't be bothered to force himself to stand. He was happy here, leaning back against the bath. It's funny, he thought, doesn't matter how expensive the room. Sitting on the bathroom floor always feels the same; cold and uncomfortable.

  What the hell had he been thinking letting this happen? All he wanted this week was to work his way through everything in his head, find some anonymous guy in a club, get himself fucked up against a wall, and get it out of his system. Then maybe, just maybe, he could go home and marry Leigh and get on with the rest of his life, for him and for his daughter. His family expected him to do the right thing. His daughter needed a mom, and Leigh was a good choice. He repeated it over and over again, but every so often in the litany, the feel of Micah around him, over him, in him, broke through. He groaned and wrapped his hands around his knees, resting his forehead on them. His shirt was still damp from where he had come on himself, and his ass ached. There were too many reminders in his room of what had happened.

  Micah had given him more than he needed, more than he wanted, particularly tenderness, getting Liam off with his large firm hand wrapped around his dick. Strong, capable, not punishing. Frustration tightened in his throat, and he forced back the tears that threatened to fall. He hadn't cried since Jan had died, and then only in the privacy of his own rooms and he wasn't about to start now.

  Perhaps in the morning he should find Micah, explain to him what was in his head, that what he needed from this week w
as the polar opposite of what Micah appeared to want to give him. Just lay it out there in black and white, in detail. He dismissed the thought. They only had a few more nights in the hotel after tonight. There was no sense in muddying the waters because they wouldn't see each other again after then. He had to stay out of Micah's way and not look into hazel eyes that questioned his every move.

  Sighing, he finally pushed himself to his feet and crossed to the sink, grimacing at the damp material against his skin and pulling the soiled shirt away. In seconds, he was naked again, the pants and shirt a pathetic huddle of wasted dollars in the corner of the room. The shower, a complicated cubicle with buttons and dials, called. It could be a steam room, a sauna, anything he wanted it to be but not somewhere he could forget Micah. The water was hot, the steam intense, and finally he could say to himself he had washed himself clean of all the evidence. The scent of tea tree oil hung in the mist of water, and he leaned back against the cool tile wall, lifting his face to the soft spray. He followed the trail of water with his hands, pursuing the rivulets that traced his muscles, twisted his hands in the curls, and touched his dick, hard and unyielding in his grasp.

  Micah had been so strong. Jeez, he had lifted Liam and made him feel. His muscles were taut and strong and so damned hard. The strength sent fire to his dick. Micah made him want more. His own hands explored where Micah had touched, and as he reached orgasm again, it was Micah's name on his lips, nothing more than a sob of sound. He was ridiculous, bedraggled, verging on pathetic. He should grow some balls and actually go find Micah and try to explain. Maybe he should book some therapy? Maybe anyone who was contemplating coming out went through this utter fear of isolation. Could it be possible that it didn't have to be just sex between two men, that there was a man out there for him that could give him what he craved? Love, affection, and a family? God, he didn't even really know Micah. They'd had three days, nothing more, of talking, laughing. How could he base a life decision on one man and one less than ordinary vacation?

  His mind made up to talk to Micah, to apologize to him, he resolved to get dressed and then grab the most expensive wine he could find from the cabinet. Maybe if he took a bribe, Micah would sit and talk and even listen to the crap in Liam's head. Turning off the water, he grabbed at the nearest towel, and with a desperate need for a talk and then sleep, he walked back out into his bedroom.

  Only his bedroom wasn't empty. Micah sat on the side of the bed, fully dressed, with a blank expression on his face. Clearly he hadn't actually left the suite at all. They could go through the whole what-the-hell-happened crap over and over but Micah was in his room in creased clothes looking concerned, and all Liam wanted was to fall asleep now. Preferably sleeping in Micah's arms and perhaps with another bout of frankly awesome sex. This could be his one night, his last fling, and he might as well enjoy it properly. Micah didn't look like he wanted an argument or some kind of heavy emotional scene. In fact, he looked incredibly calm, if a little sad.

  "Bed?" Liam asked. Micah nodded pulling off clothes until, in boxers, he climbed under the covers. He scooted over until Liam snuggled back into his hold.

  Being held felt nice. It wasn't something he was going to let himself get used to, but for one night, maybe two, he could handle that.

  "This is what I want, Micah."

  "What?"

  "To be here with you for tonight. Now. At this time." Liam guessed he'd made a declaration of sorts, a decision he had finally managed to vocalize.

  "I'm not going anywhere." Micah tightened his hold, and it felt safe and warm to be held.

  "I'm gay, you know," Liam said softly.

  "Liam…" Micah's voice tailed off, and he gently kissed the back of Liam's neck

  "I never really admitted it like you make me admit it. I'm gay, Micah, and I want more affection, more of you, and this, and God… I have to sort my life out."

  "Okay."

  "I'm not even sure it's possible for a relationship between two men to work."

  "You're talking too much."

  "I need to think this through. I thought… two men… it would never be anything but fucking… I need something more than that, something stable for…"

  "We can talk more in the morning yeah?"

  "In the morning," Liam repeated softly and yawned.

  "Sleep now, Liam, just sleep."

  Chapter 11

  "Breakfast?"

  Micah turned over in bed, and murmured something low, along the lines of "Guh, half hour more." Liam contemplated what to do. He could order breakfast to the room, but looking at his watch, it wasn't much past six, and by his reckoning, Micah and he had had about three hours of sleep, if that.

  "I'll meet you in the lobby. We'll go out have coffee on the beach," he replied softly. The caring side of him made him pull the covers up over his sleeping lover, and with a smile on his face, he let himself out of the room. He had a phone call to make to Leigh, and he needed to be standing on the beach, away from Micah, away from the hotel and staff. He wanted to talk to his fiancée, maybe get her to come here, away from everything that stifled him. Okay a phone call wasn't face to face, but he could at least start her thinking about what it would be like to be in a loveless marriage.

  He didn't know what was going on with Micah, but if anything their meeting up had shown him he wasn't ready to settle with Leigh. He had more questions than answers, and he had to get his head around it. Maybe he and Micah could spend a bit more time here, a few more days. He could even pay, after explaining to Micah he could afford it. Liam had only really been here a few days, and only one of those nights with Micah's arms wrapped around him. The ratio was too low. With a new enthusiasm in his step, he entered the lobby and crossed to the front entrance.

  "Liam!" Liam turned at the shout of his name, stunned to see Leigh, along with Emma, standing by the desk. He blinked in confusion. Wasn't it really early? What the hell? Why were his fiancée and his daughter at the hotel? He didn't have time to form the words as Emma ran full tilt into arms and jumped as he lifted, settling into him and giving him the biggest, most clinging hug in the history of hugs.

  "Dadda," she whispered into his neck, and Liam clung back in reaction. He leaned down for Leigh's kiss, but at the last minute, she turned her face so his lips contacted with her cheek.

  "We phoned your room, Liam," she commented carefully, apparently not expecting an answer as she continued, "Emma was missing you." Unspoken was the reason why she had felt it was a good thing to turn up at Liam's hotel at six in the morning with his daughter in tow. Clearly, there was a reason, and just as clearly, Leigh was not talking about it in front of Emma.

  "I missed Emma," Liam said softly, hugging his daughter close. With the feel of her in his arms and his fiancée a foot away, suddenly his conviction about his decisions wavered. Emma needed a mom, a good woman who made them the perfect unit. How the hell would Emma survive with two dads, whether it was Micah or another man? Who even did that? In his circle of people, it wouldn't work. It wasn't done. His parents would disown him, his friends—

  "Is there somewhere we can get coffee?" Leigh interrupted his self-destructive train of thought, tilting her head as she asked, and once again, Liam was stunned that this beautiful woman had agreed to be his wife, despite their lackluster relationship. Tall, slim, an icy beauty in palest pink, she was polished and perfect for his arm when he attended events. She had superb lineage in Seattle society and would make a match made in corporate heaven. If only her blue eyes were hazel. If only she were taller, broader, with messy dark hair…

  "M'hungry." Emma pouted and rested her cheek against his chest.

  "Do you want some breakfast, honey?" Liam asked his daughter softly.

  "Pancakes?" Emma asked, her face a sudden picture of enthusiasm.

  "Pancakes, sweetheart." He looked around; if they moved to the breakfast room, maybe he could sort out some quiet time for Leigh and him.

  The slowest twenty minutes of his life passed while waiting
for the privacy to talk. Emma didn't miss a beat, tucking into pancakes with the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas morning and then skipping off to the small table to one side where one of the waitresses had set up coloring paper and crayons.

  "What's wrong, Leigh?"

  "Emma wanted her daddy," Leigh offered, then shrugged. They both knew Liam was going home to Seattle the next day, that in a day or so, Emma would have been seeing him. She sighed dramatically. "No, that isn't fair to use her as an excuse. I had to tell you face to face. I can't do it, Liam." He could have asked her what, but inside he already knew.

  "The wedding," he confirmed, and she nodded. "What have I missed? I thought we were okay about this."

  "I thought I could settle for less, Liam, thought I could do what our families wanted. I even imagined I could be a mom to Emma, but if anything, this week has shown me that isn't possible."

  "Did something happen?" Why was he asking that? He should accept what she said. His heart wasn't exactly breaking at the news. If anything he was sideswiped. Did that make him hard hearted?

  "I want to be honest with you. Liam. Can I be honest with you?" He nodded and poured another cup of coffee, hoping to hell his head started to wake up so he could handle this. "There's someone else."

  "Okay." Shit, that hurt.

  "He isn't what my daddy wants for me. God, Liam, he's a singer in an unknown indie band, and he has no day job. But when I'm with him, he has such passion, and he makes me feel loved." She reached across the small table, grasping his hand. "I'm not going home. Daddy already blustered about disowning me when I talked to him, called me a failure, stupid, and said the relationship with the singer is all wrong. That it wasn't going to get me anywhere socially." She sighed noisily, "I took Emma this morning because I needed an excuse to see you and to let you know I finally made a decision for myself."