He left with his stomach in knots. His parents weren’t awful. They were good, hard-working people. They just didn’t understand. And everything else aside, there was no point in having Krissy over and getting his mother’s hopes up. He really didn’t know if what they had was serious. Her trapeze answer hadn’t told him anything, and it wasn’t as if the three of them would be doing this forever.
He didn’t like the queasy feeling churning through his gut over that.
Finally back at the warehouse, Mikey parked, took the stairs two at a time, and threw the door open.
“You’re back!” Krissy was standing at the kitchen sink, the water running, but she sprinted across the room to throw her arms around him. “And you’re freezing!”
“It’s cold out there.” He pulled back to kiss her. There was batter on her nose. “You made pancakes?”
“Rafe and I had breakfast in bed. Would’ve been more fun if you were here though.”
“I thought you’d be sleeping.”
He didn’t like it, that she’d been up all night, but she waved him off.
“My parents’ call this morning nixed any chance of sleep. No biggie.” She winked, then flitted back to the kitchen on the balls of her feet. She had so much energy it made him weary just watching her. “There’s some batter left for you. I can cook it if you want.”
He kicked off his shoes and hung his coat and snow pants, suddenly exhausted. “Thanks, but I need to lie down for a bit first.”
She shooed him into the bedroom, saying she’d be done cleaning soon. Mikey went down the hall. Rafe was in the same place he’d been when Mikey left this morning. His brows lifted as he took in Mikey’s appearance.
“You look horrible.”
Mikey laughed, a hoarse, tired sound. “I’m beat.”
Rafe held a hand out, gesturing to the bed. “Well?”
He didn’t even hesitate. This was all going to end too soon, and Mikey wanted to soak up every second of it. Already he could feel the clock ticking toward Saturday and their trip home.
Peeling off everything except his thermals, he climbed onto the bed and stretched out next to Rafe. Barely a second passed before the other man was pulling him close, one arm firmly around him, fingers gentle in his hair. Mikey closed his eyes, body wiped but tingling at Rafe’s touch.
“Feels good,” Mikey mumbled sleepily. “Thank you.”
Rafe’s chest dipped on a sharp exhalation. It was a sound Mikey couldn’t decipher, the day’s strain rushing out of him and his muscles going loose as Rafe pressed a kiss to his forehead.
Krissy came in a few minutes later and curled up behind him, reaching around to flatten her palm over Mikey’s heart. He sank into the feeling of being surrounded by them, and fell asleep.
* * * * *
Mikey stumbled out into the living room a few hours later. Krissy and Rafe were lounging on the couch, her watching TV and he, as usual, staring at his phone.
“You waiting on an important email?” Mikey asked. “The president sharing government secrets?”
Rafe glanced up, his cheeks uncharacteristically flushed.
“Just my agent. I got a callback last week, but given how my last few auditions went, her next message might say it’s time to find a new day job.” He tucked his phone in his pocket and put an arm around Krissy. “You think the roads are okay yet? We’re getting some serious cabin fever here, if you’re up for heading out again.”
Mikey glanced at Krissy. She didn’t look as tired as he thought she’d be. Her eyes were bright, both legs bouncing.
“I know how to handle a little snow on the road. Let’s go have some fun.”
He drove them down to Kennebunkport, showed them the holiday decorations still up in Dock Square and the tourist destination known as the Wedding Cake House.
“It was built in the early eighteen hundreds,” he explained as they idled on the curb, taking in the building’s gothic architecture, the buttercream yellow paint and white buttresses, snow lacing every surface like icing. “The story is that the original owner was a sea captain and had the house made for his bride to apologize for never taking her on a proper honeymoon, but I’m pretty sure that’s made up.”
“It’s so romantic,” Krissy mused as she dropped her head to Rafe’s shoulder, one hand reaching over to clasp Mikey’s hand.
They meandered farther south along Route One to the Nubble Light. Krissy made Mikey stop in the parking lot, and she climbed over Rafe to open the door. Braving the chilly spray that shot into the air every time the waves crashed, she ran out to the water’s edge to get a picture.
They grabbed some take-out at a sub shop on the side of the road before Mikey drove them back north. Munching happily on a haddock sandwich dubbed a Sea Monster, he turned the radio to his favorite country music station.
“Country?” Rafe asked, but it didn’t feel like chastisement. “Seriously?”
“I like country,” Mikey insisted. “It’s soulful.”
“It is. Passionate.” Krissy dug into the paper bag on her lap and retrieved a handful of french fries before hollering a loud “Yee-haw!”
Mikey snorted with laughter, but Rafe rolled his eyes. “We’re going to have to do something about your musical tastes, Mikey.”
Something flared in Mikey’s gut. When Rafe and Krissy had arrived, the words we and our had made him burn with jealousy. Now they included him, and that sat right, like a note he’d been trying to play and finally found.
He brushed the feeling aside.
“Last stop.” He pulled into the lot of Portland’s Ice Arena. Krissy cooed and clapped, brimming over with enthusiasm as they went inside and rented skates. She laced hers up quickly and rushed into the rink, her dance training evident in the way she skillfully took to the ice.
“I haven’t done this in years,” Rafe said.
“Not a fan of skating?”
“I am, I just never go. Too busy trying to get gigs and doing temp jobs to cover my rent. Inheritances don’t last as long as one might think.”
Mikey frowned, wanting to hear more, but he didn’t know if asking about Rafe’s financial state was okay, no matter how intimate they’d been.
“You’d be looking for another roommate then? If Krissy came here?”
Rafe paused, his jaw working. Something like worry flashed in his eyes, but the look disappeared quickly, vanishing beneath his smile.
“I’ll put an ad on Craigslist. Should be easy enough to find someone.”
They stayed silent as they finished tying on their skates. Once they’d joined Krissy on the ice and began skating around in circles, Mikey asked, “Is your rent expensive?”
“It’s New York,” Rafe said. “Everything is expensive.”
He turned to skate backward, his blades making S-shaped patterns in the ice as he moved ahead of them for a lap.
“To answer your question,” Krissy said. “It’s twenty-three hundred a month.”
Over two grand. Damn. Although, not as bad as he expected. “Do you like it there? Not the apartment. I mean, in New York.”
“It can be overwhelming. It’s gritty and unforgiving and rough, but I never feel alone.”
Her answer struck a chord. Alone. Was his worst fear one more thing they shared?
“You wouldn’t feel alone here either,” he told her, and sweet Lord, the way she looked at him, her cheeks making a heart shape out of her face, eyes shining…
He wanted to put that look on her face every single day, to be the reason for her happiness.
Was this love? It certainly felt like it, and Mikey suddenly saw his future clicking together. Krissy could move here. He could take care of her and have her comfort and humor all the time. He’d have that perfect, normal relationship he’d wanted with a partner who was more than willing to bring another man into their bed o
nce in a while.
And maybe that was something Rafe would be cool with too.
Back at the apartment, Krissy asked if she could run a bath, saying it might help her sleep. Eager to do anything that would help her unwind, Mikey unearthed some bubble bath from Dean’s cabinet, leaving once she was soaking in the tub. He found Rafe sprawled out on the bed, phone off for once and on the nightstand.
“What’s the deal with your parents?” Rafe asked him. “You never said.”
Mikey sat next to him. “They want me to be straight, if I can. They say it’ll be easier for me.” He glanced away. It was harder to be as honest with Rafe as he had been with Krissy.
“Fuck them,” Rafe said. “They don’t have any right to make you feel ashamed about who you are.”
“They’re my family, Rafe.”
“Screw family. If I were you, I’d say fuck you very much to them and be on my way.”
His words were harsh, and so different from Krissy’s sympathetic reaction, but Rafe’s sentiment felt like protection nonetheless, wings stretching over him in verbal form. It made Mikey think of Rafe’s tattoo, and he wondered if Krissy and Rafe had become the proverbial angel and devil on his own shoulders, tempting him in different directions.
Temptation. That was the feeling that made Mikey’s entire body tingle when Rafe sat up, hand sliding past Mikey’s jaw to wrap around the back of his neck.
“You wouldn’t do that, though, would you?” Rafe shook his head and laughed. “You’re a regular saint, Mikey.”
“I highly doubt that, but thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Warm fingers skimmed over his skin, and Mikey couldn’t hide his shiver. Rafe’s touch fired him up like lightning. He couldn’t stop himself, either, from reaching up to encircle Rafe’s wrist. Pulling the other man’s arm back, Mikey rubbed along the raised skin of Rafe’s scar.
I’m sorry, he tried to say with his thumb. I’m sorry your parents drove you to this.
Rafe’s chest rose and fell with quickening breaths. His throat worked on a swallow, and he studied Mikey for several seconds, the look in his eyes so pained Mikey was worried he’d crossed a line, but then Rafe was kissing him. Sliding his tongue past Mikey’s lips. Leaning over him until Mikey was on his back on the bed and the full lengths of their bodies were pressed together, hips grinding.
Mikey broke the kiss long enough to yank off his glasses, then arched up for more. Rafe sucked on his lower lip, his teeth a rough chafe, and Mikey clambered for a breath. He was fully erect already, dick pressing against his zipper.
He slid his hands along the divots above Rafe’s waist, and everything got hot, fast. Shirts were pulled off, pants too. Rafe’s eyes blazed as he hooked his fingers in Mikey’s briefs, yanked them down, and took him into his throat in one smooth swallow.
“Oh shit,” Mikey panted. “Shit, shit.”
Rafe sucked and hummed, hands holding Mikey’s hips down as he slid up to the tip, swirled his tongue, and plunged back down. The pleasure was so intense Mikey had to cover his eyes. It didn’t feel quite right, doing this without Krissy, but fuck, he couldn’t stop.
Rafe was talented, his suction mind-blowingly persistent, and soon Mikey was at the brink. “Stop,” he said breathlessly, reaching for Rafe. “Want to suck you too.”
“Jesus, yes.”
A quick change in position had Rafe on his back, his boxers shucked and Mikey hovering over him, so nervous and excited his hands were trembling. He grabbed the lube from the nightstand and placed it on the bed. With one hand wrapped snugly at the base of Rafe’s cock, Mikey slid his mouth over the crown and sucked downward until his gag reflex forced him to back off.
Rafe’s fingers were soft on the back of Mikey’s neck, a tender pet that said yes, you’re doing fine, keep going.
A few moments of clumsy sucking later and Rafe was cursing and gripping the sheets. Seeing him come apart like that was intoxicating. Mikey pulled back to pop open the lube. He shot a hasty glance over his shoulder, sure Krissy wouldn’t mind. Actually, it’d probably turn her on to walk in on this, eager to come in and join them.
Mikey slicked his fingers, keeping his eyes on Rafe as he massaged the other man’s balls, then moved lower.
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” he admitted on a shaky laugh.
“You’ve been a natural so—” Rafe inhaled sharply and bit his lip, eyes sinking closed as Mikey’s pinky slid past the first tight ring of muscle.
His reaction was the most erotically satisfying thing Mikey had ever seen.
“More,” Rafe breathed, and Mikey switched to his middle finger, shimmying it in a little farther. Rafe’s mouth dropped open and his cock twitched, so hard Mikey could almost feel the throbbing in his own dick. He moved in again and lapped at Rafe’s thick, swollen tip, closing his eyes at the forbidden, tangy taste of precome. Taking down as much glistening flesh as he could, Mikey continued with gentle thrusts of his finger, searching out the spot Rafe had found in him yesterday.
His hand slamming down on the mattress was a sure sign Mikey had found it.
“Christ, Mikey. Get the condoms.”
Mikey stopped moving. That he wouldn’t do without Krissy. And wait a minute. “Didn’t you say sex meant commitment for you? That it meant…love?”
Rafe panted, the line between his brows wedged in deep. He licked his lips and rubbed them together.
“Right. My bad. Just got a little carried away.”
Mikey’s pulse raced, and not in a good way. “I’m sorry. I’m totally ruining the moment here. I just think we’re not being fair to Krissy, not including her.”
Rafe nodded, a sharp, jittery move. “Absolutely. Let’s move this to the bathroom.”
“Okay.” Mikey inched his finger back until it was free. Rafe sat up, then paused and scrubbed his hands over his face. “You all right?”
“Totally,” Rafe said, but his attempt at enthusiasm seemed forced. “Be right there.”
Mikey hesitated, then climbed off the bed, put his glasses on, and headed toward the bathroom. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to fuck Rafe, but wasn’t that crossing another line? He had to pass it off as something said in the heat of the moment. Rafe made it clear he wanted Mikey and Krissy together, everything they’d done this week simply a means to that very specific end.
Rafe didn’t have feelings for him.
Mikey pushed the bathroom door open. Krissy was out of the tub, naked on the bathmat, hair in a messy bun as she toweled her body off. Rivulets of water dripped down her skin, and Mikey rinsed his fingers, then kissed her, his erection pressing at her waist as he leaned down to take her nipple in his mouth.
“Mikey,” she whispered. “Yes. Please.”
God, this was confusing. He wanted her as much as he wanted Rafe. But those feelings toward him were just sexual. Pure experimentation.
Right?
Rafe came in behind him, a condom in his hand. Krissy’s eyes flashed and she sank to her knees. No stage directions were needed when she started stroking both of them, taking them into her mouth one at a time.
Despite the sudden spike of pleasure racing through him, Mikey reached for Rafe, feeling like he should apologize, like he should say something, but Rafe’s quick, crushing kiss stole his breath. Rafe pulled back without making eye contact, then hauled Krissy up from the bathmat, kissing her with the same hard determination before pressing the condom into Mikey’s hand. Bracing himself against the shower door, Rafe bent Krissy in half and guided her mouth back onto him, positioning her for Mikey to take.
She whined around Rafe’s cock, her sounds of need coming out as she sucked. Mikey ripped open the wrapper, sheathed himself, and slid inside.
Krissy’s moan was a soft, sinful sound, and Rafe cupped the back of her head, tenderly looking down at her. Mikey would have to have been
blind to not see something sad in Rafe’s eyes, but his synapses began to misfire as he fucked and watched and felt. He didn’t know how it was possible for his chest to ache while everything else felt so damn good, but there was nothing he could do, no way to fix whatever mess this had turned into.
So he gave himself over to sensation, the two of them coming together the last thing he saw before his eyes slammed shut.
Chapter Eleven
Krissy watched the sunrise the next morning from the living room windows, naked except for a blanket wrapped around her. She hadn’t been able to sleep again. Maybe all the sex had supercharged her body somehow. It was awesome, not being tired, but if she didn’t get a little rest, she’d be a basket case at the karaoke bar tonight.
So she’d crept out of bed and gone through Rafe’s things until she found the baggie Merrick had given him. Her usual trigger had faded, replaced by a curiosity to see if smoking pot would feel the same way it had the last time she’d done it. Before she’d mixed it with other drugs and made a shit-ton of bad decisions. That wasn’t going to happen now, not with Rafe and Mikey here, so what was the harm in a little weed if it helped her relax?
She stuck her head out the open window, brought the joint to her lips, and lit it. Breathing in deeply, she closed her eyes and inhaled the mix of cold morning air and sweet marijuana burn. She was sick of never allowing herself to do stuff like this. Of the strict parameters she had to keep on her life, every day a jail cell in the form of yoga, phone calls, and apps.
She’d followed her rules yesterday, speaking to her parents at length when Mikey was out shoveling. They hadn’t been as mad as she’d expected. Just uber concerned, of course, so she’d given them a play-by-play, minus the orgasms. She logged her moods all day, made sure she took her pill, and did her hour on the mat, even though her head was spinning too much for meditation.
Today was a new day, though. Almost a whole new year, fresh with possibilities. She took several more puffs, closing her eyes and sinking into the lightheadedness it brought on. One joint wasn’t going to kill her. She’d go back to well-behaved Krissy tomorrow.
The Theory of Deviance: Portland Rebels, Book 3 Page 13
