Making Promises (51 page)

Those hands kept working, and Shane’s whole body went on

“tingle.”

“A start…mmmmrrrrrmmmmm…
damn
, Mickey—this is almost better than sex.”

There was a stinging slap across his shoulder, and while Shane was saying “Ouch!” Mikhail continued to massage his muscles but this time in a snit. “What a thing to say. Sex with me is
very
good….”

“It’s wonderful….”

“Telling me that you get off more from a little back rub….”

“But it’s a good back rub….”

There was a snick from a bottle Shane didn’t know Mikhail had, and when Mickey’s hands touched him next, his hands glided, and now Shane was the one who purred.

“It is a
great
backrub,” Mikhail said arrogantly. “But it is not sex.

The sex will be better. Trust me.”

And those amazing hands kept working on him, and the room filled with the same eucalyptus/mint smell that had been in the shower, and Shane did. Shane trusted him completely. Shane even trusted him as Mikhail scooted back (dragging his erection down the crease of Shane’s bottom, don’t think Shane didn’t notice that) and straddled Shane’s thighs, keeping much of his weight on his knees, and then began to massage Shane’s backside, flanks, upper thighs, lower back and all.

Shane had to lift himself up to make room for his erection, because it wasn’t good to have it all scrunched up like that under his body, and Mikhail chuckled.

“See? Backrub, sex… it can all lead to the same place.” Making Promises

“Right now, it’s all leading to… ohh… ohh God….” Mikhail’s thumbs parted the crease of his buttocks and spread him, and the side of his hand slid between, exposing him to the air, and Shane’s lazy arousal turned to a hard-on that could drill concrete.

“Jesus….”

“Isn’t here. I am.” Mikhail had lowered his head, the better to explore, and Shane felt a pointed tongue come out and taste the flesh of his left quarter. There was an experimental smack of tongue and palate, and then Mikhail said, “Oh good—the label was right. I was afraid it would taste horrible, but no. It’s a little like mouthwash.”

“I didn’t know you were planning to lick my… oh…geez….” Mikhail’s hands were busy again, and this time they were even more personal. One of them slipped under Shane and began to fondle, and Shane’s testicles became hard and swollen from the gentle rubbing almost immediately. The other hand was busy too. Shane’s backside was kneaded some more, and then spread again, and then one experimental finger slipped its way in, and Shane had to grab the coverlet in both hands and groan into the bed.

“Mickey….”

“Yes. Not Jesus.”

Shane would have laughed, because the word play was fun and Mikhail was good at it, but he was being stretched, and it burned a little because it had been a while, but it felt good too. Mikhail’s other hand fumbled for his cock and started stroking him in the confines between Shane’s body and the bed, and Shane raised himself a little on his knees to make room. Mikhail adjusted his position then, straddling his knees and kneeling behind him, and then grabbing Shane around the waist and hauling him up until his face was planted in the mattress and his ass was sticking out in the air. Shane might have been embarrassed then, he might have felt vulnerable, but those hands again, spreading his bottom, and then….

“Ohhh… God, Mickey….”

That pointed little tongue found home, and Shane almost came, and then when he stopped himself, he almost cried it felt so good. And it didn’t stop. Shane moaned and gibbered and swore and begged, but that tongue 316

and Mickey’s fingers didn’t stop, and finally, he pushed himself up on all fours and
pleaded
, “Oh,
please
, Mikhail…
please
…
.
”

“Please what?” Mikhail panted, but he was already behind Shane, pressing down on Shane’s shoulder blades until Shane’s face was pushed down into the bed again and already positioning himself. Shane felt the little mushroom head right at his entrance, pushing just barely, and Shane wanted it, wanted it
soooo
bad.

“Fuck me… please, oh geez… please please….
Oh God
….” And Mikhail was inside him, moving, thrusting, slowly at first and a little uncertainly, and then natural rhythm took over as Shane screamed his pleasure into the pillow in front of him.

“Stroke yourself,” Mikhail panted. “I cannot reach and fuck you too….”

His hand flailed for a moment, but every boy knows how to find his cock in the dark, and Shane had himself in hand soon enough. He grabbed and squeezed, and Mikhail thrust, and then Shane stroked, and his skin was a little rough but he couldn’t help how fast he pulled and stroked and squeezed and… oh God… oh geez… oh… oh….

“
Auuuuuuuugggghhhhhh
….” His climax went on and on and on as he pumped come over his hands and his stomach. His vision went black, and he couldn’t seem to stop coming until Mikhail made the same sound and thrust all the way home, deep into his ass, and collapsed over his back.

He felt it. He felt Mikhail’s climax, his spend, hot and slick, inside his body, and as he slid flat to the bed and Mikhail rolled off of him and out, he thought that if he had anything left in him, he’d be hard again just from the feel of Mickey’s spend trickling down his thighs.

They lay there, breathing hard, for several minutes, and when Shane opened his eyes it was too look into Mikhail’s blue-gray ones and smile.

“God.”

“I told you, he’s not here.” But Mickey was blinking as he said it, looking a little bemused.

Shane reached out and stroked the inside of his lover’s outstretched arm, needle tracks and all. “I think He is,” Shane whispered. “I see Him in everything you do.”

Mikhail blinked. “That’s blasphemous.”

Shane shrugged. “Or holy. What made you decide to…?” If he’d had the energy, he would have blushed.

“Take charge?” Mikhail asked with an arch of his eyebrows.

Shane’s grin was about the most energy he could summon. “Yeah.

Take charge. You’ve never wanted to before.”

“I’ve never wanted to
ever
,” Mikhail said seriously. “No one has ever trusted me to do that. I have never trusted anyone else to do that to them. I have never trusted myself.”

Mikhail’s hand came out and brushed Shane’s cheekbone in his turn, and Shane’s smile softened. “I do trust you,” he said. “And I love you. I hope you know that.”

“It is the only thing I believe in,” Mikhail said seriously. He was the one who moved in for the kiss—but Shane was happy to follow his lead.

There she sits buddy justa gleaming in the sun, there to greet a working
man when his day is done…

“Cadillac Ranch”—Bruce Springsteen

IT WAS a good thing Shane trusted Mickey. Otherwise, a month later (and two weeks after Mikhail had obtained his driver’s license, to Benny’s immense envy), he could have seriously fucked up their relationship.

But then, pretty much anybody else would have lost his freaking mind, so Shane could be proud. It was almost proof that they were meant to be together.

It all started when Shane got home from work and saw an ancient Chevy van parked in the driveway beyond the cattle gate. The color was hard to decipher, because most of it was in red or gray primer, and Mikhail was standing behind it, gazing fondly at the damned thing while he absently patted Angel Marie’s head and the puppy gnawed on his pant-leg.

It had rusted fenders, blacked out windows, and—Shane would put money on it—a blown something-or-whatsis and two or three whajamawhosis that had been taped together for the trip from someone’s front lawn to his driveway.

No parent ever looked prouder of a high school graduate than Mickey looked at that rust-nut monstrosity lowering Shane’s property value just by not disintegrating into powder.

Shane parked the car and walked up to the love of his life, setting a warm hand on Mickey’s shoulder. “Uhm, wow.”

Mikhail turned a beaming smile on him. “Isn’t she beautiful? I’m going to drive her to the faires, and that way you don’t have to worry about me when I work.”

Shane’s stomach, which just moments ago had been a simple working organ sitting in his abdomen, suddenly became a ten-pound acid pressure cooker, complete with broken glass and rusty nails.

“Uhm, the one this weekend? In Nevada City?” Oh God. That was only four days and sixty miles away.

“Yes!” Mikhail nodded, excited. “Kimmy called—everything is go!” Shane swallowed. “Awesome, Mickey. It, might, uhm, need a little work before it’s street legal, you know that don’t you?” Mikhail’s open-eyed gaze at him was as trusting and guileless as the child he had never been. “It shouldn’t need too much work. It only died three times on the way over!”

Oh, Jesus. Now Shane knew a parent’s pressure to be Santa Claus.

“Of course. Absolutely. Excellent. I’ll be out to check it over in a minute, okay?”

“Where are you going now? I wanted to show you the inside—it has a bed!”

Shane mentally added “bleach” and “upholstery cleaner” to the terrifying list of things he was going to need for this to turn out okay.

“Give me a second, Mickey—I gotta go inside and change, and I just remembered I need to call Deacon.”

It took the full four days to get that thing into working order and four nights of
everyone
working side by side with hanging electric lights and music playing from the garage and grease beneath their fingernails and men

turning

the

air

blue

with

things

like

“motherfuckingcocksuckingbitch—die die die die die fucking fucking fucking fucking assfucking
die
!” (This last was Crick, when the engine wouldn’t stop turning over even after they’d disconnected the starter.

Nobody knew how that happened, but given Crick’s bad luck with mechanical things in general, everyone decided it would be best for him to focus on stripping the dark shit from the windows.) Jeff was the only one who opted out of the whole business. He chose to watch the children in Shane’s house instead. Amy and Benny helped 320

Mikhail rip out the fuzzy purple upholstery and establish a bench seat (complete with seatbelts) that folded back into bed, with some room in the back for another bedroll.

“Good,” said Shane, viewing their work. “It’s less like a bong and Wesson oil party back here.” And of course that was always an improvement.

Calvin joined them on the third day, when even Deacon confessed that the engine block was going to be a challenge, and Amy and Benny retired to the kitchen. They cooked a lot, and Shane would shoo everybody home and come in to a house that smelled like stew and tacos and other things they’d made for the impromptu work party, and, lo and behold, food would appear like magic on the counter. Calvin’s two-year-old, Amos, and Parry Angel took an immediate love/hate to each other, and a lot of effort was apparently spent separating the two of them and then allowing them to reunite when they swore they’d be good.

Calvin himself was a little uncertain at first—but once he realized that none of the men working on the car had any interest in him as anything other than a ready pair of hands, he relaxed and actually enjoyed the company. He was a little surprised when Shane told him they didn’t do beer, he’d have to settle for soda, but other than that, he was happy to help Deacon bore out the engine and replace the blown head gaskets and rebuild the carburetor. In fact, he told Shane privately that he was a little afraid of Deacon.

“The guy’s so quiet—it’s like he’s Special Forces or something.” Shane didn’t tell Calvin that it was just because Deacon didn’t talk to strangers—he figured if Calvin hung out enough at his place, he’d figure it out.

On the fourth night, as everybody was working far beyond the call of duty so Mikhail could drive the van to a faire the next morning, Shane came back from the store with Starbucks for everybody as well as a big bag of candy and nuts so folks would stay awake. Mikhail greeted him in the damp spring twilight.

“Here, let me get that.” Mikhail reached and grabbed the groceries, and Shane wrestled with the six jumbo-sized coffee/latte/cappuccinos that everybody had ordered.

Shane set the coffee cartons on the top of the GTO and turned to find Mikhail looking at him quietly. It was past eight, and the sky was still that curious purple between blue and black, and a breeze had sprung up off the delta that made Shane shiver in his still-green front yard. There was something unsettling in Mikhail’s look.