The Mating of Michael (26 page)

He slipped the mask over Michael’s head. Michael thought James was kidding—maybe. But the
good boy
was firm and without a trace of irony, and it made a shiver of delight run up Michael’s spine. Shit, James was so freaking hot when he was being toppy.

Now blinded, Michael felt the blankets being entirely pushed away, and then James began exploring him. Of course, James had touched him many times since their first time together. But this was different—James was more confident, more demanding. With the last barrier between them gone—and probably the mask and restraints didn’t hurt—James was much more mobile, scooting around Michael to get exactly where he wanted to be.

Which seemed to be deep between Michael’s legs.

“Oh my God,” Michael gasped softly as James licked and sucked at his perineum.

“Oh my
God
!” Michael said loudly as James licked over his hole with lewd intent.

“Buckle up, baby,” James growled. He hooked a hand behind each of Michael’s knees and pushed them up toward his ears.

And
oh, fuck, yes
!

Michael had a very sensitive rim, and it wasn’t something he often got to indulge. It had been years since he’d had a real boyfriend, it was not something he’d ever do with a surrogacy client, and he never took the time to tease himself when he masturbated. So it was sensitive as anything and, oh
hallelujah,
it was heaven the way James licked and teased. The man had a mouth made for sin, there was not the slightest fucking doubt about that. Michael was in wet, wonderful, tickling, squirming heaven for long, gasping minutes. And then it was torture. James wasn’t touching his cock, and Michael couldn’t touch himself with his hands bound. The more James licked and sucked, grazed with his teeth, the more turned on Michael got until he thought he might split like an overstuffed sausage.

“James, please, babe,” he pleaded. “I’m so hard. I need you.”

And then somehow, James had lube, because he rubbed a slick finger over Michael’s hole and pushed it slowly, slowly inside.

“Oh!” Michael planted his feet on the bed and lifted his hips as high as he could, chasing the sensation, chasing more.

“Good little boys don’t lie,” James said in a filthy tone from somewhere in the vicinity of Michael’s thighs. “You need to make good on that complaint of being sore.”

“
Yes
,” Michael groaned, as James probed with a second finger. “I want that. I want you to make love to me, be inside me. Please.”

James licked the sensitive flesh around his two fingers as they pumped slowly in and out. Michael thought he might seriously pass out, his head was so light from the sustained intensity of his desire.

“You want me to do what?” James reprimanded, removing his fingers and tongue completely.

Michael lay there for a moment, breathing hard, trying to get his brain unscrambled enough to figure out what it was James wanted.

“Fuck me,” Michael said in a rush. “Please, James, I want you to fuck me.”

“You bastard,” James prompted.

Michael gave a hysterical little laugh. “Fuck me, you
bast
ard. And I mean it, damn it! Right now!”

He felt James shifting over him until his rock-hard cock was against Michael’s and James’s breath was in his face. Michael lifted up his head, seeking those wide lips.

“Do you want me to wear a condom?” James asked quietly.

Michael’s breath caught in his throat. First, at the somehow shocking intimacy of it—James
was really going to fuck him at last
. And then at the power of the idea.
Bare.
That was what he wanted, God more than anything, even though it went against all his training. He’d never fucked or been fucked bareback in his life. He stammered.

“I-I know you haven’t been with anyone else, and I haven’t been with anyone like that for months. I’ve been tested since then, and I’m clean. But, if you don’t… maybe you should….”

“Quiet,” James said firmly. “Nothing between us.”

His tone brooked no argument, and Michael didn’t have it in him to insist, even if he should. And really, it felt right. He’d always dreamed of having an exclusive boyfriend someday, someone he trusted enough to be bare with, and, God, he wanted it to be James.

Michael relinquished control, melting back into the bed. He started to tremble as he felt James shift and rub lube on his cock. By the time he’d poised the blunt head at Michael’s entrance, Michael was shaking like a leaf. He felt like a virgin all over again. And he was, in a way. He’d never done this with someone he felt so connected to, someone who had so much of his heart.

“Wait. I want to see you,” Michael whispered. “Please.”

James hesitated, then released himself and pushed up the sleep mask. Michael blinked and stared up into those chestnut-colored eyes, so serious and determined, so strong.

“I love you,” Michael said on an exhaled breath as James pushed against him.

There was a moment of pressure and then the head was inside. They both stilled, breathing hard, James staring down intently.

“I know,” he said.

A laugh-cry escaped Michael, and he pulled on his bound hands. “Bastard.”

James quirked a brief smile, but then he settled down more firmly on Michael, his broad chest and hips pinning him down hard as his eyes burned. Michael had no choice but to pull his knees up higher. James sank a little deeper, staring at Michael all the while, intent and fierce in his concentration.

“I know that I love you too, Michael Lamont.”

Michael swallowed a hot ball of joy that threatened to choke him. “James.”

James finished his entry with a hard thrust, making Michael cry out.

“God, it feels… we need to do this a lot more often,” James said, his teeth clenched.

“I agree. Now give it to me, babe.”

James withdrew slowly and slammed back in hard. He’d used lots of lube, but it was still a little raw and a lot hot. There was a pinch of pain. It had been so long since Michael had bottomed, but the feeling of fullness, the sensation of James’s cock inside him, was more than worth it.

“Like that?” James asked. It sounded like a threat.

“Yes. More.” Michael tried to spread his thighs even farther.

“Research indicates there’s something….” James withdrew and pushed back in, aiming himself up toward Michael’s navel.

“Oh god oh god oh god,” Michael chanted as a jolt of sensation spiked from his prostate to the tip of his cock. “Right there. Touch me. Please.”

But James didn’t. He propped himself up on his hands and started to pump steadily, hitting Michael’s prostate every time. He watched Michael’s face, his jaw clenched.

Michael couldn’t speak anymore. He grasped the silk ties with both hands and pulled as hard as he could and just hung on. There was the sensation, so all-consuming, of James’s large cock filling him so decisively and brushing against his prostate over and over. And there was the look on James’s face as he fucked someone for the first time—amazement, lust, love, and a sheer determination that was pure James—to make it last, to make it good, to take Michael completely.

And suddenly, Michael was right there.

“I’m going to come,” he gasped. “Touch me.”

This time, James did. He shifted onto his left hand and wrapped his right around Michael’s cock. One squeeze, and he was coming. It felt as if his heart was pouring out of him in thick, racking spurts. And then James pounded into him hard and held. His face tensed with pleasure. Michael could feel his cock pulse deep inside and the warm wash of his cum. Michael shut his eyes to savor the sensation. His man was inside him,
his
.

James reached up and untied Michael’s wrists, pulled out, wetly, and collapsed.

Neither of them said anything, but when Michael rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms and legs around James, he didn’t pull away. He moved his arm under Michael and pulled him in, holding him so tightly, he almost couldn’t breathe. His hand caressed Michael’s back. James didn’t say a word, but Michael had never felt so treasured, nor had James ever felt so strong and confident in his arms.

He’d meant to talk to James tonight about the surrogacy. That had been the plan—get James to let him touch his legs and maybe use that as a lead-in to discuss surrogacy afterward. But now that they’d had this amazing moment, it just… it wasn’t the right time. This moment was too perfect. It was too important to James, too important to them, a key step on their path to falling in love. He couldn’t ruin it.

So Michael just snuggled farther into James and closed his eyes.

T
HE
NIGHT
of the awards dinner, James was a nervous wreck. He’d written and rewritten an acceptance speech even while telling himself not to expect to win. He and Michael had their “master and sycophant” outfits, and, yes, that did make it better, but still. Being in the spotlight was terrifying. What if he won? What if there were obstacles and he wasn’t able to get up to the podium?

Amanda hadn’t been able to tell him much about the setup at the banquet. But she assured him that the people in charge were well aware of the fact that he was in a wheelchair.

Pretty words, my friend, pretty words.
He never had much faith in other people’s ability or desire to deal with his issues.

He told himself it would be all right. Michael would be with him, and he’d get through it. It would be fine.

He bathed and fussed for a long time over his new haircut, flossed his teeth, and checked his skin, which was thankfully clear. In the bedroom, he pulled out the tux Michael had rented and brought over the night before. It was a dark blue silk blend suit, actually, and Michael had picked out a black shirt and black tie to go with it. It did look damn good. Michael was going to wear a skin-tight black sweater and black leather pants. He’d looked fantastic in the pants when he’d modeled them for James. He found them on eBay—an easy grab since he was a size that was too small for anyone else on the planet. And God, weren’t they hot as sin on him? They hugged his lean thighs and ass like nobody’s business and gave him a bad boy vibe that was irresistible. And Michael was going to wear gauges in his ears and biker boots too.

The only thing about tonight that James was looking forward to was having Michael by his side. The fact that it wasn’t even just pretend, but that Michael really was his boyfriend and would be there for moral support, made it so much better.

He was falling for Michael, hard. Hell, he’d already fallen. He knew he should be cautious. It had only been two months. But he had hopes. He had very high hopes. For the first time in a long time, he felt good about himself. He loved his life.

Or he would, after this damned awards dinner was over.

It’s an honor just to be nominated.

He started getting dressed.

M
ICHAEL
WAS
running late. The entire day had been one disaster after another.

It started when he woke up with a cold—a serious red-noser. That was the last thing he needed for tonight, but he figured Sudafed and aspirin would see him through. His car had started making a weird sound this morning, and the “Service Engine” light was on, something he had no time to deal with. He’d had a shift at Marnie’s, and she was not feeling well and was a real handful. Then the nurse who came on after him had been an hour late due to some family emergency. Michael had been afraid for a while that she wouldn’t show at all. He’d called his supervisor twice, making sure she understood he couldn’t cover the shift, he had a very important engagement that night. It hadn’t endeared him to said supervisor, but he didn’t care. Now he was due to be at James’s in exactly ten minutes and he’d just gotten out of the shower.

He’d planned to go all out tonight, but he’d have to make do with a quick hair dry and some product.

He was just wriggling into the black leather pants,
wriggle
being the operative word, when his cell phone buzzed. He grabbed it and saw the name. A shot of worry hit his gut.

“Hello?”

There was sobbing on the other end.

“Mrs. Chelsey? What’s wrong?”

J
AMES
WAS
trying very hard not to sweat in his tight black shirt and suit jacket, but it was a losing battle. He considered making his way back into the bathroom to apply yet another coat of antiperspirant, but his underarms already had so much aluminum on them he’d probably set off the metal detector.

Amanda stood fidgeting near the door. She checked her watch. “We really need to go.”

“He’ll be here,” James said coldly.

Despite his bravado, he was getting upset. They’d agreed to meet at James’s house at six thirty, and Amanda was going to drive them. The plan was that she’d drop off James and Michael in front of the convention center and then go park. But it was six forty-five, and Michael was not there.

James took out his phone and checked it. It was dead.

“Fuck! I’m out of batteries. Oh, the irony,” he grumbled, thinking about a sci-fi writer up for a major award having a dead twenty-first century mobile device because he’d forgotten to, like, plug it in.

“We need to go. Michael knows where it is, right? Maybe he can meet us there.”

“Wait.” James’s tone brooked no argument. Why had he forgotten to charge his cellphone that morning? He’d been obsessing over tonight for days, and he forgot a simple, basic preparation. He wheeled over to the outlet near the dining room table where he always charged. He plugged it in and waited, more than impatient, for the phone to get enough juice to boot.

Where the hell was Michael?

When the phone finally kicked on, there were several voice mails, but he didn’t need to listen to them. The text on the screen was clear enough.

At the hospital with a friend. Will try to meet u there later. Sorry.

James felt a cold horror spread from his stomach through his chest and his limbs. Michael was standing him up.