Love Starved (18 page)

Unless, of course, Daphne was right and Aiden had only spent his time with Micah in an attempt to mollify him until he could give him the night Micah had paid for. Yesterday, Micah had been certain that wasn’t the case. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

The reasonable thing to do would be to call Aiden and ask him. Except the moment Micah thought about it, his mind brought forward the picture of Aiden’s—no, Angel’s—face as he fucked Micah, the feeling of his cock pulsing in Micah’s hand as he came, his dark, seductive voice urging him on. Micah’s face heated up. Last night was a fantasy, a performance, for Aiden. It was as professional as it could be—as in, it wasn’t
him
. He’d made that clear, asking Micah to call him by his escort name. Micah didn’t have sex with his friend last night—he got the experience he’d paid for, strictly sexual, no feelings involved. Angel wasn’t his friend.

But Aiden was, and how could Micah look at him now, without remembering the intimacy of what they’d done? How could he call him and ask about last night? It felt slightly schizophrenic just thinking about it, the duality of Aiden. Angel. Fuck.

There was no way they could repeat the experience, if they were to stay friends—assuming Aiden wanted them to be friends still—and Micah felt a pang of regret. He was single, unattached, and he could afford to hire Angel again if he wanted to. Now that the mere possibility was off the table, it seemed like a loss. He just hoped he wouldn’t lose Aiden as a friend, too. That would be too much to give up for even the best of sex.

Micah’s phone rang just as he was opening the door to leave for work. He closed it again when he saw the name on the screen.

Aiden’s voice sounded subdued in the receiver. “Hi. I’m sorry I ran out like that. You know how I never spend the night. I panicked.”

Micah leaned against the door, swallowing his sigh of relief, then remembered the last time he’d felt that door against his back and quickly stepped away to pace the hall. “Why?” he asked. “You’ve spent nights with me before.”

“That was different. I knew I would, then. Last night I just… I must still be a bit weak, I never fall asleep like that, afterwards. Anyway, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left without making sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. You?”

“Me too.”

He didn’t sound fine—he seemed tired and worried, but Micah let it go. “Okay,” he said, not quite sure what else he could add.

Silence spread between them, and then Aiden said, “Listen, can I call you in a few days? I’ll be busy for a while.”

Of course he would. He was back to work now, probably had to make up for the time off.

“Sure.” Micah said. “Have a good weekend.”

“You too. Bye.”

“Bye. And Aiden?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” Micah said softly.

It was a windy, cool
evening when they met again. Not even a week had passed, but Aiden seemed different as he sat on the stool in Micah’s kitchen, playing with his glass of juice. His shoulders were hunched, and he wouldn’t look Micah in the eyes as they made small talk, catching up on their week. Finally, when silence threatened to overtake them, Aiden put down the glass and straightened up.

“Micah, we can’t do this again.”

Micah’s heart froze. That was what he’d feared.

“Have sex or meet as friends?” he asked in a surprisingly steady voice.

“Either.” Aiden paused, and the look on Micah’s face must have reflected at least some of his emotions because he quickly corrected himself. “I mean, we can do one or the other, but not both. I can’t treat you professionally when you’re my friend, Micah. I’m sorry. It just gets too personal. I can’t.”

Micah let out the breath he’d been holding. “Oh. That’s okay. I’ve been thinking the same thing, actually.” He smiled, the relief spreading in a warm wave through his body. He’d really thought that was it when Aiden hadn’t texted him once until today. “I guess it means no more mind-blowing sex then?”

The tension melted out of Aiden’s rigid frame. It looked as if he was unfolding, every line of his body and face softening. “Really?”

“Of course. Why, did you think I’d choose the sex?”

“Well, you did seem to enjoy it.” Aiden was smiling now, all the way up to his tawny eyes. Micah reached out to touch his hand.

“I really did. But if I have to choose, there’s really no question. You’re an exquisite lover, Aiden, but I like you for so much more than that, in case you haven’t noticed.” The dimples he was rewarded with made his heart flutter. “Oh, wait, I guess I have to return something.”

He dashed to the bedroom, and returned with a black glass dildo in his hand.

He’d found it tangled under the covers when he went to bed on Thursday and recognized the curved shape as what Angel must have used on him the night before. Amid furious blushing, he’d gone to the bathroom to wash it, his mind full of memories and his body reacting to the feel of it in his hand. By the time he’d returned to bed, the last shred of hesitation was gone in the face of rapidly growing arousal, and moments later he was naked, spread in the tangled sheets with one hand on his cock, fucking himself on the dildo with the other, remembering Angel’s hands and lips on him.

It was not the last time he’d used it. Embarrassing as it felt, Micah had masturbated more in the last week than he usually did in months—and in ways that were much more sensual than his usual perfunctory jerking off in the shower. As if his night with Angel had somehow reset the sexual part of his brain, Micah’s thoughts were suddenly filled with pictures and fantasies, and his body reacted to them with a force more appropriate for a sixteen- than a twenty-seven-year-old. Everything felt new and full of potential, and he had spent several memorable evenings this past week spread naked on his bed, stroking and teasing himself all over for hours while imagining all the different scenarios he would like to try, until he couldn’t stave off his orgasm. It had definitely helped him fall asleep instead of obsessing about Aiden’s prolonged silence, even though all the faceless men in his fantasies invariably turned into Aiden—or Angel. He was sad to be parted with the little toy now, even though thinking about it in Aiden’s presence made him blush.

Aiden laughed when he saw the object in Micah’s hand, then searched his face, a mischievous smile playing in the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, I don’t know. You seemed very happy with this little thing. Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?”

Micah should have protested and pretended indifference. But he couldn’t.

“Um, I—” he stuttered.

Aiden grinned, delighted. “Ooh, you
do
like it. Yes, keep it. It’s yours.” And when Micah stammered out a
thank you
, he said with a wink, “Think of me when you’re using it, will you?”

Later that night, as they were watching a movie, lying on the bed that held so many memories now that Micah was half-hard just from being there together again, Aiden turned to him.

“You said my name.”

Micah frowned, confused. He was sure he hadn’t said anything in the last ten minutes at least.

“When you were coming, the last time,” Aiden clarified. “You called me Aiden. That’s when I realized it’s too personal for me to be fully professional with you.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t… I guess I didn’t really know what I was saying at that point.”

Aiden smiled. “I know. Don’t be sorry. It was nice to hear my real name for a change.”

Then he turned back to the screen.

That conversation unblocked something in
them. There was no more hesitation, no more doubt about their friendship. They spent time together whenever they could—just a quick phone call or a text, and they would meet at one of their apartments or go out somewhere. There wasn’t a day they didn’t talk now, even if it was just a late-night phone call to catch up and chat.

They both seemed to lower their guards in front of each other now, too. Micah no longer cared if Aiden saw him in glasses instead of contacts—especially after Aiden said he looked “smexy,” which was apparently a coined term for
smart
and
sexy
. “Like a hot university professor,” Aiden claimed, and Micah blushed to the tips of his ears.

A few days later he dropped by Aiden’s apartment a little early and found him with three days’ worth of stubble. It gave him a bit of a rugged look, but also seemed utterly pettable, and for the first time in his life, Micah questioned his dislike for facial hair. It also made him wonder how it would feel against his skin if Aiden were to kiss him everywhere, but he quickly pushed that particular image away, far into the “naughty corner” of his brain.

His libido, once stirred, refused to go back to sleep and his little black toy was seeing plenty of use. Unsurprisingly, it was very much triggered by Aiden, whether in person or in Micah’s head. But that wasn’t a problem. He didn’t pine for what he couldn’t have because he had so much more instead. Sunday picnics in the parks and sunsets at Lake Calhoun; farmer’s market one Saturday morning and playing the piano on a rainy evening with Aiden dozing off on his couch that he’d finally braved again. Endless conversations. All the movies they watched, curled up close together to share popcorn, or a bucket of ice cream, or nothing but warmth under one blanket.

All the touch.

That came naturally, over time. The first time Aiden cuddled close to him halfway through their movie night, Micah froze in surprise, but didn’t move away. It felt so good and his body, touch-starved as it was, hummed happily at the comfort. There were more touches after that, all non-sexual—a pat on a shoulder, a quick squeeze of a knee, messing the other’s hair—each initiated carefully by one of them and then becoming the norm as it was graciously, wordlessly accepted. Micah never asked, but it seemed to him that Aiden needed those touches, the comfort of their closeness, just as much as he did, in spite of touching and being touched by other people all the time.

One Saturday morning Aiden came over, looking grim and fragile, and only shook his head when Micah asked if he wanted to talk about whatever was bothering him.

“Work,” he said, and then bit his lip, looking away, but not fast enough for Micah to miss his glassy eyes.

It was the first time Micah had seen him miserable about his job, at least openly so. Desperate to help somehow, but reluctant to pry, he did the only thing that felt right: pulled Aiden into a hug. The way Aiden clung to him for a long while, his breath stuttering until it evened out again, told him that it was probably the best thing he could have done. It was only the first of many hugs, and Micah started to look forward to those moments. Being held close and tight, even just for a few seconds as they said goodnight, charged his batteries like nothing else. He’d been running on empty for so long that now those flashes of closeness were like precious fuel filling his heart. He was nowhere near even the minimum of four hugs a day that he’d read people needed for wellbeing, but compared with years of emptiness, it was plenty.

Weeks passed, busy at work, but slow and sweet otherwise. Weeks when Micah wondered every day how he could have lived without this—without a friend to call every day and ramble about work frustrations, to watch silly movies with, to discuss things with, good books and men’s assets alike. A friend to laugh with, eat with, cuddle with. Even with Daphne, he’d never had that to this extent—she was no less a workaholic than he was, and one with a busy social and family life to boot. Micah had never minded, convinced that he didn’t really need anyone.

How empty his past life seemed now!

September 24 had long been
marked on Micah’s calendar. He’d ordered a birthday cake and left work early, having first made sure Aiden didn’t have any plans for the day. But when he ran up the stairs and knocked on the door with the cake box balanced carefully on his hand, the only answer was silence. Frowning, he knocked again and again, finally pulling out his phone to call. Nothing. Finally, on the third call, he left a short message, trying very hard not to let disappointment and annoyance register in his voice, and went home.

His phone buzzed with a text message a few minutes after midnight. Micah fumbled to grab it.

Angel:
Are you still awake?

Micah:
Yes
.

The phone rang in his hand. In the velvet darkness, Aiden’s voice sounded hoarse and strained.

“Micah, I’m so sorry. I know I said I’d be home, I should have let you know, but I was leaving in a hurry and I forgot my phone. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Micah’s annoyance turned into worry at once. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine, everything’s fine.”

“No offense, but you don’t really sound fine. Where did you go?”

“I…” Aiden hesitated. “I had to work tonight.”

Micah frowned, an ugly feeling lacing his words with spite. “You had to leave in a hurry for a
job
? On your birthday and after you told me I could come over? What was it, a sex emergency? Someone’s life was at risk because of an urgent need of an orgasm?”

“Micah—” The tone of Aiden’s voice stopped him short. Even through the roughness—and Micah really didn’t want to think what could have happened to his throat since this morning—the word sounded choked, as if forced out through impending tears. He took a calming breath, already feeling guilty for his outburst.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That wasn’t fair. I’m just really disappointed I didn’t get to pamper you on your special day, that’s all.”

“I know. But I really had to take this one. Believe me, I’d much rather have spent tonight with you,” Aiden said quietly.

“Any chance you won’t get called in tomorrow? There’s a raspberry chocolate cake in my fridge waiting for you.”

Aiden let out a wet little chuckle. “Trying to lure me in with cake, are you? As if I could refuse. Yes, I’m free tomorrow afternoon. My classes end at four. And I’m definitely not taking any emergencies. Will you come over?”

Micah let out a dramatic sigh. “I suppose. Not before seven though, I can’t leave early two days in a row, and I’ll have to pop in here after work to pick up the cake.”

“I’m sorry,” Aiden repeated, sounding even more miserable.

“It’s okay. We’ve got tomorrow. And dress to impress, I’m taking you out. It’s not every day you turn twenty-four.”

“So what are the most
common fantasies that you work with?” Micah asked one evening as he watched Aiden transform into a classy, perfectly groomed businessman in an expensive suit for this night’s job. It was fascinating to see how his posture, his movements, even his expressions changed with a persona, but Micah would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a pang of jealousy at the thought of what Aiden would be doing in an hour or two. Hence the question: a distraction. They didn’t usually discuss Aiden’s job, but if he let Micah watch him get ready, maybe he wouldn’t mind talking about it.

Aiden looked at him over a hanger of silk ties. “Most common? Hmmm, all kinds of role play, I’d say. Power dynamics, too—either dominating or being dominated. Some threesomes, some public sex. Men who thought themselves straight experimenting with gay sex. Generally, everything that’s some kind of taboo for a person. They can’t have it in their everyday lives, or with their current partners, so they come to me. Sometimes repeatedly.”

Somehow, Micah didn’t want to think about faceless people who had enough claim on Aiden to hire him again and again, whenever they wanted.

“How about your most unusual encounter?”

Aiden grinned. “I was Captain America once. The request was to ‘rescue’ my client, carry her to a safe, but semi-public, location and then have my manly way with her while still in character, costume and all. That was an interesting one.”

Micah’s eyes widened. “Wow! I’d love to see you as the Captain. You must have looked spectacular.”

“Not bad if I say so myself. I still have that costume somewhere.” Aiden winked. He picked a tie, held it to his crisp white shirt with a frown, and then chose another. “Another unusual one was what the client called a ‘virgin experience.’”

Micah’s eyebrows arched halfway up his forehead. “Was that what I think it was?”

“Pretty much.” Aiden started to tie his tie in quick, practiced motions. “A girl who wanted her first time to be flawless.”

“And you delivered?”

Aiden glanced at him in the mirror. “Of course I delivered. She was one hundred percent satisfied.”

Okay, so maybe that was a bit more than Micah wanted to know.

“Are all your clients women?” he asked.

“Obviously not.” Aiden smirked and looked pointedly at Micah while smoothing out invisible wrinkles on his shirt and reaching for the jacket. “But about two-thirds are, I’d say.”

Aiden went on with his preparations, and then Micah blurted, “Isn’t it weird? Going in without even knowing who you’re going to meet, what they look like, how they’re going to treat you?”