Nothing but Smoke (Fire and Rain) (13 page)

The position felt right, safe, even though anyone who walked in would assume Michael was fucking him. Then Michael thrust, a smooth pressure right along his crease, so deep it felt like Michael was inside him already, and Nicky forgot to think. He forgot to do anything but arch off the bed.

“Fuck, Nicky…” Michael was everywhere, all around him, nipping and kissing and stroking his whole body over Nicky’s shoulders and hips and legs. The only place he wasn’t anymore was on Nicky’s dick, since in this position Michael needed his hands to hold him up. “Squeeze me.”

After a second of processing what Michael was asking, Nicky clenched his butt cheeks.

“God… Yeah… Just like that…” The tension in Michael’s body was so hot Nicky couldn’t help but get a hand under his hips and grab his dick. He scrunched a shirt underneath him, tensing. Despite being close to the end, they still moved in short, jerky, almost silent motions, the hint of the bed creaking the only sound that could give them away.

“You’d want it like this?” Michael’s murmurs tickled Nicky’s ear.

Not lifting his head, Nicky nodded. God, he wanted everything. The kisses and the hot breath. The smell of musk and end-of-the-day sweat. Even the movie in the background making this seem like the most natural thing in the world. “Yeah. Want it so bad.”

Wetness splashed on Nicky’s lower back, and Michael’s thrusts got sloppier and slicker.

“Your finger,” Nicky panted. He wanted to feel it for a second. Just to see what it was like. He pushed up to his knees, ass sticking out to meet Michael’s slowing rubs.

“I…”

Nicky figured Michael was going to balk about germs or whatever, but Nicky didn’t care. Hell, if Michael had wanted to, Nicky would have let Michael fuck him raw that night. “C’mon. Do it. I want to know.”

Michael’s touch was there, a single finger rubbing through lube and sweat, so slippery Nicky would have thought his digit would have sank right inside, but though that first press reached what Nicky assumed was a knuckle, something stopped it from going any farther.

“It’s okay.” Michael landed a warm hand on Nicky’s back—a move soothing and firm at the same time—and pressed past whatever clenched muscle in Nicky’s body was holding him out.

The feeling was like having the wind knocked out of him. Sharp and intense and making him hold his breath while he struggled to reconcile what he’d expected with what he felt.

“It’s a little weird at first.” Slowly, Michael withdrew his fingertip, only to press inside again. This time, he moved more easily, though Nicky could tell that one quick clench of his muscles would grab hold of Michael’s hand.

It was a weird feeling, letting Michael enter him. Not only because the pain was as acute as the pleasure, but also because Nicky had to keep loose, pressing back against Michael to allow Michael’s touch inside.

“You want me to stop?” Another gentle press inward, slicking more lube and possibly come into Nicky’s body, setting off nerves that Nicky hadn’t known he had.

“No.” Nicky sped up his hand on his dick. He’d thought coming like this would be challenging, trying to relax when all his body wanted to do was tense. But as soon as he started the climb, the feeling of something inside him turned so sweet it was all he could do not to howl and buck back into Michael’s searching hand.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh…”

Michael dragged him up until Nicky was sitting on Michael’s finger, but Michael put a hand across Nicky’s mouth, whispering in his ear, “Shhhhhhh, Nicky. Don’t scream.”

Well, fuck, that only made Nicky want to scream more. Michael’s digit was dancing inside him, wiggling across nerve endings fit to burst from excitement.

“I’d finish you in my mouth, but I don’t think you’d be able to keep quiet.”

The picture of that flashed through Nicky’s mind—his dick disappearing between Michael’s lips as Michael pressed something, anything, deep into Nicky’s ass—and Nicky came apart in a thousand pieces. His insides jerked, exploding, all the more so because he held as still as he could, Michael against his back and Michael’s fist in his mouth, while lights danced behind Nicky’s eyes and his sinews struggled to break free of their fastenings.

He was flying. Untethered. Totally free and in orbit. All the better because Michael had a hold on him and wasn’t letting go.

“Oh my God.” The way Michael said it was a lot closer to “ohmigod”, making him sound ten years younger and a different gender from the guy Nicky had in his bed. “Don’t move.”

Nicky didn’t think he could. But when Michael let go of him, it occurred to Nicky that what Michael meant was
don’t flop on the bed face first and fall asleep like you want to right now.
If Michael hadn’t gotten back armed with tissues and wet wipes a second later, Nicky probably would have just collapsed and slept in a mess of come and lube. Michael swept soft paper around Nicky’s belly, under his balls, and then up along his crack.

The bath would have seemed embarrassing, possibly even humiliating, if Michael didn’t murmur sexily the whole time.

“Fuck, I’m so tired.” Nicky couldn’t bring himself to tell Michael how good it had been. After all, it seemed like Michael already knew.

“Yeah. I figured.” Michael smacked a kiss on Nicky’s jaw. His words were smug, but Nicky figured he had a right to sound satisfied.

“Shit. I should check on my mom.” Nicky fell onto his sheets, closing his eyes.

“I’d do it for you, but that would be creepy.” Michael hovered, sitting on the bed.

“Yeah. Too creepy. But thanks.” With a groan, Nicky rolled up to stand. He grabbed his shirt off the floor and pulled it on, unsure what to say to Michael, who seemed on the verge of leaving now that they’d finished fooling around. The credits were rolling on the movie, and if there was a time for Nicky to act, it was now before Michael did what he always did and took over. “You want to stay? One of us would have to sleep on the floor, but I could bring up cushions from the couch.”

The way Michael bit the edge of his nail was uncharacteristic, and after a breath or two, Michael glowered at his hand, shaking it out like he could erase the nervous gesture. “I guess. I mean, if you need help packing tomorrow.”

“Really?” Possibly Michael was using packing as an excuse, but Nicky didn’t care. He’d love not to be alone when he started piling his mother’s things in boxes. “That would be awesome.”

A grin tilted Michael’s lips, as if he were on even ground now that he had something concrete he could do.

Nicky would let Michael organize the whole damn process if it would keep Michael there.

“So, uh…I should just wait up here?” Michael’s hand drifted back to his mouth, an unconscious gesture Nicky tried to ignore.

“Yeah. Though there’s only the one bathroom downstairs. Er…use it whenever you’re ready.” Nicky put a hand on Michael’s arm. “Hey.” He searched Michael’s face, wondering if Michael would pull away when all Nicky wanted to do was get closer. “Thanks. For everything.”

Michael’s smile was genuine, so Nicky pecked Michael on the cheek and slipped downstairs to make sure his mother was comfortable in her sleep.

Chapter Ten

Considering that Michael had been the one to bring a toothbrush, he shouldn’t have felt so awkward when he woke up the next morning. Staring at the ceiling, he heard the sound of a shower downstairs. Sunlight streamed through the window, providing backlight for the bits of dust that floated in the air. Nothing in the house was dirty…exactly. But the whole place needed a massive decluttering. Maybe Nicky would go for it once he started packing his mother’s things.

The door cracked open. “Hey. Good morning.” Nicky came in, towel wrapped around his hips and torso dripping with water that fell from the tips of his hair. With his muscle-packed shoulders and his narrow waist and that ass that swelled out from those two dimples on his lower back, he could have been drawn from one of Michael’s fevered jerk-off fantasies.

“Good morning.” Michael pushed up to his elbows, blinking the sleep and anxiety from his eyes. Nicky wasn’t some kind of test, and he wasn’t purposely tricking Michael into a relationship. He was just a confused guy.

Anyway, Nicky was coming out…eventually. He’d started already when they’d gone to the restaurant together.

“D’you sleep okay?” Michael looked skeptically at the cushions still lined up on the floor and the tattered blanket twisted on top.

“Yeah.” The flush on Nicky’s face may have been from the shower, but when he bent to kiss Michael’s cheek, Michael had a feeling he was embarrassed. “How about you?”

Michael didn’t want to mention the tossing and turning, the thoughts he’d had all night about how he’d have to go into work that morning pretending nothing had happened—because hell if he’d tell Jesse he was dating Nicky if Nicky was introducing Michael as a friend.

“You know, you don’t have to help pack, right?” Nicky slipped on his briefs under his towel.

“No, it’s fine. Like I said, I’ve got a few hours before I have to work.” Michael’s insides were screaming at him to get out of there. At the very least to go pick up breakfast so he’d have some control over what he was eating—but if worse came to worst, he could always eat leftovers.

“You can take a shower if you like.” Nicky flat-out blushed now, though why, Michael couldn’t guess. “My mom’s up already.”

“Oh.” Michael had forgotten that staying over might mean using the same bathroom as Nicky’s mother. Talk about weird. “Yeah. That would be great.”

“I put a fresh towel on the rack.”

With a nod, Michael set off for the bathroom downstairs. He’d seen it the night before, but in low light and with his eyes half closed as he brushed his teeth. A few prints decorated the walls, and there were fewer knickknacks than elsewhere in the house. Sunlight cut across the white walls, giving the room a feeling that might be antiseptic if it weren’t for the effigies trying to shove religion down Michael’s throat.

The shower’s water pressure left a lot to be desired. Michael washed away any residue from the day before and dried off with Nicky’s threadbare towel. Since Michael had been old enough to care about politics, he’d been in favor of healthcare reform, but he’d never seen firsthand how an illness could wipe out a family’s finances.

He hoped Nicky was doing okay on that front, because supporting a sick relative couldn’t have been easy.

Nicky knocked on the door. “Hey, do you need to borrow some clothes?”

“Um…” Michael would be swimming in Nicky’s shirts, but he could probably fit his underwear well enough. “Maybe.” He didn’t want to say
underwear
out loud, so he opened the door a few inches, murmuring, “Some briefs?”

Nicky’s smile was infectious, the bounce in his posture at odds with how Michael felt poised on pins and needles. “Here. This stuff is from high school, so it might fit.”

Michael wished there was a way to tell Nicky he didn’t want to wear whatever fashion disasters Nicky had been up to ten years ago, but he accepted the clothes anyway. “They’re going to be too short,” he grumbled, because Michael didn’t like having his physique compared to a high schooler’s.

“They’re shorts.” Nicky frowned, like he’d picked up on Michael’s negative mood. “But you don’t have to wear them. If you want to just stick to the briefs…”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine.” Michael forced his mouth into a smile, finding that once it got there, his mood lifted. Nicky was trying. The least Michael could do was to try too. “Just give me a sec to get these on.”

The shorts were simple cargoes, and a little tight, which had Michael flattered that Nicky had thought he was so thin. The shirt stretched across Michael’s shoulders, making him somehow look gayer than he normally did, despite the Mariners logo on the front. Feeling awkward, he stepped out of the bathroom.

“Oh.” Nicky gave Michael a once-over, his mouth dropping open. “Wow.”

Michael couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t normally dress in clothes this small unless he was going to a club. Doing so in Nicky’s house felt like he had a giant flashing sign above his head screaming
I’m gay!

“Too tight?” Michael lifted an eyebrow.

“Uh, no. Not at all.” The bulge forming in the front of Nicky’s pants told a different story.

If it weren’t for the boxes Nicky had piled in the hallway—and Nicky’s mother, and everything else—Michael would have been out of those clothes in the time it took to say,
Let’s fuck.
As it was, Michael just patted Nicky’s shoulder on his way to grab some boxes. “So, what all are we packing? Start upstairs or down?”

“Oh. Um…?” Nicky rubbed his neck, his eyes widening like he was getting ready to panic.

“Well, how about we get some coffee, and then you and her can decide what you want to do?”

“Yeah.” Nicky nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, okay. I have coffee. It’s regular, and we only have whole milk.”

“It’s fine.” Michael touched his arm, realizing exactly how much the prospect of moving was stressing Nicky out. “We’ll do it together.” This, Michael could handle. It was simple, finite. Unemotional.

“Okay.” Instead of turning for the kitchen, Nicky headed for the living room, so Michael followed. He may as well say hi to Nicky’s mother, since he’d be interacting with her things all morning.

Lydia sat on the couch, a small plate of half-eaten eggs on the table in front of her.