The Mating of Michael (20 page)

James opened the door. He was in his wheelchair, dressed in soft sweatpants and a laundry-thin T-shirt. He didn’t say anything, but the bleak misery and raw need in his eyes shot down inside Michael in a bolt of pure pain.

Michael dropped his duffle bag inside the door, leaned over, and took James’s face in his hands. Neither said a word as they studied each other, but Michael knew what James needed. The despair rolled off him in waves—he needed… he needed to be held, he needed to be loved.

“Let me,” Michael said quietly.

James closed his eyes for a moment and then nodded, just one little jog of his chin, but it was enough. Michael firmed his hands on James’s jaw and kissed him.

Michael had wanted to kiss James for forever—at least it felt that way. That chaste kiss they’d shared in Ellensburg had been incredibly frustrating. He’d wanted so much more—he’d wanted everything. And now… now James was letting Michael kiss him.
James was kissing Michael back.

Michael was already aroused. But when the desperate need poured forth from James—in the way he took over the kiss, reaching up to hold Michael’s neck and plunging his tongue into Michael’s mouth, in the way his shaking hand slid around Michael’s waist—the passion boiled up, hot and sharp and fast. Michael gasped at the crazed strength of it. With his mouth so thoroughly occupied, the gasp became a whimper. The kiss ramped up even hotter. He devoured James’s mouth, and James devoured him back—all tongues and teeth and lips and urgent longing.

All of James’s loneliness was there in that kiss—the hand of a drowning man grasping frantically at a rope. It sparked every instinct of love and compassion Michael had.

He pulled away from the kiss so he could slip onto James’s lap. He kissed James’s throat, hungry for all of him, for every bit of skin. “Let’s go to your bedroom,” he whispered. “I need you so bad.” The fingers of one hand wove through James’s thick hair while the other slid around James’s solid chest and grasped him firmly. Even in his desire, Michael was conscious about wanting to let James know—
I’ve got this. Lean on me.

But James didn’t feel weak. He felt strong, deliciously so. His chest was broad, and his hands were large and firm on Michael’s back. A bit hesitantly, they slid down to cup the top of Michael’s ass, pulling his hip in closer. Michael could feel James’s erection, large and hard, in his sweats, and knew the moment James felt his erection—pushing against the forearm in his lap. James made a hungry sound in his throat and gripped him tighter.

God, yes. Like that. Hold me hard.

“I’m… a virgin,” James said in a rough voice as Michael kissed his way up James’s jaw.

Michael heaved a sigh. He wasn’t surprised, but it made him mad—angry that James had missed out on so much. He gave James a searing kiss before pulling away to look into his eyes.

“You deserve to be loved, and I want to love you tonight—so much. Are you okay with that?”

For a long moment, James stared back, not saying anything. The sexual tension was thick as fog between them. James’s erection throbbed once against Michael’s ass. It was nearly unbearable. He wanted to touch it so badly.

“Yes,” James whispered. “I want you. But you deserve better than a phone call in the middle of the night. You deserve to be wooed. We can wait.”

Michael was touched by James’s sincerity, but there was no way he was going to let this opportunity pass by, not when James so clearly needed him.

“James, you wooed me long ago.”

Michael underscored his answer with another long kiss, hot and heady. He kissed James until they were both panting, until he could sense nothing but pleasure and desire in James’s trembling—no fear, no second thoughts. When James began tentatively rutting against his hip, Michael pulled away and stood up.

“Let’s go to your bedroom,” Michael said.

T
HIS
WAS
it.

James was exhilarated, nervous, aroused, and terrified. Mostly, he was determined. Very soon, he would no longer be a virgin. Soon he would be in bed with a man, touching and being touched, having sex with another human being. His need for human contact had finally burned brighter than his self-consciousness. And suddenly, he found that he trusted Michael. Even if Michael was disgusted, he would try to hide it, he wouldn’t be cruel. Worst case, they could be friends after. Right?

But Michael seemed a million miles away from being disgusted.

They made it into the bedroom. Michael gave him space to maneuver around to the bed while the look of desire in his eyes, and his small touches, made sure James never came down from the lust he’d felt in the living room.

Jesus Christ, those kisses.

No one had ever kissed James like that—hot and wet and hungry. Chris’s kisses had made James yearn for something that wasn’t there. Michael’s kisses burned him up inside, made sensations rush through his body that he’d never experienced before. He was drunk with desire. Nothing existed except Michael’s lips and hands and the trembling response of his own body. And Michael wanted him too, that’s what was so incredible. He could feel the passion in Michael’s kiss, in the skimming glide of those delicate hands, touching him everywhere, in the press of Michael’s hardness against him.

It was more than he’d ever dared dream. How had he ever written a passionate scene without having felt
this
? He’d had no fucking clue what it felt like to be set aflame by someone’s touch and be burnt down to pure, mindless want.

Michael pulled away long enough for James to swing himself onto the bed. He pulled on Michael’s hand, bringing him along. He didn’t want to stop kissing Michael, didn’t want to have time to think or let his nerves take over. He wanted to drown in the desire and not come up for air. With their lips locked, James pushed himself back on the bed, and Michael climbed over him, laid on top of him softly, his light weight pressing James down as they ravished each other’s mouths.

Michael broke the kiss. “I want to touch you.” He rose up and tugged at the hem of James’s T-shirt.

James let the shirt come off. Michael sat up, straddling James’s hips so that he was sitting on James’s erection. He rocked on it, very deliberately, as he peeled off his own shirt.

“Oh, God,” James groaned. The feeling of Michael rocking on his aching cock and the sight of Michael’s chest—so lean, soft, and sweet—almost did him in. He reached up, but Michael scooted backward.

“Let me take care of you,” Michael said, with eyelids half-lidded and a flush on his cheeks. He looked like James felt—lost in passion—and James drank in every nuance of his expression like the aphrodisiac that it was. Michael ran his hands over James’s chest, pressing his palms against his nipples, making James groan and arch up for more. Then his hands skimmed down and began to pull at James’s waistband.

A moment of panic sliced through the haze in James’s mind. He grabbed Michael’s hand. Michael stopped immediately, looking at him with those big, soft eyes. He didn’t fight James’s hold.

“I want to touch you so much. Can I pull them down just a bit?” Michael asked, licking his lips.

James felt unsure, the fears reemerging.
If he sees my legs… what if he….
What if that look of desire on Michael’s face changed to something else and this was all ruined? James thought he might die if that happened.

He was still holding Michael’s hands, frozen with uncertainty, but Michael’s thumb found his erection and rubbed it slowly over the sweats. James swallowed a groan.

Michael gave him a wicked smile and scooted back farther so he could lean over and kiss James’s cock through his sweatpants.
Kiss. Kiss, kiss
.

Oh, fucking Zeus and Aphrodite and Loki and anyone else you could name. James’s hands fell away from Michael’s, useless.

Still kissing softly over the cloth, Michael reached up slowly to James’s waistband. Big brown eyes full of wickedness looked up at him as Michael mouthed his cock and started to tug down the waistband slowly, god so slowly. James whimpered and canted up his hips.

“Just… not all the way,” James gritted out.
Oh, God, please.

But Michael wasn’t rushing anything. He pulled down the elastic waistband of James’s sweatpants and briefs just enough to show the tip of his cock.

“Is this okay?” he asked with an arched eyebrow. He stuck out his tongue and flicked it over the slit.

James hissed, canting his hips up again. “
Michael
.”

“Hmm?” Michael tugged the waistband down another inch. “How about now?” He suckled the tip into his mouth.

“Fuck!” James grabbed Michael’s hands, needing to hang on to something. He’d fantasized about this a million times, about being in a man’s mouth. He could hardly believe it was happening.

Michael dragged the waistband down bit by bit, licking each new millimeter of shaft as it was revealed. Jesus, he was temptation incarnate with those naughty big brown eyes, and his tongue felt…. Christ, it was warm and rough and amazing.

“Oh, shit.”

Michael tucked the pants underneath James’s balls. “This okay?” he asked, looking up at James seriously, not teasing now.

James nodded, but then, he would have agreed to anything looking down like that, at his own cock, rigidly erect and red, and Michael’s pretty face
right there
.

Michael swallowed him down and started to suck.

Oh.
It was the most incredible sensation—Michael’s warm, wet mouth on him, the vacuum and friction of his drawing sucks. You think you can imagine what a blowjob will feel like, but no, really, you fucking can’t. It was the best thing he’d ever felt in his life, and he could easily come like that, and quickly. But James didn’t want that, didn’t want it to end so soon. And then, as soon as he had that thought, something else pulled at him too. Michael’s mouth was heaven, but… no. Something was wrong. James sat up, pushing Michael away.

They looked at each other for a long moment, Michael braced on his hands and knees, James sitting up. Michael studied his face intently.

“Not good?” he said softly.

“I’m… “ James said, frustrated with himself.

“It’s okay,” Michael said, shifting to take his hand. “It doesn’t matter
at all
how long you last. It’s so hot to be with you, babe. I’m close myself.”

James shook his head, trying to put his unease into words. “No, I… don’t want to just lie there.”

Yes, that was it. Michael was
servicing
him. James didn’t like that, didn’t like feeling helpless, useless, babied. Why did he have to feel that way
now?
Why couldn’t he just accept a blowjob like any man with an inch of sanity would? He looked at Michael in frustration.

Michael studied him for a moment and then gave a shy little smile of understanding.

He got off the bed and pulled off his jeans, underwear, and socks so that he was completely nude. He stood by the side of the bed, stroking himself lightly and letting James look his fill. His cock was larger than James had expected, given Michael’s size. It was… unbelievably sexy. He was uncircumcised and very hard. As he touched himself, his cock pointed at James as if begging for his attention, a drop of precum glistening on the exposed tip. Damn, that was….
God.
It was so much fucking better in real life.

Michael must have seen the desire on his face, because his own expression flashed with lust. “You can touch it, babe,” he said, breathing hard. He took a step closer. “Do what you want, what feels right.”

James reached out and touched the tip of it. “Can I taste you?” His voice was like sandpaper, and his heart rate doubled as the words left his mouth, but yes, that was what he wanted.

Michael seemed to like the idea too. “God, yes.”

James pushed himself up and scooted back against the headboard. “Let me have it,” he growled in a voice that was demanding and shaky at the same time. “I’m going to be shit at this, and I don’t care.”

“Oh, God, I don’t either,” Michael groaned.

He climbed onto the bed on his knees, moving up close and grasping the headboard in both hands. James scooted down a bit until he was level with Michael’s cock. He circled the base with one hand, stuck out his tongue, and licked at the head, looking up at Michael, daring him to come closer.

Michael moaned deep in his throat. “That is so hot,” he whispered. He watched, as if wanting to make sure it was okay, as James rubbed the slick head against his lips. It felt right, good, not to be treated like an invalid but to be treated like a man, a sexual man. It didn’t matter that James’s legs didn’t work, or that he didn’t have any experience. Michael was surrendering to him, giving him control, and damn if that didn’t stir something deep in James that made him feel powerful and potent and so horny he could burst. He leaned forward and sucked the head in.

Michael groaned, low and anguished, making James feel about ten feet tall. Maybe he was shit at this, but it didn’t sound like it by Michael’s reactions, and it didn’t
feel
like it, not when there was the taste of precum on his tongue and a hard cock rocking ever so gently in his mouth. He closed his eyes and took in more, sucking fairly hard. He wasn’t sure what the right amount of pressure felt the best, but he remembered how incredibly good it felt when Michael suckled him, and so he did the same. He was rewarded with a whimper of pleasure from Michael and the rocking turned to thrusts, though Michael was careful to keep them shallow.

James sucked in as much as he could, but he couldn’t take it all before Michael’s cock hit the back of his throat and triggered his gag reflex. So he wrapped a hand around the base and, having measured his limit, felt confident enough to move his mouth up and down, sucking and releasing. It took them a moment, but they found a better rhythm when James put a hand on Michael’s hip and guided him. He kept his head still against the headboard while he moved Michael’s hips in and out.

James loved the feeling of it, loved the sounds Michael made as he sucked on every withdraw or when he pushed the flat of his tongue against the shaft. He loved the stuttering passion in the cock itself, its demand and unapologetic taking of what it needed, not rough, but not overly gentle either. He loved controlling Michael’s movements with his hand, teasing him by forcing him to slow, or making him whimper when he sped up.