Just What the Truth Is (11 page)

I blushed again, took the pants, and pulled them on. The waist was a little snug on me, making me realize those sweats probably hung as loosely on Micah as the ones he was wearing, because his frame was narrower than mine, but otherwise they fit. I decided not to say anything about shirts. It wasn’t as if there was any chance of my mother walking in and finding out we were half undressed around food.

Just the thought of my parents seeing me with Micah and realizing what we had been doing made me shudder and feel a little nauseous, but I forced myself to pull it together. And I think I did a fine job of it, managing to keep the oh-my-God-what-have-I-done post-coital panic attack at bay, at least for a while.

Dinner was fun. We joked around, ate, played footsie under the table. Honestly, I had never even conceived of feeling so comfortable with someone, of laughing until my stomach hurt one minute and feeling so aroused that I wanted to maul him in the next. Add to that the fact that Micah was brilliant and incredibly successful and anybody with two brain cells to rub together would realize I had stumbled onto the perfect catch.

Do you happen to know anybody looking to sell a brain cell? ’Cause it looks like I’m one short.

When we finished eating, Micah stayed true to his word. He led me to the bedroom, pulled off my pants, and then licked his way down my body until his talented mouth reached my cock. After that it was Micah sucking and bobbing his head, me moaning and arching my ass off the bed, and then both of us cumming—me deep in Micah’s throat, and him kneeling above me, stroking himself, and shooting all over my chest.

He pulled the comforter up and curled himself around my body, nuzzling my neck. “I know it was just a week, but I missed you while I was out of town. I’d already gotten used to spending time with you every day.” He leaned up, kissed my cheek, and locked his eyes with mine. “I’m so glad you’re here with me now.”

I wanted to tell him that I had missed him too. I wanted to say that I was gladder to be with him than I had any business being. But the words didn’t come out, and then I was asleep.

My norm before finally falling asleep most nights was at least an hour or two of mental flogging and self recrimination over all the ways I wasn’t measuring up to my parents’ expectations, or my potential, or anything else I could come up with. But that night, I slept soundly, my limbs tangled with Micah’s, his scent surrounding me. It was wonderful.

I
HAD
an hour-long commute to and from work, so my body was used to waking up early. Not realizing it was a Saturday, my bladder gave me a wakeup call before dawn. It was dark in Micah’s bedroom, but even in my half-asleep, foggy state, I managed to make it into the bathroom without crashing into anything and waking him up. As tired as I knew he was from his trip, he was probably dead to the world anyway.

I flipped the light on, made my way around the bathroom, and then stopped at the sink to wash my hands. My brain was still fuzzy with sleep, so I wasn’t thinking clearly. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw my body in distinct snapshots. Reddened nipples. Love bites on my chest. White, crusty dried release on my stomach. I clenched my ass and felt the unfamiliar sensation of skin and muscle that had been touched and used for the first time. Almost as if it were connected by a wire, my dick immediately began filling.

What was wrong with me? I looked like I had been ravished. Hell, I had been ravaged. I had lain in that bed and let a man have complete dominion over me, over even the most intimate parts of my body. That shouldn’t be a turn-on. I was stronger than that. I had to be.

Hello, Mister Morning After Regret. I didn’t realize you came to visit when no alcohol was involved, but I’m not surprised you made a special exception for me.

I stumbled out of the bathroom, hurried through the house, and gathered my clothes. Two minutes later, I was outside, walking barefoot to my car, with my socks and shoes in my hand and an emptiness I refused to acknowledge forming in my chest.

My intention was to drive home, scrub myself clean, and find a way to get my life under control. So I was surprised when I found myself parked in front of my brother’s house. I mean, yeah, I had driven there and everything, so it wasn’t as if it should’ve been a shocker. But there it was.

Well, as long as I was there, I might as well stop in to say hello. I wasn’t in his neighborhood all that often, after all, and it would be rude to just leave without…. Whatever, I needed help, and my subconscious had taken me to my brother’s house. Good to know part of me was still capable of making a rational decision. I put my shoes on without bothering with socks, put one foot in front of the other, and rang Noah’s doorbell.

It took a while for him to answer, and when he finally did, I coughed and looked down. Noah was stark naked, glaring at me. “What the fuck, Ben? Is someone dead?”

“Huh?” I asked intelligently.

“It’s six in the morning,” he grumbled, but then he stepped aside and waved his arm back and forth. “Come in, come in.”

I walked into his house and moved toward the family room on autopilot, settling into the corner of the couch. “Sorry. I forgot how early it is. Did I wake you guys up?”

“It’s fine. Clark’s still asleep, and I’ll catch a nap later.” He settled into the armchair across from me and stretched his long legs in front of him, completely comfortable in his own skin.

How had we grown up in the same house? I couldn’t conceive of sitting on furniture naked. My father’s disapproving voice was practically shouting in my head just from the thought of it.

I know, I know. My parents spend way too much time in my head. I need help.

Look, I was trying, okay? I wasn’t perfect, far from it, but I really was trying.

I gathered my courage and looked at my brother. “I have a question.”

“Ninety-six.” His face was completely expressionless.

“What?”

“You said you had a question,” he responded. “And I gave you an answer. Ninety-six. Make it work.”

That was usually the point in a conversation with my brother where I gave up and changed the topic to sports or work or the weather. But this was too important for me to give up, so I forced myself to drudge forward. “Can you please try to take me seriously for once? I think something’s wrong with me, Noah, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

I folded my arms over my knees and dropped my face down, trying to guard myself from his reaction. He was quiet for a long time, longer than I thought possible with my outspoken brother. Then I heard him sigh before he started talking.  “There’s nothing wrong with you that you can’t fix. I’m just spit-ballin’ here, but maybe if you just stopped fuckin’ hiding and pretending to be someone you’re not, well maybe then you wouldn’t be so damn miserable all the time.”

I looked up at him and wondered how he knew how unhappy I had been for so long. I thought I had been doing such a good job hiding my feelings under a plastic smile and carefree demeanor. “What if what I am is… broken or wrong, somehow?”

What if what I am will disappoint our parents?
I didn’t ask that question because I knew how little our parents’ opinions mattered to him. Besides, processing the sex from the previous night was enough of a challenge to address in one conversation.

“Look, Ben, I’m not a mind reader. Tell me what’s going on with you. Just say it. I seriously doubt you’re as fucked up as you seem to think. And if you are, well, you know I won’t pull any punches.”

That was true. If I could count on Noah for one thing, it was raw honesty. I plunged ahead. “I met someone. A guy.” I looked at the floor and noticed my foot tapping restlessly.

“Better late than never,” Noah said under his breath.

I shook my head. “You don’t understand. When I’m with him, I can’t… I don’t know. I can’t think straight or something.”

He chuckled. “What’s the problem here? Seems to me you’re finally heading in the right direction. Thinking straight’s been the issue all along.”

I looked my brother in the eyes, imploring him to understand and not make fun of me. “He did things to me, and I let him,” I blurted out.

Noah’s expression hardened immediately. “He hurt you?” He got up and walked over to me, looking over my face and body slowly. “Who is he? What’d he do to you? I’ll fuckin’ kill him.”

Noah was younger than me, but he was bigger, stronger, and generally angrier, which made him a formidable opponent. I should know, because I was usually on the receiving end of his threats, and then some. That was the first time in my entire life that my brother had been protective of me or expressed any sort of concern over my well-being. I was shocked and pleased in equal parts, so it took me a few moments to answer. Eventually, I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t like that. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I wanted him to do those things.”

The tension left his shoulders, and he sat next to me on the couch. “What, like he spanked you or tied you up or something?”

I gasped and shook my head. “No! Nothing that awful. Jesus, do people actually do sick things like that?” Sex talk with my friends had always been about women with particularly big tits or maybe flexible bodies. Bondage had never entered the equation. “Maybe you’re right. If there are actually people messed up enough to do that shit, then I guess I’m better off than I thought.”

Noah got up from the couch and walked back over to his chair, dragging his fingers through his hair in a clear display of frustration. “You’re a special kind of stupid, aren’t you, Ben?”

And the normal Noah was back. I wondered how I could have concerned-brother Noah hang around for just a little bit longer. “What I’m trying to tell you is….” I swallowed hard and shut my eyes for a couple of seconds before I found the courage to continue. “When we were together, I wasn’t the guy, you know?”

“You weren’t the guy?” Noah looked like he was barely containing a smirk.

“Come on, Noah, don’t make me say it. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean, Ben. But you’re both guys. That’s the whole point, and what you do with each other in bed doesn’t change that.” He took a deep breath, seemingly trying to rein in his usual verbal attacks. “Let’s just move on. Did you get off on it?”

My blush seemed to be all the answer he needed.

“Okay, I think I’ve got the picture. You met a guy and hit it off. You had sex, good sex if the look on your face right now is any indication, but every silver lining has a cloud, and you’ve managed to find it. So now you’re freaking out because you bottomed and liked it.”

“Bottomed” wasn’t a term I had previously heard, but I understood it in context. I was glad Noah was on the same page. Maybe he could help me. “Yes, that’s what happened.”

“Look, Ben, if you go twelve rounds with a punching bag, the punching bag always wins.” Great, a kickboxing analogy. Do you have any idea what he meant? I sure didn’t. He rolled his eyes and dumbed it down for me. “You’re always going to be unhappy if you insist on finding every reason possible to hate yourself. It’s normal to be a little freaked out about sex at first. I mean, I wasn’t, but there are some guys who have a lot of macho bullshit going on about being on the receiving end.”

He shrugged, and I bit my tongue to keep myself from saying something snarky about him never having freaked out about sex. Of course he hadn’t. It was all so simple for Noah, yet the morning after anxiety was well on its way to putting me in an early grave. It seemed like everything made sense in my brother’s mind. I wanted that kind of peace. I let my head fall onto the back of the couch and covered my eyes with my forearm.

“So you don’t think it makes me less of a man if I liked it when he… when he….” I stammered but couldn’t complete the sentence.

“No,” he said simply. I sat up straight and blinked my eyes open, wanting very much to hear his opinion. My brother’s expression was softer than usual. “I say, if it’s good, keep doing it, you know? But if you’re not into it, then don’t. Some guys are strict tops, some guys don’t get into ass play at all. Different strokes and all that. The point is being real, being you, and not hiding anymore. You should do whatever gets you hot, Ben, and if that means being a bottom or being versatile, well, that’s what it means.” He shrugged. “What we do in bed doesn’t define our masculinity.”

Could it be that easy? I had enjoyed being with Micah the previous night, really enjoyed it. Was that a sufficient justification to keep doing it? “I really like him, Noah. I mean, I
really
like him.”

“I can tell. Does he feel the same way about you?”

I thought about how Micah looked at me when we were together. Wherever we were—in a restaurant, in the office, at his house—he seemed completely focused on me, and his gaze was always so tender. He made me feel as if I was the center of his world.

I nodded. “Yeah, I think he does. I have no idea why, but I think he’s just as into me.”

Noah smirked. “That’s good, ’cause based on the wrinkled clothes, dreadful bedhead, the ungodly hour of this visit, I’m guessing you had sex with him, freaked out, and then snuck out of the house in the middle of the night.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. “Oh, shit.”

Chapter Eleven