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Micah’s legs were wicked strong, and he used that to his advantage, caging and keeping Jake close as he drew whimpers of frustration and moans of pleasure from the man. The feeling of power was heady, the knowledge that he was turning Jake on, driving him crazy with his mouth and hands and body. Jake whispered his name over and over, eyes closed. It was a chant, a benediction, a prayer.
With a sudden growl, Jake opened his eyes and stared into Micah’s. “Fuck, Mi,” he said. “I’m close.” Without breaking eye contact, he reached between them and grasped both their cocks.
Micah did the same, holding on to the ladder with one hand, joining Jake in stroking them off with the other. They were panting, groaning, their breath ghosting over each other’s lips, eyes wide open and staring at each other.
“Oh, fuck, fuck,” Jake moaned, and Micah closed his fist. “Oh God, Mi, more, tighter.”
Micah obliged. The friction was intense, almost painful, and Micah loved it. He thrust hard against his hand, against Jake, tipping himself over the edge and spilling into the water with a roar that echoed around them. Jake followed, heat flooding against Micah’s skin until it was washed away. And still they stared at each other, eyes wide.
Jake let go of the ladder at the same time as Micah, and they drifted, letting the roll of the incoming tide direct them back toward the shore. Every now and then, Jake would reach out with his powerful arms, give a few kicks with his legs, keeping them on course for the small inlet. He carried Micah with him, floating on his back with Micah holding on.
When they finally made it back to land, they stood on shaky legs, still staring at each other until they started shivering, their bodies damp and chilled from the water. Micah suggested they head for the boathouse, where there were towels. He regretted it as soon as he spoke because it seemed to break the spell they were under as they stopped to gather their discarded clothes. But then Jake wrapped an arm around him as they walked, drew him against his side, and nuzzled his ear.
Walking naked in the middle of the night, arms wrapped around another man, his body still buzzing from his orgasm, Micah was in heaven.
Jake
Jake woke first and stared at Micah’s still-sleeping face with a sense of disbelief and awe. He’d never spent the night with someone before. Never. Not that he hadn’t had offers; he just didn’t feel comfortable sharing a bed with anyone else. Yet here he was, not only sleeping with Micah but close enough to feel Micah’s breath floating over his lips. Beneath the sheet, their legs were entangled, erections bumping against each other as Micah shifted slightly, moving closer to Jake as if sensing Jake wanted to pull away from him.
Do I?
The astounding thing was, no, he didn’t. He was one hundred percent comfortable lying next to Micah. Well, comfortable except for the growing ache between his thighs as his cock woke up. What was it about Micah? He fascinated Jake. Yes, he wanted Micah. Who wouldn’t? He was gorgeous and sexy and so fucking talented. Jake doubted Micah was aware of how beautiful he was, and, given what Alex had told him the night before, it made perfect sense.
What didn’t make sense was the connection he felt with Micah, the ease with which they’d talked and laughed and touched. He’d never talked about himself so much with anyone, never shared the things he’d done at Stud Bar or Bottoms Up or the private parties he went to, and he’d definitely never talked about how he felt about the sometimes dizzying array of options he encountered or the way some men treated him. Talking to Micah was different, easy, even if Jake didn’t know why.
He’d never felt the desire to be part of a couple, and he didn’t think that was what was happening now. He’d watched his friends pair up ever since they’d gotten their first crushes in middle school, and he’d never understood this need to be with someone constantly, to talk to them, touch them, to share things with them. His sophomore year in high school, he’d been with one guy who’d wanted them to be a couple, always calling him, and sending him notes, and clinging to him. It made Jake’s skin crawl when Craig tried to hold his hand in the hallways. He went with it for a few weeks because it was what everyone said you were supposed to want. Noah’s ark and two-by-two and all that shit. In the end, Craig had broken up with him, and Jake felt nothing but relief. And then he’d discovered the Castro, San Francisco’s legendary gay neighborhood, and realized relationships were totally unnecessary. He met plenty of guys who felt exactly the same way and were more than happy to hook up and then go away.
Still, Jake’s best friend in high school had fallen head over heels in love with someone he met while clubbing their senior year and moved in with him after graduation. They were still together, still all hearts and flowers and matching commitment rings, hoping same-sex marriage would become legal and planning to find a surrogate so they could start a family in a few years. Jake was happy for them, but he didn’t understand it any better than he had before, nor did he think what he felt for Micah was the same.
He stared at Micah’s lips, wondering what it would feel like to kiss them. Not that he was going to. Jake didn’t kiss. Not anyone. Not ever. It was probably a silly thing, but his mother had always kissed him good night, a quick peck on the lips as she put his five-year-old self to bed. The last memory he had of her was the kiss she’d given him the night before she left. When he woke up in the morning, she was gone. He knew that kiss and kissing were two separate and completely different things, but no guy had ever been worth the risk of dulling his memory of it, of losing his last connection with her. He also felt that kissing was too intimate, too…close. So he never let anyone kiss him on the lips. That was another reason why Craig had broken up with him.
He moved away from Micah, who whined softly in his sleep and reached out a hand, searching for him. Fuck. The sight of it did something to him. Jake extended his arm across the empty space, entwined their fingers, and settled against Micah again. With a contented sigh, Micah snuggled even closer, tucking his head into the crook of Jake’s neck.
Staring up at the roof, Jake listened to the gentle lap of water against the hull of the sleek yacht sheltered inside the boathouse. They’d still been so wobbly when they reached it last night, Micah suggested they crash on the pull-out sofa in the loft rather than go back to the main house. One bed had meant sharing it, but Jake wasn’t complaining. Even though everything that happened from the moment he saw Micah last night, to them rubbing off together in the water, to waking up with Micah in his arms, confused the hell out of him, there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be.
Micah shifted and draped a leg over Jake’s thigh, making him aware of how hard they both were. He ran his nose down Micah’s shoulder, inhaling the briny scent still clinging to his skin from their swim, along with the musk of Micah’s sweat and a trace of something that was all him and him alone. It was slightly spicy, like cinnamon or cloves, and Jake wondered what Micah’s cock smelled like, his balls, the curls of his golden hair. Shit, he wanted to know, wanted to taste them.
“Mi,” Jake whispered, trailing his way up the side of Micah’s neck. He took the lobe of Micah’s ear in his mouth and traced it with his tongue, licking along the outer shell. “Mi, are you awake?”
Micah grumbled and rolled so he was almost lying on top of Jake, cock tucked out of reach. That wouldn’t do.
“Mi, wake up.” Jake’s tongue tickled Micah’s ear again. “Mi, I want to blow you. Can I have you in my mouth, Mi? Please?”
When Micah’s eyes opened, the depth of their color startled Jake. He had forgotten how blue they were, how stunning. They were the color of the ocean, of the summer sky. He’d been too far from the stage last night, and it’d been too dark at the party and out on the water to see them clearly, but now he drank them in. He reached out and traced the lines of Micah’s face, drew his fingers over Micah’s lips.
“Can I, Mi?”
Micah was staring at him, unmoving, and then he broke into a dazzling smile. “Amber.”
“What?”
“Your eyes. I’ve been trying to figure out what color they are since April. They’re like amber, with bits of green and gold and copper in them.”
“Oh.” Jake was surprised they’d been thinking the same thing, but he guessed it made sense as they were lying face-to-face. He shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve always been told they’re hazel.”
Micah shook his head. “Amber.” He sighed as Jake’s tongue flicked against his ear, then groaned.
“Are you going to let me blow you?” Jake asked. The conversation had veered into dangerous territory, and he wanted to get back to more pressing matters.
