But I can’t.
I feel a surge of adrenaline go through me so sharp it almost has me charging over there.
If Jason hurtme, what could this guy do toMike?
And I know that’s unreasonable. That maybe I wasn’t ready to stop seeing my therapist. But that doesn’t matter right now because my brain is telling me Mike is in danger, and if I do something about it, I’m gonna seem completely insane.
So I stand here, my heart in my throat, watching this man I’m positive Mike doesn’t even know, wouldn’t be able to trust, touch him everywhere.
His hands move from his waist to his ass, and Mike moans, but this time, my dick doesn’t perk up at the sound. The guy moves from his lips to his neck, pressing him harder against the wall, their clothed cocks rubbing together.
It would be hot, is the thing.
Two years ago, if I had seen this on some porn website, I would have gone off in a second. Because Mike’s got his eyes screwed up in pleasure, and he’s always sovocal. He never seems embarrassed about what he feels.
In another life, I would’ve admired that.
In this one, I’m worried for him.
I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here. Too long. I really need to move, to pretend this never happened. Earlier could be written off, but this—
He looks up.
From one second to the next, he goes from being blissfully unaware to staring straight at me.
The guy kissing his neck still hasn’t noticed me, but Mike doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t push him away, scandalized that someone who isn’t them is seeing their intimate moment. He meets my eyes head-on, while I stand frozen.
While he was distracted looking atme, his partner must have gotten his hand in his jeans because Mike lets out a startled little moan at the contact, his gaze never leaving my face.
And that does it. I’m finally able to get my feet to move.
I stand against my door for a long time, trying to gain control of my pounding heart. And my cock. Mike’s door shuts a moment later, but I know it’s not safe. The walls aren’t soundproof. I hear things, mostly the girls he brings home, but him too sometimes.
I definitely will tonight if he lets that guy fuck him.
I press my hand to my crotch to relieve some of the pressure. I don’t know how long I’ve been hard, maybe I havebeen this whole time. These sweatpants don’t leave much to the imagination.
He definitely saw.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, dropping my head against the door. Why does this keep happening to me?
I squeeze my own eyes shut, trying not to let the tears fall. I’ve cried enough to last many lifetimes. I told myself I wouldn’t do this anymore, but I can’t stop it this time.
God, I hope he’s okay in there.
When I wake up the next morning, after a terrible sleep, I jump out of bed, putting on a t-shirt from the floor while I bolt downstairs, taking the steps two at a time, an earbud still in my ear that I rip out once I make it to the living area.
I have to make sure Mike’s okay.
One of the weirder things about Mike Pierce is that he’s always up before me, even though he doesn’t get home until the early morning most days, and when he does, he’s got somebody with him.
The dude has to be running on three hours of sleep, maximum.
But every morning without fail, I hear him rattling around the kitchen by seven AM. I’ve tried to tell him he wouldn’t need so many naps if he got eight hours of sleep like a normal person, but he brushed me off. Chalked my very reasonable advice up to being boring.
So, usually it’s annoying and has me starting my day off in a shitty mood.
Today, I’ve never been happier to hear the sound of a blender making a smoothie I know he’s not going to drink.
