Something Beautiful

by Jenna Jones

  "It means we make each other's bad behavior possible."

  "You don't have bad behavior," Micah scoffed. "And you always call me on mine."

  "I have plenty of bad behavior. It's more subtle than other people's."

  "Then you need me around to call you on it," Micah said triumphantly. "Dunie. Just stop arguing and say you want me."

  Dune chuckled, wondering why he was fighting. It wasn't that he'd never desired the boy -- Micah was a beautiful creature, sweet and smart and gobbling up life by the mouthful. But Micah was so young and he could be so fickle, and not one of his relationships had ended well. He traced the curls of Micah's ear and said, "I don't want to be your rebound guy."

  "You're not my rebound guy," Micah said. "I had a bunch of rebound guys in Europe. You're the exact opposite of a rebound guy." His fingers twisted in the hem of Dune's shirt. "Take me home tonight, Dunie. Give me a chance."

  "Gonna keep battering until you wear me down, are you?"

  "Yes." He grinned and kissed Dune, not letting a silly thing like height difference and being in public get in the way. He licked deep into Dune's mouth and squeezed the muscles of Dune's back in his hands. "Wear you down and wear you out," he whispered. "Take me home."

  "Micah," Dune whispered and nuzzled their faces together.

  "Take me home, Dune. Fuck me."

  "It's not that simple."

  Micah bumped their foreheads together in rebuke. "Yes, it is, if you don't over-think it."

  "Like you normally do?" Dune said seriously, looking into Micah's eyes.

  "Dune," Micah said impatiently.

  "I thought you liked it when I call you on your faults."

  "I accept it when you call me on my faults. That doesn't mean I like it." The look he gave Dune was nearly a pout. "Don't you want me?"

  "You know I do. I don't think it's a good idea."

  Micah looked at him with the saddest eyes in the world and kissed him again, even harder and longer, a hand in Dune's hair and the other at the small of his back.

  "Going to win me over with lust, then," Dune gasped when Micah pulled away.

  "I'm going to kiss you until you tell me to stop," Micah said in a vaguely threatening tone. "And maybe I won't stop at all."

  "Stop," Dune whispered, but Micah was already kissing him, both hands framing Dune's face, that mouth eager and sweet.

  "Do you still want me to stop?" Micah whispered, butterfly-kissing Dune's cheeks with his impossibly long lashes.

  No, Dune thought, I don't want you to ever stop. I want you to kiss me every day.

  "You've convinced me," he whispered and leaned his head against Micah's neck a moment. "Let's go home."

  ***

  They stopped long enough for Dune to get his jacket from the coat room. There was no way he'd find his shirt, so Dune decided he would get in from the lost and found some other time. Bits of clothing were always getting left at Zebra, so his shirt would not be the only one still on the floor in the morning.

  "Where did you park?" Dune asked Micah as they walked up the hill, arms around each other's shoulders.

  "I left my car at your block and walked."

  "Good thinking." Dune's voice was low, his breath warm against Micah's ear. Micah felt terrified and exhilarated at once -- Dune, beautiful Dune, and Micah was going home with him not as his friend, not as his protégé, but as his lover.

  He traced Dune's cheek and Dune closed those eyes a moment, before opening them again and smiling at him. They kissed as they walked, and Dune leaned their foreheads together, holding his cheek.

  Everybody in Zebra wanted you, Micah thought. But I'm the one you're taking home.

  It made him want Dune even more -- he pushed Dune against the nearest brick wall and kissed him, sucking in his breath. Dune laughed and kissed him back, holding his head and working a knee between Micah's legs. Micah arched into him, slipping his hands under Dune's jacket.

  "I can feel your heart," he whispered, and it seemed like the most profound thing he'd ever said.

  Dune laughed under his breath and moved Micah's hand to cover the bulge in his trousers. "Feel that, too?"

  "I feel it," Micah said and kissed him hard, squeezing Dune just enough to make him gasp. "Oh, I feel it." Micah kissed Dune's neck and his chest, and Dune hugged him close and kissed his head.

  "Home," he said and pulled Micah back to the sidewalk. "Home, home, home."

  They continued down the sidewalk, arms around each other, footsteps somehow in stride. The sidewalks were crowded, as they always were in the city even at two in the morning, but it didn't matter: they were so obviously together that people cut a swath around them, all the tourists and drinkers and students and homeless and lovers.

  Lovers like them.

  He buried his face in Dune's neck again and kissed him quickly. "I am so fucking happy right now," he said into Dune's ear.

  "As you should be, sweetheart," Dune said. "So am I." He stopped walking again and kissed Micah's forehead, and then pulled him up the stairs into the warehouse.

  "Oh, we're here already," Micah said. He held onto Dune's hand tight as he followed Dune into the building and into the old elevator. He had to let go long enough for Dune to close the doors and punch the button, and then Dune pulled Micah close and kissed him as the elevator jerked and rattled them up to his floor.

  They were taking off their coats and kissing as soon as Dune unlocked and opened the door. Micah watched his fingers move over Dune's golden skin, watched Dune watch himself be touched. He raised his eyes to Micah's with a sly smile, and then kissed Micah with a fierce sort of passion that took Micah's breath away. He scooped Micah up into his arms and Micah's legs went around his waist, and he carried Micah through the loft to the kitchen. Dune put Micah down on a counter and kissed down his chest and stomach as Micah eased flat onto his back.

  Dune undid Micah's jeans and laughed at the sight of his bright purple boxer shorts. "Is it laundry day?"

  "I like them -- they're cheerful." He kicked off his shoes and wiggled out of his jeans.

  "I see your point." Dune stepped back and dropped his own trousers -- he was naked beneath them, and grinned at Micah. "So there we are."

  "Yep," Micah whispered, and licked his lips. He shoved off his boxer shorts and pulled Dune back to him. Micah wanted to laugh with pleasure as they kissed -- he was with Dune -- naked with Dune! -- and Dune was kissing him and touching him and he tasted delicious and his skin was so warm. Micah ran both hands up and down Dune's arms, over his shoulders and chest, down his back.

  "Don't move," Dune whispered to him, and left the kitchen. Dune returned with a handful of condoms and a bottle of lubricant, and gave Micah an innocent smile when Micah raised his eyebrows.

  "You're very optimistic."

  "We're young and horny." Dune kissed Micah again and dabbled down Micah's body with his tongue to Micah's thighs. He slid his lips along Micah's cock until Micah gasped, and then took Micah's cock slowly into his mouth.

  Micah arched his body, groaning. The sight of Dune's mouth around his cock was almost too much to bear -- he thought he might come just from the sight of it, if not from the feel of Dune moaning around his cock and those hands gripping his thighs. He watched for as long as he could keep his eyes open, panting harder and harder, until finally his head fell back and the world went white.

  Dune moaned and dug his fingers into Micah's skin until Micah's shivering stopped. He licked up the length of Micah's cock as he lifted his head and then smiled slowly, licked his lips. He leaned up to kiss Micah, and Micah held his face and kissed him back as Micah slid off the counter.

  Dune turned him around to face the counter and bent him over it, kissed down his spine, and tore open one of the condom wrappers. Micah gasped again as Dune lubricated him, and he arched up and groaned a soft, "Oh, yes," as Dune pressed into him, at the sweet burn of it.

  Dune moaned behind him, kissed Micah's back and hummed into his ear, "Feels so good, baby.
"

  Micah could only grunt in response, gripping the edges of the counter to keep his balance as he arched and thrust his hips. His skin was slick with perspiration, and Dune's hands slid over his hips, his chest slid against Micah's back. Dune kissed Micah's neck and moaned his name.

  Micah let his head fall to the counter, rocking his hips to Dune's rhythm and trying to keep his legs from collapsing. Dune's body slammed into his, and Micah glanced over his shoulder to look at him -- Dune’s head was thrown back, his teeth were bared, his neck was arched -- he looked so good Micah shuddered and let his head fall onto the counter again, overwhelmed.

  Dune cried out more loudly as his fingers dug into Micah's hips. "Micah," he said, "Micah -- oh, you beautiful thing --" and his body slammed hard into Micah's and slowed to a stop. He fell onto Micah's back, breathing heavily, his hands flat on the counter top.

  Micah moved his hand over to Dune's and twined their fingers together. After a moment Dune's hand turned up to grip his. Dune kissed the back of Micah's neck and pulled out of him carefully. "Are you okay?" He kissed Micah's shoulder blade.

  Micah straightened himself up cautiously, legs rubbery and a red streak across his stomach where he'd been pressed against the counter. "I'm okay." He turned and stretched, watching Dune tie off the condom and drop it into the garbage pail. He pushed his glasses up his nose and said, "And you? Still feeling optimistic?"

  Dune gave him a mysterious smile. "The night is young, my friend." He kissed Micah slowly, and Micah grabbed his waist and pulled him close, blatantly rubbing their cocks together. Dune broke off the kiss with a gasp and a muttered, "Christ, Micah."

  Micah smiled and squeezed Dune's hips. "Yes? More, maybe?"

  "Once I've recovered," Dune said with a laugh. "Come on." He pulled on Micah's hand, led them back to the bedroom, and flopped onto the bed. Micah threw himself down beside Dune, found a safe place for his glasses and laid his head on Dune's shoulder. Dune shifted enough to pull a blanket over them and kissed his forehead.

  Neither of them spoke for a while, as Dune traced lazy patterns over Micah's back with his fingertips and Micah dozed, soothed by the sound of Dune's heartbeat. Eventually Micah said, "You're quiet tonight."

  "I'm at a loss for words."

  "You're a writer. You're supposed to always have words."

  Dune seemed to think for a moment, and then said in a soft tone, "'Under the harvest moon, when the soft silver drips shimmering over garden nights, Death, the gray mocker, comes and whispers to you as a beautiful friend who remembers.'"

  Micah raised an eyebrow at him. Dune smiled and moved to hold himself over Micah. He continued in the same soft voice, "'Under the summer roses, when the flagrant crimson lurks in the dusk of the wild red leaves, love, with little hands, comes and touches you,'" he traced his nose along Micah's throat and finished the poem, "'with a thousand memories, and asks you beautiful, unanswerable questions.'"

  Micah swallowed, not knowing what to say. He put his arms around Dune's neck and kissed him, and then buried his face in Dune's neck. "Did you write that?"

  Dune laughed. "No. Carl Sandburg did. I haven't written a poem for -- oh, God, I have no idea, for a long time."

  "It was beautiful." Ryan used to recite poetry to him -- his own poetry, long, strange poems with lots of darkness and moons and blood and souls. "I wonder what those questions are."

  Dune hummed and ran a lazy hand down Micah's chest. "If a question has no answer, does it really exist?"

  "There are a lot of questions with no answers."

  "Then why ask them?"

  Micah crossed his eyes and scrubbed a hand through Dune's hair. "Is this your idea of pillow talk?"

  "You're the one who wanted words, sweetheart. If you’d prefer I could go on about your beautiful eyes or perfect body."

  "So could I." He smiled at Dune smugly. "But I won't, because that would be silly." He kissed Dune's eyebrows and rubbed their noses together.

  "And God forbid we be silly at any point," Dune said softly. "Sex is a serious business." Dune pounced on Micah and rolled him onto his back, tickled his ribs and blew a loud raspberry on his belly. Micah shrieked with laughter, wrestled him off, and then dragged him back to kiss him.

  Dune cradled Micah between his thighs and combed both hands through Micah’s hair. "You are so beautiful. Silly, lovely Micah."

  Micah kissed Dune again. He felt so strange when people called him beautiful. He didn't think he was: he was too baby-faced, his ears too big, his mouth too soft. But if Dune thought he was, then maybe he was.

  Dune settled into the sheets beneath him, holding his face and kissing his neck. Micah kissed Dune’s hand and wrist, feeling Dune's pulse pound beneath his lips. He grinned and gave Dune's wrist a little gnaw.

  Dune snorted and batted his head. "You're a vampire and you forgot to tell me?"

  "Just making sure you're awake," Micah said, and kissed his mouth again. "You taste so good." He licked Dune's collar bone to prove it, and Dune laughed again and hugged him.

  "Strange little human," he said warmly, and brushed Micah's hair out of his eyes.

  Micah tucked himself against Dune, head in the crook of Dune’s shoulder. "I'm so happy I'm moving in with you tomorrow."

  Dune breathed in slowly. "We need to talk about that."

  "What's there to talk about? We have even more of a reason to live together now. And it'll be even better than it would have been if we were still just friends."

  "Micah," Dune said seriously, "listen to me. Living with a lover isn't like living with a roommate. Living with anybody is hard to do -- it takes a lot of compromise and patience, and so does being in a relationship. I don't think we should try doing both at the same time. We'll be broken up in a week."

  "You don't want to live with me," Micah said, disappointed.

  "Hey." Dune kissed him firmly. "I do want to live with you. Just not yet. You really should live on your own for a while. It's a good way to get to know yourself."

  Micah's face felt hot, and Dune's voice had taken on a hollow quality, like he was speaking from another room. "I know myself just fine. I spent a month alone in Europe, remember? After Lucas left? Doesn't that count for anything?"

  "Micah! Will you listen to me?" He grabbed Micah's hands. "I want to live with you," he said with emphasis, "but not until you and I are ready for that level of commitment. And, Micah," he held Micah's hands even tighter, "you are not ready."

  Micah looked at him, frowning, and pulled his hands away. He threw back the blankets, grabbed his glasses and got off the bed. "Micah," Dune said and followed him as Micah shoved his glasses onto his face and went out to the front room to collect his clothes. "You know I'm right."

  "All I know," Micah said, yanking on his boxer shorts, "is that you don't want me."

  "That is bullshit. I do want you. But you just left a long-term relationship because you weren't ready for commitment, and now suddenly you are? You're not thinking clearly, and given your history --"

  "My history! I screwed up once! Are you never going to forgive me for that?"

  Dune sighed and shoved both hands in his hair. "It's not about me forgiving you -- it's about you growing the fuck up!"

  Micah looked away from him, lips trembling, breathing too fast. I will not cry in front of Dune -- I will not cry in front of Dune, he thought as he pulled on his jeans.

  "Micah," Dune said and tried to take Micah's face in his hands. "Don't be angry. I still want you to stay with me all weekend."

  Micah sniffled and muttered, "Don't you want me to grow up before we have any more sleepovers?"

  "Don't be this way. We can still go apartment hunting tomorrow."

  Micah shook off his hands. "Don't patronize me. I thought you --" His voice was shaking.

  "You thought I what?" Dune said quietly. "Wanted you? I do want you. I want you so much, Micah, but I want us what's best for us, too. Please try to understand."

  "I don't understand." He stepped int
o his shoes, grabbed his shirt and jacket, and yanked open the door. "I don't think I ever will." He slammed the door shut behind him and ran down the stairs to the street.

  There was a parking ticket on his car. Micah snatched it off and shoved it into his pocket, and then crouched against the side of the car and slammed his fist against the tire.

  He didn't want to go home -- he didn't want to tell his parents about Bonnie and lie about what he'd been doing since the date ended. He could go to Shiloh's, but then he'd have to explain everything about Dune.

  Micah thought for a moment, then took out his Blackberry. He hesitated a moment more, then typed a quick email to Rebecca and got into his car. It was only an hour and a half to Santa Cruz and he could stop at the beach until Rebecca emailed him back.