Lost Souls Found

by Kris T. Bethke

  "Holy crap." Sam's voice was more a whine than words, and Michael chuckled darkly against his skin.

  "I knew you'd feel amazing," Michael murmured. Then he pressed another sucking kiss to a particularly sensitive spot above Sam's navel. Sam shuddered and grabbed Michael's hair again. He held Michael's face to that spot, and Michael obliged and sucked hard at the skin until Sam wailed and wrenched his head up.

  "Then why did you wait so long?"

  Michael blinked and opened his mouth, but Sam tugged on his hair and shook his head.

  "Kiss me."

  Michael surged up so he could latch on to Sam's mouth. He pressed his tongue inside, tasted everything, missed nothing, and poured all of his affection and apology into that kiss. Sam took it, and it felt like an acceptance--forgiveness even. The relief cascaded through Michael, and he kissed harder.

  "Oh God. Michael."

  His name on Sam's lips in the throes of passion was the best sound Michael had ever heard. He buried his face against Sam's neck and looked for a new spot to make Sam shiver, but Sam gripped his head and pulled him up. For a moment Michael got lost in those lust-filled eyes. Then Sam smiled.

  "Fuck me."

  Michael had to close his eyes and take a moment to regain control. That was the best sound he'd ever heard. When he was sure he wasn't going to come, he took a breath and opened his eyes.

  "Stuff?"

  Sam shot him a cocky grin. "Nightstand, of course."

  Michael moved in the direction Sam indicated and pulled open the drawer to find a bottle of lube, a strip of condoms, and a nice-sized dildo. For a second that jealousy loomed, big and green, but he stuffed it down. Of course Sam had lovers before. He knew that. No reason to get jealous over the condoms.

  "They're for the toy," Sam murmured as he smoothed over Michael's shoulder with his fingers. "Easy cleanup."

  Michael didn't know he needed to hear it until he had. Even if Sam was lying--though there was no reason for him to--it made him feel better that there hadn't been a long string of lovers in his place. Michael grabbed the lube and condoms and shut the drawer with a snap. He tossed the lube on the bed and ripped one packet off the strip.

  Sam snatched the packet from his hand. But instead of opening it and rolling it down Michael's length like he expected, Sam tossed it away. Michael blinked at him.

  "What?"

  "We don't need that." Sam's voice was low and fierce, his eyes blazing. "I'm negative. So are you. And I've never gone without. We don't need that between us."

  "Sweetheart," Michael began.

  Sam's expression faded into one of worry. "I mean, we can use it if, you know, you want. But I just...." He blew out a breath and averted his gaze. "This is all we get, and I don't want anything between us."

  Michael pounced and kissed him hard and fast, all his emotions on the surface. He was sure he couldn't get any more turned on. But just the thought of sliding bare into Sam's welcoming heat made him so hard he hurt. He'd never had sex without a condom, and sharing that with Sam was everything he ever wanted.

  "No condom," he agreed when he pulled back to breathe. Sam's face flushed, and arousal ignited in his eyes. He nodded.

  Michael kissed him again quickly, and then grabbed the lube. The pop of the cap was obscenely loud. He slathered his fingers in slick and then kissed his way down Sam's body until he got to his ass. Sam spread his knees. He looked open and wanton, and Michael groaned at the sight. For a long moment, he just looked. Then he pushed one of Sam's thighs toward Sam's chest. Slowly, carefully, he slid one finger into Sam.

  "Yessssss," Sam hissed as he arched.

  Michael grinned. He was turned on beyond possible, and he set to work. He played and tugged to make Sam ready. He found the best spots, stretched and pulled on Sam's rim, rubbed along his smooth walls, and pressed lightly on his gland. Sam begged and writhed, pleaded for more... faster... harder. But Michael wouldn't be rushed. He wanted Sam ready for him, and he also wanted Sam so aroused he couldn't think.

  When Sam was reduced to moans and grunts, eyes unfocused and body shaking, Michael grabbed the lube and slathered it on. His dick seeped continuously, and clear precome oozed from the slit and made a wet spot on the sheet below him. Then he lifted Sam's knees up onto his shoulders and moved until just the head of his dick was at Sam's hole. Michael glanced up.

  "Ready, sweetheart?"

  "God, please."

  Michael pushed and watched as the head pressed against Sam's rim and stretched it until finally it popped in. They both groaned, and Michael's muscles strained as he kept himself from just shoving the rest of the way in. He rocked slowly and easily as, inch by inch, his dick disappeared into Sam's body.

  Sam grunted and spread his knees, and one of his legs slipped off Michael's shoulder, but Michael caught it. It was a tight fit, and Michael fought for every inch. In the back of his brain, he worried he was hurting Sam, but Sam just wiggled and adjusted incrementally as Michael slid farther in.

  When he was finally all the way inside, they both panted and froze for a moment. Michael looked up and saw the strain on Sam's face. He made himself stay still as Sam slid his leg up again and then arched his back a little more.

  "So good. The stretch. I'm so full." Sam sounded drunk, his words slurring a little. Michael purred in satisfaction.

  "Should I move?" Michael asked playfully, not able to keep the smugness out of his voice.

  He gave a tiny thrust of his hips, and Sam wailed, "Please, please, please."

  Michael started slowly. He wanted to savor it, draw it out, make it last as long as he could. Gently he pulled back until the head of his dick stretched Sam's rim again. Then he thrust back in carefully and with measured pressure. He took his time. Sam shuddered, and his grip on Michael's forearms was almost painful.

  Thrust, retreat. Thrust, retreat. Michael rocked, kept his motions smooth and unhurried, and watched the ecstasy play over Sam's face--he was flushed and sweating, his eyes barely open, his lips parted and panting. The sight spurred him on. As Sam's body opened for him, Michael picked up the pace just a little, and with each thrust in, he searched for that spot.

  Sam howled, and his body clamped down. Michael kept the angle as he picked up force, and every time he slammed in, Sam grunted and whined, and he clawed at the sheets. Finally he lifted his hands and pressed against the headboard for leverage. Michael took it as his cue to really go to town. He lifted Sam's lower half as he rolled forward, grabbed one thigh while he planted the other hand firmly on the bed under Sam's arm, and started pounding.

  It went on for ages. Both of them fought to keep from coming while they reached for it at the same time. Michael was determined to see Sam come first. He needed it--needed to know Sam was satisfied before he could take his own pleasure. He changed the angle again.

  Sam screamed.

  "Grab yourself," Michael panted, but Sam shook his head. "Come on, sweetheart. Stroke yourself."

  Sam's movements were sluggish as he braced himself with one hand and slowly lowered the other to his dick. He got his fingers around himself, and Michael watched as he barely stroked and let Michael's motion thrust his dick through his slack grip. He kept watching because he didn't want to miss it, and then, from one moment to the next, Sam's entire body locked down and come shot out of the end of his dick. Pulse after pulse, creamy white come landed on his stomach, hand, and even his chest. Michael continued to move, though he slowed down to draw out Sam's orgasm. He pressed his hips hard against Sam's ass so the force of his orgasm didn't push Michael out of his body.

  Sam went limp, and he panted hard. Michael stayed still as his body throbbed. He was desperate to move, but he didn't want to hurt Sam when he was so sensitive. Finally Sam opened his eyes, peered at Michael, and whispered, "Go."

  Michael knew it wouldn't take much, because he was right on the edge, frantic to fall over. He started to move in long thrusts, and then Sam clenched down and gripped him with his channel, and Michael shouted out h
is release. He pushed in hard, and tremors wracked his body as he came.

  He started to collapse, but had enough sense to roll them to their sides. Still buried inside Sam, Michael thrust again--a barely there movement that sent shivers through them both. Sam grabbed at him, snuggling close. Michael didn't even care when he felt Sam smear come across his back. He needed Sam even closer, if that were possible.

  "You... I... that. Holy shit."

  Michael chuckled and they both groaned. He kissed Sam's sweaty temple, then nosed his hair off his forehead and dropped a kiss there too.

  For long minutes they just breathed. Michael knew he would have to move soon. And he knew that when he did, the spell between them would be broken. He'd give anything for that not to happen.

  Eventually he started to go soft, and his cock slipped from Sam's body in a slick mix of come and lube. Sam groaned and wiggled. Michael wanted to see his shiny hole, see his come leaking out, but he thought that might be going too far. Instead he kissed Sam's cheek, the corner of his mouth, and then full on the lips for a long and languorous moment. And then, with a reluctant sigh, he untangled them.

  Sam scrambled, unable to get purchase with his fingers on the sweaty skin. Michael hugged him tighter and stopped trying to move.

  "Just gonna get us something to clean up," he murmured, still reluctant to break the spell.

  "No."

  Just the one word, but it held such finality that Michael immediately gave in. He didn't move, other than to grab the duvet and pull it over them. As their sweat cooled, he noticed a chill in the air. Once he had it up around them, he snuggled in, loving that Sam fit against him so well. He settled his head right under Michael's chin as they pressed their hips together and entwined their legs. Sam shifted just a tiny bit closer, and Michael felt the slickness of his ass against his thigh. He pressed a knee up, and Sam let out a contented sigh.

  "Don't usually fall asleep after," Sam whispered, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You did good."

  Michael chuckled. "It's okay. Sleep. I'm not going anywhere."

  They both went still. No, Michael wasn't leaving. But Sam was.

  Michael squeezed Sam tightly and pressed his thigh up harder to make sure Sam could feel him everywhere. Slowly Sam settled and his body relaxed. Then his breathing evened out and he was asleep.

  Michael couldn't do the same--not with his thoughts suddenly in a riot. Instead he held Sam, moved with him when he tried to get closer in his sleep, and reveled in the feeling of being with him. Finally.

  Chapter Thirteen

  SAM woke to an empty bed, and he wasn't surprised. Reaching out, he felt the other side of the bed. The sheets didn't even hold a hint of warmth from Michael's body. Surprisingly, Sam wasn't upset, because he had no doubt Michael was still in his house. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he was as certain of that as he was of his own name.

  He stretched and winced, then smiled at each protest his body gave. God, he felt good. He ached in the most pleasant of ways, still feeling all they'd done together the night before. He scratched idly at his stomach, and the dried come flaked off under his fingernails. Okay, that wasn't exactly pleasant. He sat up, stretched again, and padded to the bathroom.

  It didn't take long to take care of business and wash up. There were signs Michael had already done so, and while Sam was disappointed he hadn't gotten the opportunity to wash Michael's back, he was weirdly pleased that Michael had made himself at home. The logical part of his brain insisted he shove those feelings down and be practical, but he chose to ignore that voice. He would get as much out of it as he could and pick up the pieces of his shattered heart later.

  Not the best idea he'd ever had, but at least he knew it.

  Sam pulled on a pair of loose basketball shorts and an old T-shirt and walked barefoot down the stairs. The scents of coffee and bacon assailed him, and he grinned as his stomach growled. Michael was cooking breakfast.

  When he entered the kitchen, he stopped and stared. Michael hadn't bothered with a shirt. He'd simply pulled on his jeans from the day before. Sam watched him bustle around, butter toast as it popped up, turn the bacon, and stir the eggs. When he bent a little to check the flame under the frying pan, a well-placed rip on the back of his jeans showed very clearly that Michael had not bothered with underwear.

  Sam must have made a noise, because Michael whipped around. There was a huge smile on his face, and Sam's breath caught. He didn't think he'd ever seen that kind of joy on Michael's face in all the years he'd known him.

  Michael tossed a hand towel over his shoulder, and then jogged over and leaned in and kissed Sam. It was just a quick peck of greeting, but it was warm and inviting. Sam sighed contentedly.

  "Coffee? Everything else is just about done. I'll have it plated in a minute."

  Sam blinked, then cleared his throat, and then moved past Michael and into the kitchen. "I can get it."

  "No. Sit. I got it." He nudged Sam toward the cafe table he'd put in the breakfast nook, and then hustled back to the counter, filled a dark blue mug with the steaming brew, added one heaping teaspoon of sugar, and then passed it over.

  Sam shouldn't have been surprised that Michael knew how he liked his coffee, but he kind of was. He sighed, chose not to comment on it, and fixed Michael with a playful glare.

  "It is my kitchen, you know."

  "So?" Michael winked, and Sam forgot how to breathe.

  "What is with you?"

  Michael laughed but didn't answer. Instead he plated the eggs and bacon, added the toast, and brought both plates to the table. It was the perfect breakfast--the eggs fluffy, the bacon crisp, and Sam's heart thudding in his chest. There was so much he wanted to say and even more that he probably should, but he couldn't find voice for any of it. At any second his perfect fantasy was going to crash and burn around his head. Sam didn't want that to happen. Not yet.

  For several minutes they ate in silence. Well, Sam ate, and Michael toyed with his food. In the time it took Sam to devour half his plate, Michael only managed a few bites. Sam glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and tried to gauge what was going on with him. His playful, happy mood was gone, and there was an edginess to him that Sam didn't like.

  There went the fantasy.

  Sam sighed and set his fork down. No use in prolonging it, no matter how much he wanted to. He cradled his mug in his hands and looked at Michael over the top of it. Michael was staring intently at his eggs, as though they somehow had the answer to everything.

  "Hey," Sam finally murmured. "Talk to me."

  "Don't leave."

  Sam choked on air and was infinitely grateful he hadn't been drinking his coffee. He set his mug down as he tried valiantly to breathe. Michael half rose out of his chair, but Sam waved him down.

  "What the hell?" he rasped.

  Michael shoved a hand through his hair, breathed deeply, and then focused on Sam. "After last night... I don't want you to go. I want you here--with me."

  Acid rolled in Sam's stomach and soured his breakfast. He braced his hands on the table and forced himself to hold Michael's gaze. "So, what? My magic body has miraculously made you change your mind? After ten goddamn years?"

  "No. Though it was pretty magical, and believe me when I say I want to do a whole hell of a lot more than that." He sounded like he was trying for playful, but it fell flat, and the anger swirling in Sam's stomach was too much to allow even a smile. Michael sighed as though he knew it and shook his head. "But it was the conversation. What I said. What you said. That made me see. Christ, Sam. I can't let you go."

  Sam opened his mouth. Shut it. Wrapped his arms around himself. "I don't even know what to do with that."

  "Look." Michael pushed his chair back and to the side so he faced Sam directly. "I've been hiding behind idiotic principles for a long time--too damn long. At first you were just too young. And then I foolishly thought the job... my role, was too much of an obstacle. And I feared what I couldn't give you. So I never stopped
to think about what I could. What we could give each other."

  Sam didn't say anything, even though a part of him wanted to soothe the anguished look on Michael's face. But Sam wasn't going to make it easy on him--not after everything Michael had put him through.

  "And maybe it's too late. I wouldn't blame you if you told me to get lost and transferred anyway." The words sounded like they hurt Michael to say, and Sam took a little perverse pleasure in that. So he remained silent and let Michael continue. "But my eyes were opened last night. Before the sex, but yes, that too."

  He slid closer and reached for Sam's hand, and Sam let him take it and hold it, but he tried not to be affected by the sensuous sweep of Michael's thumb against his skin. He had to keep himself in check and not let anything show.

  "Sam, I don't know what to do or say to make you believe me." His voice dropped lower, and a note of pleading seeped in. "All I can do is ask you to give me a chance to show you how sorry I am that I've wasted years between us and that what we have going forward could be amazing."

  "I was leaving," Sam whispered, his heart in his throat. "My whole life was going to change because you were hurting me too much. I convinced my best friend and his husband to go with me. And now, just like that, it's different?"

  "Do you want me on my knees?" Michael slid down and kneeled in front of Sam before he could even answer. "I'm not above groveling. I'm not above admitting I was wrong--that I hurt you and myself by being so damn stubborn. But I'm also not above groveling for a second chance."

  Sam sputtered out a laugh and tugged on Michael's hand. "You look ridiculous. Get up."

  Michael didn't move, but he tried for a smile.

  "I can't believe this. This is all I've wanted for years. And after one night of conversation and sex, you're giving me everything."

  "I'm sorry. I'll say it a thousand times if you need me--"

  "Stop," Sam commanded gently. He reached out to cup Michael's face. "Let's say I do give you another chance. What happens next?" He shook his head and added, "And please get up."