Michael was too, but overcoming his natural instincts was harder than he thought. He had Sam in his life, and he wanted nothing more than to take care of him all the time--not just in the moments he was allowed. Shoving a sword through Sam's chest had never been easy. Now it was almost impossible. He killed his boyfriend every day, and even knowing Sam would come back to life, it broke a part of Michael every time he had to do it.
There had to be a way to get past that... or around it. Something. Michael had even toyed with the idea of having someone else be the one to kill Sam, but that was somehow worse. How could he trust anyone else to do that?
He'd thought he could handle it. If he'd realized just how hard it would be, he might not have gotten involved with Sam. He might have let Sam leave and move on with his life. Michael's heart gave a painful thump at the thought. There was no going back, and he didn't even want to. But that didn't make any of it easy.
His tablet let out a soft chime, and Michael scooped it up, happy for the distraction... until he saw what the email was about. Scowling at the screen, Michael's anger grew with every word he read. The directors were badgering him about the training facility. Again. After he'd told them, repeatedly and with many examples, exactly why it was a bad idea.
Yes, Duncan Moor was one of the busiest branches. Requiem Inc. had established a branch there nearly a hundred years earlier for the sole reason that there was a high concentration of mediums in the vicinity. They had two floors of offices for the mediums because they were so numerous. And the ghostwalker/anchor pairs had one of the highest success rates in the entire company.
But it wasn't a place to put a training facility, even if it was--he checked the email again to make sure he had the facts right--for the internship phase of the program. Once everyone had been through the basic training, the last leg of the journey was a three-to-six-month stint of mentoring and specific practice before the paired ghostwalkers and anchors could do their thing. Bigger branches were far more suited to the strain it put on personnel.
Michael tossed the tablet, too angry at the email and too worked up about his conversation with Sam to answer it. He'd say things he'd regret. Well, maybe he wouldn't regret them, but they would definitely get him into trouble.
Trouble was something he could not afford.
His phone rang--an outside line--and he made sure to check the caller ID before he answered. If it was one of the directors, he would let it go to voicemail. But it was Avery, and Michael was glad to hear from his friend, so he answered.
"Since when are you allowing a training program to run through your branch?"
Michael sputtered and sat upright. Avery sounded pissed.
"I'm not. What the hell?"
"Then explain to me why I just got an email stating that when the Duncan Moor program is up and running, I'll be expected to report for duty to train."
"I'll take care of it, Avery. Don't worry."
"You'll take care of it? That's supposed to make me feel better?" Avery growled, but the sound cut off. "Wait a minute. What's with you?"
Michael squinted. "What do you mean?"
"Don't bullshit me. I've known you for a long time. You trained at the same time as Luke and I did." Avery's voice broke just a tad on his bonded's name. Three and a half years was not enough time to get over the loss. "You sound weird."
"You always sound weird," Michael shot back. He hoped that Avery would bristle and posture like he always did and forget what he'd asked.
"Nice try. Just tell me what's going on."
Michael debated it for a long moment. He wasn't the sharing type, but he had known Avery a long time. He'd held him when he grieved for Luke.
"I started dating one of my ghostwalkers."
"Sam finally wore you down, huh?"
Michael choked on air, and Avery laughed.
"How did you know?"
"I'm a widower, not blind. Anyone within a thirty-foot radius of that kid could see how much he wanted you. And how much you wanted him back." Avery made a noise. "At first I just thought it was a crush on his part, but when I was up there helping Blake and Derek, there was no doubt things had changed."
"Crap."
Avery laughed again, and Michael found himself smiling. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard Avery laugh that much, and he hoped it meant Avery was finally healing. He'd never get over his loss, but at least it sounded like he was in a better place.
"And you're his boss. And you have to kill him. And I bet your anchor instincts are going nuts. How are you handling it?"
As usual Avery was blunt and to the point. It sucked to hear it laid out like that, but it reminded Michael of everything he had to work on.
"I'm working on it."
Avery went quiet, and then he softly asked, "You know you can talk to me if you need to, right?"
"I know."
"But you won't," Avery said knowingly. "I'm surprised I got this much out of you. Just because you're a Guardian doesn't mean you can't lean on someone else once in a while."
But it did. Michael took care of other people--he didn't need someone to take care of him.
"I'm fine. I'm dealing with it."
"Right." At least Avery understood him, so he wasn't upset by Michael's blatant dismissal. "You'll fix the thing about the training?"
Michael took the change of subject gratefully. "Yeah. I'll email them back in a minute. This town just can't support a rotating influx of newcomers."
"And you don't want people in and out of your office, disrupting things."
"That too."
Avery's laugh made him smile. His friend sounded good. They'd have to get together soon. Maybe Sam would like to visit Avery's quiet mountaintop town in New Jersey sometime.
"Well, good. Because as much as I don't mind giving the occasional lecture or helping someone who truly needs it, I can't go back to ghostwalking. I did it to help Blake and because you were there, but without Luke...."
"Yeah, I know." Even though they were on the phone, Michael had to take care of Avery. Not only were they good friends, but Michael's soul demanded he care for a ghostwalker in need. He'd do whatever he could to soothe the panic and anxiety in Avery's voice. He didn't need to read Avery to know exactly how he was feeling. "I'll take care of it."
"Thanks, Michael."
They said their goodbyes and hung up. Michael tossed his phone down next to his tablet and sighed heavily. One more thing for his list. In fact, since it had the easier solution, he'd deal with that first. He clicked his tablet into its keyboard, because he was definitely going to need keys.
One scathing, but respectful, email later, Michael felt like he'd accomplished something, and he was glad to have that off his plate. He had more important things to focus on, and he couldn't waste time worrying about some nonsense, hypothetical training program when he had operatives in need of care--and not when he had to figure out how to deal with being Sam's boss and his boyfriend. He had to find a solution, because the alternative was not acceptable.
Chapter Seventeen
SAM had just settled in to a "cat petting while watching mindless TV" stupor when the sound of a car in the driveway made Cameron take off to parts unknown. He thumbed the remote, and the TV went dark. Curious, he ambled toward the front of the townhouse and made it just in time for the doorbell to ring. He grinned wide as he pulled open the door and stepped back for Michael to enter.
"Hey. I didn't think I would see you till tomorrow--oof."
Michael grabbed Sam, pulled him in tightly, and squeezed him so hard it was difficult to breathe. He hung on and tried to give back as good as he got. Clearly Michael needed it.
"I couldn't wait. I missed you."
Sam sighed softly, laid his head on Michael's shoulder, and pressed his face to Michael's neck. "Yeah. I missed you too."
"Stupid since we're both right here."
Chuckling, Sam kissed the warm skin above Michael's collar. "You're the one who said not during the week."
Michael made a broken sound, and Sam quickly soothed him and kissed him. "But I get it. I do. I don't want to make this hard for either of us."
Michael grabbed Sam's ass and lifted. "Wrap yourself around me. Hold tight. Don't let go."
Sam immediately complied, knowing Michael could support his weight, but a little tendril of worry crept its way into his brain. Though free with his affection, Michael wasn't usually clingy or needy. So the fact that he was acting that way was cause for concern.
"Hey," Sam said softly. He squeezed tightly with his arms and legs and lifted his head to speak directly in Michael's ear. "What's going on?"
Michael shook his head and carried Sam up the stairs as easily as anything, as though he didn't have Sam hanging on like a spider monkey. Only when they reached the bedroom did Michael set Sam on his feet. Immediately he pushed his hands into Sam's hair and tilted his head back so he could take Sam's mouth.
Sam moaned and instantly opened for Michael's tongue. His kisses had melted Sam since the very first one, and Sam couldn't get enough of his mouth--of his taste, of the devouring onslaught of lips and teeth. Sam's knees threatened to give out, and without Michael's bruising grip on his hips, Sam would have collapsed. But Michael kept him upright and kept right on kissing him until Sam couldn't breathe.
He didn't need air anyway.
"I don't know what to do," Michael admitted in a broken whisper against Sam's lips. For a moment, Sam thought about making an appropriate quip about sex, but the anguish rolling off Michael was enough to stop him.
"I can't keep killing you, but I can't let you go either. I can't just stand back and let someone else take care of you when I'm right there and that should be my job."
The raw honesty in Michael's words coiled in Sam's gut. His heart clenched, and he smoothed his hands over Michael's neck and shoulders to soothe and calm him. His big, strong man, so capable and in control, was breaking under the strain of what they were doing. And yet, Sam couldn't let him go either.
"We'll figure it out. We will. Here." Sam reached for the hem of Michael's shirt and pulled it over his head. He tossed it aside and slid his fingers down Michael's chiseled chest and perfect abdomen so he could get to the button on his jeans. "Take all this off and get into bed."
Michael laughed--weakly and without humor. He kicked off his shoes, so when Sam pushed his jeans and boxers down, he could step out of them. Sam gently nudged him toward the bed, and Michael went, but he kept his gaze on Sam.
"Sex doesn't solve anything."
"No," Sam agreed. He gave a cheeky grin and made a show of whipping off his own shirt. "But I need to feel you. And you need me. So just get on the bed. Okay? Facedown."
Michael lay down and turned his head to the side so he could watch Sam. For his part Sam stripped off the rest of his clothing and retrieved the lube from the nightstand. He tossed it on the bed, and then knelt on the mattress. Michael got one hand under himself and started to turn over, but Sam moved quickly to drape himself across Michael's back. Michael stilled beneath him for a breathless moment and then groaned and arched up.
"Love your skin," he murmured, half into the pillow.
Sam chuckled, massaged the back of Michael's head for a moment, and then bent to kiss and lick. "Me too. Love yours. You're so warm and hard and smooth."
Michael shuddered and tilted his head a little to give Sam better access. With a grin, Sam got to work--biting, licking, sucking. He tried not to leave marks, but if he did, he wasn't overly worried about it. Then everyone would know that Michael was well loved.
He moved down and deliberately slid his cock along Michael's skin as he rubbed at Michael's shoulders. So much strength. Sam supposed Michael's shoulders had to be strong. He carried the weight of the world on them--but not in Sam's bed. In that moment, all he had to be was Sam's lover, and Sam was determined to show him that.
He traced the contours of Michael's back with his tongue, stopping to kiss and bite when he found a sensitive spot. Michael's moans were positively decadent. He held nothing back. And Sam rewarded him with more rubs and touches, more kisses and licks.
When he reached the top of Michael's ass, he bit down hard on one cheek. He chuckled against the skin between his teeth when Michael shouted. Then he released the flesh to soothe it with a long lick. Michael wanted him to lick his hole. The thought slithered into his brain, clear as day, and Sam froze.
"Wha?" Michael sounded drugged.
To test his theory, Sam gently spread Michael's cheeks and exposed the hidden, wrinkled skin. Michael's breath caught and held as Sam slowly bent and inhaled the scent of him and then tentatively swiped the flat of his tongue up Michael's crease.
Michael's whole body jerked, and he pulled his knees up under him to give Sam even better access. Sam grinned and got to work. He licked and nibbled, making that hole shiny with saliva as Michael groaned and grunted. Each sound was music to Sam's ears. He continued to work Michael and ate him with abandon. Then he pushed just the tip of his tongue inside until Michael gave a long, low groan.
Sam immediately reached between Michael's legs, palmed his sac, and eased his nuts away from his body as Michael lay shivering.
"That was close." Michael panted a few more breaths, but he seemed to be calming.
"I know." Sam rolled Michael's nuts in his palm and fondled them gently. It was probably not the time, but Sam needed to know if he was right about what was going on. "Michael, umm... are you projecting your thoughts?"
Michael froze. "What?"
"I heard you." Sam let go of Michael and then lay down on top of him again. He slid his hands along Michael's arms until he could wrap his fingers around Michael's and ease his grip on the sheets. "In my head. I heard you."
"That's... not possible." There was more silence, and then Michael turned his head so he could see Sam with one eye. "Is it?"
Sam shrugged one shoulder. "You're the telepath. I thought it only worked in one direction--you being able to read people. But I'm telling you, I heard you."
"Are you sure you weren't just, you know, reading my body?"
Sam chuckled, and Michael gave a tiny whine. He gripped Michael's hands all the tighter and lowered his head until he spoke right in Michael's ear. "You thought 'please, yes, lick my hole' and then later 'Christ, he's gonna make me come.'"
Michael went still and then, ever so carefully, turned over. Sam slid off him so he could lie beside him and look him in the eye. Michael cupped his cheek. His liquid eyes were intense as he stared straight into Sam's, and Sam knew what he was doing because he heard Michael's voice in his head.
I want you to ride me.
Sam grinned, leaned forward, and spoke against Michael's lips. "I want to ride you too."
"Holy shit."
Sam couldn't contain the laugh, and he pushed on Michael's shoulder until Michael rolled over onto his back. He picked up the lube, straddled Michael, and then popped the top and poured slick all over Michael's straining cock. He stroked Michael hard enough to tease but kept his touch gentle enough that Michael didn't come.
"I don't even.... God, that feels so good.... I've never heard of... unh."
Sam lifted up, reached behind himself, and then pointed Michael's dick at his hole. He was so worked up, he didn't even need prep. Michael was more than slick enough, and Sam wanted to feel the burn and stretch. Slowly, carefully, he eased Michael inside and then sat down and took him all in. Sam was shaking and sweating by the time his ass met Michael's pelvis, but the burn and the pain were already fading.
"Put your knees up. Get some leverage."
Michael did, and Sam leaned against them and ground in slow circles while he stroked himself. He loved the way Michael looked at him, all heat and desire, as he stretched his body back into a long line. He was driving Michael crazy. It was all over Michael's face. But Sam could hear it too--broken thoughts about how Michael just wanted to drive up into him and fuck him senseless. Which was exactly what Sam wanted.
He leane
d forward, braced his hand on Michael's chest, and lifted up until Michael's crown stretched his rim. Then he slammed back down, and the dull thud of skin on skin resounded through the room. Michael shouted hoarsely, and Sam did it again.
Michael grabbed his hips to hold him up and then punched into him from below, over and over, with hard, almost punishing thrusts. Sam could do nothing but hang on, pant, and gasp when Michael's cock hit the good spot. He whined when Michael pulled out completely, but before he could even protest, he heard Michael's desire that he get on his hands and knees.
He scrambled to comply and barely got his knees under him before Michael lifted him and shoved back inside. Sam howled, dropped his head down, and then lowered himself to his elbows and pushed his ass up.
Michael gave him no quarter. He pounded into him. The pace was frantic and intense. Sam whined again--a low noise--and wished Michael would angle just a little more and hit his spot. Just as the thought entered his brain, Michael did, and Sam all but screamed. The relentless pressure made Sam go from zero to sixty in no time. Suddenly he was on the verge. He grabbed his dick and squeezed to stave it off.
Michael wrapped his thick arms around Sam's chest as he shoved in hard and then rolled them both to their sides. When Michael grabbed Sam's top leg and pulled it up, Sam wailed as the feelings inside intensified. Michael's thrusts became slow and measured, but hard and powerful. Each one rattled Sam's bones, but it felt so good he had to grip the sheet tightly to hang on.
When Michael kissed the back of his neck, it was nothing more than the sensuous drag of lips. But that simple act sent Sam right to the brink again. He gritted his teeth to make it last. But Michael had other ideas. He gripped Sam's dick just tightly enough for Sam to feel it, and started to stroke.
"Come on, Sam. I know how close you are. Just let go and come."
As though it were a command, Sam did, and the wave of his orgasm crashed over him. He shot all over Michael's hand and the bed, and his hole clenched painfully tight. Michael felt like a pole inside him, but Sam's body locked down, and he couldn't move as he came.
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