All Cocks Stories Box Set Volume 2

by Smith,T. M.

  “You’re probably right.” Micah’s eyes strayed to the stairs.

  Tristan turned the heat to low, turning and leaning against the stove, arms crossed. “Has something happened, between you two?”

  Micah’s blush and inability to meet Tristan’s eyes answered his question. “Shit, Micah. Why didn’t you push me away last night? If you and Gabe…”

  Micah held up a hand, shaking his head. “No. Well, yes.”

  “Which is it Micah? Yes or no, it’s not a difficult question.”

  Micah snorted. “Easy for you to say,” he glared at Tristan. “I’m scared of my own fucking shadow some days, Tris. And Gabe, he’s still so raw inside over Gio’s death. So yes, we comforted each other one night a while back. But we agreed that, while we are attracted to each other, it is probably not the best idea to do anything about it right now.”

  The look of sadness in Tristan’s blue eyes gutted Micah and he wished like hell he hadn’t even said anything.

  “Okay, I’m sorry about… wait, no, I’m not sorry I kissed you, Micah. But I won’t kiss you again. I didn’t realize that you two…” Tristan waved his hand between Micah and the stairs. His shoulders slumped and he turned his back to Micah, focusing on the omelet that was probably charred around the edges by now.

  Micah hopped down, steadying his wobbly blade before taking a step toward Tristan. “Tris, I didn’t mean to lead you on. I care about you both and it confuses me. I don’t know what the hell to do. I mean, that night with Gabe was fucking wonderful and I wouldn’t take it back. But then last night, when you kissed me, that felt right too.”

  Tristan kept his back to Micah, unwilling to look him in the eyes while admitting how he felt. “I care about both of you too Micah, more than I probably should.”

  The water shutting off ended the conversation. Micah knew he would have to time to talk to Tristan again that afternoon since they were starting the VRE therapy today. Gabe looked much better when he came back downstairs and the three of them sat at the bar, eating omelets, drinking coffee and talking.

  “So, I have all the furniture from the condo in storage, including an entire guest bedroom of furniture that you can use Micah.” Gabe jabbered on. “I’ll take the big room with the closet large enough to sleep in because, let’s face it, I have ten times more stuff than you do.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Time out.” Micah dropped his fork and made a T with his hands. “Don’t you want to, I don’t know, ask me if I want to move in before you set up my bedroom Gabe?”

  Gabe froze, fork halfway to his mouth. When he sat back and turned to look at Micah he had to pinch his lips together not to laugh or smile. Gabe looked absolutely crestfallen. “You don’t want to?” he asked in the cutest little if you don’t say yes I’m going to cry and stamp my feet, voice Micah thought he had ever heard.

  Micah saw Tristan over Gabe’s shoulder trying very hard not to laugh as well. “Of course I’ll move in with you Gabe, it would just be nice if you would ask me instead of making plans for me. And we probably should talk about bills and rent and such so I can decide if I can even afford to move in.”

  Gabe’s grin could have lit a dark room, it was wide and perfect and gleaming. He smacked Micah on the arm. “Not nice Micah. Give a guy a heart attack, why don’t ya?” Gabe stopped talking long enough to scarf down several bites of his omelet and tell Tristan how delicious it was before he started jabbering again.

  “This is still just a little too surreal,” Gabe said with a smile. “I’m a homeowner, again.” They all laughed.

  Tristan left Micah and Gabe with the dishes, heading up to his room to shower, change and paint a smile on his face. He could hear them downstairs still ironing out details about their impending move. Sighing, he met his eyes in the mirror. “It’s probably better this way Tristan; they are your clients after all.” He rubbed his hand over his head, chuckling. “Fuck, and now I’m talking to myself — perhaps I’m the one that needs counseling.”

  The kitchen was spotless and Micah and Gabe were both dressed and ready to go when Tristan headed back down. Tristan held the door for both men, taking one last moment to enjoy having them both in his home, watching them head down the hallway, laughing and talking.

  Chapter 14 | Facing your demons

  Micah lay across the couch in Tristan’s office covered in sweat and trembling. He felt vulnerable and drained after the VRE therapy, and it was only the first session. His entire body felt like an open wound, festering and sore, his skin so tight that it pulled when he winced. He was quite certain that if he fell off the couch his body would melt into a puddle of blood and guts, ruining the expensive rug.

  “Micah.” Tristan’s voice sounded far off, warped and anxious.

  What the hell do you have to be anxious about, Tristan? You didn’t just live through the worst fucking day of your life, again, he thought briefly, flinching at the venom he heard in his own thoughts. Micah lay silent, waiting, praying he had not just actually said that out loud.

  Tristan laughed but there was no humor in it. “I expected you to be angry and frustrated after, maybe even combative. But this, your entire body is projecting your pain and fear and…” Tristan’s voice moved closer. “…I knew this would not be easy Micah, so if I sound anxious it is because I didn’t realize just how violently this would affect you.”

  “Fuck me. I did say that out loud.” Micah cursed.

  Tristan snorted. “Yeah, you did.” Tristan reached for Micah’s hand to twine their fingers together, flinching when Micah cried out and jerked away.

  It took Micah a few minutes to calm again, catch his breath. “Sorry Tris, but I am not only feeling this mentally, every cell in my body is revolting right now. It’s not you, I promise.”

  Micah could hear Tristan breathing, so he knew the man was still there, but he seemed content not to respond. Several minutes passed before Tristan spoke again. “Be right back.” Micah didn’t even try to respond, just lay there listening to Tristan’s footfalls before the click of the door told Micah he had left the room. Then he could hear Tristan out in the lobby through the walls, couldn’t make out the words, but recognized the deep tenor of his voice.

  Opening his eyes, Micah stared up at the ceiling, giggling when the room started to spin. “Oh thank fuck.” He sighed. The Xanax was finally kicking in.

  Micah floated comfortably in that grey area between sleep and consciousness, refusing to give up his comfortably numb state just yet. The vibration of voices poked at his bubble, the jumble of words coming into focus as the fog slowly lifted in his brain. Tristan and, why was the other voice so familiar?

  “Tris,” Micah spit his name out around the saw dust in his mouth.

  “Hey Micah, feel better?” Tristan asked. Micah managed a nod, but that was all the strength he could muster. “You’ll likely be groggy for a while, but you do need some food. Can you sit up own your own, or do you need some help?”

  Micah opened his eyes, blinking until the room stopped spinning. He smiled as soon as his eyes landed on those beautiful blue ones, deep and magnetic. Thankfully Micah’s brain was still moving in slow motion so he was able to suppress the urge to laugh at Tristan. He stood at the end of the couch, hovering, brow furrowed.

  “Food, yes, I could eat.” Micah struggled to sit up. Tristan reached for him, then thought better of it and pulled back.

  “Will you scream like a banshee again if I help you up?” Tristan mumbled. Micah chortled, holding his hands up for Tristan. Micah could only imagine how he looked right then. Honestly though, he was far too exhausted to give a shit. Tristan and Harold Prescott talked about classes and schedules while Micah ate the turkey sandwich Tristan had ordered him from the Deli. When he was done, Tristan came to sit on the couch with Micah while Dr. Prescott sat in the chair.

  “I called Harold while you were out and asked him to come explain what happened today after the VRE, to both of us.” Tristan told him.

  “How are you feeling right
now, Micah?” Prescott asked.

  “Exhausted, sluggish and confused, Doc. Seriously, I knew this was not going to be a walk in the park, but that was very different than anything I’ve ever felt. Or can remember feeling after a flashback.”

  “I think that your body became a reservoir for the overload to your psyche after the therapy. If you think about it, PTSD is not that far removed from someone that suffers from depression or social anxiety disorder. You’ve seen the commercials, Depression hurts? Well that isn’t just a slogan to pedal Prozac, Micah. The mind can only take so much before it searches for another outlet.” The good doctor gave Micah a few moments to soak that in before marching on.

  “I had advised Tristan not to medicate you before the treatment, but considering how you reacted today, I think that if you agree to continue with the therapy, you should have a low dose of Xanax or Valium an hour prior. Then with each subsequent session, Tristan can lower the dose and wean you off.”

  Micah looked over at Tristan, wanting his opinion on it. “I have to agree Micah. But ultimately, it’s up to you.” Tristan silently prayed Micah would agree. It was a rough day, that went without saying. But it was also a step closer to helping Micah get a tight hold on his PTSD.

  “I trust you, Tristan.” Micah smiled, before turning to Harold Prescott. “I have to ask though, what if I react the same way I did today once I stop taking the meds?”

  “That is a very valid question Micah. I like patients that are present for their therapy.” Prescott smiled. “I’ll be honest with you; you very well may have a similar reaction. I think the odds are slim to none though. My hope is that while going through the therapy slightly sedated, your reaction will be less severe. Therefore, it will balance out.”

  Micah thought about it for a minute, nodding. “Okay, let’s do this then.”

  “One last thing Micah, something I want you to be prepared for.” Tristan took Micah’s hand in his. “Eventually, you are going to have to face the trigger. I have a good idea what your trigger is after witnessing your flashbacks and mood swings firsthand. I just want to be sure you understand, again, at some point you are going to have to face it, head on.”

  Micah nodded, then stood and excused himself, heading to the bathroom. Tristan watched him leave before he grabbed the empty soda can and sandwich wrapper, walking over and dropping them into the trash can.

  “You care for him, don’t you?” Harold asked. Tristan nodded. “And the other young man, Gabe, what about him?” Tristan plopped back down on the sofa, laying his head back and groaning. “Look, Tristan, I’m not about to tell you how to live your life. But if I can see how you feel for both of them and I have spent little to no time with the three of you. They are bound to notice, if they haven’t already.”

  The silence was maddening. “Has anything… happened?” Harold asked.

  “Not, really.” Tristan tried to remain vague.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Harold laughed. “I’m here if you need to talk Tristan, okay. Just, tread lightly, don’t do anything to jeopardize Gabe or Micah’s emotional well-being is all I ask.”

  Tristan barked out a laugh then, dry and humorless. He could remember saying those exact same words to Micah the day he met him and Gabe. And now here he sat, a jumble of nerves because he couldn’t even take his own advice. How the hell did he expect Micah to?

  They both sat up and shut up when they heard the door knob turning. Micah looked better already. The color was coming back to his face and the dark spots under his eyes were just faintly noticeable now. Tristan grabbed the groan that was on the tip of his tongue at the sight of a disheveled Micah limping over to the couch, beating it until the groan retreated and left a lump in the back of his throat. Micah’s dirty blonde hair had grown out long enough that Micah actually pulled it back into a ponytail sometimes. In the shorts and T-shirt he wore, a good deal of his body art was visible — he was a living, breathing work of art and Tristan warred with the urge to map out every brush of ink on Micah’s skin with his fingers and tongue.

  What the fuck is wrong with me? I am a goddamn professional that should not be having these thoughts about my patient, my friend. Not to mention, he obviously wants Gabe, not me.

  “Tristan, did you need me for anything else?” Harold asked.

  Tristan shook his head and waved to Harold as he left the office. That lump in the back of his throat was starting to choke him and he feared if he spoke, his uncertainty would be wrapped around whatever words he said.

  “Well, this has been fun. Same bat time, same bat channel next week?” Micah said with a chortle.

  Tristan managed one word, “Yeah,” amazed at how clearly and unemotional the word came out. As soon as Micah closed the door, Tristan fell into his desk chair. He sat there staring out the window for a while. The only option he could consider would be to remove himself from Gabe and Tristan’s life in any way other than as a friend and therapist. His sole focus right now had to be on doing his job and making sure that both men achieved the best result from their therapy with him.

  But goddamn, the kiss last night with Micah, it had kept Tristan up half the night. He wanted so much more than just that kiss. Then holding Gabe in his arms while he shook in the wake of his dream, his arm snaked around Tristan’s waist — he felt just as right in Tristan’s arms as Micah did when they kissed. He would fight for either one of them, hell, for both of them if he were honest with himself.

  Tristan was unbelievably sad when he tried to picture his life without either of them in it. His cell phone buzzed, but he ignored it, content to be alone in his miserable state just a little while longer. The desk phone though, that one could not be ignored.

  “Tristan Brennan, how can I help you?”

  “Tris darling, what’s wrong?” His mom’s melodic voice came through the receiver. Tristan couldn’t help the grin, his mother could tell just by the tone of any one of her boy’s voice exactly how they were feeling when they spoke.

  “Had a tough session today, Mom, that’s all. What’s up?”

  He sat and listened to his mom rattle on about their Gran’s birthday party that was coming up, thankful for the reprieve from his life and thoughts, if only for a few minutes.

  Chapter 15 | New beginnings

  “You know you always have a home here, right?” Andrew told Gabe and Micah for the fifteenth time in the last fifteen minutes. Victor laughed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at his husband.

  “Yeah, thanks.” Micah managed to speak around the lump in his throat. It was all too much for him. Ever since the day Micah told his parents he was gay, he ceased to be part of a family. Coming to work for All Cocks, moving into the big house that was often chaotic and always full of love and acceptance, he was part of a family again. Micah was both sad and angry. Sad that he and Gabe were moving out of Vic, Andy and Mattie’s home. Angry that he felt more sorrow from the three men over Gabe and Micah moving out than he did from his own parents the day he walked out of their lives, and never looked back.

  Micah climbed into the passenger seat of Gabe’s SUV, tossing his backpack over his shoulder, into the back seat. Neither of them had much more than clothes and a few personal items to move from the house to the brownstone. Everything fit nicely in the back, with room to spare. Micah lowered the window, calling out to Gabe. “Hey, Gabe, we need to go. The movers will be there in two hours.”

  Gabe and Mattie had their arms wrapped around each other, with Victor and Andrew’s arms wrapped around them. Twinkie sandwich! Micah chuckled at the thought. Gabe finally pulled himself away and bounded down the steps, running over to the truck. The three men on the porch waved until the vehicle turned the corner and was gone.

  Mattie sniffled, “The house is going to be so quiet now.”

  Victor laughed. It was a deep, throaty, sexy noise. “What you say we go make noise then?” Bending over, he threw Mattie over his shoulder and carried him inside. Mattie giggled and Andrew smacked him on the ass, fo
llowing his husbands into their empty house.

  ***

  Gabe and Micah sat on their new kitchen countertop eating Thai food and drinking Dos Equis. There were boxes everywhere but their beds were set up and made, so they were taking a much needed break after eight hours of packing, moving, driving and unpacking. The movers were already at the house when they arrived, and the furniture truck delivering Micah’s new furniture wasn’t far behind. Gabe had an extra bed, dresser and night stands from the spare bedroom in the condo, but Micah wanted a king-sized bed. So he bought a new Tempur Pedic mattress and bed frame for his room.

  He had purchased a desk and flat screen TV for his room as well, and a long picnic style table with matching bench and four chairs to go in the dining area at the front of the house. Gabe’s tiny table with two chairs sat against a section of the wall in the kitchen next to the two built-in shelves. The large leather sectional sofa was in the living room surrounded by boxes that were being ignored until the next day.