First Impressions

by Jay Hogan

  JOSH STUDIED the range of emotions that played out on Michael’s face as he spoke about the risks of drinking as an ER doctor and knew he wasn’t getting the whole story, but he didn’t blame Michael one bit. They weren’t boyfriends—hell, he wasn’t sure if they were even good friends, not really, although he hoped things were heading that direction. They were just… well shit, he had no idea what the fuck they were anymore.

  It sure felt like something had changed, though. And the odd looks Michael had been sending his way made it seem like he was equally puzzled about what was happening between them. Josh couldn’t be in the same space as Michael without touching him and not just for sex—for comfort, for connection, for warmth, as well. But Michael was also a painful reminder of all the things Josh missed about having a partner, so maybe it wasn’t really about Michael himself and more about what Josh ached for. All he knew was that he was more and more confused about what they were doing and what he wanted anymore.

  He tried to focus on the story Michael was busy recounting—something about treating a famous musician who’d been admitted to the ER after falling naked from the Hollywood sign—but his mind had gone walkabout. All he saw was the movement of Michael’s lips, the tip of his tongue, the way his eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled, and the blue light that shone from them with every laugh. Michael barely had to glance Josh’s way, and Josh was fighting the urge to spread his legs and hand the guy a fuck ton of lube.

  And yet Michael had been so clear about not wanting to settle down, something Josh was desperately looking for—to make a family, the whole white-picket-fence bit. What was it Katie always said? Date the slut but marry the nerd. Maybe there was some truth in that. Michael was seriously hot but also seriously commitment-phobic. And yet he held Josh’s attention like a fucking neon sign.

  And what about the idea of monogamy? That was a deal-breaker for Josh and he wasn’t sure what Michael thought about it. The guy had seemed genuinely pissed at what Jase had done to him, and yet he seemed uninterested in any relationship himself. He’d be a huge gamble, and every time Josh found himself wondering what it would be like to actually date the man seriously, he got a headache from the megaton of warning bells that went off in his head. On his own he’d take the risk… maybe. But Sasha had to come first, and that risk seemed just too big to put his daughter in the middle, again.

  One thing was for sure—Josh was getting sick and tired of the what-ifs and maybes. They needed to talk. Josh needed to know where Michael’s head was at, and he could take it from there. If talking meant this whole thing crashed now, better sooner than later. Josh had walked past fuck buddy a while back. Too late to stop himself being hurt now. Tomorrow. He’d force a conversation tomorrow.

  “You’ll stay the night, please?” Josh interrupted the end of Michael’s story, the man’s eyes widening in surprise. Shit. That sounded too needy. He dropped a hand to scratch Paris’s head. “Just that it’s pretty late and… well, I’d hate you to miss your turn.” He glanced over coyly.

  Michael didn’t answer immediately, which panicked Josh just a little. “It was only a thought,” he said. “Forget it.”

  “No. I mean, yeah,” Michael answered softly. “Yeah, I could do that. You don’t think it will… complicate things?”

  Abso-fucking-lutely it will. But Josh needed Michael beside him tonight. And he needed to talk tomorrow. “Don’t see that it has to. We’re adults, right?”

  Michael nodded. “On a good day.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “GODDAMMIT, NO!” Michael shouted. Why was no one paying attention? He reached for the gurney, his arms moving like concrete piles through crusted mud. His fingers stretched for the pale, flaccid hand only to wrap around air instead. “Help her.” But no one was moving. Why was no one moving? They just stood, staring at him, eyes flat and lips in a tight line. She breathed, but the sound carried no hope, and he was drawn to her gaze, soft, young, pleading. Unable to look away, he caught the last flicker of life in those beautiful brown eyes, watched it drain and dull to a flat nothing. He sank to his knees on a floor slick with blood, and a pair of warm arms folded around him.

  Michael fought the hold, his face slick with tears. “Let me go.” But the arms pulled tight.

  “Shh, it’s okay,” a soothing voice hummed in his ear. “I’ve got you. Shh.”

  His eyes flew open. The voice was familiar, safe. Josh. His body began to relax. A soft kiss was pressed against his neck, his hair, and his shoulder, each notching down Michael’s panic a step or two. And with the last kiss, the arms around him loosened just a little. Enough to finally breathe.

  “You’re okay, babe. I’ve got you,” Josh whispered.

  Michael leaned back against Josh’s warm chest and let his heart settle from its sickening gallop. The memories returned. He was in Josh’s house, his bed, his arms, and he was okay. He needed to get a grip. Don’t lose it completely in front of the nice man, idiot. It was just a short dip in the crazy pool. Just a reminder but…. Fuck. Why tonight?

  Josh’s fingers trailed across Michael’s belly and hips, releasing the knots of panic. He sucked in some deep breaths and found himself held and rocked, comforted like a child, swaddled as light kisses were pressed on the nape of his neck. God almighty, it felt good. So he let himself drift, happy in the moment to never leave that cocoon of flesh where everything felt right.

  After a time, Josh slowed the rocking and they lay quiet. Michael twisted in his arms to face him, kissing him lightly on the lips. Memories drifted of the evening before, the lazy blowjobs in bed before Michael had curled up against Josh, the little spoon for once.

  “Thanks,” he whispered against Josh’s mouth, the word failing to convey anywhere near the gratitude he felt for Josh’s silent acceptance of Michael’s crazy.

  “Nightmare?” Josh raised a brow.

  “Yeah.”

  “You get them often?”

  “Now and then.” Michael felt the sting of embarrassment flush his cheeks. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted, not now, not yet. And especially with this man who slipped so easily under and around every wall Michael had worked so damned hard to hammer in place.

  “Wanna talk?” Josh pressed gently. “I have it on good authority that shit can actually help.”

  Michael grinned despite himself, but he’d avoided opening up to Simon for eighteen months, and he wasn’t about to cough up that easily to a guy he’d known for little more than two weeks. But wasn’t that exactly what he’d been planning to do, tomorrow?

  “No, not really,” he answered, ready for an argument but getting none, nothing but concern in the other man’s expression. Damn.

  And so he gave him something. “The work I do, the shit I see, it leaves scars, that’s all. Not too different from your job, I imagine. We don’t get to save everyone, and sometimes the ‘almost but not quite’ comes back to bite me on the ass.” He nuzzled against Josh’s neck. “I’m sorry I woke you. I’ll grab a glass of water and crash in the lounge for a bit, so you can get back to sleep. No need for us both to be red-eyed and cranky in the morning.”

  He went to push the covers off, but Josh’s grip held him in place. “I have a better suggestion,” he murmured, cupping Michael’s chin and turning him for a kiss, his tongue warm and soft against the seam of Michael’s lips. Michael opened, and Josh slid in gently, a sensual slow move that had Michael’s dick rock-hard in seconds, thinking it was entirely possible he could come from kissing alone.

  Hands trailed over his back, leaving searing swirls of heat and want in their wake. Michael could barely breathe, let alone move, his mind a puddle of adrenaline, fatigue, and sensitivity. He had no choice but to surrender and let this amazing man own his body once again, this time in the most tender, erotic path to arousal.

  He had no idea how long they kissed, Josh’s hands drifting over Michael’s body with murmured moans and hums, betraying his own arousal as he delicately tasted every square inch of Michael’s ski
n. The slow seduction elicited erogenous zones Michael didn’t even know he had: elbows, the underside of his biceps, the lower run of his ribs—who knew? At some point he figured he should play his part, but Josh simply brushed his hand away.

  “Shh,” he soothed, pushing Michael back into place, which was apparently wherever Josh wanted him to be. “Let’s see if I can bring the sleep bunnies back.”

  Michael snorted. “Sleep bunnies?” He licked up the other man’s neck just because he could and the fact it required about as much energy as he could currently muster. “Your dirty talk could do with a little work, wolf-man.”

  Josh manhandled him onto his other side and spooned Michael from behind. “Oh ye of little faith,” he whispered into Michael’s ear, sliding a very erect, very demanding cock against his crack. “Now relax and let me chase the bad dreams away.”

  Okay, then. Okay. And with that, Michael gave in and surrendered to an act of soul-touching sex like nothing he’d ever known. Josh’s mouth owned his skin anyway he wanted it. Touch, kiss, lick, suck, nibble, stroke, all soft and languid, silk on cotton wool. Michael’s mind circled lazily around the question of how he could be so relaxed and yet so insanely aroused. It was a mystery he eventually put aside to ponder when he wasn’t a hair’s breadth away from self-combusting and taking most of the known universe with him.

  Kisses blurred into gentle nips and soothing hums, as slick fingers found his secret switches and the not-so-secret ones. Balls rolled gently, dick drawn and coaxed in slow mesmerising strokes, his body burning ever hotter. And finally, wicked, slick fingers behind his balls, grazing his hole, dipping inside, gliding in and out while lips caressed his spine. His top thigh lifted and pushed forward, opening him up, two fingers, swirling, probing.

  On and on it went until Michael was convinced his bones had dissolved into the very fibre of the sheets along with his brain. Then lips and fingers retreated, and blazing, solid flesh pressed up against him from shoulder to thigh. Josh threw an arm around his chest, slid in behind and breached him slowly, slowly, slowly slipping home in one tantalising slide. Then he sighed, warm and moist against Michael’s neck, and breathed shakily.

  “This isn’t going to take long, sorry.”

  Michael groaned and pushed back, whimpering with need. “Not. A. Problem.”

  “Fuck,” Josh moaned. “Give me a second, yeah.”

  From some distant planet, Michael heard the man take a few deep breaths and then felt the first gentle thrusts. And just like the seduction, the fuck was slow and sizzling. Long strokes by that thick cock sliding against his prostate time and time again, pushing him ever closer to the blistering edge of orgasm.

  It should have been frustrating, this slow maddening glide. But instead it was all-encompassing. Delicious and lavish, like the flow of melted chocolate, and Michael could do nothing but give himself over to its hypnotic promise, trusting Josh would get him there. And then, almost too soon, he felt the surge of pleasure begin.

  “Close,” he hissed, surprising himself with the ability to even form the word.

  “Me too.” Josh slid a hand over Michael’s cock.

  He groaned and arched into the grip.

  “That’s it, sweetheart,” Josh murmured. “Give it up. I’ve got you.”

  And that was all it took for Michael to plummet over the edge riding an exquisite crest, vaguely aware of Josh’s body stuttering at his back, the swell and release of the man’s cock in his ass. Hot damn.

  Neither moved for what felt like minutes, lost in the simple need to breathe and hang on to each other. Then finally Josh’s soft cock slid reluctantly from Michael’s ass, bringing him back from wherever his brain had migrated to recover.

  “Jesus Christ, wolf-man,” Michael murmured, lowering his leg to relieve a cramp while sliding up against the man’s furnace of a chest. “Where the hell did you learn that?”

  “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Josh nipped the nape of his neck, then returned for a decent bite.

  “Ow,” Michael yelped, a little too highly pitched for his liking. “What was that?”

  “Because you taste so damn good. Now go to sleep.”

  Michael wanted to protest, wanted to pin the other man down and make him yield to something… anything to not feel so, so grateful, but he didn’t. Instead he lay in Josh’s arms, the fucking little spoon again, cocooned in the man’s tenderness as if he were something precious to be treasured, and then… well, then he cried—big, fat, silent, ugly tears into his pillow. He kept himself still as it happened, as silent as he could manage, praying Josh wouldn’t notice.

  No one had witnessed one of his full-blown, middle-of-the-night freak-outs, bar one. Simon. After that, Michael had moved out of his and Simon’s bed and buried the nightmares in alcohol and isolation, and no one had ever seen him that way again, until tonight and Josh. Sweet, determined, Josh. He hadn’t asked anything of Michael, had just taken him somewhere safe and held him there. And hadn’t that been a fucking miracle?

  Josh’s arm pulled against Michael. The man was still awake. Shit.

  “You okay?”

  Yes. No. Fuck. Ah, goddammit. “Her name was Marcia.” The words were out before Michael even realised it.

  Josh stilled but said nothing.

  Crap. Was he really going to do this? I guess so.

  And he did. “She came into my ER nearly two years ago,” he began and then continued to tell Josh the whole sorry mess, the biggest fuck-up of his career, while the man at his back simply held him close and listened without a single interruption. The only sign Josh was even still awake was the gentle in and out of his breathing in Michael’s ear and the tight grip he kept around his chest.

  It was easier not having to face those eyes as he spoke—he didn’t have to hide his shame or see the inevitable pity or judgement when Josh finally understood what a fuck-up Michael truly was. He’d be glad he’d kept Michael at arm’s length, then. Josh deserved better.

  When he was finally done, they lay quiet for a bit, and Michael felt an odd sense of peace. Then Josh pulled at his shoulders, twisting him so they faced each other. He cupped Michael’s chin and pressed their lips together in a sweet kiss, no heat, just comfort and acceptance. Then he pulled back and kissed the tip of Michael’s nose and each eyelid in turn. He couldn’t have missed the tang of Michael’s tears but said nothing about them.

  “Hence the alcohol issue,” he stated, no judgement.

  Michael sighed. “Hence the alcohol issue. Usual dumb-fuck story there. An escape that works, until it doesn’t. Damn near cost me my job. Took a stint in rehab and then down the track this opportunity for a hiatus in New Zealand to take a breather.”

  Josh ran his fingers through Michael’s hair, and Michael leaned into the caress. “But wait, there’s more,” he said sardonically.

  Josh waited, his fingers continuing to channel through Michael’s hair, creating their own slice of peace in his mind.

  “That thing about me not doing relationships,” Michael ventured, hearing the screaming hesitation in his own voice.

  Josh’s fingers stilled momentarily, then continued in their mission.

  Michael sighed. “I was with Simon when all that shit went down, and not to bore you with the details, but the whole thing crashed and burned as a direct result. Not his fault,” Michael was quick to point out. These days he felt pretty protective of Simon’s efforts to save them—though that feeling had been a long time coming, too long.

  “No. The blame for that whole shit-sucking fiasco lies solidly with yours truly. Simon’s a good guy, a great guy actually, and he tried to help, but I was a proverbial asshole in return, and the drink didn’t help. Let’s just say he made the absolute right decision to cut my ass loose when he did.”

  Josh eyed me sideways, his gaze narrowing. “You mean he gave up—”

  “No,” Michael interrupted. Okay, here goes. Been nice knowing you. “That was all on me. It got to the point where I couldn’t deal
with all his ‘trying so hard’ kindness. I was too busy wallowing in self-pity. So when he took me to a bar for our two-year ‘living together’ anniversary, I, ah, I got drunk and deliberately fucked some random twink in the back room. I knew Simon would likely follow to check up on me. He did. So, now you know.”

  Josh froze, and his eyebrows flew to his hairline, but to his credit, the man held fire on any immediate comment. Not able to hold his stunned gaze for long, Michael buried his head on Josh’s chest instead. “So, you were pretty much right on the mark the first time you met me. I’m an asshole. It was a total dick move,” he said. And the rest.

  The silence continued for a few moments, and then Michael felt the press of Josh’s lips on his head. “Then why?”

  Michael snorted. “Because I’m a total bastard, jackass, prick.”

  Josh dipped his head to catch Michael’s eye. “Yeah, I’m not buying it.”

  “That’s because you’re under the erroneous impression that there’s a nice guy somewhere buried deep underneath all this shit,” Michael scoffed. “And that just makes you naive, not right.” He dropped his head to the pillow and his gaze to the network of soft hair covering Josh’s chest. He raised his hand and ran his fingers idly through it.

  “I was too much of a coward to break up with him, so I made him do it for me. I put him in an impossible position and hurt him so badly, but I just kept telling myself he was better off without me.” He took a deep breath and risked a peek. Josh’s expression held nothing but concern and affection. Ugh.

  “It was a crap excuse,” he went on. “Just how crap only hit home when you were talking about how Jase’s cheating affected you. I hadn’t even considered Simon’s side, not really. Hadn’t thought he’d feel much more than ‘good riddance.’ And that’s why I don’t do relationships. I’m the definition of damaged goods. Casual is my limit. Maybe someday that will change, but for now I’m just trying to keep my head straight and get back on track. Most days I can even believe I’m getting there. Admittedly you’ve thrown a small wrench in that thinking.” And there it was.