Start with the Metaphorical Bang
Christian Miller was running with extreme prejudice at this point and had been all damn day.
He wasn’t sure how the hell he’d avoid him forever, but, it seemed it hardly mattered because he was floundering badly as it was; mentally, physically, and emotionally…it was all bad, and he was officially over the top of his limit.
However, so far, so good. He had made it the entire day without seeing him once, avoided every call or text, was locking his shop doors, and finally relaxed a smidge, turned, and almost came out of his skin. “God damn it!”
Mikael didn’t look amused; he looked terrifyingly real, very suddenly present and accounted for, and fuck, but he made Chris instantly break into a sweat, color going high and hot. He scrubbed his forehead, suddenly burning alive seeing that well-dressed, sleekly designed figure in front of him.
Mikael didn’t say a word, jaw ticking, and pointed back at the door.
“I…I was closed.”
Now he spoke and just snapped. “Inside.”
Chris swallowed, stomach dropping, chest tight while his heart skipped a beat or two, found he couldn’t meet those eyes, and just turned, screaming with anxiety.
Fuck. Fuck his whole life right then.
To say he fumbled with his keys was an understatement, and he finally cursed, found the right one, shoved it back into the lock, and twisted the door back open, very aware of the staredown roasting the back of his skull right then.
He stepped through and turned, stiff as a board, and just watched that titanic smooth figure drift inside, hands in his pockets casually. Chris saw beyond that he had brought three guards with him, all just standing sentinel on the sidewalk, casually smoking, or just posted up against his car across the street.
How the hell he had missed them, was a testament truly of his own distracted state of mind.
Mikael turned, pulled one hand free, and swung the door shut, Christian almost had a heart palpitation when he glanced up and down the street, and flicked the lock before moving to draw the blinds. He turned back to him with such annoyance on his face it was like a scalding slap. “I’ve been calling you all damn day, Christian.”
Chris shifted, couldn’t quite look at him yet, and looked down at his feet instead. “Yeah. I know.”
The annoyance that rippled in Mikael was astounding, and after a long moment, Mikael lost his cool. “What the fuck is your issue?!” He stepped forward and Chris almost tripped in his haste to backpedal and hated that he was so compelled to run from this man when all he did was advance on him, and not even with great haste. “Every other damn day I can’t get you to shut the fuck up, but the one day I try, God forbid you answer your fucking phone!”
Chris finally exhaled shakily and tossed his keys on the counter, shoved both hands into his hair, and his distress broke officially. “What do you want me to say, Mikael?” He cursed that flat-eyed, completely apathetic to his plight expression. “Fuck you, man. Don’t stand there and look at me like I’m crazy here! I…I can not fucking deal with this right now!”
He brought his hands down to slap the back of one to a palm, and those blue eyes just tracked the move with a flick of his brow. God damn it but Christian hated him some days. “I can barely make enough to feed myself or pay my rents, Mikael. I am stressed!” He emphasized that with clear levels of said stress to the word. “Stretched to my limit of fucks I can possibly give, and now I have to add this to the mix? No. NO!” He waved it away almost desperately. “I’m not doing it tonight.”
Mikael was so quiet, those eyes scanning his face with such annoying patient impatience, that Christian didn’t even know how he managed such expressions, except he did, and with great skill. Agitating to the extreme. It went on long enough that Christian made a sound of real frustration and almost tore his hair out. “What do you want from me?”
Now that was the right question. Mikael’s lips curved and after a second he pointed to one of two low couches. “Sit down, Chris.”
“I don’t want to sit down. I want to go home, cry, and stress out in peace and lonely torment like God fucking intended I live my life, Mikael!” His voice almost broke on it now, and he scrambled when Mikael just hit a step and caught him up, literally dragged him forward with him with that freakish upper body strength, and Chris almost tripped twice trying to throw himself back out of that momentum.
He ended up on his ass on the couch, breathing rapidly, and had to catch the couch back when the son of a bitch flung him down. “God damn it!” He yelled it at him, flustered, flushed, and then panicked when Mikael just kept coming, jerked straight back, and had no clue what the hell to do when those hands caught his shirt.
Mikael snapped him upright and held him very hostage when he slipped a long thigh around his legs, the other braced between them on the floor.
“Christian, for once, shut the fuck up please.” He pulled him up and those eyes were very wide, and screaming with anxiety, and hell but it turned Mikael on, better still when those lovely hands caught his forearms a little fearfully.
“Please…”
“Shhh.” God, but it was so good, and had he even had an inkling at how compatible they would have been in this way from the get, he wouldn’t have wasted his time bullshitting around. “Put your hands on my belt, Chris.” The look on that face, the stark terror in that request got him so close it was criminal, and he just exhaled and patted his face a little too hard, hard enough to sting, and snapped, “Do it.”
Christian was about as close to an anxiety attack as you could get without actually being there, and struggled visibly, hands trembling badly. “Mikael…”
“Do it.”
Christian was sweating, had no idea what to think or do, and after a hesitant moment of near terror, he put his hands on that nice leather belt and squirmed under the pressure of this position, just the action, all of it. He was suddenly remembering clearly how much Mikael didn’t understand the word “no” when he didn’t want that answer, and he was genuinely on a ledge right then.
“Good, now undo the buckle.”
That got him, and those dark eyes flew up to his in wild surprise, and he froze up entirely, but Mikael was here to make a point to him now, and damned if he would be distracted by that soft panicky stare. “Do not make me repeat myself again, Christian.”
That, that was a threat, and Chris had a clear memory of that exact command last night and the literal smack that had cut the inside of his mouth against his teeth; could still feel it, cursed shakily, and then proceeded to curse him for a son of a bitch even while he tried to get his shaking fingers to work the buckles ends free.
“Mikael, I can’t fucking handle you like this, man…I’m not your fucking henchmen pricks.”
He could bitch all day with that high-stressed tone, as long as he did what he wanted. Mikael smiled, just a curve of lips, and watched those fingers finally get the buckle apart.
He rewarded that by catching the button for him, caught his hair, and now the fight there got real when he wrenched his head back up, and forced those eyes to his, even while he handled the zipper as well. “I didn’t tell you, you could speak yet, Christian. I told you to shut the fuck up, didn’t I?” That tone was so clipped and pointed that at that moment, Christian really did hate him.
His hands were fluttering, because touching him right then seemed foolish, and not touching was awkward, and that hand in his hair was making his brain sort of stutter out.
It was embarrassing, a little flaying, and being manhandled was so far from his comfort zone, that he was a little terrorized by it.
Nor was he willing to actually swing on this man, because Mikael had always, always been able to kick the shit out of him. From their youth on, it wasn’t even a fair fight.
He opened his mouth, and snapped it shut when that grip tightened to real pain, shook him, and now Chris did catch both wrists a little panicked beyond anxiety. “Okay, please. Please. I’m sorry I didn’t answer the phone. I am.” Not helping his ego any but frankly, he was starting to crumble, tears pricked his eyes and his nerves were breaking him down.
“Are you?” That tone ground out with real annoyance still. “I don’t think you understand, Chris, how much that hurt my fucking feelings. I answer every damn text, call or facetime any damn time you please, and you know.” He shook him so hard he cried out, and tried to come up, got caught in his barricade of legs, and almost twisted upwards into an arch to escape that moment. Mikael just wrenched him right back down and hissed, “I do worry about you, you son of a cunt. People know we know each other idiot, and when you don’t call or pick up, my brain starts to go in all kinds of directions, like you being dead, kidnapped, or just jumped in a fucking street. Next time, answer the fucking phone.” He shook him again for good measure and let his hair go, and that body sagged instantly.
Chris was not relieved though, when that other thigh pulled up, and he was just confronted with that open fly, and Mikael’s hand dragging his shirt free. “Mikael, what are you doing?” He was almost shrill and caught his hand desperately. He looked at those darkening eyes, saw his gaze flick to his mouth in a tell that made him freeze under it when those eyes flicked back up. That smile was a slow, evil, just a sinister upturn of his lips.
It wasn’t comforting at all, and less when all he said was. “I’m helping you along, Christian.” He caught the hand on his loin, and now Chris did try to wrestle away when he very forcibly slipped it along bare flesh, and dear Lord, not only was he not wearing underwear but the second his fingers touched that shortened hairline, he began to shake, sweat and really was not prepared for this at all. “I thought all day about last night.” Mikael leaned down now, and Chris made a sound of high distress when he took those fingers lower and Mikael almost rocked with thrill when they smoothed over that hard length of his cock.
Fuck, but the whole moment was spiraling, tightening now, into something just utterly taboo and so wicked between them, it was the kind of shit he lived for. “If I had known for a second you were into me like this, Christian, I would have done this a hell of a lot sooner.”
“Mikael, please, I don’t want to do this. I don’t…” He was cut off very abruptly by the sudden and very silken slip of lips over his. Contrary to every other action happening right then, that mouth was not forceful, harsh, or even mildly offensive.
On the other side of it, it was dark, seductive, sensual, and rolled him that fast under that influence, shook his whole body into a rush of high intensity and rocking electric sensory overload.
It was good, and he didn’t even realize he had opened his mouth until the slip of tongue touched his and it was like a direct line to his libido, just instant flipping of switches across the board. His fingers wrapped around that silken flesh, almost against his own volition.
Mikael just helped it along, pulled both dick and that rolling hand from his slacks, and that mouth was like the devil's own, just a seductive mixtape of all the greatest hits, and it hit Christian hard.
Truthfully he had always wanted Mikael in any manner he could get.
His secret and first love, fantasy lover, and unrequited love for all time afterward, all in one massive package. This wasn’t even fair, melted him like pooling butter in a pan, and all Mikael had to whisper was, “You don’t have to do anything but please me then, and I’ll be good.”
It was a game-over sentence and Christian inwardly screamed, with all the voices in his head yelling loud and clear, “No, Dont do it”.
Red flags were thrown at him from all sides, and like an idiot, all he managed to murmur against that demanding mouth was, “Okay.” It was so soft and uncertain, he was surely betrayed by his own self and completely taken down by this unknown sudden side of him and Mikael both.
This wasn’t their day-to-day relationship, and never had been, so why, last night it had just gotten so out of control, or why it was coalescing into this moment all over again. He had no clue how to reconcile any of it.
Mikael just laughed softly against his lips and came up in a roll of hips that made Christian wish for death to find him first. None of it stopped him from running his tongue over that smooth indent of loin and hip or killed the thrill of almost painful excited pleasure that happened when both those large hands smoothed into his hair and guided him to the final destination.
For the second time, in as many days, in almost twenty years of knowing each other, Christian fell over that ledge, opened his mouth, and pressed his tongue to that velvety head; Mikael made a sound of almost pained pleasure and slipped deeper into his mouth and went for the kill.
And then he made it pretty clear that Christian was damaged goods, or something was surely wrong with him, because the sudden catch of hands, and thrust in those hips were not just powerful, but completely ripped all his careful control from his self.
It made him so hard he hurt. Just an aching, tight, and frustratingly constrained erection that made it undeniable even to himself, that he not only liked this, but he also liked the real hurt Mikael suddenly punished him with.
There was nothing pretty about it, but it was perhaps, the filthiest, sloppiest head given in recent history, had Chris so high with anxious wants and needs and panicky reaction, that he couldn’t do much but take that oral assault, and curse them both inwardly for being so fucked up.
It was bad enough that he finally had to free his own body into the world, just a frantic wreck, and felt a thousand times better for it, physically at least, felt that body finally kick up, hit deeper, and gag him in a manner that was not at all comfortable, sexy or anything but close to sadism.
It proved to be a little too much to handle because the second Mikael came, so did he, had to catch it with his hand and thank God that tension breaking his jaw eased, enough for him to swallow and not vomit cum because that, he wouldn't have been able to come back from in his life.
Mikael was almost beside himself, just his own type of wreck, and suddenly he wanted, in no uncertain terms, to take this man home, lay him out, and not just fuck, but do everything to that body.
Good, bad, and all the shit in between.
He wasn’t an idiot and knew damn well Christian had had a lifetime of endless bullshit, that probably fed this demon in his head, but, that demon was extraordinarily complimentary to his own.
He was actually shaking, reeling a bit when he pulled back, and saw those dark drugged eyes open, and dear Christ, but he was stunning right then; that tension and constant worry gone, eyes almost easy and high looking, and it triggered Mikael to come down lower to press starving lips to that parted panting mouth.
Who the hell would have imagined?
Just a responsive, suddenly pliable, almost needy expressive reply to that manhandling. Those gorgeous long fingers slipped under his shirt, ran with true want and delicate exploration over skin and muscle, and Mikael was suddenly pissed off that they had both been so drunk last night.
He wanted to remember that fine detailing, like that exquisitely light touching, the contours of flesh, what his skin soaked with the salt of sweat tasted like, and knew that fast, he was sunk.
It wasn’t good for either of them in any manner. Some might have said wildly dangerous for one of them, and stupid on the other's end.
However, Chris was also suddenly crying, not weeping or anything overt, but just a sudden spillover that he couldn’t contain. He reached up a little desperately to catch it, at the same time Mikael smoothed his thumbs under his eyes and pulled his face back up. “It’s okay.”
“I fucking hate you.” Christian said it with real conviction and sudden vehemence, yanked back angrily, and felt that precarious rise of intensity hit him. He caught the hands that slid down to his neck angrily. “Get the fuck off of me!”
Mikael wasn’t buying and exhaled, ran his hands over that neck, down his chest, and nodded thoughtfully. “Come back to my place tonight. I don’t want you alone.”
“Are you fucking insane?!” Chris at times couldn’t handle Mikael. The pushy demands and absolute inability to hear anything he didn’t want to hear, that overriding persona? It all grated him down endlessly and he shook his head vigorously. “I need to be away from you!”
“No. I don’t want you by yourself, Chris. I know you’ll go home, panic, and start drinking.” Those blue eyes fell to his mouth and back, but he shifted back and let him go to reassemble himself, smoothed his shirt back into his slacks, and just offered, “Let's at least go get drunk together.”
Chris was so…he didn’t know. He really couldn’t get a grasp on his high emotional state, and was barely, barely hanging on by a thread here. Barely. He in a word, felt like a fucking whore, incredibly damaged, and so fragile it was hellish.
He tried again, ran his soiled hands over the couch seat because fuck this place right now, then over his face, back into his hair, and tried to get it together. He got himself put away a little shamefully and slapped that proffered hand aside. “I need you to hear me right now, Mikael.” He tried to keep it very firm, even, and not as devastated as he felt. “I can’t think with you around me. I need to go home, and not be around you. I need to not be here looking at you.”
Mikael cursed inwardly, buttoned his coat, and watched Christian just pull that vulnerability down until he was almost visibly choking on it, clearly he was pissed off and now wouldn’t even look him in the face.
Chris stood, grabbed his bag, shouldered it, and went for the door that fast. “Lock the door on your way out please.” He didn’t look back, because he knew if he did, he’d go running right back, and throw himself at the fuckers feet and start weeping, and his pride couldn’t take that kind of hit again tonight. He was literally sick now, just a shamed feeling slut, or so he felt, and caught the doorknob, knew he would go home and probably vomit, lie down in scalding hot water, and start drinking heavily.
So, when Mikael just followed him and slammed the door shut when he tried to open it, he cracked, put his forehead to the wood, shut his eyes, swallowed down a bout of hysterics, and flinched badly when his other hand stroked down his back.
“I’m not saying this to fuck with you, Christian.” That low voice was so close and soft that he was very close now to some type of something mentally. “I need you to just come home with me. I’m not going to let you go home, and start reliving some past trauma.” He stroked his tense shoulder and after a second eased forward and against that long line of body, and wrapped his arms around him, not to restrain but just to offer something a little more comforting. He put his mouth to the bend of his neck and shoulder and said gently, “I know some people can’t be alone after that kind of thing and handle it.”
Chris laughed bitterly, and waved a hand, even while his other found one of those arms and gripped it. “Yeah, I’m sure you know all about it, Mikael.”
Mikael did actually, and didn’t say anything for a long second. “I know it triggers some people's issues.” Was all he offered.
Christian didn’t speak for a long minute, just sort of held on for dear life, and hated, hated that Mikael wasn’t wrong. He was triggered and had a thought, that maybe, maybe he might be right. Maybe being alone wasn't good for him right then.
He felt that moment tightening like a noose and finally just said in a near whisper, “I don’t want you to see me like that.”
“Christian, I’ve been there for it. Remember?” He pressed lips to the length of his nape, straightened, felt that acquiesence and it relaxed some of his own tension. “Come on. Let's just go back, and go from there.”
Fuck it. Christian nodded after a second, straightened, got it together enough that visibly he wasn’t a disaster, and turned, opened his mouth to say something, and instead, ended up looking at those stunning blue eyes. It was too vulnerable and raw right then to say anything that made any kind of sense, so he finally just said, “Fine.”
Mikael nodded, caught the knob behind him, and offered a small, rather serious flex of a smile. “Then let's go.”
