That’s how you learn.
That was what he’d said to him when Nico cried about how much it had hurt. Nico could feel the tips of his ears getting hot. At some point, his pain had become a rush. His thoughts had gone all syrupy and slow, like when he was high. That almost never happened to him. Nico woke up buzzing at a level seven on the best of days and pretty much spent his waking hours zooming around at a nine, even with his meds. But, for the first time in his life, he’d managed to let it all go. Nico’s brain had just…shut off. He’d fallen asleep so quickly. Peacefully. He’d slept so hard.
Then he’d woken up to the old Mal, the one who looked at him like he hung the sun and moon. The one who seemed to worship and cherish Nico. The one who cared for him, like hewas something precious and worthy of that care. And Nico had just…let him. Except, they’d kissed.Morethan kissed. Nico had sucked his pills straight from Mal’s pretty pink tongue. He’d let him pour water from his lips straight into Nico’s mouth. Who did that?
That wasn’t friend behavior.
But Nico had been half awake, the leftover stickiness and calm still lingering from his punishment the night before. It had been far too easy to just let Mal have him in any way he wanted. If he’d have asked to fuck Nico, he wouldn’t have refused. He would have eagerly complied. Truthfully, if Mal hadn’t stopped him, Nico would have pushed the issue. He wouldn’t have stopped until Mal was buried inside him. Or he was buried in Mal.
You’d let me fuck you?
His cock thickened at that idea. Mal, pretty with his soft curls and pink lips, riding Nico until his thoughts were as soupy as they were last night. Nico swallowed audibly, scrabbling for the water in his bag and draining the thing like he’d just spent two days in the desert. Beef jerky kid gave him a dirty look, like he was disturbing him. Like it was Nico’s water that smelled like a decaying animal.
Nico dropped his empty bottle back in his bag, then flopped back into his chair. Nico wanted Mal. He wanted him any way he could get him. Top or bottom didn’t matter. He was verse. Clearly, they both were. Nico bit down hard on his inner cheek, hoping the pain might dull the throbbing in his crotch, but it only added to his dilemma. Maybe he really was a pain slut.
If Mal would just cooperate, Nico could know for sure. But Mal had been very clear about what he was willing to accept from Nico. No friends with benefits. No sex in the dark.
He was being unreasonable. Why couldn’t Mal just see it from his perspective? It was safer if there were no feelingsinvolved. How could the man who’d spanked him without mercy be the same one who said that he wouldn’t fuck Nico unless he agreed to something more? Wasn’t he just punishing Nico for protecting himself?
That’s how you learn.
He kept turning it over in his head. Which one was the real Mal? The calm controlling one who had talked to him with such condescension while taking him apart, or the one who snuggled him every night and saved all the best nature documentaries on their Netflix queue? Were they both him? Were they each another facet of Mal? Personalities he slipped on like a disguise? Had what happened even meant anything to Mal?
And why did Nico want it to mean something to his friend? He’d just spent the last twenty minutes explaining to himself all the reasons they were a bad idea.
He bit back a frustrated whine. His anxiety had his insides churning. Or maybe it was all the food he’d eaten that morning, or his meds, or being stuck in class when he really just wanted to be with Mal. God, he was so pathetic. Nico was the worst kind of clingy, even though they were just friends, yet, Mal somehow thought Nico could be in a relationship with him and manage any kind of chill? Nico didn’t even know the meaning of the word chill.
Mal was always the opposite. Nico had never seen him truly angry. Not since they’d moved in with Nico and Levi, anyway. Mal was protective of his baby brother, but he didn’t really have a chance to step in. Levi was always right there, ready to have Shiloh’s back. But Mal just didn’t let things get to him. He floated through life. Literally. He danced like he didn’t have a care in the world. Even his hobbies and interests were so relaxed. Cooking, anime, graphic novels. Everything seemed to roll off Mal. At least when he wasn’t having one of his episodes. Those days where he said his brain was cracking and he couldn’ttolerate the barest hint of noise or light. But even then, he didn’t push Nico away. If anything, he used him like a plushie, burying his face in Nico’s chest and holding him tight enough to crack his ribs.
Nico’s ears grew hot. Why couldn’t last night have just been some random hook-up? Without sex, there had been no place for Nico to hide. There had to be other men out there who would fuck him and spank him? His mind instantly rejected the notion, bile rising in his throat at the thought. Even imagining another man touching him made his skin crawl. His brain wouldn’t even let him picture it, like it was too shameful.
Why couldn’t Nico picture it? Oh, God. Why did the idea of being with someone else make him want to puke?
You know why.
Fuck. This was such a disaster. It was like he’d been playing checkers this whole time while Mal was playing chess and, now, he had him in some kind of sexual checkmate. Except, it wasn’t about the sex. Because there wasn’t any sex happening between them. Why was Mal so okay with things as they were? Why had they just walked around the district this morning, eating and talking like nothing had changed? Like today was no different than any other day.
Because it isn’t.
Mal had owned Nico, body and soul, for months. Nothinghadchanged for Mal. Nothing had changed for Nico either other than Mal forcing him to confront reality. But Nico didn’t want to think about that. Losing some random hookup wouldn’t matter at all, whereas losing Mal would rip his heart out.
No matter how much he tried to pretend that he loved Mal in the same way he loved Felix and Levi, it just wasn’t true. Without Mal, Nico would die. And that wasn’t just scary, it was terrifying. It made the blood freeze in his veins. How had he let him become so important to him?
“Mr. Michaels!”
Nico jumped, heart racing, earning snickers from the rest of his class. “Oh, uh, me?”
Their professor—Mr. Call Me Mitch—gave him a flat stare. “That is your name, is it not?”
Mitch was the kind of teacher Nico hated. One of the young ones who thought of themselves as the cool professors. He insisted the students call him by his first name.My dad is Mr. Chandler. Haha.He wore jeans and t-shirts with ironic sayings, never went anywhere without his Starbucks Americano, had a perpetual five o’clock shadow and cool-guy dark framed glasses. The girls and the gays all cooed over him, but something about his smug demeanor got on Nico’s nerves.
“So they tell me,” Nico muttered.
Their interactions were usually short and borderline hostile. Nico tried to stay under the radar but, sometimes, there was no avoiding the man, even in a class of fifty plus students. Mitch didn’t like Nico either. He just wasn’t sure why. He was sure somewhere along the way, Nico had said something to offend him, but he couldn’t remember what. Truthfully, Nico zoned out in art history so much he could have missed a whole ass rap battle and wouldn’t know it.
Art history was stupid.
Maybe that was why Mitch hated him.
