“Yeah.” Michael sighed, forced to admit defeat. “You’re right.”
“I always am.” Mac rested his hands on his knees, his lips pursed for several seconds, as he did nothing but stare at Michael. Eventually, he said, “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone get under your skin so quickly. Not since Edward.” Mac shook his head. “Just, be careful, okay?”
“Careful?” Michael asked as confusion radiated through him.
“Yeah. Don’t fall for a guy who’s not on offer emotionally. You’ll only get hurt.”
Michael hunched his shoulders.
“There’s every chance you’re reading too much into it,” Mac went on. “Maybe he’s keeping quiet about himself so you don’t fall for him.”
Michael exhaled sharply through his nose. “I’m not sure that’s working.”
“Maybe not,” Mac agreed. “But I can see it working with a lot of guys. Sex, no personal talk… keeps it all totally superficial. The kid’s young. My guess is he just wants to have fun, play the field, and not have anything get heavy or serious.”
“You really think so?”
Mac lightly smacked his hand against the bar. “Hell, I don’t know, Michael. I barely know him, and from the sounds of it, neither do you. Sometimes you’ve got to take people at face value. He’s told you in no uncertain terms that he’s not looking for a relationship, hasn’t he?”
Michael nodded.
“So if you can’t respect that, maybe you should stop screwing around with him. The way I see it, the only person who’s going to get hurt is you.”
“And I’ll have no one but myself to blame?”
Mac held up his hands. “I didn’t say that.” He sighed. “But yeah. If you throw yourself into the flames, you’re going to get burned.”
Michael stared at the bar. “I don’t want to walk away.”
It sounded crazy, even to him. He’d only known Jag for three weeks, but there was something about him that had drawn him in. Something that had gone beyond that initial, instant, physical attraction. He wasn’t sure how that could be, considering how little he knew about Jag, but it was there nonetheless: a fuzzy warmth in his chest that grew bigger every time he was around the young man.
Mac sighed dramatically and squeezed Michael’s shoulder. “Stupid sod. I guess I’ll have to be here to pick up the pieces, won’t I?”
12Jag
Things had been different between him and Michael over the last few nights. There had been no more questions or requests to talk, but Michael had been more tender with him. Their foreplay had been less frantic. Apparently, Michael had really wanted to take his time with everything. Alarm bells had been going off in Jag’s head, but he’d done a good job of ignoring them. He enjoyed being with Michael on a physical level and didn’t want to give it up, even though he knew he should. He didn’t want to hurt Michael, but he was pretty sure he was going to do exactly that. The way Michael stared into his eyes whilst he caressed his face proved beyond a doubt that his desires had become more serious. For Michael, at least, it wasn’t just about sex anymore. His tender actions were about building a connection between them, a connection Jag knew he should do everything to avoid but couldn’t bring himself to sever. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, hewasdeveloping feelings for Michael; feelings that made a mockery of rule number four.
The trouble was that Michael made him feel good and cared for as if he was worth a damn. The guys he’d fucked before had never made him feel that way. Those flings really had been about sex and nothing else. They’d been using each other, and Jag had told himself he was okay with that despite often feeling cheap and hollow inside.
Stupidly, he’d been staying longer each night, stretching out their quiet dozing time, not wanting to leave. Michael hadn’t suggested they go upstairs to his flat again, which Jag appreciated. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to put up much resistance if those words passed Michael’s lips again.
The stage had become their favourite place to relax after sex. Fuck, they had a favourite place. He shouldn’t have let that happen. But they did. Michael had stashed blankets and cushions in the hollow space beneath the stage so they were able to make themselves comfortable as they lay in each other’s arms. Right from the start, Jag should have avoided those tender, post-sex moments. That very first time, he should have got dressed and not sat on Michael’s lap. Previously, that was exactly what he’d done: hurried foreplay. Fast, furious sex. Leave. But it hadn’t happened that way with Michael, and Jag couldn’t make sense of why.
“Can I ask you something?” Michael asked, trailing his finger lazily down Jag’s spine to the very top of his arse crack. There he paused before running his finger left to right and back again over the small of Jag’s back, making him shiver.
Jag was lying on his stomach, chin resting on his folded hands. Michael’s question took him by surprise, and his heart rate kicked up for all the wrong reasons.
“You can ask,” he said warily. Had Michael’s silence the last few nights been an elaborate trap to lull him into a false sense of security?
Michael’s hand slipped up Jag’s back and then back down again, cupping his arse. “Do you ever bottom?”
Jag turned his head to look at Michael, his cheek now pressed against his hands. That hadn’t been the question he’d been expecting. Not that it was an easy one to answer.
“Sometimes,” he replied honestly. “Not often.” And not in quite some time.
He found himself staring into Michael’s blue eyes, unable to look away, as he hoped that was the end of the conversation.
“You don’t enjoy it?” Michael asked slowly and cautiously.
