“No,” he breathed. Which was the truth. He didn’t want to end things with Michael, even though he knew he should.
Michael rose to his feet and loosely held Jag’s shoulders. He gazed into Jag’s eyes, his stare searching. “What are you afraid of?”
Jag shivered, then lifted his chin. “No questions.”
Michael’s face blanched.
“I mean it. If we’re going to carry on screwing around, you’re not to ask me any questions. We’re not boyfriends. We’re fuck buddies. That’s it.” He made his voice as cold and sharp as possible, even when his words made Michael wince.
“And that’s really all you want?”
“Yes.”
He doubted he was fooling Michael, even for a second. He was skating on thin ice, and it was beginning to crack beneath him. He was about to plunge into the freezing cold water of emotional attachment. He was being stupid and reckless, and they’d both get hurt as a result; Michael more than himself.
Michael held Jag’s face in his hands. “Is that really what you want?”
Jag’s chin trembled. “Don’t,” he begged in a barely audible whisper. “I can’t give you anything else. I’ll never be able to give you anything else.”
“You’re wrong.”
“You don’t know me!” He pulled away, running his hands through his hair as he breathed in and out harshly. “You don’t know the first thing about me, Michael.”
Michael’s arms wrapped around him from behind. “I want to know.”
Jag shook his head. “No, you don’t. You just think you do because you’re a nice guy. Because you’re not the kind of person who would normally use someone just for sex. But that’s all I’m using you for, and you need to get that into your head, and if you can’t, then you need to be honest about that because I won’t play these games with you, Michael. I won’t…” His chest heaved as another sob escaped his lips. “I can’t…” He clenched his fists. “It’s just sex.”
“Okay.” Michael kissed the top of his head. “I can handle that.”
No, you can’t, Jag thought, but as long as Michael kept saying it out loud, he’d keep choosing to believe the lie.
13Michael
Michael wasn’t sure he could have sex with Jag anymore. The young man was obviously troubled, and he was worried their dalliances were making it worse. He wanted to help Jag, not exacerbate his problems. Equally, he didn’t want to simply end things. Jag had flirted with him and clearly needed something from him, even if it was purely physical release to drown out whatever emotional pain he was in. But would giving that to him truly help him? Yet if he called off their affair, he would lose any chance, however slim, of helping Jag open up and start to heal. He was damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.
He remembered what life was like for him immediately after Edward had died. Once the initial raw grief had passed, he’d have whole stretches of days where he felt he could handle the world. Then he’d break down for no explicable reason. A song would trigger him, or he wouldn’t be able to find something Edward had liked in the supermarket. He’d start crying and wouldn’t be able to stop until there were no tears left. He recognised the hopeless despair he’d seen in Jag’s eyes because he’d felt it too. He still did, even after all the years that had passed since Edward had died.
Maybe Jag had lost someone he loved. Maybe he’d been hurt or abused. Maybe he was depressed and struggling with self-loathing. There was all manner of reasons why Jag would be so closed off, so…damaged. Michael longed to break through the emotional barriers the young man had erected so he could help him and, perhaps, love him. Shit.
He watched Jag dance on the stage, as he did most nights, but it felt different. His feelings were different. The lust was still there. God, Jag was gorgeous. The way he transitioned between moves was mesmerising, and his routine had become more daring. Michael watched as the young man dropped backwards, performing abridgeagainst the pole before transitioning into asplashby arching his back even more, bringing his centre of balance down so his chest was parallel to the floor, his arms twisted back to grip the pole above and behind his back. His face looked relaxed, his lips pursed seductively for the audience’s benefit. Jag’s stage presence was another thing that confused him. If the young man had been hurt or abused, why would he put himself on display like this? Why would he strip naked for men or seek out sex?
Meaningless sex, Michael reminded himself, with a virtual stranger. They’d barely known each other when they’d first fucked. Heck, they didn’t really know each other now, after a few weeks of spending time together almost every night. The young man was almost as much of a mystery to him now as he had been the day he’d walked into the club for the first time. But he still cared for him. Still wanted to be with him, to hold him, caress him, take care of him, and protect him.
I don’t need protecting. Jag’s words rang through his mind.I don’t need saving. Michael didn’t believe that. He wasn’t even sure that meaningless sex really was what Jag wanted or needed. If it was, why had their time together continued to stretch out? They’d spent longer and longer simply being together after sex, basking in each other’s company. They hadn’t exchanged many words, but they had connected in a real and tender way. Michael hadn’t imagined it, had he? He rubbed the back of his neck. He hoped he hadn’t imagined it.
He’d spent all day trying to decide what to do. He figured he had three options: push his worries aside and carry on enjoying sex with Jag, call an end to their affair, or be honest with himself and Jag about his deepening feelings and concern and risk losing him anyway. He’d always believed honesty was the best option, but in this case, he wasn’t so sure.
“You look like you need a drink,” Mac said, coming to stand beside him.
Michael laughed. “Yeah, probably.” He glanced at Mac, who was dressed in his normal ‘uniform’ of leather trousers, a short waistcoat, and glittery collar. “Shouldn’t you be working?”
“Eh, I’ve had a good week. Come on, I’ll buy you one.”
“I’m the owner. I get my drinks free.”
“Fair point. The drinks are on you, then.” Mac laughed.
They sat together at the bar, though Michael kept watching Jag as he finished his routine.
