“Yeah. I’m gonna fuck you, cos I don’t trust myself not to let the neighbours know if we do it the other way round.”
“I like making you scream.”
“I know, but not here, though, mate. I have to face your mother in the morning.”
I took pity on him and stripped my clothes in record time. Fucking Micah was a privilege I never took for granted, but I couldn’t deny that having him own me, inside and out, was just as good. Sometimes it was hard to choose what I wanted more, so perhaps my parent’s dozing off in front of the ten o’clock news was doing me a favour.
Micah laid me down on the bed and pressed his hand over my mouth. He fucked me long and slow, easing whimpers and shudders with every teasing stroke of his dick inside me.
When we’d first started fucking, he’d often found my prostate by chance. Now he was like a goddamn laser, and my only solace in the glorious torture was the knowledge that I’d get my own back the second we got home.
We came together, muffling groans with a kiss that went on and on. I was dimly aware of Micah leaving the bed and returning, and as ever, the simple joy of sharing a bed made my heart ache in the very best way. After weeks of exam stress, I was dog tired but found myself awestruck and gazing at him. I didn’t want to miss a moment. I’d fail every exam I ever took if I could just have this.
Next thing I knew, though, it was morning, and I was alone. Even Micah’s clothes were gone, which made sense, unless I wanted him padding around my ma’s house naked like he did at home.
A wave of longing washed over me. I loved my parents to death, butfuck, there was nothing quite like locking the doors, pulling the blinds, and pretending we were the only souls on earth.
Voices sounded beneath me, coming from the kitchen. Grumbling, I got dressed and stomped downstairs. Micah was at the kitchen table helping my mum go through her new pile of charity shop recipe books while my dad chopped a gigantic pineapple at the counter. A year ago, the scene would’ve been so bizarre I could only have dreamt it, and it dawned on me that we didn’t need to be the only souls on earth to be all that we were to each other. Right here, right now was everything I’d ever need.
* * *
Micah
Four months later
Sam aced his exams. I knew he would, but until he opened that envelope, he’d had no idea. “You really thought you’d failed?”
He shrugged and muttered something I didn’t catch over the racket in the Noble Fox. Ignoring the urge to check myself in a public place, I crowded him into the dimly lit corner we’d chosen to celebrate his results and forced him to look at me. “Why would you think that? You worked like a demon for those papers.”
“Yeah, but...”
“But what?”
“I took a month off when you were ill. I didn’t mean to. I was just, I don’t know, so consumed by other things, I never got round to doing any real work. I’m amazed I was graded at all, let alone that it was an A.”
And there it was: if he’d failed, it would’ve been my fault. At least, that’s where my brain wanted to take me, but I was wise to that shit by now. A guilt trip didn’t do either of us any favours. Besides, I’d have burned the world down to be with Sam if he’d needed me as much as I’d needed him back then, and I knew he loved me just as hard.
I brushed a quick kiss on his exposed throat and scooted back to my seat.
He watched me, amused, and winked at someone over my shoulder. Céleste, no doubt. The two of them got a real kick out of me smooching on Sam in public. Me? I was learning to ignore the eyes on me and get on with my life. If I wanted to kiss my boy in Sainsbury’s, I was gonna do it no matter how many clowns put it on Instagram.
Some days it really was that easy. Others, I still had panic attacks when Sam’s face popped up in the tabloids and his mum rang to check he was okay. The guilt was vicious. Without me, Sam could do anything he wanted, any time, any place. With me, there was always the risk the whole world would see before he was ready.
Beforewewere ready.
Sam leaned impossibly closer and tapped my temple. “Thinking already? It’s barely lunchtime.”
“I’m a morning person, remember?”
“I do. I also remember that look on your face. What are you fretting about?”
“I’m not fretting.”
“Liar. Is it the dude in the corner hiding his hands behind the Waitrose bag? Cos I think he’s having a wank, not taking pictures.”
“Nice.” This time I had zero urge to look over my shoulder. “But I’m still not fretting. I was just thinking how chill I feel today, compared with last Tuesday when I wanted to deck that pap loitering outside the gym.”
“You only wanted to deck him because I was there. You’d have ignored him if you’d been on your own.”
