“Both,” he says. “I want to. Believe me. But I can’t let you see me like that yet. The way things are right now. The things that don’t work the way they used to. I need…” He stops. “I need to be further along before I do that. I need more of me back first.”
He’s embarrassed.Because of me.His body got damaged saving mine. I look away to keep my face from crumbling.
I want to tell him I’m sorry. That every scar, every nerve that went quiet, every muscle that thinned — all of it happened because he chose me over himself. And I will spend the rest of my life trying to deserve that choice.
But this isn’t the moment for my guilt. This is his boundary. He drew a line and I’m going to honor it without making it about me.
“Okay.” I hold his face in my hands so he can see I mean it. “Whenever you’re ready. No clock on it.” I put my hand on his chest, over his heart. “But I need you to hear me. You never have to feel embarrassed around me. Not about your body. Not about anything. Whatever we need to work through, we work through together. You’re not alone in this. Okay?”
Mickey nods, and the tension in his shoulders finally eases. His hands remain on my bare back, but his grip shifts — fingers pressing in with new purpose, like he’s made a decision.
“There is something I want to do,” he says in that same sexy, deep timbre from our shower call.
“Whatever you want is okay with me. You never need to ask. Every day is a‘good to go’ day with me.”
His gaze travels over me — first to my mouth, then my throat, across my stomach and down to the waistband of my pants. When his eyes return to mine, the hunger in them is so intense it steals my breath.
“I’ve been thinking about this since the last time you were here,” he admits. “About what I want to do… and what I still can do.” His thumb traces my hip bone, raising goosebumps across my skin. “My hands work. My mouth works. And I want to use them.” He pats the counter behind me. “Hop up.”
The same counter from our first kiss in this bathroom. I know exactly how his chair fits beneath it. His mouth at the perfect height. My stomach tightens with anticipation.
Climbing off his lap, I steady myself with both hands on his shoulders. For a moment I just stand there — shirtless, barefoot — while he looks up at me from his chair with an expression that makes me want to crawl right back into his lap.
Instead, I hop onto the counter and settle on the edge, legs dangling. The mirror presses against my back and the harsh fluorescent light buzzes overhead, but none of it matters. Not when Mickey is staring up at me like he’s been planning this exact moment for weeks.
He rolls forward until he’s right between my knees. Strong hands grip my thighs, fingers digging into the muscle through the thin linen.
“I haven’t been able to stop imagining this since the shower video,” he murmurs.
His palms slide upward, the rough calluses dragging deliciously over my skin. Finding the drawstring at my waist, he tugs the knot loose with one pull. My breath catches as his fingers hook into the waistband and ease the fabric down.
“Lift up for me.”
I raise my hips. Working together, we push my shorts and boxers down my legs until they drop to the floor. Now I’m completely naked, my cock hard and flushed, right in front of his face.
Mickey stares at my cock with raw focus.
“Mickey, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he interrupts. “I crave you, Benji. Do you understand? I need my mouth on you. I want to taste you.”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “I understand.”
Leaning forward, he grips my hips and pulls me right to the edge of the counter. His mouth finds my stomach first, just below my navel. The heat of his lips and the drag of his tongue make my muscles jump. He kisses lower, following the line of my hip.
“Fuck… Mickey,” I gasp, one hand flying into his hair.
He wraps a firm hand around the base of my cock and strokes once. Then he leans in and takes me into his mouth. The wet heat is overwhelming. His lips stretch around the head as he sucks gently, tongue swirling in filthy circles over the sensitive underside. He gradually takes me deeper, relaxing his throat until more than half my cock is enveloped in tight, slick heat. The combination of his warm mouth, the firm suction, and the way his tongue presses flat against the vein running down my shaft almost makes me come.
He pulls back, lips shiny and tight, then sinks down again, taking me even deeper. A low, hungry sound vibrates around my cock as he sucks me — a perfect rhythm of his mouth sliding down while his fist strokes the base in time. Every few strokes he swirls his tongue around the head, licking up the precum that’s steadily leaking for him.
Looking down at him nearly undoes me completely. His eyes eventually lift to meet mine, dark with lust, while his flushed lips stretch around my cock and his cheeks hollow with every pull.
He pulls off just long enough to murmur, “Tell me what you like.”
“Just like that,” I manage, voice wrecked. “Exactly like that.”
Mickey makes a low sound of satisfaction and takes me back into his mouth.
