Micah looked up and crunched the ice cube into oblivion. “Time’s overrated. Now, get your clothes off.”
It was the script again, the lines delivered by rote. But it was amusing to see how quickly Paul complied.
THE MORE they went at each other, the less Micah felt in control of himself. Naked, they were now wrestling each other over the covers of Paul’s bed, their skin slippery with sweat. Paul had wedged himself in between Micah’s legs, refusing to take any other position so Micah let him. He was already aching, desperate to cum and Paul was taking far too long to make him.
At least he was now scrabbling around in his bedside drawer, and triumphantly producing a box of condoms.
“Uh, fuck,” he hissed.
“What?” Micah asked, propping himself up on his elbows. How long was this going to take?
“I haven’t got any left.” Paul rattled the empty box to show him. “Have you got any?”
Micah reached for his pants on the floor, his arse up in the air. Paul slapped it appreciatively.
There were none in his wallet. “Fuck.”
And now Paul was… doing things… with his fingers that made Micah close his eyes and groan loudly.
“I can’t stop,” Paul was saying. “So fucking hot.”
Nope, this had to stop. But, oh fuck, that feeling—
“I’m safe,” Paul said. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
Horny as hell, the room spinning around him, Micah heard a voice come from him that he could swear wasn’t his own. It was a voice that came from the videos hidden deep within his files on his laptop. The voice of someone else playing a role, playing something they were prepared, pretested, and paid for. “Then fuck me raw.”
It surely wasn’t Micah. Micah knew better. Micah knew this was wrong, and he should stop. That if they had to do anything, they could just jerk each other off and have to be satisfied with that. Micah knew the dangers of unprotected sex.
But he had said it anyway.
“Are you sure?”
“Hurry up,” said not-Micah, the same strange lustful porn actor voice seeming to speak from his dick rather than his mouth.
Paul didn’t need to be told a second time. He was already in Micah before he finished speaking, and Micah was lost in the frenzy that followed.
SENSIBLE MICAH, the real Micah woke up a few hours later in a cold sweat.
The other guy was snoring, sated. His back was to Micah as if he had already forgotten him. He wasn’t worried about what they had just done.
But Micah was.
Now, at least.
He was still feeling woozy as he looked in the dark for his clothes, his wallet and his keys. He wasn’t even trying to be quiet. He didn’t give a fuck whether Paul woke up or not—he just wanted out of there as soon as possible.
The taxi arrived after ten minutes sitting at the entrance to the flats. He couldn’t go home—not yet—so he told the driver to take him into the city. He wanted a hotel, where he could lock himself away in a room and scrub himself clean without waking his parents or Alex.
And that was what he did. He was savage as he washed himself, even though he knew it would make no difference. What the fuck was he thinking? How did he let it happen? He knew better.
He could keep berating himself, but he knew it wouldn’t change anything. He’d let somebody fuck him without protection. Micah had never been that irresponsible, even with all the casual trysts he had since he moved to Perth. And there was nothing wrong with one-night stands, as long you were careful. Sex was meant to be fun, not fraught with danger.
As the water remained hot, without any sign of running out, Micah sank to the floor and let it run over him.
Sex is meant to be fun. The mantra kept running through his head.
He knew what he’d been doing all along; he’d just buried it so deep he wouldn’t have to think about it. This was his morality play moment, when he finally acknowledged that all he had wanted all along was to recapture those feelings he had with Kyle. Where sex was fun, passionate, and also kind of gross, weird, and messy—but perfect all the same because it was about connection. He hadn’t had that connection with anybody since—but to be fair, he hadn’t been looking for it. He thought he just wanted to get off.
Well, like some cheesy high school video meant to scare you off having sex, he was paying the price.
His jocks were drip-drying on the towel rack. He had even wanted them scrubbed clean.
Once he dried himself off, he put on the hotel-supplied bathrobe and stretched out on the bed. For the first time since leaving Sircuit, he checked his phone.
A missed message from Kyle. I’m really worried about you. Please let me know you got home okay.
Micah closed his eyes, and despite everything, fell asleep.
Chapter 14
THE COLD light of day made Micah feel even worse, if that was possible. His body felt raw. He had scrubbed it so many times despite knowing it wouldn’t change a thing. But that was nothing compared to how raw his soul felt.
His stupidity of the night before was unparalleled. It went against everything he believed. And although part of him was mad at Paul—who was much more sober than he was and should have been more sensible—Micah still knew the larger blame lay with himself. He had still been cogent enough to realise he should have stopped. He had just ignored that little voice telling him to do so. It had been yelled over by the porn star.
Googling on his mobile revealed the Gay Men’s Health Centre was in St. Kilda, and it was open until midday. He’d better get a move on. Dressing in his still slightly-wet clothes, he signed out of the hotel and caught the tram that would take him to Fitzroy Street. As the tram carried him over Princes Bridge, the Yarra River glittered in the early morning sun. It was too beautiful for the mood he was in. He pulled out his mobile and opened the message he had received from Kyle, which was still unanswered.