The Mating of Michael (22 page)

Afterward, as sated as he’d ever been, James fell into the sleep of the dead.

Michael woke James up with a nudge. It was dark. “What time is it?” James asked, half sitting up.

“Eight. Hey, I have to go home. I’ve gotten called in for a shift tomorrow morning, and I don’t have any of my work clothes here or my products or anything.”

“Okay,” James said, looking at him blearily. “You should know that I would never make you appear in public without product in your hair. I’m not that cruel.” Michael’s fingers were interlaced with his, and it felt so good he didn’t want to let go.

Michael smirked. “You think you’re joking, but believe me, no one wants that. So… when will I, um, see you again?” Michael looked as reluctant to go as James was to have him leave. All he wanted to do was pull Michael back into bed. It was an intensely physical urge.

Wow, was this what love felt like? Like you were tethered to the other through invisible strings that pumped some ethereal, and completely addictive, joy compound into your veins? So addictive you didn’t want to let them go? Or was this merely infatuation?

It probably was infatuation, James decided, but there was no ‘mere’ about it.

He let go of Michael’s hand so he could brush the long bangs away from those big brown eyes. “When do you want to see me again?”

Michael bit his lower lip sheepishly. “Well, I could go pick up my stuff, grab some takeout, and come back here. Or… not. It’s okay if you need some alone time.”

James gave him a fierce frown. “Eggrolls. And don’t forget the mustard.”

Michael gave him a blinding smile. “You bastard,” he prompted.

“Don’t forget the mustard, you
bas
tard,” James growled.

“I’
M
SO
in love, Marnie,” Michael said with a big, fat sigh.

It was Monday afternoon, and Michael had filled Marnie in on all the deets from that Friday night on, a nonstop Jamesfest that had been broken only when he’d had to go to work.

“Oh, hon, I have a good feeling about this one.” Marnie was wearing a hot pink sweater and orange leggings today, with a matching shade of bright orange lipstick. How could anyone who was that bold a dresser be wrong about anything?

“You do?” Michael asked hopefully.

“Absolutely.” Marnie squeezed his hand. “Not a doubt in my mind.”

“I really, really like him. I mean, I like him more than it makes any sense to, do you know what I mean? Like my heart has already signed the contract and picked up the keys even though my brain is still going ‘wait… what?’”

“Makes perfect sense to me. Heart, brain, and cock—they’re all independent systems. They may cooperate at times, but clearly, it’s your heart calling the shots this time. It may take a little while for your head to catch up, but that’s okay. New love is grand. Savor all the crazy, muddled might of it.”

The crazy, muddled might of it.
Michael liked that. It felt exactly like that.

“I’m just afraid something will go wrong, like maybe he’ll decide he wants to go back to just being friends.”

“Oh, hon!” Marnie said with a brassy laugh. “You got that boy into bed for the first time in his life, and from what you’ve said, you had a fine time there—”

“We did.” That was putting it mildly. Michael found James so attractive—with his sharp mind, handsome face, and swimmer’s torso. He also had a gorgeous cock and a toppy streak that turned Michael on so hard he could barely stand it. It surprised him. He’d never had a boyfriend who was so assertive in bed, and he found he loved giving up control, letting someone else take charge. It made Michael feel lusted after, sexy, adored. And James’s large, wide mouth sucked like nobody’s business. Marnie would love to hear all of that, point for point, but there were some things that were just too wonderful to share.

“Well then, if you think he’s going to walk away now that you’ve gotten him laid, you’re crazy. He’s gonna be a heroin cowboy for the foreseeable future, and you’re the only horse in town.”

“Marnie!” Michael gasped, laughing.

She feigned innocence. “What? You were lovebirding for the past two days, weren’t you? And having lots of takeout, and I don’t mean Thai.”

Michael giggled. “Yeah. I think I’ve had my protein allotment for the week. Damn, that was fun.”

“Uh-huh. You two have a connection, and it’s strong enough that neither one of you wants to let the other out of your sight if you don’t have to. I’ve never had a casual thing start that way, and my two big loves did, so there you go.”

“Thanks, Marnie.” Michael felt reassured. She was right. He’d never felt this strong a connection to anyone. And even though James tried to play it cool, Michael was pretty sure he felt it too. It was just that Michael wanted things with James to work out so badly. He knew in his heart it was right. But it was new and fragile, and that was scary.

He frowned. Okay, very scary. “I still haven’t told him about the surrogacy.”

“Oh, Michael.” Marnie gave him a pitying frown. She shook her head and made sympathetic noises. “Honey, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I’m so afraid to tell him now. What if he hates it? What if he gets his feelings hurt? What if he decides I’m a slag and dumps me?”

“Well, what choice do you have? You can’t lie to your one true love, Michael,” Marnie said this softly, but with utter conviction.

Michael smiled despite his worry.
His one true love
. What a beautiful idea. “No, I know that but… I’ve been thinking….” He hesitated. It was hard to even say it. “I was thinking maybe I should quit. I can’t expect any guy to be okay with it. I never had a special someone that was important enough to me before to consider quitting. But if it came down to choosing between the surrogacy and James….”

Marnie rubbed Michael’s arm. “I know how much you love that job, Michael. Maybe you should just talk to James. Maybe he’ll understand.”

“Maybe,” Michael said doubtfully.

But if I quit now, he never needs to know, and I never need to risk losing him.

Looked at that way, it seemed the path of least resistance. Maybe he wouldn’t have to tell James, ever. Or maybe he could explain about the surrogacy later, after he’d quit. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? James couldn’t be upset about it if he’d already quit.

But then he thought about turning in his resignation at Expanded Horizons, which he loved. He thought about telling Tommy and his mother that he couldn’t come back anymore, or stopping his sessions with shy Lem Peterson, who was making such brave progress. And that felt really, enormously crappy.

“Michael, what are you thinking?” Marnie asked suspiciously.

Michael hugged himself, feeling cold. “I don’t know what’s right anymore.”

“Did you see a client this morning?”

Michael smiled a little. “Yeah. It went very well.” Tommy had been really upbeat that morning, and they’d had a good session. Seeing him like that had eased Michael’s fears about hurting Tommy.

“And how did that feel to you?” Marnie prodded curiously.

Michael shrugged. “I dunno, Marnie. It’s like… it’s a different part of my heart.” Michael rubbed his chest. Sometimes, he could actually
feel
that part of his heart, like a little extra chamber where he kept his love for his patients. “It doesn’t feel like I’m doing something with another guy—it’s just not the same. What I do for my clients is about… my work. Healing. Giving. Some of the men I work with are so… broken, you know? And I just want to help them.”

“And that’s not how it is with your writer in the wheelchair?” Marnie sounded skeptical.

“No,” Michael said firmly. “James is… strong and so fucking brilliant. And he’s beautiful and…. he has all of me—the part that I give away and the part that I keep just for myself. When I’m with him, it’s about
me,
I mean, about living my life, being complete, having what
I
want and need, having a love of my very own. He fits me. Damn, I can’t even explain it to you. How would I ever explain it to James?”

“Well, sweetums, you’re gonna have to try,” Marnie said wisely.

But the thought terrified Michael. He
would
leave surrogacy for James, if it came down to it. But it would be foolish to do that before he was sure that he and James were going to last. It was still so new. What if he quit his job and then James withdrew again? That wouldn’t be fair to Jack and Trudy, or to his clients. No, he would wait, at least until he knew they were going to be a real relationship. Then he would quit.

It didn’t make him happy, but the alternatives were worse.

Michael sighed. “Come on, Miss Thing. It’s time for your meds.”

J
AMES
GAZED
down into Michael’s eyes from his position leaning over him in bed. There were little bits of amber in there, James decided, but only when the morning light hit them from the window just like this.

James loved to stare at Michael. Neither his eyes nor his hands could get enough. Fortunately, Michael didn’t seem weirded out by it. He just stared back.

They’d been hot and heavy for two weeks now, and so far, the desire to be together as much as possible hadn’t faded for either of them. Some days, especially when Michael was at work, the thought would just strike James from out of the blue—
Michael is my boyfriend. He wants me, and I want him.
And it seemed so unreal, like a marvelous dream he would surely wake from. He tried to hang on to his reticence and his dignity, a little bit, but it was a losing game.

“See any motes in there?” Michael asked.

James smiled. “No motes, but I got a glimpse of a logo. It says ‘made in Taiwan.’”

Michael huffed. “Are you implying that I’m a living doll? Or that I’m cheap?”

James smirked. He was about to answer when there was a knock on the front door. James rolled off Michael and frowned.

Michael sat up. “You expecting someone?”

“No.”

“Postman? UPS? Candygram?” Michael twirled a bit of James’s hair.

“Might be something from my publisher.” James was expecting a box of some German editions, but usually, the postman just left packages at the door.

“I’ll get it.” Michael hopped up and dragged on a pair of flannel PJ bottoms. Damn, his ass was so cute. He went to answer the door.

James heard him open the door and then… voices. It took him a minute to realize that one of the voices was female. Concerned, James sat up and reached for the shirt draped over the nightstand. He still wore his sweatpants to bed with Michael—always—so at least he didn’t have far to go to get dressed.

He pulled down his shirt and looked up to find Michael entering the room. He closed the door quietly and came to squat down by James’s side.

“Who is it?” James said, frightened by the concerned look on Michael’s face.

“James, it’s your mother.”

James wouldn’t have gone out into the living room, but Michael convinced him he had to face it. After all, the woman had come to his house. She knew where he lived. He might be able to avoid it today, but he wouldn’t be able to avoid it forever.

He felt like running as fast and far as he could. Irony.

He felt like puking.

Michael handed James a shirt from his closet—a nice black button-down—and chewed his lip. “There’s a story here. What is it? Your mom asked if you lived here. I take it you haven’t seen her in a long time?”

James shook his head. He wasn’t able to speak, not with what was waiting for him in the next room. He just wanted to get it over with. Michael seemed to understand.

“You going to be okay?” he asked, rubbing James’s shoulder.

He wasn’t. He was about as okay as a bleeding man who’d just been thrown into a lion’s den. He fussed at his hair anxiously. “How do I…,” he managed to croak out. He didn’t give a shit really, but he wanted his mother to see that he was not the helpless baggage she’d left in that home for broken toys.

“Let me,” Michael said softly. James let Michael finger comb his hair and even put some clear balm on his lips.

“You look handsome as the devil, m’lord,” Michael said.

“You and your romances,” James said roughly. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

His mother was standing in the living room. Seeing her face again took James’s breath away, and not in a good way—in a can’t-get-air, may-die kind of way.

How many times had he dreamt about her? He’d been only six the last time he’d seen her, but she’d left him a photo, a photo he’d almost destroyed a dozen times but, mindful that he might one day regret it, had instead buried in a hat box at the very top of his closet. He hadn’t looked at it in years.

And still, he would have known her anywhere.

Her hair was still long and brown, though it was thinner now and streaked with gray. She had a strong Roman nose and square jaw that looked a lot like the ones he saw in the mirror every day. She was tall for a woman, maybe five eight, and carried a bit of bulk. Her body was shapeless under a long Indian-patterned skirt and thick sweater.

He stopped his chair across the room from her, frozen in the spot where he’d entered from the hall. He felt Michael slip around him and put a hand on his shoulder. But he couldn’t look at him, couldn’t move.

Emotions bubbled up like from some subterranean pit… hurt, annoyance, confusion, and rage.
So much rage
.

And then she burst into tears.

They were great, wracking sobs that nearly doubled her over. Michael rushed to her side and maneuvered her into a chair. She let him, all the while trying to get control of herself. James was glad when Michael didn’t offer her much comfort, didn’t hug her, for example. Instead, he moved the tissue box over to her and came back to stand by James. Michael gave him a worried look.

Maybe both of them were seeing something on James’s face that was freaking them the fuck out. James was so incredibly angry, but now annoyance was gaining ground. How dare she walk in here and try to make
him
feel guilty with those crocodile tears, make this about
her.