19. Ethan

CHAPTER 19

ETHAN

Once the humiliation of his premature release faded, Ethan found himself free to enjoy how enthralling Mickey was. For as vulnerable as Ethan felt, how unsure of everything he did, Mickey gave Ethan a soft space to land. A space to be vulnerable, and he'd distracted Ethan from his intense embarrassment, leading his mind away from what definitely hadn't been one of Ethan's finer moments.

Half-dressed and both covered in cum, their situation on the couch was quickly becoming less comfortable as time passed, but Ethan was afraid to move and break the spell. There had to be some sort of magic in the air. How else did he end up half naked with someone as gorgeous and kind as Mickey?

"We should shower," Ethan suggested.

"Shower as in I'll go first, or shower as in quit hogging the water?"

"The second one."

Mickey climbed off the couch and tucked his dick back in his pants, which was kind of a shame. Ethan's own dick gave a valiant attempt at a twitch, but he knew it wouldn't be coming back to life anytime soon. That didn't mean he wanted to rush Mickey out the door just yet. Or at all.

Ethan got up and followed Mickey down the hall, but when Mickey started to turn to the main bath, Ethan pressed his hand against Mickey's lower back and led him into his bedroom and then through to the en suite.

The whole house was out of date, but still in good shape, so Ethan didn't mind the fixtures and finishes that were clearly from the end of the previous century. They were in style when the house had been purchased and he didn't see the point in ripping things out and throwing them away just because the interior designers and cabinet makers of the world needed to stay in business.

Once they were in the bathroom, Mickey turned to face Ethan. He held his gaze while he shoved his pants down his legs and stepped out of them, kicking them to the side. He motioned for Ethan to do the same. "Your turn."

"Bossy," Ethan said as he did as he was told.

"You don't hate it."

It was meant to be a joke, Ethan thought. A little friendly post-orgasm banter. But he was right. Ethan didn't hate it.

"I don't. Having you take the lead takes a bit of the pressure off my poor old brain. It's still trying to catch up to the fact that you kissed me." Ethan leaned in and kissed Mickey, loving the way it made his eyes sparkle with joy.

"What happens when your brain catches up with everything we did?" Mickey tried to look like the answer didn't have the potential to destroy him, but he never could keep his emotions hidden.

"I'll probably cream my shorts again." Ethan's joke had the desired affect and the worry left Mickey's expression. "I don't regret what happened. And I won't later, either."

Ethan turned away to give Mickey a chance to process the things he said without the scrutiny. He pulled the shower curtain shut so he could start the water and heard the laugh bubble out of Mickey.

"Your shower curtain is a tree frog playing the ukulele?"

Ethan looked at Mickey over his shoulder. "I'm old, not boring."

"The one in the main bathroom is plain." Mickey slid in beside Ethan and tested the water temperature before stepping into the tub.

"The one in the main bathroom is the one my children see. Do you think I'm going to give them ammunition to mock me?"

When Ethan stepped into the shower, Mickey was on him immediately. Ethan felt touch drunk, if that was such a thing. He'd gone so long without any sort of physical affection from someone that he wanted to gorge himself on it now. It left him feeling lightheaded and kind of giddy.

That didn't mean they didn't have things to discuss, but Ethan didn't even know where to start. For now, he was content to trade lazy kisses with Mickey. Mickey, who was young and hard again already and whose erection pressed enticingly against Ethan's leg. His own dick was half hard, a feat in itself. He'd be shocked if it got much more life in it. Just from the one orgasm his body felt hollow and wrung out, but in a good way. Being with Mickey made him lighter and Ethan wanted to enjoy that for as long as he could.

For the life of him, Ethan couldn't figure out why someone like Mickey would be interested in him. Mickey looked up at him. Water clung to his lashes and plastered his hair down against his scalp. Reaching up, Mickey massaged the furrow between Ethan's eyes with the tip of his index finger.

"Less thinking. More kissing." Mickey tilted his head, asking for a kiss with the angle of his head, the look in his eyes, and the small, self-satisfied smile that appeared when he realized Ethan was going to obey.

"Like this?" Ethan asked before he brushed his lips against Mickey's. "Or like this?" He kissed him again, this time deeper, sliding his tongue beyond the delicate seam of Mickey's lips and into his mouth. Mickey opened up to him, whimpering a little when Ethan pulled away.

"You know," Mickey began, sliding his hands through Ethan's damp hair. "For a guy with a dusty libido, your kissing skills are definitely not dusty."

As if to prove his point, he wiggled his hips, drawing attention to his rigid cock.

Ethan looked down at his own cock, more flaccid than hard. Despite the rest of him being on board with more, his dick hadn't got the memo yet. He wished he was twenty years younger, or that Mickey was twenty years older.

"Ethan." Mickey hooked a finger under his chin and tilted Ethan's head until their eyes met. "I don't care about that."

God, he was so fucking earnest, Ethan could kiss him. Ethan didn't often feel his age. Only in the mornings when he slept wrong. Or there was that time he sneezed and his back ached for days after. Mostly Ethan didn't feel old. And even with Mickey, he didn't feel old. But there was not feeling old and then there was being in the shower with a beautiful naked man who'd just given him the best orgasm of his life, who clearly still had the recovery period of someone who wasn't pushing fifty.

Mickey reached around behind Ethan and grabbed his loofah off the hook. He soaped it up, then made a circle motion in the air with his finger. "Turn around."

Ethan did as he was told. The truth was that he didn't mind so much that Mickey seemed to be so comfortable being in control. Maybe he needed it, after so long with someone like Lance, whom Ethan would bury in his back yard if he ever got his hands on him.

Mickey washed Ethan's back with slow circles. Not a single inch of skin was left untouched by the time Mickey moved lower, washing the globes of Ethan's ass. "You know, if I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be here, right? I mean, I left a man and slept on the streets so I wouldn't have to be around him. I'm not about to spend time where I don't want to be. Being with Lance taught me a lot of things and not all of them were bad. I'm working on thinking better of myself, so maybe you can help me out and not act like I'm some shallow kid who gave the old dude a pity fuck."

Mickey's tone of voice was even and smooth and without reproach. That didn't mean that Ethan wasn't taken aback by Mickey's frank words.

"I like you, Ethan," Mickey whispered, sounding suddenly a lot more shy than he had a minute ago. Ethan turned and Mickey started washing Ethan's chest.

"I have trouble wrapping my head around why, but for what it's worth, I like you too." Ethan couldn't help the laugh that tumbled out. "I can't remember the last time I said that to someone. For the record, I have no idea what I'm doing."

"I pretty much never know what I'm doing."

"That wasn't the case out in the living room, if I recall. I want to say that I let you take the lead for a different reason, but I actually was shit scared. I had no clue what to do. My experience with men is limited."

"Can I ask why?" Mickey kept washing Ethan and after a while it felt weird to stand there, so he plucked the loofah from Mickey and returned the favor. Starting with his clavicles, which still protruded more than they should, but less than they had been.

When Ethan didn't answer right away, Mickey pressed on. "I just mean like… you're a catch. A great dad. An amazing person. You're hot and nice. You're like the whole package."

"Well, at first it was because I had three kids to raise. And then, I guess, being single was just easier. One day I'm going to have to bite the bullet and tell them." Ethan brushed his fingers over Mickey's cheek where a flush of pink made his skin glow. "Probably soon."

"How do you think they'll take it?"

Ethan laughed. "All of them are in same-sex relationships. I can't see it being an issue."

"I just meant that… if you've been single a long time, they might think it's weird."

"They're adults. We lost Sarah a long time ago. I miss her like hell sometimes, and I stayed single because of the boys. And then because of me. For years I wasn't ready. And then I wanted to be ready, but I couldn't find anyone who made me feel anything more than a temporary frisson of interest." He pinned Mickey with his gaze and stepped in close. "Until now."

"Gah!" Mickey's face turned crimson and he buried it against Ethan's chest, hiding himself from view. "You're infuriating. Mr. ‘oh, I don't know what you see in me, let me say the most heartbreakingly perfect shit to you.'"

Ethan wound his arm around Mickey's waist and reached behind him to turn the water off. He pulled the shower curtain open and grabbed his towel off the nearby rack. Once he had it draped around Mickey's shoulders, he stepped back and Mickey pulled the towel tight around himself.

"I hope you were serious about giving me a ride home. My hair is soaked and it'll freeze my brain inside my skull." Mickey tried to be humorous, but Ethan saw through his thin veneer to the chasm of vulnerability beneath the surface.

"Of course I was serious. But I was kind of hoping I could take you home tomorrow."

Mickey pretended to consider Ethan's offer. "I suppose I could sleep on the couch again."

Ethan grabbed the towel and yanked, pulling Mickey closer. "Or you could sleep in my bed with me, which is sort of what I had in mind when I said I'd take you home tomorrow."

"I know," Mickey happily confessed. "I just wanted to hear you say it."

They stepped out of the shower and Mickey ran the towel through his hair before working on the rest of himself. When he was done, he wound it around his waist and watched Ethan with renewed interest.

"Are you a pajamas or a no pajamas person?" Ethan asked.

"Well, I used to be a no pajamas person. But then sleeping out in the elements put a stop to that. Then I was a guest in your house who was addicted to your fireplace, so again—pajamas. But if you think I'm going to put clothes on again before morning, you're sadly mistaken."

"Nothing sad about that at all," Ethan replied, suddenly happier than he could remember being.