10. Mik

CHAPTER 10

MIK

Another sleepless night of my mind endlessly spinning.

Another layer of guilt.

Another thing I got wrong.

Another thing I will continue to get wrong for as long as he's here tormenting me this way. Because I'm powerless in my need for him. All these years later, and he still makes me weak.

My cock is hard just thinking about the way his eyes felt on me. Harder still when the mess he left behind flashes before my eyes. I seriously considered snorting it off the floor because I'm an addict that just got their first real fix in a long time.

I've been hard for hours. It's one of the reasons I couldn't possibly get any real rest.

"How did it go?"

Janel's sleepy voice startles me. I look over to find her laying on her side, watching me. Fuck, how long has she been looking at me?

Can she tell I'm hard? Can she tell I'm panicking? Can she sense my guilt ?

"W-what?"

I've always worried she can read my thoughts and knows how often I think of him. Even when I'm in our bed. Just like I worry that she knows the reason I look away from her when she touches me is because I see too much of him in her eyes. My anxiety is sure she can see right through me, that she can smell him on me no matter how much I scrubbed my skin.

Logically, I know it isn't the case. As long as everything looks okay on the outside, she doesn't tend to notice me. I've become a master at hiding who I am, at slipping under the radar. I know exactly how often to nod when she's ranting about the other board members of our neighborhood's Homeowners Association. I know how long to wait after she goes upstairs to make sure she'll be asleep when I come to bed. I can even tell when she's going to be in the mood, and plan accordingly to either avoid her or work myself up to it. It's not all bad. She's given me the most precious gift in the world, and a nice life overall. It's my fault I can't be happy with what I have, and instead pine for a life that passed me by a long time ago.

"The party?" she reminds me, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, didn't sleep much."

"What time did they all go home?"

"I think a couple of guys slept over, but the party broke up around three."

She cranes her neck to look at the alarm clock. It's just after seven.

"You must be exhausted," she says with a pout.

Her eyes roam down my bare chest. I originally came to bed in my usual long sleeve pajamas, but I got overheated while trying to ignore my erection. The erection she notices with a sly grin. Her bottom lip disappears between her teeth, and her hand caresses across my stomach. Just her touch, or maybe it's my apprehension over her touch, has me shrinking back.

"I, uh, need to pee," I blurt, scrambling out of the bed towards the bathroom.

Janel flops on her back with a sigh, and I pretend not to notice her frustration. I'm a fucking asshole, okay? For eighteen years, I've considered any physical relationship with my wife to be cheating on him . And now that he's here, in this house, just down the hall, there's no possible way this is happening.

I wash my face and brush my teeth, deciding I might as well get my day started. I consider going for a run, but with the humidity and my lack of sleep the past few days, I don't want to push it too much.

"Hey, hon? I think I might head out to the bakery and pick up some pastries for breakfast. What do you think–"

My attempt at redirecting her intentions has clearly failed. Janel is sitting back on her heels in the middle of the bed, completely naked. I force myself to look at her, not wanting to hurt her feelings or start anything because of my lack of attention.

My eyes roam her body, the curve of her hip, flat stomach, and full breasts. She's a beautiful, desirable woman. I wish I could make myself want her. And there have been plenty of times that I've gone through the motions. Sex is sex, right? The right amount of friction on the right part of your body is going to get you off, eventually.

But this isn't one of those times. Hell, I'm not sure how long it'll take me to recover from his visit to be able to function the way she needs me to.

Her eyes drop to the front of my pants, which are no longer tented. I swallow, and before I can open my mouth to even start making excuses, she's standing in front of me.

"What's wrong, Mikel?" she asks, not unkindly. "Is it me? "

It's more who you're not.

"No, of course not. I just… I don't know, hon. I think it's just stress. Our boy graduating and all the family here and whatnot. But I'll see a doctor after everyone's gone, if it'll make you happy."

She purses her lips and looks at me thoughtfully. It's not the first time I've tried blaming my lack of interest on erectile dysfunction. It's better than her knowing that I'm simply not interested in sex with her.

"Is it him?" she asks in a small voice. "Because he can stay at mom and dad's now that my grandparents are leaving. They'll be heading out today, so there will be a room open over there."

I never told Janel, or anyone else for that matter, what happened between Jason and me all those years ago. But she's a smart woman. She knows something happened between us. Her brother didn't abruptly move overseas for nothing. It was obvious that it was to get away from me, considering we went from being the best of friends to never speaking again.

It would probably be smarter to have Jason out of the house. But I don't want to create more problems or admit how much he gets to me.

"No, it's fine. We talked some, actually. We're trying to be… friendly."

That's one word for it.

"Well, that's good," she says a little sullenly.

"Want me to get you an iced chai latte while I'm out?" I ask, trying to diffuse some tension.

She gives me a small smile and nods. "That'd be nice," she says, lifting up on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek before walking towards the bathroom.

I spin on my heel to confront the shadow slowly coming up behind me. "Are you following me?"

"Maybe," he says, shrugging. I roll my eyes, and he laughs. "I was actually out for a jog and noticed you here."

I juggle the ball between my hands, not meeting Jason's eye. "You just missed Jase," I say, trying to sound casual. We'd met the other members of his rec team for a pickup game, but they all left to go get burgers as soon as the sky started darkening. As tempted as I was to go with them, I stayed back to let Jase have time with his friends without his old man hovering over him. Being the coach's son is probably annoying enough without me insisting on tagging along all the time.

"You're avoiding me," Jason says, coming to stand beside me where I'm watching the clouds roll in.

He's not wrong. I have been avoiding him, and Janel too. I've been leaving early to use the gym before work, staying late in the office, and then covering closing at the store even though we're fully staffed. I'm missing out on a lot of family time, but I need some space from the pressure of doing something I don't really want to do, and from the mistakes my body seems desperate to make.

Every fiber of my being is aware of his proximity, to the point I can feel my cells stretching towards him every time I pass the door to the guest room where he's sleeping.

"We shouldn't have–"

"I know," he cuts in. "I don't know what keeps coming over me."

I nod as though what he's saying is relatable, but I can't say that I've really tried to resist him at all. I know I should, and afterwards I just end up hating myself more for it. But I want him so much I'm drowning in it .

A fat drop of rain splashes against my forehead, but my eyes remain focused on him. I don't look away from his pained expression until the drops become more frequent. Eyes closed, l turn my face up to the light rain, letting it cool my hot skin.

Severe thunderstorms are forecast for the next three days straight. It's too early in the year for tropical storms, and after a particularly dry winter, there's a possibility of flooding. We're about two hours inland, so hopefully it won't cause too much damage, but there won't be much to do other than hunker down in the house. I'll be stuck inside with my wife, the man I can't stop wanting, and my stifling feelings.

I run my hands through my short hair, slicking it back as the water sluices down my back. When I open my eyes again, Jason is watching me with a closed expression.

"Why do you hide?" he asks suddenly. He directs his gaze at my chest, where my long-sleeved white shirt is now soaked and clinging to my skin. Some of the dark ink shows through the fabric.

"The tattoos?" He nods, and I shrug. "I don't know."

It's a lie. I hide them because it's the last shred of my self-expression that I've kept for myself. Each one of them has meaning. And while many of them are dedicated to my son or books I love, many of them are symbolic of the man standing in front of me. If no one can see them, then no one can ask. There's also the fact that Janel hates them. It's important to her that we maintain a professional public image, not just because her parents would disapprove, but also because of our positions in the community. She thinks no one will visit the store if I look like ‘a mob henchman' as she puts it, and she's probably right that I wouldn't have been accepted for my position with the town.

"I think you hide more than the tattoos," he says bluntly. His eyes look darker than usual, the storm clouding his blue skies .

"I do what I have to do," I say, trying to ignore the way his gaze pierces me. Trying to ignore the way his soaked clothes cling to his skin, hugging every curve of muscle. I turn my head, looking to the adjacent field, at the very spot where all our barriers dropped. My eyes close at the pain I feel, knowing how much I lost and how much I still have to lose. The stakes are higher than ever now.

The space between us grows shorter, though I didn't notice him moving. The familiarity of this moment isn't lost on me.

I step back and look towards the parking lot, not seeing his car. "We should go before the storm gets worse."

"I didn't drive," he reminds me. "But I can run back," he offers, but that's ridiculous. I can't let him run over four miles home in the pouring rain. It's getting worse by the minute.

"It's fine, come on."

Once we're at my car, I curse and nearly bark out a laugh because fuck my life. Shaking my head, I have to make a split-second decision whether to sacrifice the upholstery or risk being half naked with Jason in the car. I decide it's better just to plan to get the car detailed. I slip off my cleats, but get in muddy and soaking wet. Jason follows suit, and I direct him to put his shoes in the small laundry basket I bring to all practices and games for our muddy gear and clothes. Then I start the car and pull out of the parking lot, not daring to let it idle even though the rain is coming down in sheets and it would probably be safer to wait for a lull. Who knows how long it would last, though. I would never be able to keep my hands to myself in such a confined space. There isn't enough air to allow my brain to function.

The drive home is silent aside from Janel calling to let us know she's at her parent's house. She's going to try to make the drive across town as soon as the rain lets up enough .

"I called Jase and told him to stay put, too," she says. "He'll probably stay the night at Lee's house and come home in the morning. I'd rather know he isn't out driving in this."

"Sounds like a plan," I say, my knuckles gripping the leather of the steering wheel too tight.

We're going to be alone. By ourselves. Without supervision.

The leather creaks under my grip as I try to put the thought out of my mind. I'll lock myself in my office, keep myself away from him. Not that I want to be rude, but I can't trust myself not to do something stupid.

"Don't forget, if the power goes out, you have to set a timer for one hour. If it isn't back on, you need to plug the refrigerator into the small battery generator we bought for storms like this. It's in the garage, on the–"

"On the right-hand side next to the tool chest. Got it," I say reassuringly.

"If you don't plug it in before the power has been out for four hours, we'll lose all those groceries we just bought, and the leftovers that Jase wanted to–"

"Janie," I say, pulling out the nickname I only use in times like these. "This isn't my first rodeo. I've got this. Everything will be fine."

She's not trying to nag, but she just can't help herself. It's like if she doesn't say it out loud, none of it will happen correctly, and everything will burn down around us. Feeling out-of-control sets off her anxiety in a bad way.

Janel huffs and switches gears. "You shouldn't be out driving in this either," she tells me.

"Couldn't be helped. But we're almost home. "

"Go in through the garage when you get home. I don't want you tracking in mud and getting everything wet."

"We will," I say placatingly, even though it's long been habit for me and Jase to go through the garage and strip in the utility room that separates the kitchen and the garage for years now. If nothing else, I'm a well-trained husband.

"Shoes off on the mat," she reminds me.

"Yes, dear." I can hear her eyes roll through the phone.

"Okay, well. Get home safe. Love you both," she says. Jason and I both say we love her at the same time, and I don't miss the way he's smirking at me.

"Such an obedient little husband," Jason snarks, and the tone of his voice heats my blood. I know he's taunting me, but the growl of his voice, intended or not, makes me squirm.

A horn blares behind me, alerting me that the light we're stopped at has turned green. I roll forward through the intersection, trying studiously to ignore the way Jason says, "good boy."

By the time we pull into the driveway, I'm fighting to get enough oxygen to my brain. The tension is suffocating.

My remote entry to the garage isn't working, which means the power must have already gone out. I reach for my small duffle bag in the back seat, ignoring the heat of Jason's skin when I accidentally brush up against him. It can't be helped. Neither of us is small, and the sensible sedan I drive these days isn't exactly roomy. Just that innocent touch makes my skin flush, and the muggy air fogs the car windows.

Jason's glare on the side of my face is intense. His fingers dig into his thighs. I can't breathe. My pulse is too fast. I might be following in my father's footsteps, having a heart attack before forty.

Pull yourself together .

Staring straight ahead, I blow out a breath and steel myself. Then I open the door.

Since the power is out, I have to open the garage manually, and I get even more soaked doing it. Jason follows me inside and silently helps me pull the garage door shut. There's enough light coming in through the small windows at the top of the garage door to not trip over anything, but it's pretty dark. I kick off my shoes on the mat in front of the door and trudge inside to the utility room with the washer and dryer. With a slight tremble in my limbs, I open the washing machine and start pulling off my dripping clothes. I sense rather than see Jason doing the same and manage not to look at him until I notice something out of the corner of my eye. Turning towards him, my gaze narrows in on a dark shape on one side of Jason's ribs.

Too stupid to think better of it, I get closer until I can make out the infinity symbol inked into his skin. My fingers reach out and hover over the tattoo, eyes hot with the prickle of tears. The memory of my fingers tracing this very symbol in this very spot hits me like I'm being defibrillated, and I pull my hand back. I swallow the sudden onslaught of emotion that catches in my throat, and then flinch when I feel the heat of Jason's hand on my side. His thumb runs over the identical shape etched onto the same side of my ribs.

His fingers dig into my skin painfully. My chest heaves. I should step away. I need to move away. To get out of this little room. To create some space between us.

I should. I need to. I will…

Jason's mouth crashes to mine, and every rational thought I have goes out the window. Every cell in my body, including whatever cells I have left in my brain, is focused on the feel of his skin on mine, hot and slick with rainwater. His thick muscled arms taking possession of my body. The shock of cold when my back hits the wall. The electric need that shoots right to my cock the moment our tongues lick against each other.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The way his lips move against mine is possessive and all-consuming. He devours my mouth, and there's no part of me that is doing the right thing and pushing him away. No, I'm giving him everything he gives me with equal fervor. Tongues and teeth clash, and we paw at each other, desperate for more of whatever it is that drives us to insanity.

His hands come around to my ass and pull me against him, our hard cocks pressing together, and fuck , the two thin layers of damp fabric between us feel like chain mail. Jason's thick, muscular thigh presses between my legs, inciting a bone deep shudder that rips through me. He groans and grips me tighter, and then we're just two panting animals, grunting and rutting against each other.

The electricity kicks back on and a loud hum of appliances surging with power interrupts our lust-fueled haze. Several lights click to life, and we jolt apart like we'd just been caught.

Clarity hits me like a ton of bricks, and I take a deep breath. Jason takes a step back to me, but I hold my hand up in front of me, pressing against his firm chest. So firm. So hot. So fucking manly. My fingers curl into the hair that dusts his pecs, but I keep him at arm's length. My chin drops to my chest while I take several deep, steeling breaths.

Get yourself together, Mik! What the fuck are you doing!?

"No," I rasp, my voice hoarse with emotion and pure fucking need. "We… we can't do this."

I straighten out my fingers and push him back, blinking furiously.

Jason doesn't step away, but he doesn't move closer, either. We stare at each other for a few more long, painful moments .

And then I walk out. And the moment I'm out of view, I run.

I run straight up the stairs and into my bedroom, locking the door immediately.

"Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!"

I scream into my pillow until my throat is raw, and then pace around the room restlessly. I tear at my hair, pulling it at the roots and rubbing my hands furiously over my face. My heart is beating rapidly, and I can't catch my breath. I'm concerned I might actually be having a heart attack, the way my chest feels so tight.

I need to calm down. Cool down.

Stomping into the bathroom, I turn the shower on cold and get in, not bothering to take off my underwear until I'm already under the spray. My erection taunts me by smacking against my stomach when I finally wrestle out of the wet fabric. At first, I ignore it, but it hurts and maybe an orgasm would help clear my mind. But it doesn't matter how much I stroke myself, I can't seem to reach a release.

A huge crack of thunder shakes the house, reminding me of how fucking stupid I am. I'm perfectly aware that you're not supposed to take a bath or shower during a thunderstorm, but of all the stupid mistakes I could make right now, this seems the safest. If I get struck by lightning in my own home, it'll serve me right.

I stay under the freezing cold stream of water, jerking off like it's a punishment, until it becomes obvious that it's not going to work. It's not enough. The lights flicker, and then there's a loud clap of thunder, a distant boom, and the power goes out again. I should probably get out of the shower.

Dripping all over the floor, I pad over to the linen closet to grab a towel. Before wrapping it around my waist, I bury my face in the thick fabric and let out a harsh wail of frustration. The only way I'm going to get any relief is to go downstairs and dig into my box of shame. Which means I'll have to sneak past Jason. Fuck. Staring down at my hard cock, I beg it quietly to go down, to give me some damn peace. I try using a gentler touch and some lotion to soothe it into submission, but it smells like my wife and the guilt makes me nauseous, while somehow doing nothing to help the most infuriating erection I've ever had.

A while later, with a pair of sweatpants covering a boner that I might need to seek medical attention for, I quietly open my door and peek into the hallway. I'm less than two steps out of my room when my cell phone rings, making me jump so hard I nearly trip and break my dick. I suppose that would get me out of sex and cure my raging hard on. Maybe.

My cock doesn't even manage to deflate while Janel nags— Look, I'm calling it. I'm in a shit mood and she's officially nagging — about getting the generator ready. She heard that loud boom as well and found out that a transformer blew. I remind her that it hasn't been an hour yet, but she's so convinced that I'm going to blow it off, she needs me to do it right now , with her on the phone. I don't even hide my sigh of exasperation, which only serves to piss her off. I suggest that she have a glass of wine to calm her nerves, since it's looking like she'll be staying the night at her parent's house due to the weather taking a turn for the worse, and she tells me to go fuck myself.

That's exactly what I was trying to do before you so rudely interrupted!

When Janel is finally satisfied that the food in the fridge isn't going to rot, and we mutter some half-hearted apologies for being at each other's throats, she asks how things are going here. I tell her, mostly honestly, that we went to our separate rooms as soon as we got home and that I haven't spoken to Jason at all. She reminds me that there are cold cuts and pasta salad in the fridge, and I remind her that we left at least two bottles of wine in her parent's garage fridge. That gets a small laugh out of her, so I suppose I'm off the hook for my earlier comment. We say goodnight, and then I'm alone in the dark kitchen. I crack open a bottle of whiskey and take a couple of swigs, staring at my troublesome dick the whole time.

Well, at least no one is home to interrupt me.

Using my cell phone as a flashlight, I head downstairs to my office. I light a few candles, laughing to myself about setting the mood, and retrieve my box.