16. Mik

CHAPTER 16

MIK

A few days ago, I was freaked out that we were going to be locked in the house together while a storm raged around us. Now I'm mad at the sun for coming out.

All the roads are fine. There was minimal damage around town, and no one reported back to my wife that there was a half-naked tattooed man standing in her yard during the storm.

Overall, it could have been so much worse. And because I'm fucked up, I wish it had been. I wish the town had been decimated, that we were all floating in several feet of water so no one could get to us.

"Hey, you alright?"

"Hmm?" I blink out of my thoughts to see Janel watching me.

"You can sit this one out if you're hurting."

I was in the shower when Janel got home, washing the smell of sex and Jason from my skin and letting the cold water soothe my abused ass. I know we took it too far; he knows it too. But he can't say no to me any more than I can say no to him. Well, joke's on us because I can barely walk now. I had to tell Janel I pulled a muscle when she noticed I was walking funny.

"Nah, I'm okay," I say, giving her a small smile. She pushes up on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek before going back to raking the debris from the yard.

Jason watches us from the ladder, where he's supposed to be clearing out the gutters. Jase and one of his friends went to help one of our elderly neighbors clean up their yard. Probably those same assholes that called the cops on me for being in my own garage. Janel has been sucking up to them since the incident.

By the time we're done cleaning up the aftermath, I'm grateful for the power being back on. "God, I missed air conditioning."

"I dunno, wasn't so bad," Jason mutters, downing a glass of water before disappearing into the utility room. He comes out with an arm full of the covers for the couch cushions.

"I'll help you with that," I offer, following Jason to the basement stairs.

It's barely been twenty-four hours since our bubble burst, but I find I'm willing to go to great lengths to get even a minute alone with him. But Janel either missed me after a couple of days staying with her parents, or she has a sixth sense, because she's been glued to my side.

"Oh, I can help too," she says, trailing behind us. She stops at the bottom of the stairs and surveys the state of the sofa cusions. "What happened down here?"

Jason locks eyes with me for a moment so brief it might not have even happened, before dumping the pile of covers on the ottoman and catching the foam cushions I toss at him. After we had to rush through scrubbing this place down, we work like a well-oiled machine, putting it all back together.

"We were hanging out down here because it was cooler than the rest of the house. I spilled something on the couch and decided I might as well wash all the cushions while I was at it, especially since we were so sweaty."

It's kind of scary how he manages to tell the truth and lie at the same time. He's smooth as butter, not even flinching when I pick up the last of the couch cushions and the missing butt plug bounces a couple of feet in front of me. I nearly choke, tripping over myself to get to it before anyone sees it and end up kicking it. Thank fuck it bounces under the couch.

"Oh," she says, her eyes moving back and forth between us. "I guess you two are getting along, then?"

"Uh, yeah. Guess so," I answer, pretending to be occupied with stuffing a cushion back into the cover.

"Taking a shower together heals all wounds," Jason jokes. I gape at him, horrified. Janel nearly drops the cushion she's working on. Chuckling, Jason holds the cover so Janel can stuff the pad in, still looking confused. "When I went to check on him after you nagged me—justifiably—I found him wrapped in blankets and two seconds from heat stroke. I got him to the bathroom and in the shower to cool off, but he couldn't hold himself up."

Janel's expression turns concerned. "You didn't tell me you got that sick."

"I'm fine," I say gently. "Your asshole brother took good care of me."

I force the begrudging tone a bit, because memories of the other shower we took are flashing behind my eyes. The way he threaded his hands into my hair, griping about how he missed it long so he had something to hold on to. Then he fucked into my mouth so hard he had to put a hand behind my head to cushion it from hitting the tile wall.

"And then we both remembered a time way back when, when the roles had been reversed. I'd gotten stupid drunk one night after some asshole broke up with me. I can't remember who. "

"Pierce," Janel and I say at the same time.

Laughter bursts out of both of us, and the tension recedes. Then again, it could have just been my imagination. The anxiety of having a secret of this magnitude is going to be the death of me. Honestly, if I didn't think it would kill her to know what we'd done, I'd probably just come clean. I already spend most of our interactions wondering if she knows that I'm thinking about him. Knowing that I actually did something is going to compound that guilt. It'll probably crush me, eventually.

Jase lumbers down the stairs just as we get the last cushion back in place. I'm about to suggest a movie, or a nap, or anything where no one talks, so I don't have a panic attack. But Janel gets distracted by the dirt and leaves on Jase's shirt and pants and tuts after him to make him change and clean up whatever tiny flecks of dirt she can find. I add it to the mental tally of favors her obsessive compulsions have done for me so I can come back to this moment of relief the next time I feel overwhelmed by it.

The moment the door closes, Jason pushes me against the wall and kisses me so thoroughly, I forget to be discreet and moan loudly.

He pulls back. "You need to relax."

"I can't."

"Try. Or I'll make you."

By the time the door opens again, Jason is vacuuming the stairs and I'm in my office, tucking my spent dick back inside my pants after having my soul sucked out of it.

"You and Jason seem friendly again," Janel says.

We're lounging on the porch swing, enjoying the cooler evening air. Jason and Jase went to the park to run drills. I wanted to go, but since I lied about having a pulled muscle, I figure I should stay back. Plus, I'm sure Jase and Jason are enjoying some time with just the two of them.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"You keep saying it like that."

"Like what?"

"Yeah. Guess so," she says in a mock deep voice. "I feel like you're trying to blow it off."

"No, I'm not. I just… I don't know, things are awkward. And he's just going to leave again."

"What's awkward about it?" she asks, straightening up like she's putting on her therapist hat. She's good at helping figure people out and managing social expectations. It's one of the main reasons we've become this successful, despite us being such young parents and me being a college dropout with zero prospects or experience. But this isn't something she can help me with. It's not like I can tell her that things are awkward because I've been fucking her brother behind her back and I'm afraid I'm going to spiral when he leaves again. In only four more days.

I clear my throat, trying to think of something to say, but I come up short and take a sip of the spiked lemonade she made to buy myself a few moments. I wince at how strong it is, using the way she giggles at my facial expression as an attempt to distract from her question. It works for a few minutes, and she lays back against the arm of the swing, stretching her legs over my lap. I smile and rub one of her small, pedicured feet the way I've done since she was pregnant. Foot rubs and gentle touches have become a habit over the past eighteen years. It's my way of showing nonsexual intimacy, as if it makes up for my shortcomings in the bedroom. Her toes are an orangey-pink color that reflects the sunset. She wiggles them in my hold .

"I used to be so jealous of the two of you," she says in a small voice. She's looking out at our manicured front lawn, eyes glowing in the light of the setting sun. The blue depths that have always reminded me of him are pensive, almost sad. "You were more in love with each other than you ever were with me."

Every muscle in my body goes stiff at her quiet words, her pained chuckles. I can only imagine the wide-eyed look of fear on my face when she turns back to me. But when she turns her head back towards me, her eyes are unfocused, lost in our past somewhere, in some memory.

"At first I was glad he left. It sounds awful, I know. But I was young and stupid and scared, and I just wanted you to love me. Your friendship was just so deep. It was like no one else existed when you were together. I thought that, without him around, you would finally see me. And I guess in some ways I was right," she sighs, and I force myself to relax. She said friendship. She doesn't know. It's okay. Calm down.

She focuses on me fully, holding my gaze. For the billionth time in our marriage, I wonder if she can see straight through me.

"I quickly realized just how much you lost when he left. I've always known that I can't fill the space he occupied. Even after all this time, the two of you are so tuned to each other. Your bodies literally face each other like plants seeking out the sun. It's not something I can compete with, it's not something that I ever could compete with." She pauses and blinks at me, slowly, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "I'm really sorry, Mik, that I ever made it a contest, even if it was only in my mind."

I open my mouth to say something, to defend myself even though nothing she's said has been accusatory. I'm so confused. It doesn't sound like she knows, but the wisdom of her words and the way her eyes bore into me makes me feel like she might know more than she's letting on .

"You can't imagine the guilt I feel at tearing you apart."

Oh, but I can. I really can.

I set my glass aside and pull her into my lap so I can wrap my arms around her and hug her close, wanting both to soothe her tears and to hide the confused panic on my face. I'm not sure what to say. This feels like the right time to come clean, but what will that accomplish? It'll tear apart our family, hurting the one good thing to come out of this. How could Jase ever understand?

"It's not your fault," I murmur into her sweet-smelling hair. "Jason and I didn't drift apart because of anything you did. We–" I pause, trying to covertly suck air into my lungs. They're squeezed so tight by my aching heart swelling out of my chest. There isn't enough room to hold the amount of oxygen needed to quell some of this panic.

It's on the tip of my tongue to confess everything, to fall to my knees and beg her not to hate me. If she hates me, Jase will hate me. I'll be alone, having accomplished nothing but making everyone miserable for nothing other than assuaging my guilt.

"Janel, I–"

"Oh! They're home!" Janel jumps off my lap, brushing the wetness from her eyes, and running out to meet Jason's ostentatious SUV.

She goes over to Jase's side and links her arm with his, walking into the house chatting about the surprise she made him. She's been making all his favorites, and even has a list of things she wants to make him before he leaves for college. Tonight, she made dirt pudding, even topped it with little gummy worms and spent the extra few minutes to make them look like they're coming up out of the crushed Oreo "dirt". I smile at the way Jase pumps his fist.

Jason is standing inside the open door of the SUV, watching me. He's too far away to make out his expression, but the intensity shines through. His eyes flit to the door when the screen door slams shut behind Janel and Jase and then back at me. It occurs to me what it must have looked like when he pulled in, me holding Janel the way I was. I feel an odd lurch in my chest, akin to the worry I was feeling moments before they pulled in and I was about to spill my guts.

How fucked up is this, that I feel equally guilty for showing her affection as I do for cheating on her with him?

I meet his harsh gaze for a few long, drawn-out moments. The intensity of his stare increases exponentially until it crackles between us like another storm might break. I half expect a bolt of lightning to land in the yard between us. The SUV door slams shut, and I watch with mounting trepidation as he walks right through the yard, past the corner of the porch where I'm standing, and into the backyard. He disappears out of sight, and I falter for a moment. I'm not even overthinking. There are zero coherent thoughts in my head. I just stare at the dark hedges where he disappeared.

My body moves without my brain processing that I'm walking across the porch, down the stairs, and around to the backyard. Fireflies are flashing everywhere, twinkling around the lush garden, making it look otherworldly. There's no sign of Jason among the flowers and bushes, and the back shed has a padlock on it that I know I locked yesterday.

A slight rustling grabs my attention, and I follow the sound into the small, wooded area that separates our yard from the neighbors behind us. The fireflies and my errant heart lead me into a small copse of trees that Jase used to build forts in. We used to go backyard camping out here, using a small grill as a fire pit to roast marshmallows and hotdogs. It seems like so long ago. I don't remember the last time I stood out here.

Jason's large form lurks in the dark, resting against a thick branch that grows almost perpendicular to a massive oak tree. Even with his weight on it, the branch barely dips. We had family pictures taken here once, the three of us perched on that sturdy branch.

He doesn't speak, and neither do I. I don't know what to say. Part of me wants to assure him that nothing happened. With my wife. Who I'm cheating on. With him. That nothing has happened with her in a very long time and might never again, because I'm pretty sure I'll never recover, physically or mentally, from what we've done.

What we're doing , if Jason's glare is any indication of what's to come. It's so dark I can barely make out his features, but I can feel his eyes on me. I can feel his anger, his frustration, his lust.

Does a moth know it's about to die when it grows closer to the flame? Does it feel the heat and decide it's worth it?

However slow and wary my steps are, I find myself moving closer to Jason. The moment I'm within reaching distance, his hand snaps out and grabs me roughly by the arm and all but tosses me around. My breath escapes me as I'm clotheslined by the thick branch, my body instinctively leaning over and bracing myself against the rough bark.

He yanks my pants and underwear down my legs in one swoop, exposing my ass to the warm, damp night air. There's rustling behind me, but the thudding of my heart is too loud to distinguish the different sounds. From my vantage point, I can see into the window that sits behind the eating nook in our kitchen. Janel is sitting at the kitchen table, her arm resting on the wood surface. She's scrolling through her phone, while less than thirty yards away her husband is bent over, bare ass exposed, eyes crossing when cool liquid drips down my crack and two thick fingers are thrust inside me.

"You carrying that around with you now?" I try for humor, but he doesn't answer me about the lube. We both know I'd let him fuck me without it, no matter how much it hurt. Even with the lube, my hole is still sore, but my body welcomes the intrusion, opening for him with little to no effort.

Jason grunts appreciatively, muttering something about loosening my tight hole until I'm slack for days. I haven't admitted how sore I was after that night, and the next day. It's been two days, and I've just now got to the point where I can sit comfortably. Because despite the pain, despite the guilt, despite it all—I've still found myself walking down to the basement at odd hours, loitering in the garage, pausing in doorways, hoping that something would happen.

That this would happen.

There's very little prep before Jason is thrusting into me. He doesn't wait for me to adjust, either, but sets a rough pace. I hiss and try to curl in on myself, but end up folding myself further over the branch. Jason presses a hand on my back and holds me there, pounding into me. It hurts. I'll be feeling the ache for days, but I'm fucking sick because I love it. It's pleasure and penance and exactly what I've been craving. Tears are streaming down my face with the effort to hold in my cries.

My muscles finally start to relax and accommodate to the onslaught. It's then I realize Jason was going easy on me, because the more I relax, the harsher his thrusts become, until he's holding my hips hard enough to deepen the existing bruises, driving into me hard enough to lift me feet from the ground with each hard thrust. We're panting, grunting, and growling loud enough that the neighbors could easily hear us if they stepped into their backyard. They'd probably call animal control.

The pain turns into a delicious ache. That ache blurs into pleasure. I'm desperate for touch. I want to stroke myself, but I'm holding myself steady on this damn branch. Jason's cock saws in and out of me, using me for his pleasure, taking his frustration out on my body. I slip forward enough that he has to pull me back, and when he does, his cock hits my prostate dead-on, pegging it hard. I cry out, my voice echoing in the quiet night. My eyes fly back up to the window. Janel doesn't look up from her phone. Jason doesn't seem to give a fuck, because he does it again, and again, and again. The blunt head of his thick cock punches at my prostate like a speed bag, and it's all I can do not to scream. Instead, unintelligible noises pour from my throat until my orgasm seizes up all the muscles in my body and I'm incapable of drawing breath.

I wheeze, my mouth open on a silent scream, vision wavering. Jason makes a choking sound. My cum coats the underside of the branch and the ground in front of us, my legs shaking with the force of it.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck yes. Uhng– You're fucking strangling my cock, Mik. Miiik. " His voice sounds strained.

A feral growl leaves his throat, and heat floods my ass. I'm still pulsing around him, my hole greedily squeezing every drop from Jason's cock. He doesn't pull out right away. Instead, he pulls my back against his chest and turns my chin to face him. His tongue licks into my mouth.

"You're fucking mine," he whispers roughly into my mouth.

I swallow his words, nodding as I come back to earth. Jason's lips are on the back of my neck, his hips still rocking gently into mine until his dick is soft enough that it slips from me. Hot liquid rolls down the inside of my thighs. My eyes flutter open like I've been asleep the whole time, in a daze, hypnotized.

But when they focus, I'm looking at the house again. Where Janel is standing in the window, looking outside, moving her gaze around the yard like she's searching for something.

For us.