[Mature Content]
There was something up with Damian.
Micah could feel it.
It was in the way he carried himself—light, casual, like nothing was wrong. But Micah knew his boyfriend. He knew the tells. The too-perfect ease, the effortless grin, the way his shoulders stayed just a little too loose, like he was forcing himself to be at ease.
Something had happened between him and Callum.
He'd seen them talking in quiet, half-annoyed tones. Damian had brushed him off but Micah knew deep down something wasn't right.
Plus when Callum had left the market, he'd been quiet. Sad.
Micah had thought about it the whole ride to the hotel.
It was strange how he remembered the look on Callum's face so clearly, like he'd always known it. That thoughtful, heavy expression—the face of a prince with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Callum—Caelan—had watched him die once.
Micah only knew his lung's hadn't been able to take the smoke in the barn but he had no knowledge of what had happened after he took his last breath. What did Caelan do with his body? What happened to Aeryndale? Did Caelan confront Edric? Did they draw their swords on each other?
He thought about the fight Callum and Damian had at the Level Up event, their blades clashing in that VR duel. Back then, he'd had no clue—no idea that they had centuries of history behind them.
And now, even knowing what he did, he still felt like an outsider to their past.
A door opened.
"Do you think I should get a place here?"
Micah blinked, startled out of his thoughts.
"Huh?"
Damian leaned against the doorway to the bathroom, arms crossed over his bare chest.
"I said," he repeated, smirking, "do you think I should get a place here?"
Micah wanted to answer. Really, he did.
But his brain short-circuited.
They were in Damian's hotel suite and his boyfriend was half-naked, wearing only a pair of dark boxers that left very little to the imagination. His body was sculpted, lean muscle and smooth golden skin, and Micah's gaze betrayed him—trailing lower, lingering at the obvious bulge before he caught himself.
Damian snapped his fingers. "My eyes are up here, love."
Micah's face burned.
Busted.
Damian shook his head in amusement, stepping further into the room. "It's just that every time I'm in the city, I always book a hotel," he said, stretching his arms above his head. "Figured it'd be more ergonomical to get a place."
Micah swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.
"Uh-huh," he managed.
"Maybe we could move in together," Damian added, so casually it took a second to register.
Micah froze. His stomach twisted into a tight, nervous knot.
Move in together. Move in together.
He loved Damian. He did. They'd been together for years, and yet—
The thought terrified him.
What if Damian stopped loving him? What if living together made him realize Micah wasn't worth it? What if things changed? What if— What if Damian started abusing him?
Micah forced those thoughts down.
Damian wasn't a bad person. He wasn't—
Sure, sometimes he raised his voice when he was angry. And there was that one time he punched the wall beside Micah's head, but he had apologized. They had made up. And Micah hadn't told him about Callum beforehand, so—so it was kind of his fault. Afterall, what man wanted to see another man laughing and chatting up their boyfriend in the middle of the night? It was only an innocent game of Duck-Duck-Donkey but Callum didn't know that.
But still…
Moving in was too much.
"Can we talk about it another time?" Micah asked, voice quiet.
Damian's expression didn't change. He didn't argue.
After a beat, he simply shrugged. "Fair enough."
Then, just as easily, "Now, tell me what's on your mind."
Micah hesitated.
His first instinct was to say, 'Nothing.' To brush it off. But he didn't like lying to Damian, and the question had already settled heavy on his tongue.
He swallowed.
"What were you and Callum talking about earlier?"
Damian's easy expression didn't shift. "Nothing you should concern yourself with."
Micah's temper flared.
"Don't do that," he snapped. "I know it was about our past lives. What happened? Why won't you tell me?"
Damian's sharp blue eyes locked onto his, calculating.
He started walking slowly to where Micah was seated on the edge of the bed. Micah watched him move, mesmerised. In a second, he was in front of Micah, standing between his knees where he sat at the edge of the bed. His thigh slotted between Micah's legs, pressing up just enough to make Micah gasp.
"Because," Damian murmured, voice low, "that part of our history doesn't concern you."
Micah's breath hitched.
"So you do have history," he managed.
Damian smirked. Then he leaned down, lips trailing the curve of Micah's neck, slow and teasing.
"More than you know," he murmured against his skin.
Micah shuddered. "Tell me—"
Damian's teeth grazed his earlobe, nipping just hard enough to make him whimper.
"You're awfully curious about Callum right now," Damian husked, amusement laced in his tone. He pinched Micah's nipple over his shirt, making him hiss. "I mean, your hot boyfriend is about to make you scream his name, but you're thinking about another man. Should I be offended?"
Micah's face burned.
His mind flashed back to the morning. The moment he'd woken up tangled with Callum, the accidental brush of his morning wood. The way Callum had immediately reached for a pillow to cover himself.
Micah had felt his erection. And he'd seen it. For both their benefits, he didn't say anything.
He hadn't meant to turn the man on. Micah was a creature that craved comfort. He loved to be cuddled and pecked and reassured when he was feeling down. It took some internal battle to request for affection but once he got it, he sank into it.
Callum had given him that. Comfort, reassurance. Micah had soaked it up forgetting Callum was only human. Touching Callum, brushing against him, falling asleep on him had felt as natural as breathing and Micah didn't even consider that he had that… 'effect' on his ex-boss. Knowing that he does now, understanding the way Callum always looked at him—
His blush deepened.
"I just want you both to get along," he muttered.
Damian chuckled darkly. "Is that all you want, baby?"
He lifted Micah's shirt, tossing it aside before pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck.
Micah groaned, body arching into the touch. "Damian… are you trying to distract me?"
Damian's lips curled against his skin. "Is it working?"
Yes. Yes, it was.
Micah's hips bucked slightly, desperate for friction.
"You said we're going out soon," Micah pointed out in between strained breaths.
"Mhmm," Damian hummed, sewing kisses along his jaw.
"You're gonna make us late," Micah gasped. "I'm supposed to be in the shower."
Damian smirked against his throat. "Why?" He pushed Micah down to the bed, pinning his wrists above his head. "I'm just gonna get you dirty all over again."
Damn it, Damian.
Micah's world blurred into heat and sensation—Damian's hands, Damian's lips, his breath hot against his skin. Every touch sent sparks running through his nerves, every kiss pulling him further into dizzy, mindless pleasure.
Damian was being such a tease. Kissing him everywhere but where he wanted the most, touching his thighs and his abdomen but never the erection straining against his pants.
Micah's hips bucked, seeking friction against the heat of Damian.
"Slow down birthday boy, I'll get you there," Damian husked.
A frustrated growl escaped Micah's throat. He was all hot and bothered and he wanted Damian in the worst way. He wanted Damian to fuck him until he screamed from the pleasure, he wanted Damian to make him cum over and over again until his entire being shook, he wanted Callum to…
He wanted Callum too…
Holy fuck. He wanted Callum.
"D…"
Damian hummed, kissing lower. "Mhmm?"
Micah's chest rose and fell as he tried to focus. "I need to tell you something."
"Kinda in the middle of something, babe," Damian murmured—then dragged his tongue over Micah's tip.
Micah shook.
Still, he forced the words out.
"I think I have a crush on my boss."
Damian froze.
Micah's stomach twisted. He shouldn't have said that, at least not now. But his brain was foggy and the words just… erupted from his mouth.
Much like he would if Damian kept touching him.
"I don't think he knows," he rushed out. "And I'd never cheat on you, I love you. But… I don't know. My head's all messed up."
Damian went quiet.
Then he chuckled.
"Of course he knows."
Micah blinked. "What?"
Before he could process it, Damian's hips rolled against his dick, forcing a moan from his throat.
"I should be livid," Damian murmured. "That you're lusting after Callum Pierce with his dark, stormy eyes and perfectly chiselled chin."
Micah gasped. "I didn't say—lusting—"
Damian's hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing just enough to make his breath hitch.
"Who do you belong to?"
Micah's pulse pounded. "You."
"Who owns this ass?"
"You!"
Damian smirked. He reached over to the bedside table and pulled out a bottle of lube. "You ask about my history with Callum but maybe I should be asking about yours."
Micah moaned desperately as Damian pulled his dick free off his pants and started stroking slowly. "Afterall, you guys were together. The Prince and the Stablemate. Do you have any ideas how many times I walked in on y'all fucking in some shady corner?"
That was news to Micah but it was hard to be surprised when Damian was touching him like that.
"I'm sure you get off to all those memories of sucking Caelan off."
"No," Micah managed to whine in protest.
He hadn't. Sure he'd had some dreams like that but—
Damian squeezed hard and Micah yelped. "You don't?" He asked like it was just a normal conversation, like he wasn't torturing Micah in the worst way. "I would if I were you. I'd imagine pinching his nipples," he pinched Micah's nipples. "Rubbing his pecs. Teasing his hole with my tongue. Making sure he was nice and hard before I took him in my mouth."
Micah closed his eyes. He tried not to imagine it. But Damian knew exactly how to make Micah weak and Callum was… Callum. Images of Callum surfaced in his sex-fogged mind. His fingers burned with the urge to run his fingers through that silky, dark hair. To hold on to it while he moaned Callum's name.
The thought of Damian watching Callum wreak havoc on his body surfaced alongside it and Micah moaned as he thrust his hips in time to Damian's hand. His orgasm was just around the corner.
"I bet you'd love it if he blew his load all over your tongue," Damian continued to tease. "I bet you'd love it if he kissed his cum off your perfect lips."
"Damian!" Micah howled.
"Look at me, Micah," Damian growled.
Micah forced his eyes open. Damian's blue eyes were blown wide with lust, the wicked glint in them was unmistakable. "You're so fucking perfect," he said, smirking. "No one would imagine you had such dirty thoughts.
"Please, please let me cum," Micah begged.
Damian loved it when he asked but, permission or not, Micah was going to cum.
Damian leaned down to his ear. "Tell me the truth and maybe I'll let you."
"I— I don't—" Micah's words died in his throat and were swiftly replaced by another moan as Damian deftly massaged his member.
"Do you want him to fuck you?"
Micah's eyes fell shut again. He shouldn't have said anything. Or maybe he should have said more. Damian was jerking him off like his pleasure was vengeance and, if memory served him well— and this was a big if because he could barely think straight— this was the second time Damian was asking him a question like this.
Sure, Damian got jealous and angry. But he also got jealous and horny, and Micah was to be punished for making him so.
"I want you!" Micah screamed the reply.
He wanted Damian inside him. He needed Damian to let him cum. It didn't matter how, Micah wasn't too picky.
"Tell the truth then," Damian demanded, stroking harder. Faster. "You'd love it if he were here to see you being my good boy."
Please. Please. Please.
"Yes. I'd love it!" Micah admitted, straining against Damian's body.
Damian pressed a kiss on his lips so hard it could leave a bruise, "Of course you would," Micah could hear the self-satisfied smirk in his voice. "I wonder if Callum knows you were jerking off behind your computer when we were supposed to be gaming."
That night had been pure torture. Micah groaned, "You did that on purpose."
"And you enjoyed it, my love," Damian whispered into his ear.
He did. He hated to remember it, he hated to think about it but in the way he hated to think about Damian's nudes when he was at work. It was a guilty pleasure and when Micah felt guilty about pleasure, he—
"Please Damian," he begged pathetically. "I need you."
Damian pumped harder and Micah nearly keeled over. He was so close. So so close. His body was thrumming, his pleasure right on the edge—
And then—
Damian let go.
Micah whined at the loss, frustration making his eyes prick with tears.
"Go take that shower, we don't want to be late now," Damian said, standing. "I think it goes without saying—you're not allowed to touch yourself."
Micah scowled. "You're cruel."
Damian smirked.
"And don't forget to invite Callum."