Omorphi (28 page)

“Thanks, Papa,” Jake said as he tried to decide what clothing to divest Sophia of.

“I’ll….” Bobbie and Anna began at the same time.

Anna stepped forward. “We’ll do this, Jacob. Take care of Michael,” she encouraged.

“There’s vomit in her hair, Mama.”

She put a hand to his cheek. “We’ll take care of her. Why don’t you and Michael shower while we’re still here?”

Jake looked over his shoulder at Michael. “Bro?”

“Yeah,” was all Michael could manage as he dropped the last of Christy’s filthy clothes on the floor and tucked his limbs beneath the duvet. “Dad, is he going to stay asleep? He has trouble with nightmares.”

“I have no idea what his drug tolerance is, but he should be out for the night.”

“Let’s shower quick, Jake.”

M
ICHAEL
leaned against the shower wall and closed his eyes.

“You okay, Michael?” Jake asked.

“A little crashy.”

“You did good with Jason.”

Michael shook his head nearly imperceptibly. “The guy’s freakin’ insane.”

“You still did good.”

“I thought he was going to kill me.” Michael rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, willing his tears not to flow. “I was so scared, Jake. I thought I was going to die.”

Jake enveloped Michael in a warm hug, and Michael cried for the first time in as long as he could remember.

A
SOFT
knock sounded on the bathroom door as Jake and Michael toweled off. Michael opened the door ajar. Rob held cotton pajamas in his hands. “They aren’t luxury items, but they’ll do.”

Michael took them with an appreciative, “Thanks.” Rob went to close the door, and Michael held it. “Is it okay if I sleep with Christy?”

Rob studied him for a long moment. “I dressed Christy.” The moment stretched before Rob spoke again. “As Christy is of age I can’t dictate what he does, but given the events of the evening I would ask that you refrain from any intimate—”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Thank you, Michael.”

“What about Jake and Sophia?”

“I would prefer that nothing—”

Jake peered around Michael’s shoulder. “Nothing’s going to happen, Dr. Villarreal.”

“Thank you. Michael, Christy must take medication in the morning. I’m concerned that his stomach may not tolerate it. If he continues to vomit in the morning, will you please let me know?”

“Sure.”

“I left it on the bedside table wrapped in Kleenex and am certain he doesn’t want you to know about it.”

“I’ll handle it.”

Rob nodded, and the moment stretched again. “How are you doing?”

Michael thought to say his usual “fine” but changed his mind. His distress was obvious, and he’d only look like an ass if he lied. “I’ll be better tomorrow.”

A smile flickered across Rob’s lips. “The barbecue is at three,” he reminded them before closing the door softly.

“Why don’t you like him, bro?”

Michael frowned at Jake. “I don’t dislike him.”

“Yes, you do.”

Michael tossed pajamas to Jake. “No, I don’t. It’s just…. He knows things about Christy that I don’t.”

Jake caught the soft cotton and studied Michael. “You jealous?”

“No,” Michael said softly, too spent to be defensive. “It’s just… Christy’s been through some serious shit, and I can’t help but think that if I knew more, I could help him, but Rob won’t tell me anything. It makes me mad, that’s all.”

“T
HANKS
,
Jake,” Michael said into the darkness as he pulled Christy close.

“Always here for you, bro,” Jake answered quietly.

“Love you.”

“Love you too. Get some sleep.”

T
HE
guttural scream that tore through the night had Michael shooting up in bed. Seconds passed before Michael remembered where he was and before he realized that it was Christy screaming beside him. He brought Christy into his arms as Jake turned the bedside light on. Michael rocked Christy as he fought imaginary monsters and babbled in Greek.

“It’s okay, Christy. Everything’s okay, now.”

Jake watched until Christy calmed.

When Christy’s eyes registered Michael, one brow dipped in that odd frown he sometimes made, and he looked around the room, his gaze finally settling on Jake.

“Hey,” Jake said quietly.

“Why are you here?” Christy’s voice was a raw growl.

“For Sophia.”

Confusion passed through Christy’s eyes before recollection set in. “She is okay?”

“Sleeping like a baby.” Jake gestured to a sleeping Sophia. “Our moms took care of her.”

Christy slumped against Michael’s chest. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“I don’t remember anything after vomiting.”

“The EMTs knocked you out,” Michael said as he continued to rock Christy slowly.

Christy stiffened suddenly and looked down. “My clothes?”

“Rob changed them.”

Christy began to relax in Michael’s arms, then stiffened again. “He was going to kill you.”

“But he didn’t, and I’m here,” Michael reassured with a stroke to Christy’s curls.

“I believe I am going to vomit again.”

Michael stood quickly, lifted Christy into his arms, and carried him into the bathroom. Setting him on his feet before one of the sinks, he held him.

“The toilet,” Christy choked out.

“You don’t deserve to be on your knees.” Michael held Christy carefully as he retched and turned the faucet on to rinse the misery down the drain.

When Christy’s stomach ceased convulsing, he gripped Michael’s hand. “I never imagined someone caring for me while I performed this horrid task.”

Michael never imagined holding someone while he vomited either. He remembered when he and Jake got drunk at twelve and vomited their guts out in Michael’s tree house. When they woke the next morning, they felt like death warmed over and vowed never to get drunk again. Michael smoothed a hand down Christy’s frail back, hoping it gave him some comfort.

“You do not lecture me?”

“Why would I? You’re upset. That’s all.”

“I am always so weak.”

Michael smoothed his hand down Christy’s back again. “No, you’re not. You were very strong tonight. You didn’t freak and did what you needed to do to stay safe.”

“I did what your mother asked.”

“That was perfect,” Michael encouraged.

“You faced Jason.”

“It was foolish.”

Christy closed his eyes tightly for a moment before opening them and staring at the granite basin again. “You were a man.”

“It was dangerous. Don’t lose sight of that.”

Christy began to shake his head, then stilled, the movement making his nausea worse. He reached for a toothbrush and his hand shook so badly that Michael had to put the toothpaste on it for him. When he finished brushing his teeth, Michael cleaned his face with a cool cloth. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“I don’t smell good.”

“I don’t care.”

Christy raised his head and met Michael’s eyes in the mirror. “Why are you here? Any reasonable person would leave after seeing me like this.”

“Call me unreasonable. C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

C
HRISTY
’
S
warm hand felt incredible against Michael’s skin as it smoothed down his body. When Christy’s hand moved lower, Michael surrendered, luxuriating in Christy’s every caress. Man, it was wonderful to be in love with Christy.

Michael woke from the dream to bright sunshine streaming through the windows and a warm body beside him. He stretched and thought for the thousandth time that he loved his dreams of Christy.
A warm body beside him?
Seconds ticked, he looked around, and remembered where he was. Taking inventory of his senses, he found that Christy lay next to him, his head resting on his shoulder. Stifling panic, he looked over at the bed next to them and was relieved to find Jake and Sophia gone.

Gathering his nerve, he asked, “Are you awake?”

“Yes” came Christy’s soft whisper.

Seconds ticked again. They were clothed. Nothing had happened. Well, something had happened, but if Michael managed to make it to the shower without Christy noticing, it wouldn’t be a problem.

“Nice dream?”

Okay, it was a problem. “Ten guesses, and the first nine don’t count.”

Christy shook with silent laughter. Michael rolled onto his side, propped his head on a hand, and was rudely reminded of his bruised diaphragm. Christy looked pretty even first thing in the morning.
Wasn’t there a law against that?
Michael self-consciously ran a hand through his unruly curls. “Where are Jake and Sophia?”

“Out to breakfast.” When Christy spoke more than a word or two his voice made that funny fluttering, part growl sound.

“What time is it?”

“Nearly ten.”

He was supposed to have been at Saint Elizabeth’s at seven, but chances were good that his parents would have woken him if they had wanted him there. “How do you feel?”

“I slept well.”

“Answer the question.”

“A little weak. And you?”

Michael didn’t want to think about Jason. Ever again. “Okay.” He reached across the big bed for a bottle of water, and his bruised diaphragm screamed as he stretched. He opened the bottle and drank, then offered the bottle to Christy. Christy sat up and took it from him as he reached to the nightstand, and pain stabbed him again. He winced through it, palmed the tissue with Christy’s medication in it, and held it out to him.

Anger blossomed large in Christy’s eyes when he saw it.

Michael leaned in and touched his lips to Christy’s. “Why are you angry?”

Christy took the pills from Michael’s hand and downed them. “Some things I don’t want you to know.”

“Medication can’t be one of them.”

“Why not?”

“Because, right now, it’s a good thing for you.”

“It is not.” Christy set the bottle of water aside and crawled back beneath the duvet, bringing it over his head.

Michael looked down at the small lump that was Christy. It took him only seconds to decide, as before, to be direct with him. He crawled beneath the duvet and folded around Christy, bringing him close. “I’m not going to judge you because you take medication.”

“Rob shouldn’t have told you.”

“I assumed you took medication, Christy. Anyone would with what you’ve been through.”

“I am defective.”

“Stop with the ‘defective.’ How would you get your medication if I wasn’t here?”

“Rob brings it to me with breakfast.”

“Would you rather Rob bring it to you, or me remind you?”

Christy rolled to face him in the dim light under the duvet. “Neither.”

Michael chuckled softly. “You’re impossible.”

“Only a bit stubborn.”

“More than a bit. Let’s shower.”

Christy took Michael’s hand in his and moved it lower against his hardness, only the thin cotton of Christy’s pajamas separating Michael’s hand from Christy’s skin. Michael’s body immediately blossomed, and he fleetingly wondered if there was a speed record for getting hard. He closed his eyes and sighed. How many times had he dreamed of touching Christy? Thousands? Millions? He wanted to be with Christy more than anything in the world, but felt he should admonish him, tell him he needed to focus on therapy not sex, but he’d be a hypocrite if he did. He also worried that Christy would freak again if he didn’t handle this right.

Michael moved so he lay over Christy in the dim light under the duvet and cursed his diaphragm again. “You’re going to torture me, aren’t you?”

A flicker of uncertainty passed through Christy’s eyes before he bit his lower lip and nodded quickly, shamelessly.

“You don’t care if I want to hold back? Do the right thing?”

Christy shook his head, petulant. “You want me, but you refuse me.”

“I explained why I want to take it slow.”

“It is childish to resist.”

“I think it’s adultish.”

“This isn’t a word.”

Michael chuckled as he threw the duvet back. “Sure it is. Come on, let’s shower.”

Anger filled Christy’s expressive eyes again, and Michael kissed him chastely. “I’m not refusing you.”

One of Christy’s brows dipped in that cute little odd frown.

Michael climbed out of bed and held a hand out to him. “Come on.”

Christy climbed out of bed, his arousal as evident as Michael’s was, and Michael fought not to take Christy into his arms right then and there. He corralled his self-discipline and led Christy to the bathroom. “You feel okay?”

“I don’t know. How do I feel?”

A laugh bubbled up in Michael. Christy had a sense of humor, after all. What should he say? Great? Incredible? Different but same? “Incredible.”

M
ICHAEL
reached into the shower, turned the water on, and was stunned when he turned back to Christy. Michael had showered with guys since the seventh grade and seen their erections. Sometimes he’d even spied on them to see them. But this, this was different. So very different. To Michael, Christy was the epitome of male perfection, a vision of loveliness. Christy eyed Michael intently as he reached down. Michael couldn’t prevent his gaze from following Christy’s hand or the flush that crept up his neck as he watched Christy stroke. His heart hammered in his chest, his pulse raced in his veins, and images from his dreams spun in his mind. He wanted to go to Christy, to take him into his arms and do everything he’d ever dreamed. It was all he could do to tear his eyes away. He slipped his pajamas off and silently cursed his lack of self-discipline as he held a hand out to Christy. Christy came to him, folding into the warmth of his arms, and he guided Christy into the shower.

Michael cupped Christy’s face with both hands and kissed him, hungry now, needy. Christy moved up on tiptoe and wreathed his arms around Michael’s hips, bringing their bodies together.

Too much. Too fast. Too soon. Everything I want.
Michael broke away from Christy’s lovely kiss. “Wait, wait, wait, Christy.” Michael closed his eyes and swallowed hard, trying like hell to pull himself together. “I have to tell you something. Rob said… Rob asked us, me and Jake, not to do this, not to be, not to have sex here.”