Midwinter Night's Dream (13 page)

"Oh, God. Leo. You're so tight."

"Go slow." I held his hips down while I sank lower, using gravity and stopping when it got to be too much. But my body was saturated with lust and even the ache felt good. Soon I was sitting on his thighs and he was as deep inside me as he could go.

I breathed in deep through my nose, marveling over how it felt. His fingers found my cock and he caressed it, not stroking, just rubbing lightly and squeezing. I closed my eyes, needing to shut out the way he looked lying beneath me, or I’d go off before he’d had a chance to move.

"Love the way you feel," Micah said as he touched me. I opened my eyes to see his face. "I can't believe how natural this feels to me."

His voice was so full of wonder it made me smile. "Well. You do have one of those too."

That earned me a grin. "I know, but that's not what I mean. Being with you… it’s like we've been here before."

My chest grew heavy. Yeah, it did. I'd had sex with a half dozen guys, some I liked, and some where it was more about getting off than the person I was with. I'd never felt a connection like this. I suck at words when they're not written in a script. I didn't know how to respond, so I put my palms on his chest and started to move.

It was perfect, riding Micah like that. I could control the angle so his hard shaft rubbed against my prostate on every push in and every pull out. He filled me without being too much. He released my cock so he could hold my hips with both hands, lifting us off the mattress with his hips so he could thrust up too, nailing me hard.

"You look so good. Let me see you touch yourself," he whispered. His eyes were fixed on me as I obliged. He was vocal—all sighs and moans, profanities and murmurs of my name. I felt like the sexiest motherfucker on earth.

I had control. I could stop him with my thighs and hips when he got close. I teased him, loving his moans and curses, until we couldn't take it anymore. I was just squeezing my cock now, not able to keep stroking without coming. His thighs trembled.

"Leo, please."

I was there. I started stroking myself hard and raised up enough for him to take control. He gripped me like it was the end of the world, and pounded up into me, erratic and frantic.

I came so hard I hit him on the cheek, waves of pleasure crashing through me. And then he slammed into me one last time.

"Oh fuck, Leo!"

He held and poured into me, and I wanted more. Soon.

I sagged against him. Somehow we managed to get detached and arranged side by side. He stripped off the condom and put it on the floor.

The space heaters were cranking, and my skin was hot and sweaty, but it felt wonderful to hold him anyway. His dreads brushed my hands as my palms pressed into his back.

"Holy shit." Micah sounded dazed.

"Was that really your first time with a guy?"

"Oh yeah."

I hummed. I wanted to know what he thought, but that would sound like I was fishing.

"I had no idea what I was missing," he said. "Hank was right. That was incredible."

“Yeah. Believe me, it’s not always like that."

He gave a heavy sigh. "Wish you weren't leaving tomorrow."

"So do I."

"You can stay if you'd like. Mom and Dad would be fine with it."

"I promised my folks I'd be home for Christmas."

Micah nodded and pulled back enough to look at my face. "What about after Christmas? What are you doing next week?"

I'd been invited to a New Year's party with Helen and a bunch of other people, but I didn't have to go. "I don't know. You have something in mind?"

"Yeah." He hesitated, as if not wanting to push. "I'd love to have a few days with you before school starts. Here or back on campus or wherever."

"I'd like that," I said, with as much of a casual attitude as I could muster, but inside it was all Wagnerian opera.

We stared at each other, lying side by side. Micah's eyes dropped to my lips. "You should get some rest. You have a big day tomorrow."

"I should," I agreed. Then I laughed. "Give me a minute and my brain might come back online enough to do more than repeat everything you say."

He grinned. "Come on, Lysander. Let's get you to bed."

"And sweet dreams guide thee to thy rest," I said, giving him one last kiss.

*                               *                                    *

Micah

After Leo and I snuck in from the barn, he went back to his room and I went to mine. But I lay awake for a long time, into the wee hours of Christmas Eve morning. I kept replaying what had happened: I'd had sex with Leo. There was no gray area to it either—it was definitely Sex with a capital 'S'. And had it ever been sweet.

Sex with Leo was different from any girl I'd ever been with. I liked the way Leo took control. Fuck. I
loved
it. It put me in this space where I was just blissed out and completely open. Like he was a driving force and I parted around him like water.

I could die for his kisses. And his body turned me on like crazy. I was fascinated by his cock and balls, weirdly enough. It was hot to see visual proof of how much I turned him on. And when I touched him, it was easy to imagine how it felt; I got empathetic twinges. As for being inside him, it was the tightest, hottest penetration I'd ever felt, and there was something raw and dirty about fucking a man.

So. Definitely bisexual. I was stoked about that. It was as if Life had opened up Door #3 when I’d thought the game was already over, and what was behind it
rocked
. I could totally see why Hank and Sloane were all about gay sex.

Not that I wanted to think about Hank and Sloane having sex. At all.

At some point during all this sleepless musing, it hit me: I was in love.

Holy shit. I never thought it would happen to me. It wasn't that I hadn't loved before. But it had been "love", with a small 'l', not "LOVE", all writ large and vainglorious. I loved my bros, a happy, warm feeling, like 'hey, I like your soul, man' and 'I really like being around you too.' I loved a lot of people like that, including some of the girls I’d dated. I’d always seen myself as someone who had a big capacity to love.

But with Leo, it was different. This was nervous stomach, sweaty palms, can hardly breathe, can't focus on anything else if he was in the room, and if he wasn’t in the room, I wondered where he was. This was 'I think you're an amazing person, and I can't imagine a time when I won't want to be in your life.' Like, I could picture Leo out in L.A. going to auditions and working his ass off, and I wanted to be there too. I wanted to support him, be the one to keep reminding him how good he was. I could see us having an apartment together, cooking together, hanging out. I wanted to be there with him when he landed that first big role. I wanted to see him shine.

What the fuck was that?

That was crazy talk. I'd known the guy like, a month. Besides which, I didn't do obsessive. That wasn’t me.

I remembered a conversation our family had a couple of years ago. It was Thanksgiving and Hank was taking his first Eastern Philosophy class at PSU. We’d gotten into a discussion around the family table about attachment. Hank was hyped on the Buddhist idea of 'non-attachment'. Basically, the idea being that if you can just let things flow in and out of your life, and don't get overly attached to them, that's a lot healthier mentally. Attachment means pain. Because when someone dies or dumps your ass, or you lose your job, or whatever, it only hurts if you're too attached, like ripping off skin vs ripping off a Band-Aid. Or maybe like the difference between petting the little bird but setting it free, and hoarding it in a cage because it's 'your bird'.

I was no Buddhist, but that conversation stuck with me. I considered myself a practitioner of non-attachment. Like, if someone were to steal my iPhone—cool, man. It's not the end of the world. When my frat bros graduate and move on? Love you, and fare thee well. You know?

But I was attached to Leo. I wanted to be in his life and have him in mine. I wanted that more than I’d ever wanted anything. It was kind of scary.

Then I remembered what Mom and Dad said during that attachment conversation. They’d agreed with 90 percent of what Hank was saying. But they’d shared an indulgent smile.
It's good not to be attached to things or even jobs or circumstances. But when you meet the love of your life, and have children, you'll be attached. And that's not a bad thing.

I don't think Hank or I really believed them at the time. But look at Hank now.

Look at me.

~11~

Leo

Today is the play. Never mind that I didn't get much sleep last night thanks to sex and cuddling in the barn with Micah. It was totally worth it. Lilith got us up this morning at eight with a breakfast to die for. Apparently it's some kind of tradition for Sloane to make crepes. He and Lilith went crazy in the kitchen, there were so many mouths to feed. The crepes were stuffed with cream cheese that Lilith makes right here on the farm, from their own cow's milk. Isn't that wild? And there were berries for the top that were from the farm too.

No way I would ever have the patience for a lifestyle like the Springfields have, but I can appreciate the food. And of course, there was coffee. Lots of coffee.

Seeing Sloane and Lilith work together that way—so comfortable and affectionate with each other, made me feel a pang of regret that Micah and I weren't 'out' with our relationship, that I wasn't here as a family member for a normal Christmas. But Lilith found a moment to hug me and whisper
I'm happy for you
in my ear, like she knew. That nearly had me tearing up.

Jesus. Obviously, my emotions are totally on edge from lack of sleep and the stress of the play.

Micah helped everyone get showers, clean up their sleeping bags and bedding, and anything else that needed doing. He's so amazing. He’s gone out of his way to be a supportive boyfriend even before he
was
a boyfriend. Our eyes locked a number of times, and when he brushed past me in the hallway at one point—getting in close and deliberately rubbing my front with his rear—I about lost it. I didn't know if it was a message, like,
I want to try bottoming with you
. But it felt that way and had me ridiculously hard in seconds.

My brain wanted to while away hours mooning over Micah. Or, better yet, find some way to corner him alone. But no, I had to focus today and kick ass. It was show time.

Fortunately, the house was crowded and loud and my attention was successfully diverted by all the things that needed to be done. We had twelve of my actors there for breakfast—my Hermia, Oberon, Titania, Puck, Nick Bottom, and Peter Quince among them. The rest of the cast and crew would be arriving that morning. Susan, my costumer, had called yesterday to say she had all the clothes loaded into her car, cleaned and ready to go. My prop guy was driving in a carload of stuff too. And I'd spoken to my prof yesterday and gave him directions to the farm. The train was plowing forward, and all I could do at this point was hang on.

People who aren't in theater don't get this, but there's a kind of magic that happens. The show is about the actual performance and the audience, of course, because we actors love to be seen. We live for opening night. But it's just as much about what goes on for months beforehand and behind the scenes. There's a bond that happens with the cast and crew, formed from the common goal and the long hours of practice and maybe, too, from the pixie dust that happens when you make-believe. I loved that as much as I loved anything else about acting, those temporary communities that form and reform from play to play. I couldn't imagine not having that in my life.

And when you're that close to someone, you assume you know everything about them. Which is why, when I found Yas and Helen giggling and hugging in the living room, hiding out from everyone else, I was shocked. Shocked!

"Oh, hi, Leo!" Yas said, unperturbed. "Sorry, but I've got to go do my hair!" She gave Helen a little squeeze and skipped off. She was floating on air.

Helen and I stared at each other. She had a preternatural glow to her skin and adoration in her eyes. Oh boy.

"You and Yas? When did that happen?" Last I'd known, Yas had been mooning over Micah.

Helen stretched out her arms all leisurely. "Yas had to fall for me eventually. I’m irresistible like that."

"Seriously? Does that mean she's over Micah?"

"Micah who?" Helen blinked wide eyes.

Oh, thank God. That felt like a dodged bullet. I hadn't been looking forward to Yas finding out about us. "So what happened to 'only homo'?"

Helen locked her hands in front of her, rocked on her toes, and gave me a knowing wink. She looked like a five-year-old, though I knew there was nothing innocent about her. "Love, Leo. Love happened. And don't even give me that look, because I know damned well what
you've
been up to. Just tell me this: was it good for you too?"

I let out a deep breath. I couldn't even express how much I was drawn to Micah's positive, mellow being. I couldn't think of another person I could picture being with 24/7 that wouldn't end up driving me nuts.

"Micah’s… Christmas cookies, puppy dogs, and winning an Oscar all rolled into one."

Helen smiled with a trace of wistful sadness. "I'm glad. Just know that I will cut off that boy's balls if he hurts you."

"Noted."

"So you ready to do this thing today?"

Was I? Surprisingly, I was.

*                               *                                    *

Micah

"Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse: My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena!"

It might have been my imagination, but I could swear Leo-slash-Lysander's declarations of love had an added depth of emotion today. Then again, this was the one and only live performance of the show.