Omorphi (36 page)

The locker room went up in cheers, catcalls, and whistles. Stephen made his way through the crowd. “I just want to say I’m sorry again, Christy. I’m really, really sorry.”

Christy nodded and gave Stephen a small smile.

“Same to you, Michael.” Stephen held a hand out. After a beat, Michael shook it. “It’s behind us, man.”

“Thanks, Michael. What are you going to do this week if you can’t practice?”

“I’m going to take Christy to a self-defense class over at Wilson College.”

Stephen looked down at Christy. “Great idea. If you had kneed me in the balls, I would have taken the hint.”

Now Christy did smile.

“See you later, Stephen. Congrats again on the four hundred.”

Michael dialed his mom as he led Christy to the car. “Hey, Mom…. Everything’s fine. I’m taking Christy to a self-defense class. Then I’ll be at his place…. Let me ask.” He looked down at Christy. “How’s your jaw?”

Christy gave a thumbs-up.

“He’s fine. I’m fine. Everybody’s fine…. Okay. See you around seven.” Michael pocketed the phone and opened the door for Christy. “Why don’t you send Rob a text message to let him know where we’ll be? I get the impression he could challenge my mom’s title as world champion worrier.”

Christy started to laugh.

“None of that.”

T
HEY
entered the gymnasium and looked around. People paired off in twos sparred on strategically placed mats. Grunts, shouts, and sporadic claps filled the air. An average-size man with skin as dark as ebony and long dreadlocks approached them. “Can I help you?”

Michael extended a hand. “I’m Michael Sattler, and this is Christy Castle.”

The man shook Michael’s hand. “Roderick. What can I do for you?”

“I know this is a R.A.D. class for women, but can men participate?”

Roderick looked from Michael to Christy and back again. “Any victim can participate.”

“Okay, how much does it cost?”

“It’s free to victims and twenty-five dollars if you simply want to learn technique. From the looks of your faces, you definitely need technique.”

“Minor hassle this morning. Christy, ah….”
Crap
. He hadn’t asked Christy what he could say about him.

Roderick saved him. “Christy has been victimized?”

“Yeah, yes, and he freezes up when he’s scared. He gets catatonic.”

“Who told you that?”

Crap. I hate freakin’ secrets.
“I’ve seen it happen.”

Roderick pointed to the scarf. “May I see?”

Christy unwound the scarf.

“Self-inflicted?”

Christy shook his head.

That answered one important question, but it raised a thousand others.

“Attacked from behind?”

Christy toggled a hand as if to say sort of.

“Can you speak?”

“Yes.” Christy’s growl was soft.

“Still healing?”

Christy nodded.

“How old is the injury?”

“A year,” Michael answered for Christy.

“Is your attacker free to attack you again?”

Christy’s gaze became distant, vacant again. Michael leaned in and whispered, “Talk to me, babe.”

“More than one.” The whisper was nearly inaudible.

Michael put an arm around Christy and brought him close. “He was attacked by more than one person.”

“Are any of your attackers free to attack you again?”

Christy opened his mouth to speak and coughed.

“Use your pad and pen,” Michael encouraged.

Christy cleared his throat and withdrew his pad and pen.
All but one
.

“What happened to the one?”

“Dead,” Christy whispered.

“By your hand?”

Christy shook his head.

“Do you recall how many attacked you?”

Christy nodded.

“Were they known to you?”

Christy nodded again.

“Do you want to go after them?”

Christy shook his head quickly.

“Then this class is for you.”

“I don’t understand,” Michael blurted.

“It’s important for me to have a clear understanding of a student’s goals. We teach only self-defense. The type of self-defense we teach centers on learning to use our natural reflexes to defend ourselves. We don’t teach hand-to-hand combat or anything that would actively facilitate a victim seeking retribution.”

Michael nodded in understanding. “What about the catatonia? He freezes up easily.”

“Situational catatonia can result from a number of things. Have you had a neurological workup?”

Christy nodded and whispered, “Normal.”

“Then it’s post-traumatic stress. Essentially, Christy is a victim of his own memories. The more he learns to defend himself, the more confidence he’ll build in knowing that he’ll never be a victim again and the less the memories will affect him. Do you have any specific fears, Christy?”

“Blood,” Michael answered for him.

Christy looked up at him, eyes uncertain.

“A fear of bleeding or of blood itself?”

“The blood itself.”

Christy shook his head and scribbled for a moment, then held the pad up so they could read
Had to lick it up
.

Michael paled and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to scream and blame the heavens or go after everyone who’d ever touched Christy, or both. “He was raised in Greece. He came here nine months ago to get help at Wellington Ranch.”

“You’re one of Rob Villarreal’s patients?”

Christy nodded.

“He’s a good man and an excellent psychiatrist. All right, I’ll need some paperwork filled out and a release signed by an attending physician indicating that you’re healthy enough to participate in classes. When would you like to begin?”

Christy looked up at Michael again.

“Do you want to think about it?”

He scribbled
Think for one day
.

Michael turned the pad to Roderick, and he nodded. “I’ll give you the paperwork to take with you. If you want to begin, be here at four thirty tomorrow. I know Rob Villarreal well. Would you mind if I gave him a call?”

Christy mouthed, “Okay.”

“W
HAT
do you think?” Michael asked as he drove toward Wellington.

Christy looked at him, worry plain on his face.

Michael reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “If you don’t want to do it, don’t do it. If you do, I’ll be right there with you.”

Christy nodded.

“W
HAT
are you doing?” Michael asked through a laugh as Christy pushed him down on the couch.

Christy gave him a mischievous look as he pulled Michael’s shoes and socks off, then pulled the Zeppelin T-shirt over his head.

“Are you trying to get me naked?”

Christy nodded as he pushed Michael so he lay supine.

Christy took his own shoes and socks off and slipped out of his jeans. He tossed them aside and climbed over Michael to sit on his thighs.

The heat in Christy’s eyes had Michael’s body coming to attention immediately. He had yet to figure out how Christy could do that with a simple look. Michael reached for him and brought him down for a careful kiss. Christy was far less careful of his bruised lip and jaw and deepened it into one of his passionate, blistering kisses, ending only for the need to breathe.

“Man, Christy, you should patent your kisses.”

Christy’s eyes twinkled. He placed a chaste kiss on Michael’s lips and began kissing down his neck. When Christy did that, it drove Michael crazy with need, and he pressed Christy to him, wanting to feel so much more of him.

Emboldened by Michael’s reaction, Christy worked his way down Michael’s chest to close his lips over a nipple. Every touch Christy delivered was fresh and new, and Michael reveled in each sensation, each precious experience. He gasped when Christy nipped him before continuing down his abdomen. Christy kissed his bruised stomach and continued downward, stopping only long enough to lave Michael’s belly button with his tongue. It tickled, and Michael stifled a laugh with a grunt. Christy smiled up at him, pleased he’d made Michael squirm.

When Christy began to unbutton his jeans, Michael stopped him. Was he ready for this? They had only rubbed against each other and, well, Christy’s expert hands went to all the right spots and places and had him coming within seconds, but this? They hadn’t done anything like this.

Christy nudged his hands away and unbuttoned the jeans. Michael’s arousal escaped the confines of the material and was glaringly obvious beneath his underwear. Normally, Michael would have been embarrassed, but he was becoming more comfortable with Christy each day. Christy didn’t have the inhibitions he did, and it eased things for him. Until he’d met Christy, he hadn’t realized just how shy he was. Something about Christy brought it to the surface, but that same something also put him at ease.

Christy slid Michael’s jeans off, dropped them to the floor, and resumed his trek downward. When Christy pulled Michael’s underwear down and closed his mouth over him, it was all he could do not to lose it on the spot. He’d seen this done in movies, and Sue Keller had done it to him in eighth grade. She had been fast and rough, and it left him a bit fearful of ever trying it again. What Christy did was slow and firm and… sensual. It was as Michael imagined it would be in his dreams.

Christy knew all the places Michael liked to be touched, as if Christy could read his mind. When Christy’s hand slipped between his legs, Michael knew what to expect. Christy had done this in the shower and had him coming in seconds.

“Christy,” he breathed. “You’re going to make me—”

Too late. Christy touched that special spot.

“Oh God, Christy!” Michael tried to push Christy away before he lost it, but Christy wouldn’t have it and pushed Michael’s hands away. Michael didn’t think he’d ever come so hard in his life. It seemed to go on forever.

Christy kissed him thoroughly, and Michael tasted himself on Christy’s tongue, salty and bittersweet at the same time. Michael lay bleary-eyed and sated in the afterglow of Christy’s ministrations.

Christy looked down at him, mischief dancing in his eyes again, smug.

Michael laughed softly. “That was incredible.”

Christy kissed him softly, sweetly, and Michael was dumbstruck by the realization that, in one short week, he’d fallen in love. He’d known he’d love Christy from the start but didn’t expect it to happen so fast. Nor did he expect it would affect him so deeply. Love was supposed to take a long time to grow, wasn’t it?

“What’s wrong?” Christy whispered.

“Nothing.” Michael lifted one of Christy’s long ringlets, put it to his lips, and kissed it. “I love you.”

C
HRISTY
’
S
expressive eyes went wide with surprise.

“Don’t look so surprised.” Michael cupped Christy’s face and pecked his lips. “Now you’re in trouble.”

Christy’s smile quickly disappeared.

“I didn’t mean that literally, babe. I meant that you’re in good trouble. I’m going to return the favor.”

Christy sat up abruptly, his eyes wider yet.

“I have to learn sometime, don’t I?”

Christy reached to the coffee table for his pad and pen and scribbled, then hesitated. Michael slowly turned the pad so he could read it. It was his turn to lose his smile. “Never?”

Christy shook his head.

“Are you—?” Of course, Christy was serious. Why would anyone have thought to please Christy? Why was Michael even asking the question? “All right.” Michael sat up and laid Christy back on the couch. “Prepare yourself, my pretty Christy. I may not be very good at this, but I’m going to give it my best shot.”

Michael reached for the pad and pen, and Christy held it away.

“You think I need written instructions?”

Christy started to laugh.

“Hey, no laughing.” Michael leaned in and kissed him thoroughly, leaving him wide-eyed and breathless. Man, he loved Christy’s dreamy, pouty, kiss-swollen-lip look. He’d have to make that happen more often. Michael reached for the pad and pen again, and Christy held it away again.

“Okay, keep it.”

Michael began kissing down Christy’s neck. He would use what Christy had done to him as an outline and maybe ad lib a little as he went. Christy’s T-shirt was in his way, and he sat up. “Let’s take your shirt off.”

Christy was suddenly uncertain again, his eyes filling with fear.

“Christy….” Michael kissed the tip of his nose. “You know I adore you, right?”

Christy nodded.

“You know I can’t be frightened away by anything that’s been done to you.”

Christy looked at him uncertainly.

“Or by anything that you’ve done.”

Christy continued to look at him.

“Let me adore you. Please?”

Christy scribbled awkwardly, and Michael leaned out of his way, rolling off him to lie next to him on the couch.

Have scars
.

Michael nodded. “Inside and out.”

Christy scribbled again
Ugly scars
.

Michael nodded again. “The ones on the inside concern me. The ones on the outside are only cosmetic.”

Christy’s one brow dipped in his odd frown.

“What are you thinking?”

“You look at things very simply,” he whispered.

“I’m a pretty basic, no-frills guy.” This earned Michael a small smile. “Would you be upset if I told you that I saw the scars on your back this morning?”

Christy turned quickly, wriggling on the couch to face him, and he feathered his fingers through Christy’s ringlets. “You were listening to Mom sing while I changed your shirt, remember?”

Christy’s eyes went wide, and he whispered, “All of them?”

Michael’s heart went out to Christy. Did he think fewer scars would be to his advantage somehow? That people would judge less if they didn’t see all his scars? “Yes. I’m sorry, Christy. I can only imagine how painful that must have been.” He waited, worried how Christy would respond. When Christy only studied him, he offered, “Do you have any other scars you don’t want me to see?”