Page 101 of Save Me

“Where should I…” I look at the hotel bed. Micah and I agreed that maybe we should vacate the townhouse until further notice, but now we’re trapped in a small hotel room with nothing to do, two animals who hate each other, and a body hanging over our heads.

It’s been…something to say the least. I think I’m going nuts.

“Bed,” Micah says as he wraps his tattoo machine.

Oh god. What am I doing? This isn’t anything like when I got my last tattoo. Is it sanitary? Oh my god, maybe this is a bad idea. And yet, the throbbing rage and terror and overwhelm from the last few days are pounding in the back of my head.

So I sit.

“Lay down.” Micah waves at me.

Reluctantly, I do, staring up at the same ceiling I have for days. Immediately, I’m met with the same thoughts–we killed someone, we’ll always be on the run, what is my life now?

“You nervous?” Micah has shoved the one chair next to the side of the bed. He goes to sit in it, but his knees bump into the mattress, and he has to hunch over, reaching over his own knees.

“Corn nuts.” Micah moves the chair sideways, but then he has to twist his body in a way that looks uncomfortable.

“Here.” I scoot deeper into the bed so he can sit next to me.

“Improvise, adapt, overcome. I like it.” Micah grins and settles next to me. At first, I stiffen. What am I doing? He’s going to have to touch me. A lot. Right by my groin.

I can already feel his presence and feel my dick hardening. Fuck!

Micah leans over, fingers warm, and starts freehanding the design with a marker. His touch is light and gentle, making goosebumps run up my torso.

Focus, Maddox.

His breath brushes against my skin, and he chatters away, but I stare up at the ceiling to stay focused. It’s a butthole ceiling with all kinds of starbursts stamped on it, resembling the shapes of multiple assholes.

“You like?”

I glance down. Micah has sketched a realistic sugar glider, the pen already almost covering the A. How did he do that?

“If you want any changes, let me know.”

“No. It’s good.” It’s more than good; it looks just like Nippy, only this one is spread wide in flight. It’s free. I feel an odd burning in my eyes. He’s free. Maybe, just maybe, I can be free too.

Micah gets started, and the pain immediately settles my nerves, giving all the buzzing energy somewhere to go. It’s methodical and consistent. The needles bite, but Micah’s hands are so warm and gentle even under the gloves. It hurts so good, and yet it’s so gentle at the same time.

It feels good. So good it shoots to my dick.

He’s going to notice. My cheeks flush, which, of course, only makes them burn more, and my breathing picks up. I try to hide it, but more feelings start pouring in. Micah is bending over my torso with such care and attention. He’s hurting me so carefully, and the fucked up part of me is sending every feeling straight to my dick, which is already hard.

Shit, I gotta stop this. I clench the hand furthest away, digging my nails into my palm. I have to think of something–anything–to stay focused.

“You okay?” Micah asks, lifting the needle and glancing at me.

“Yeah.” I look away as soon as our eyes meet, but it’s not soon enough. I’m already thinking about Micah. Everything Micah. Pain and Micah. Micah’s hands. His body. Pleasure and Micah.

For the first time since everything, the rest of the world melts away.

“You need a snack?” Micah asks, still not having put the needle back on my skin. I can feel him watching me. Studying me. Trying to figure out how to best please me.

It only makes more blood rush to my dick because now I’m thinking of all the ways Micah could please me. Micah on his stomach, arched for me. Micah letting me do what I want to him, trembling in his need to obey. Micah whimpering in pain and pleasure.

I choke out a no.

I know he can see it. I have a raging boner; there’s no way he can’t see it. Oh my god, I’m watching what he does for work and getting a hard on. What the hell is wrong with me?