Well it took forEVER but here it is! I hope y'all enjoy it. Forgive me, those of you who have been through rehab or are employed in the biz, but I have dealt with the rehab rather cursorily. I am far less interested in the actual mechanics of rehab than in the reactions that Micah has while there. He has already looked deep into his soul and found something there he didn't like. Also some of the attitudes and opinions expressed in here are not meant to insult, they are the opinions and behaviors of the characters.
Micah Dreams
The air was hot and oppressive when Micah stepped off the plane in Sacramento. The depression that had been sitting on him for the last week had shifted and became even heavier. He wanted Kel there with him, but that wasn't in the Universe's plans. The flight down from Seattle had given Micah time to think. He had had only a very small drink on the plane and as a consequence was a lot soberer than he had been in quite awhile. Kel, sweet Kel, so far away; not all of that distance was physical, some of it was emotional. Kel had found love and protection in the arms of that tall Indian boy. Even though Josh wasn't that much younger than him, Micah preferred to think of him as a boy.
Micah had been so certain that once sober he could win Kel back, but the last week had called that conviction into doubt. Kel was devoted to Josh and Josh was deeply devoted to Kel. Micah could see it in his eyes. Micah had spent the most of the weekend at Kel's, soaking him up as if afraid he'd never see Kel again; perhaps that would be all right with Josh as well.
Josh had been in the kitchen Sunday morning, seated at the bar, when Micah entered the room. His green eyes were fierce and watchful as Micah poured himself a glass of milk. He hadn't wanted to talk to Josh, so he drank the milk quickly and went outside where Kel was feeding his rabbits. From there he had followed Kel downstairs while Kel worked on his book. Sometime later Micah had heard the sound of Josh's voice upstairs and Kel's in response. Josh sounded exasperated and Kel sounded almost frightened. Micah had come out from the study to the base of the stairs just in time to hear the door slam. He climbed the stairs two at a time and found Kel leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs.
"Trouble?" He had asked.
Kel only shook his head and then smiled: a soft quiet smile. He had pushed off the wall and looped his arm through Micah's and pulled him back to the kitchen for lunch. Lunch, odd thing it was to have an appetite again. Micah wondered idly when he'd get to eat. Most likely after he was registered or orientated, he thought wryly.
With a sigh of resignation, he started to walk up the concourse toward the baggage claim. For a brief moment, he considered stopping in one of the many bars to have a drink. But he could see Kel's beautiful green eyes and see him shake his head. Micah sighed again. The walk gave him time to think, time to consider walking away and melting into California, but he doubted he could ever do that; Micah loved Seattle and the Pacific Northwest, and that would mean abandoning Kel, something he'd never be able to do. He was just getting his bags off the carousel when he heard a voice behind him mangle his name.
"Mikaw Rumbel?"
The speaker was a sleek, tanned man of about 35, about 6 feet tall with a lean build. He was dark haired and very well dressed. He had that cool, superior look many civil servants use to separate themselves from the masses. Micah took an instant loathing to him.
"Mike UH Rim BOWL," Micah said, loudly and clearly. Micah hooked one bag's handle over the man's outstretched hand. The tanned man's eyes narrowed and his smile acquired just the slightest hint of feral. Micah wasn't terribly concerned. He had friends in places this man would never dare go.
"Well," said the tanned man, shifting the bag to a more comfortable position. "I am Nelson Joliet, one of the councilors at the Institute. I must say, we are VERY glad to have you attending our program."
Micah coughed discreetly into his hand to hide his smile from the officious Mr. Jo LAY. Maybe Sacramento was different but in Seattle it would have been given the proper pronunciation and emphasis. Micah would have paid a princely sum to get JoLAY into the same room as Pyotr or Yosif and their flawless French. Micah coughed again.
Nelson Joliet was no fool, however much he was officious and slightly toady. He had plenty of experience dealing with drunks; he knew he was the butt of a joke in Micah's mind. That Micah was reasonably sober, didn't contribute to his good humor at all, he preferred when clients showed up blasted, so he could be quite sympathetic and quite condescending at the same time.
"Well then, shall we be going?" Joliet said in that annoying, light tone that was usually reserved for children and dogs. Not that Micah ever talked to children or dogs in that manner, in fact, Micah always got along with children quite well because he didn't talk down to them. And dogs? Well, dogs threw themselves at his feet the same as everyone else.
Micah followed Joliet out of the airport and into the parking garage. Joliet stopped at a white panel van with the words "McKinley Institute" printed in large letters on the side. Micah cringed, not only was it a walking advertisement, but it was a VAN! And a rather ugly one at that. Micah looked up to see amusement flicker in Joliet's eyes. Now he really wished there was a need to have Pyotr visit. At 6'4" and 250+ pounds, Pyotr was a walking wall with the personality of a kitten, not that Joliet needed to know that part!
The ride to McKinley Institute was a long, dry affair. Joliet made small talk and Micah answered just enough to keep from looking rude, but not enough to appear even slightly friendly. Micah's own thoughts swirled around Kel and Carrie, and everything he had left at home. He had enjoyed the mornings spent with Carrie, but she wasn't able to keep his mind off of Kel. Not her fault, of course, she was sweet and warm and quite intelligent, but she just wasn't Kel.
Kel with his sparkling green eyes and erratic moods, his sharp focus on minutely anal detail and often total oblivion to the larger picture, for the millionth time, Micah cursed himself for taking it all for granted. He had never believed that Kel would throw him out, even as Kel was throwing his clothes at him, he hadn't believed it.
And now Kel had Josh, Micah winced remembering the way Kel's face had lit up at the mention of Josh. His gut ached at the memory of Kel's arms around the big man's neck, Josh's arms around Kel's waist. Josh with his hands on Kel, laying naked on his bed...he shook his head to erase the image.
"Everything, okay?" Nelson Joliet asked.
Micah nodded and went back to looking out the window. The rest of the drive passed in silence. The Institute was a fairly nondescript building, on a quiet side street of a suburb a little north of Sacramento. The building was stucco with a banner across the front that simply said "McKinley Institute". Micah's lips twitched in a smile, it was certainly NOT The Betty Ford Clinic and he rather doubted anyone famous would be checked in here. He shouldered his bag, grabbed the smaller bag and followed Joliet up the stairs into the building.
The inside was cool and pleasant. The reception area was decorated in soft, soothing colors. Large overstuffed furniture sat grouped in twos and threes about the room, sending out the subtle message: no one sat alone at McKinley! Micah had the sudden desire to water the fake plants strewn around the room. A large open doorway in front of him led into a hallway. A flight of stairs curved lazily upwards at the far side of the hall. There was no one around, no sounds of people or any other noises either.
Joliet disappeared through a side door, leaving Micah standing alone in the empty foyer. Micah hated rudeness and he hated people who had to categorize, everyone they met, into you and us. He hoped Joliet wasn't going to be his councilor that would be mixing fire and grease. He waited growing more impatient with every passing minute.
After some five minutes has passed, Micah looked around and with a semi audible snarl dropped his bags onto one of the couches. The alcove off the side of the lobby was empty except for a desk and phone. He walked to the hall and looked both ways down it. There was no one to be seen. Micah turned sharply on his heel and went to the door Joliet had disappeared behind.
His palm hit the door with an audible thump and the door sprang open. He was in a short hallway that opened into a large room. The room was divided into cubicles and was busy with the movement of people and the sound of talking. Micah crossed his arms, and was debating on what course of action to take when a young woman scurried up to his side. She was mousy and not very attractive, her long hair stringy, her clothing shapeless.
"Can I help you?" she asked. Micah stepped back half a step and flashed her his killer smile.
"I hope so, darlin," Micah smiled. "I seem to have been just left standing out there in front."
The woman's eyes widened. "You're a patient? You aren't allowed back here."
Micah looked down at her; he scowled, no longer interested in charming her. "Yeah? Well, then maybe YOU could find someone who will escort me to where I AM allowed to be?"
"No, no," the woman's shrill voice got a bit shriller. Micah winced. "You need to go back out there and wait. They are probably looking for you." She frowned. "This is not a good way to start your time here."
"Look at it this way, darlin," Micah growled. "If I walk out of here it will be back to the airport and my time here won't be a concern of yours."
The woman opened her mouth to speak, but an older man appeared at Micah's side. He was red haired and good looking, probably around 50, tall and lean: an active man.
"What seems to be the problem here, Gloria?" His tone of voice told Micah that this woman had no real authority. He guessed that since she worked in the "office" she was in the habit of trying to exert an authority she didn't possess.
The woman's whiney voice was more than Micah could tolerate. He was angry at having to humiliate himself by being in rehab, he was missing Kel and frustrated at being left standing, and on top of it all, he was SOBER, a condition Micah had resolutely avoided since starting to drink at age 12. He cut into her explanation.
"Micah Rimboul," He held out his hand. The red headed man shook his hand firmly. "I seem to have been left just standing in the lobby. I am trying to discover where I am supposed to be reporting."
"Joss Havisham, I'm the director here." The red headed man grinned up at Micah. His eyes were an amazing shade of blue and there was a sprinkle of freckles across his nose. If they had met anywhere else, Micah would have taken him home and counted each and every freckle on his body.
Joss turned to the stringy haired woman. "You may go now, Gloria. I'll take care of this." The woman scowled and slunk off.
"She's my niece's step daughter," Joss said with a shake of the head. "I keep her employed, then my niece doesn't have to worry so much about her. Now please, come to my office."
Joliet hurried up to the red head. "I'm sorry, Joss! I came in to get his file and Mary asked me a question and I got distracted. I'll take him and get it all settled now."
Joss studied Joliet, a mild look of distaste crossing his face. "It's quite all right, Nelson. Let me have the folder. I'll take care of Micah."
Joliet's face turned red and he stammered, but Joss was resolute, it was not cutting into his time, so he would see to Micah. Joliet handed over the folder grudgingly and turned tail, but not before he could flash Micah a look of pure venom. Micah flexed his bicep casually; the muscle bulged. Joliet stomped off. Joss' eyes were coolly appraising; Micah had the feeling that nothing happened around the Institute that escaped Joss' attention.
He waved Micah forward into a small office and closed the door. Micah took a seat in a well-padded, comfortable chair. The Institute was doing well for itself and he suspected a big part of that was the good-looking red head across the desk from him.
"I apologize for the rocky beginning and sincerely hope that it won't sour your experience here," Joss said soothingly.
"That's quite all right, you can't be everywhere at once," Micah smiled. "I am just tired, cranky and worst of all sober!"
Joss nodded sympathetically. "I understand, believe it or not, I was where you are sitting nearly twenty years ago. I remember feeling cranky, tired and humiliated."
He looked at Micah, his blue eyes appraising. "But, I promise, it does get better, but it takes work, work and more work," his eyes danced with mischief, "and patience galore!"
Joss' good cheer was contagious and Micah found himself smiling in spite of himself. He was powerfully attracted to the big red head. Joss thumbed through Micah's file and asked him questions: questions about his past, his future and his reasons for being at McKinley. Together they discussed goals and what Micah expected to get from his treatment.
There was a soft knock at the door and Micah glanced at the clock surprised to see that nearly an hour had passed. Fleetingly he wondered about his chances of passing another hour or two later in the evening in the red head's company. The door opened and a dark haired woman entered the room. She was average height, maybe a little on the heavy side but not unattractively so, with shiny brown hair and a bright smile.
"Morning Joss," she said. "I suppose it's about time I get Micah settled."
"Micah," Joss said smiling, "this is Amy, your caseworker. She's the person coordinating your treatment. You can go to her with any questions or concerns you have." Joss' eyes connected with Micah's. "And of course, I am always available."
Micah smiled in return: he knew a come hither when he heard it. His own attraction to the red head was reflected back at him in Joss' eyes and the curve of his lips. Micah tipped his head slightly and touched just the tip of his tongue to his lips. The answer was clear in Joss' eyes for anyone to see. Micah leaned back in his chair and glanced at the clock.
"Amy can give you the Grand Tour," Joss said. " Get you settled in your room, explain the rules to you, show you your schedule. I'll drop in and make certain your room is to your liking before I leave for the night. Most likely be around 6ish."
Blue eyes met even bluer eyes; both men understood what was being said as well as what WASN'T being said. Micah nodded and stood up. He held his hand out to Joss, who took it. Micah's thumb brushed the back of his hand and Micah felt the tiniest of shivers run through Joss' hand. He smiled softly; maybe his time here wasn't going to be as dull as he had thought!
Micah followed Amy back out into the main room. She talked animatedly about the Institute and asked a few questions, totally oblivious to what had passed between her client and her boss. He caught sight of Gloria scowling at him out of the corner of his eye. He smiled at her. Amy led him back out into the lobby where they picked up his bags and then up the stairs to the room reserved for him.
The room was small, not much larger than a closet to Micah's mind. But it had a window facing out into a quiet courtyard. There was a small dresser and a bed against the far wall. A narrow armoire stood silent as a sentinel in the near corner. Micah dropped his large bag on the bed. The image of Joss spread seductively across that bed rose before his eyes. Micah was hard and very uncomfortable, especially with Amy in the room. Amy chattered brightly explaining the various room rules to Micah: the door had to stay open, nightly checks by councilors and no friends, all socializing had to be done in the public areas of the Institute. Micah scowled at the bed, the image of Joss evaporating like mist.
"Where would I find the bathroom?" Micah asked.
Amy directed Micah down the carpeted hallway. Micah passed several rooms, all of them empty. The bathroom was hospital clean and equally devoid of humanness. Two small stalls divided by steel gray metal walls and a row of gleaming white urinals took up one end of the room, the other had a pair of sinks. Micah studied himself in the mirror behind the sink: gleaming ash blond curls and bright blue eyes looked back at him. He smiled and smoothed out his light blue silk shirt, he was looking good for being sober with a pounding headache.
The ache in his jeans pulled his attention away from his face. He ducked into one of the stalls and quickly released his throbbing cock. Micah was reasonably certain that if he took to long Amy would come in looking for him... or have someone else do it. The image of Joss smiling floated before his eyes and Micah knew he wouldn't be long in the stall. Leaning against the door, he pictured Joss naked: freckles sprinkled down his belly to a red bush of pubic hair. Micah sped up the strokes on his cock. Joss smiled and his eyes sparkled, he ran his tongue across his lips. Micah groaned as his orgasm made his knees wobble and threaten to collapse. He panted briefly and then smiled.
Micah cleaned up quickly. The small sign on the mirror reminding him to wash his hands to prevent spread of disease felt oddly patronizing to him, but he suspected it was state regulations that put it there. Joss didn't "feel" patronizing to him, and neither did Amy. Micah hoped Joliet was the exception rather than the rule. Amy's eyes were appraising when Micah returned to the room, but she didn't question him.
The rest of the morning was spent touring the Institute. Micah saw the therapy rooms and the gym and visited the nurse who checked his blood pressure and popped a small pill into his mouth. Before he could spit it out, she had a cup of water in his hand and on its way to his mouth. Micah spluttered and water flew everywhere. He spotted the pill on the floor and before it could be retrieved, he stepped on it and ground it under his foot.
"DON'T do that again," Micah growled. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the nurse.
Memories of his lost week tumbled through his head like shards of glass: sparkly but with deadly edges. He remembered the dirty apartment, the feces covered bed and its equally appalling occupants. Images of a syringe in his hand chased images of his hand on a bare butt, Micah shuddered feeling sweat break out on his forehead.
"It's only a sedative, you're stressed," the nurse said sharply. "Your system isn't used to forced sobriety. We don't want you to go into shock."
Micah stepped back half a step. "No. You are causing my stress," he said flatly. "No drugs."
His eyes challenged her to argue with him, but Amy hurriedly got between him and the nurse. Smoothly she defused the situation and ushered Micah back out into the hall. She looked up at his serious face.
"I see you're a stubborn one, Micah." She nodded. "Headstrong is what I'd call you if you were a teen." She grinned. "And going to be a handful, I suspect."
Micah shrugged. His objections to being drugged were entirely personal; it wasn't as if he hadn't done more than his share of cocaine in his life. Micah did coke when he was alone: lonely and aching he'd turn to the coke. Scotch and coke were the two things that had never let him down. Only people had let him down, even Kel for all his love had left him. Thinking about Kel made his head pound harder and he rubbed his temples wearily. After that lost week, the thought of putting another drug in his body made him physically sick. He pressed a palm to his forehead: wasn't that WHY he was at McKinley in the first place?
The rest of the day passed without incident. Micah had lunch in the cafeteria and met several of his fellow residents. Apparently word had already spread about the beautiful blond man who had come to McKinley for treatment. As usual, there was a string of well-wishers and people offering to show him around and make his stay pleasanter, including one skinny guy who stared at him non-stop while sucking on index finger. Micah made a mental note to steer wide of him, sex addicts were a bigger pain in the butt than alcoholics.
After lunch, Micah sat in on a group therapy session. He didn't talk much, just listened and wondered why hearing others whining about their miserable lives was supposed to make him stop drinking? After all it was their lives not his. But he sat patiently and thought about Joss and Kel. Such very different men, Kel roused all his instincts to protect the weak. Joss was in no need of protection, but there was a vulnerability about him that intrigued Micah deeply. He was definitely hoping to spend some time with the big red head, however much his conscience told him it was highly unprofessional.
Kel, slim and green eyed, fey as a sprite, Micah would have walked through fire for him. So many others, both before and after Kel, were just lust - good old fashioned sex, but Kel, no Kel was the star in his darkness, the one hope he had always held close to his heart. Not anymore, Kel had Josh; Micah winced at the memory of Kel's voice when he had told him about the notes Josh was receiving. Part terror and part accusation, though it had started long before Micah had ever even heard of Josh, the question was still there.
"Micah? Are you all right?" asked a young woman near him.
"Oh yes, I'm sorry. I was just thinking," He replied, flashing that "awe shucks" grin of his. There were smiles and nods of understanding all around the circle.
By the time 6 was rolling around, Micah was crawling out of his skin in anticipation to see Joss again. If anyone else noticed his jitters they said nothing, perhaps putting it down to withdrawal symptoms. Micah ate dinner with a couple of the people from the group session. His answers to questions were mostly monosyllabic and far from his usual charming self. His mind was completely taken up with the red headed director. After dinner he pled tiredness and a desire to rest and read and went up to his room.
Under the corner of his pillow was a folded piece of paper; Micah wondered what a councilor would have thought of it if they had found it before him. His name was written on it in a fancy script. Micah whistled in appreciation. He unfolded the paper and read:
I came by here looking for you. Silly me, I forgot that 6 would be dinner time. I usually eat quite late when I am by myself. However, I have much to do before I leave tonight so if you are inclined I shall be in my office until 8 or so. If anyone gives you trouble have them call me. I maintain that I am ALWAYS available for clients. I DO know how you feel.
Joss Havisham
The signature at the bottom was in the same fancy script as Micah's name. A simple flourish, a small vanity perhaps on the director's part. Micah wondered idly how long it had taken him to perfect those flourishes. Micah refolded the paper and stuffed it in his wallet. He had no idea how extensive room inspections were going to be, but he doubted they would be looking in his wallet for a bottle of smuggled scotch! The picture of him with his arms around Kel made his stomach clench and he closed the wallet rapidly.
Micah tapped his foot impatiently, he knew the door was supposed to be left open at all times, but they could hardly expect him to change clothes like that! And carrying things to the bathroom was out of the question, as he had no intention of putting his clean clothes in a puddle on the sink counter. Finally he compromised by pushing the door three quarters of the way shut and changing behind it.
Micah knew he looked fantastic, even without a mirror to confirm his opinion. A white button down shirt and snug stonewashed jeans showed off his body to perfection and made his hair glow. He ran a brush through his hair, thinking it was about time for another trim, his ends were looking a mite straggly. He made a quick trip down the hall to the bathroom where he checked his face for smudges and his butt for fit.
"Gorgeous," he thought satisfied. His curly ash hair was aglow in the fluorescent light; there were no smudges or blemishes on his smooth ivory skin. A blue vein pulsed along his jaw from ear to throat. He unbuttoned a couple buttons, and then with a shake of his head he buttoned them back up with just a wisp of blond hair showing above the button. Micah smiled, perfect, just perfect.
No one accosted Micah as he walked down the hall to the stairs. He spoke politely to several people on the stairs, but there was no one in the lobby. He pushed the door to the offices open; the inner room was strangely quiet and almost forlorn in the half darkness of a couple security lights. Light slipped out from under Joss's door. Micah knocked lightly on the door.
The door opened and Joss stood there, back lit by the office light. His red hair shimmered , his face hidden in shadow. He stepped back and gestured to Micah to enter. Micah stopped half in and half out of the doorway and studied Joss. Slightly shorter than Micah and despite the youthful air there were lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes, but there was no gray in his red hair and welcome shown in his eyes.
Micah settled into the same chair he had sat in earlier. He slid down a bit and leaned back resting his right ankle on his left knee. Joss leaned against the front of the desk less than four feet away.
"Now let the dance begin," Micah thought wryly.
"So, what do you think of McKinley now?" Joss asked.
"It's structured, well organized, tightly run," Micah answered.
Joss laughed, a pleasant husky laugh. "Which says absolutely nothing. You are a cautious one, Micah Rimboul."
"I like to know what my options are, and where the exits are... I hate proceeding blind."
"Hmm," Joss studied his fingers a moment. "I heard in splendid, glorious, dramatic detail," he continued emphasizing dramatic, "about your run in with our nurse."
Micah scowled. He opened his mouth to speak, but Joss waved him to silence.
"I told Sally, the nurse, to leave it be. You obviously knew your mind and forcing the issue was of no benefit to you or us." He leaned forward, his eyes dancing with mischief. "She is inclined to think of you as a troublemaker."
Joss leaned forward until he was less than a foot away. "But I think you will get along just fine here." His eyes sparkled with mischief and invitation.
Micah stretched out his left foot and rubbed the side of Joss' leg. Joss flushed a charming color of red. Micah smiled, a soft seductive smile.
"I must say that the people here are very friendly and willing to help make my stay," Micah studied his fingernails then looked up at Joss, "more pleasant."
Joss straightened up with a laugh. "I'd imagine that no matter where you go, Micah, people line up to give you the shirt off their backs. People give you everything you ask for, and then ask what else you need." He studied Micah. "I'm right aren't I?"
Micah shrugged and scowled again. Joss laughed. "Oh you are human after all? You do bleed..."
Micah's eyes turned to slits, "I am indeed human and I will bleed if you cut me."
Joss reached out and ran his fingers lightly across the back of Micah's hand. Micah shivered feeling shock waves travel up his arm.
"I have no intention of making you bleed," Joss said softly. He grasped Micah's hand and pulled him to his feet. Micah studied the red head: his lips were slightly parted and his cheeks were a rosy shade of pink. This close he could see freckles disappearing under his collar.
Micah leaned forward to meet Joss' lips. He pulled Joss' head close. Joss flicked his tongue along Micah's lips, teasing them. Micah opened his mouth; Joss' tongue shot in and wrapped itself around Micah's. Micah moaned and sucked hard on his tongue. His hands slid down then up Joss' back softly caressing it. The kiss deepened. Joss moaned softly.
"God, you're a gorgeous man," Joss murmured softly against Micah's lips.
"I could say the same about you," Micah answered. He buried his fingers in Joss' hair and pulled his head close again.
Micah backed Joss up against the desk until the red head was sitting on the edge. Joss moaned softly as Micah made love to his mouth. Micah pulled Joss' shirt loose from his pants and pushed the polo up as he pushed the redhead down on the desk. Joss was lean with a hard stomach and firm pecs, a trail of red hair wound its way down his belly from his diaphragm to his belt. Joss clutched at Micah's shirt clumsily trying to undo the buttons. Micah whipped his shirt off with a flourish: a touch of theatrics went a long way when hustling.
He leaned forward across the desk and kissed the redhead again. He kissed his way down his jaw and throat. Nibbling and teasing he worked his way down Joss's chest. Joss moaned and thrashed, his hands gripping Micah's shoulders.
When he reached Joss' belt he glanced up: blue eyes were watching his every move. Micah unhooked Joss' belt and jeans. He slid his pants down and buried his face in the red head's crotch, as he suspected it was red there as well. Slowly and deliciously he made love to Joss' cock with his mouth and tongue. Joss moaned and cried his name, twisting in pleasure on the desk top.
The force of Joss' orgasm surprised both men, rocking Micah back on his heels. He steadied himself with a hand on the desk. Joss was laying across the desk his head hanging off the far side. Micah laid his hand on Joss' chest feeling his heart pounding.
Joss raised his head and for a moment the only sound was his panting. He sat up abruptly and slid off the desk. Micah caught him and both men toppled over onto the floor: lips pressed to each other and hands clutching at one another.
Somehow they managed to twist around nose to crotch. Micah's body was on fire from the red head and for the first time in a very long time he was not thinking of Kel. Neither was he thinking of Carrie, for once his mind was totally on the man in his arms and he was sober no less. Joss must have felt some change in his attention because he pulled back and looked at him.
"Anything wrong?" He asked.
Micah shook his head and pulled Joss' hips close again. Together they moved in that ancient way that two people do when they are undressed and alone. Words have no meaning and no power, the only thing of importance is the senses: the feel of skin on skin, the taste and smell of a healthy male. Micah shuddered, his back arching as his orgasm exploded out of him, at the last moment he pulled out of Joss' mouth and squirted on his chest. Heat, then cool splattered against his cheek and he was floating, separated from his body. The feel of lips on his cheek brought him back to his body in a rush. Joss' eyes glowed at him.
Micah ran his hand through Joss' red hair, feeling baby soft hair not a bit worn by time. This close the director was even more enticing, more powerfully sexual than anyone Micah had met in a long time.
"So," Micah paused. "Is this a service McKinley offers to all its clients?"
Joss chuckled. "Nope," he said propping himself up on his elbows. "You are the first."
"Ahhh, I'm the control group then." Micah grinned at him.
Joss ducked his head and soft hair brushed Micah's jaw. Micah shivered. Joss raised his head and looked at him; his eyes were deep and mysterious. Micah ran his thumb lightly across Joss' lips.
"Will I get you in trouble?" He asked.
Joss shook his head, then sighed, "No, yes, well maybe.." He paused. "If anyone finds out, yeah I'll be out of a job."
Micah nodded. "Then I shall be certain that no one finds out."
Micah pulled Joss' head down in a tender kiss. Joss shivered as Micah's hands stroked his back. Somehow they managed to get dressed and look presentable again. Micah leaned against the closed door and studied the splash of freckles down Joss' back. Joss turned and smiled. Micah nodded and held out his hand. Joss took it and this time allowed Micah to pull him into his arms.
There was no one on the stairs as Micah returned upstairs. His body was still thrumming from the sex and from the feel of the director in his arms. He refused to think any further in time than his head hitting his pillow. Micah had long ago learned to compartmentalize his feelings and while he was certain Joss wasn't the one night stand kind, he was still uncertain of his own feelings, and there was Kel, what about his beautiful Kel?
At the top of the stairs was a desk, he had missed seeing it earlier in the day, but now there was a man sitting at it. He was dressed in scrubs and looked to be about Micah's age. He stood up as Micah came up the stairs. He was wide as a linebacker and there was a glint in his eyes Micah did not like.
"Hey! Where you been?" He asked.
Micah frowned, partly at the abruptness of the question and partly at the lack of grammar. He considered just walking past him, but he suspected that the man was there to enforce the rules. He stopped and crossed his arms, looking up he made eye contact with the man.
"I have BEEN downstairs in Joss' office discussing my treatment while here at the Institute," he replied.
The attendant studied Micah. "Then you won't mind if I call him?"
Micah shrugged. "If he's still in his office, go ahead."
Micah leaned against the far wall of the hallway and studied his nails while the attendant called the offices downstairs. Somehow he was going to HAVE to find a nail file, maybe one of the women would have one. He barely heard the attendant speaking into the phone. He looked up at the sound of the phone clattering against the cradle.
"All right," the attendant growled. "But you need to check with us before you leave the floor."
Micah frowned, then shrugged. He walked to his room keeping his eyes firmly on the hall in front of him. It was going to take all of his cunning to continue an affair with the director. He would start assessing possibilities on the morrow. Micah smiled softly to himself: he enjoyed a challenge. Yes, Micah enjoyed the thrill of the chase and the exhilaration of catching what he was chasing. Perhaps McKinley Institute wasn't going to be as bad as he had feared... ...
September 2, 2004
Holy schnitzel! I did it! I got another chapter out! does the Snoopy dance Okay so next time we get into rehab, obviously Micah is NOT meant to be a team player. Now the question is: can Joss smooth him out and can Joss hold onto him? Will he let Joss hold onto him?