RELEVANT TAGS: Facefucking, dubious consent...?, one (1) spank

SUMMARY: Alistair hires a moving service with perks.

Micah was not made aware of Alistair's return to the city until the fateful day arrived and Benny called him in a panic, saying, "Help!"

"Help?" Micah repeated, heart stopping. "Help with what? Do I need a knife for this?!"

"Yes!" was all Benny said before hanging up. Benny didn't often bother with addresses when Micah already had his location shared.

And so, Micah arrived no more than ten minutes later expecting to be fist-fighting and calling for backup. Instead what he found was a U-Haul truck obscuring the address Benny's location claimed to be at. The back of the truck was open and, standing on the ramp, was Benny in basketball shorts and a tank top.

"You know, I'll have a heart attack one of these times and you'll never hear from me again," Micah shouted as he crossed the cobbled street.

Benny spied him, screamed with excitement, and bounded off the ramp. It clattered behind him as he leapt into Micah's arms. "You made it! Do you have an hour?"

"Yeah, why?"

Micah's entire body convulsed with a curse as footsteps crossed the inside of the truck and to the ramp because, a second later, Alistair was leaning out with a hand on one of the metal handle hooks.

And he looked devastating for someone who'd spent the better part of a month trying not to think about him.

And now he's in my city. Permanently. The island was starting to feel claustrophobic.

Alistair was shirtless, which didn't make much of a difference when his tattoos so thoroughly covered him. His see-through running shorts were kept modest by a pair of neon pink compression shorts. He was wearing tube socks in sneakers. Tube socks. In sneakers.

"Hey," Alistair said. He jumped off the ramp to meet them. Even in the cold, his skin had a faint sheen to it. Sweat.

"Hey," Micah said. "I thought Benny was being murdered."

"Yeah, but all of Alistair's furniture is hardwood. You know how heavy that shit is?" Benny said with a roll of his shoulders. He cranked one arm up to pop his socket with an audible crack! "You owe me a massage after this."

Alistair grinned, hands on his hips like he knew they did everything to call attention to that narrow waist Micah couldn't get enough of—Stop salivating!

Micah swallowed back the horny thoughts smacking him every which way. "I have an hour to spare."

"We don't need your help," Alistair said.

"Dude, come on," Benny insisted.

Alistair laughed, turned, and waved a dismissive hand. "We have it handled, don't worry about it."

Benny groaned, threw his head back, and turned to Micah with an apologetic grimace. "Please help anyway? I wanna be done by two."

Micah checked his phone. He was, admittedly, relieved that Alistair hadn't somehow lured Benny into inviting Micah over. He could manage an hour of getting on Alistair's nerves. Definitely.

"Sure, I'll help," Micah said, quietly, though the echo of a scoff from inside the truck assured him Alistair had heard anyway. Micah made a point to shout back, "And this isn't me doing you a favor!"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Alistair shouted back.

If Micah had known half of Alistair's belongings involved limited edition, bespoke items with a plethora of conditions—"Grab it from the bottom! Don't—! Are you insane?! Both hands! Both hands!"

Uptight prick, Micah thought to himself as he rolled his eyes and ascended the elevator to Alistair's flat.

Alistair's building was newer with fresh, orangey brick and a revolving door. The unit itself boasted a balcony, a skylight, and a kitchen that was objectively bigger than the bedroom. Micah kept his distance from the bedroom, though.

When it came time to hoist the couch up, the elevator wasn't big enough. The receptionist held the door to the stairwell for them as the three of them struggled and cursed their way over the threshold. It was six flights of pure torture and Micah never wanted to see another couch. Ever.

Once in the flat, couch on the floor, the three of them collapsed in quick succession after the cushions were in place. Micah's skin was tacky with sweat and he'd long since shed his jacket and sweater. In nothing but sweats, Micah accepted the water bottle from Benny and chugged.

When he came back to himself, refreshed, he passed the bottle back and found Alistair's eyes on him from over Benny's head. Alistair plucked the water out of Benny's hand then and took a swig for himself. His eyes were slow to drag away from Micah.

Despite the heat of the workout, Micah grew flushed. He turned away and rubbed a hand over his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw.

Benny checked his phone. There was a message waiting for him marked by a familiar name asking what Benny's ETA was.

"Fuck," Benny swore. It was already past two in the afternoon. "I gotta go. Midterm group project thing."

"Is that with James?" Micah asked. Benny nodded as he swayed to his feet, teetered, and caught his balance with the added help of Alistair's hand on his back. "Tell him I say hey."

Benny snapped him a finger gun and said, "Will do. Do you need me to lock the U-Haul or...?"

"Just shut it. Empty anyway," Alistair said.

Benny then trudged out of the flat and left Micah with the haunting realization that he just watched his escape route escape.

Fuck, Micah thought, do I just...? Get up and follow him? I just basically said bye. I can't do that. Maybe I could—

Alistair took a swig of water again. This single act derailed all of Micah's thoughts and veered them sharply towards Alistair's throat. The hickey was gone and required a reminder.

Alistair's lips left the bottle, water still in his cheeks. He swallowed hard. His adam's apple bobbed. "Wanna fuck?"

Micah blinked. Had he...? Had he heard that right? "What?"

A faint grin tugged at Alistair's lips. "You're looking at me like you want to fuck me. So?"

"I do. Want to fuck you," Micah admitted, only to shut his eyes and turn away to massage the headache away. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. "But we shouldn't. Benny—"

"Have you talked to him about how we slept together?" Alistair said. Micah glanced at him, quick, and found Alistair shrugging. "It's fine if you have. If he said he doesn't want us—"

"No, he's fine with it."

"Surprising."

Micah squinted at him. "It's not that surprising."

"You must know him better than me, then. I feel like siblings would be weird about." It felt like a trap, and so Micah held his tongue. He looked away, expression pinched with annoyance.

Does he know I fucked Benny, too? he wondered, and then spared Alistair a skeptical glare. And then, with great disgust on behalf of his autonomy, Micah thought, Is he jealous?

Micah was bound to fuck whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted, in the past, present, and future. And that included Benny—though for reasons they've both agreed on, the present and future weren't in the equation.

Alistair pushed to his feet, sighing, and said, "Whatever. I gotta drop the U-Haul off anyway."

Alistair side-stepped and made as though to walk around Micah. Instead, Micah caught him by the waistband of his skimpy running shorts and tugged. And by God, there was a tan line there that Micah had missed in the dark ambiance of his bedroom just a month prior.

They paused, both staring at Micah's index finger down the front of Alistair's shorts and then, at once, to each other.

God, I feel pathetic, Micah thought, and hoped he didn't sound like he was begging when he said, "Get the lube. And wash up if you need to."

Stepping out of Micah's worst nightmare was Alistair's cocksure grin and almost mocking chuckle. He slid Micah's hand away from his shorts and said, "I'll be right back then." Micah watched him retreat to the bedroom, and watched how Alistair shook his head as though Micah was the funniest fucking guy on Earth.

Micah sunk into the couch. He folded both his arms over his face and resisted the urge to groan aloud. Micah Sayoko couldn't help but wonder... was he pathetic, or was he just dickmatized?

Micah refused to be the latter, and so he got to his feet. Little did he know, he'd spent the better part of five minutes having a crisis and therefore, was caught escaping by Alistair saying, "What the fuck? Sit back down."

"I'm leaving," Micah said, and risked turning around. He shut his eyes and looked away. Alistair was completely naked and, from the look of it, sporting a brand new tattoo on his inner thigh. Right where Micah had marked him.

He stared at the wall, frozen by bloodthirsty want, as Alistair approached him and said, "No, you fucking aren't. Sit back down."

Micah was disgusted with himself. His eyes slid dangerously to Alistair's face. "I'm not doing this again," Micah said.

Alistair's stare permeated all of Micah, wrapped its way around his soul, and knew with certainty that Micah didn't want to leave. He just wanted Alistair out of his head.

"Fine," he said, "then I'll just do you."

"You aren't fucking me. No one fucks me."

Alistair's fingers were on his waistband now. "Don't worry your pretty little ass about it. Just a blowjob and then you can go."

Micah shivered at the idea. He was tingling all over before Alistair's hand ever glided beneath the waistband of his shorts and into the damp heat of his boxers. The sweat was growing cold on his skin.

Slowly, lured by Micah's inability or want to say no, Alistair sunk to his knees and dragged Micah's boxers down with him.

"And for the record," Alistair started, thumb cresting beneath Micah's cock. His fingers curled up to squeeze the base of him, thumb toying with his balls. His eyes were lidded and sultry when he met Micah's gaze. "I don't mind having my mouth fucked. I'll let you know if it's too much."

"By what, biting my dick off?"

Alistair chuckled. He grazed the words onto Micah's tip, lips catching on the head. "Something like that."

Micah dragged his fingers through Alistair's hair. Just as soft as usual, albeit cold with dried sweat and greasy from a long day of travel. He cupped the back of Alistair's hair and held the strands firmly. "Open up then."

Alistair took the liberty of guiding Micah past his lips. His tongue laved the underside. His mouth was blisteringly hot and overwhelming to Micah's sensitive cock, his throat slick and firm as he swallowed all of Micah without resistance or mercy.

Micah's abdomen clenched, a breath spasming out of him. Swearing sounded like a prayer when he was balls-deep in Alistair's mouth.

He took Alistair at his word and rolled his hips forward so Alistair's lips were flush with Micah's meticulously trimmed pubic hair. His tongue coaxed out to lick the tender skin where Micah's cock met his balls, licking a stripe through the seam, and then pulling back again.

When Alistair paused, sucking gently at Micah's tip, his eyes climbed Micah's abdomen and settled near his face. Hooded.

Micah took the call and, tightening his grip, pushed himself fully back inside. From there, from hitting the back of Alistair's mouth and feeling his throat swallow around him, Micah couldn't help himself. His hips canted on their own, both hands to Alistair's hair.

Micah kept pace until, at last, the tight coil in his gut began to fray. He slowed his pace and watched, amazed, as Alistair's reddened lips popped off of him.

Alistair held his mouth ajar, tongue still toying with the sensitive underside of Micah's tip. He licked up the precum before bringing a hand up to pass his thumb along his chin, clearing it of spit. Only then did he roll his jaw to and fro before stretching into a smile.

"You didn't come." Alistair's voice was wrecked.

Micah was breathing hard. "Get on the couch."

He crowded Alistair to the couch until they were both falling over the armrest with Micah devouring the taste of himself on Alistair's lips.

Bent over the armrest, Alistair reached for the lube. Micah rubbed his cock between Alistair's asscheeks, slathering him with Alistair's spit. It was coarse, somewhat dry friction but it ground a heady sound out of Alistair's hoarse throat. The cap popped open and a second later, Alistair had Micah's hand in his, slick with a puddle of lube on his palm. Their fingers rubbed together, warming it, before Micah pulled back. Alistair squeezed so hard one of Micah's knuckles popped.

He hitched his finger inside, a bit too eager but he was met with the satisfied grit in Alistair's low voice.

Alistair braced one hand on the cushion and the other on the back of the couch in preparation for Micah's initial thrust in. Instead, he was met by a resounding slap! of Micah's hand cracking across his asscheek.

Micah kneaded his fingers into the meat of Alistair's now-pink ass, pulling one cheek out to expose Alistair's tight hole. He thrust in. Alistair had tensed against the slap, which made for beautiful resistance as Micah pushed into his tight heat with a groan. And then, he proceeded with a brutal pace that only amplified the red tinge to Alistair's ass. The clapping of Micah's hips against his ass was soon coupled by the creak of the couch skidding on the floorboards.

"Fuck—" Alistair swore, "forgot to put the stickies—ah—on the couch legs."

"We'll put 'em on after."

Alistair refused to let the couch scrape the floors, however. His legs, which had inadvertently left the floor, now found it and steadied. Micah was met with more resistance as Alistair braced his core and met each thrust, hips lifting off the armrest.

Micah's want to sabotage only peaked. He drove in harder, grinding, so Alistair's legs were forced to give an inch.

Alistair swore, teeth gritted, but held his ground against every future, loud slap! of Micah's thrusts. He was thrown off-kilter by Micah's arm circling him, his hand grasping Alistair's cock. Micah worked him to the edge and held him there, grinding low and slow against his prostate.

Micah relished in the tightening of his own balls as he threatened to come. He waited, though, and tensed as Alistair squeezed around him through his orgasm. His pulse worked around Micah's cock and remained there even as Alistair relaxed, panting, and came to replace Micah's hand on his softening cock.

Eyes on Alistair's dimple piercings and the canvas of his back, Micah pulled out. A drip of cum slid from his tip. He gripped Alistair by the shoulders and forced him back down over the armrest.

With one hand holding Alistair down, Micah worked his fist around his cock until he came. A milky white streak colored Alistair's tattoos.

It was only then that Micah had the wherewithal to say, in hindsight, "I'm clean, by the way. I got tested last week."

"I figured," Alistair said, raising up from the couch. He reached awkwardly behind him to rub his hand through Micah's cum, smearing it to the left and down his lower back.

Standing straight and now facing Micah, Alistair held his hand up, inspected it, and gave it an experimental lick. And then, he grinned, wagged a finger at Micah, and walked past him to the bathroom. "You eat pineapple."

"Just fruit in general, actually," Micah said.

He could hear the smile in Alistair's voice as he said, "Uh-huh."

"I'm serious. It's not scientifically proven, you know."

The shower started running, and so Micah decided to make himself useful by tearing open the pack of stickies on the coffee table. Alistair was still in the shower by the time Micah finished padding the underside of the couch legs.

When the shower turned off, Micah made haste. He dressed and, in his hurry, left with his shoes in his hands so he wouldn't have to make painful, awkward, humiliating post-sex chitchat again.