Kennedy chewed the inside of her cheek. "When you brought up the apartment to Ezra, he broke up with Uncle Cass. Turns out you were right."

    Alistair blinked. I broke them up? Suddenly, this whole situation wasn't feeling so good. It was never feeling good, but now it was downright awful. He hadn't meant to do that, unless—

    "Is Micah..."

    "He's not having an affair with my uncle," Kennedy sighed. "But it didn't look good. Doesn't look good. My godfather couldn't even talk to Micah without feeling guilty about it, so I was the one to ask Micah to clear the air with Ezra. He's barely on speaking terms with Uncle Cass right now, but they started counseling this week."

    Alistair wondered if being unblocked was Micah's way of coping. A distraction from the shame of having been accused of being an affair partner.

    "Fuck," Alistair said. "That's awful."

    "I know. My godfather was crushed," she said. "He shouldn't have kept it a secret in the first place, especially because it sounds like Ezra didn't approve of the apartment. Just because he didn't approve of it doesn't mean he shouldn't know, you know?"

    "So Micah has his own place now."

    Kennedy leant back in her chair, hands clasped together over her stomach. She fiddled with the buttons on her shirt. "Yeah. Seems pretty permanent. Uncle Cass says that if Micah ever decides to move out, he'd just... convert it into a guest house or something for friends and family that visit. It's not going anywhere, and he's already got the space for guests at his own place. So."

    Alistair sat quietly, thinking, Guests houses are always close to the main house. This meant he and Micah could be in the same neighborhood.

    "Now fess up," Kennedy said. "I gotta get back to class."

    "James showed up at the apartment drunk when you guys were at the movies," he said, watching Kennedy's jaw drop as he went on. "He was screaming and crying professing his undying love for Benny wanting to break up their engagement. And then he admitted that Benny kissed him the week of Thanksgiving."

    Kennedy was speechless.

    Alistair shrugged.

    "Wha—" she started, unable to finish.

    "Did you know about the kiss?"

    "N-No, I didn't," she admitted.

    "He said Benny said it was a mistake."

    "A mistake," Kennedy croaked, appalled. "B-Benny would never say that."

    Alistair had thought enough about James' confession to come to a singular conclusion. "Micah always said that Benny's been insecure about dating men. And that's why he's so attached to Hunter."

    "That's... true, I suppose. Wow. Micah said that?" she said.

    "Do you think Benny was afraid to start a new relationship with another man?"

    "It's possible." They were quiet a moment as Kennedy leant her head onto her hand, slumped in her seat. "God. I feel fucking awful. I wish I'd known. I mean, before Hunter I'd been trying to set Benny and James up because I knew Benny had a crush on him."

    Alistair had figured as much. Kennedy had known Alistair's move-in date before even Benny and had scheduled Benny's group project outing for that very same day. With James.

    Though I'd thought James was a girl at the time... Benny had been dating exclusively women at the time.

    "Well," Kennedy sighed, slapping her armrests. "Doesn't matter anymore. Don't harass Micah for his address."

    Alistair had no plans to, and intended to stick to that. Still, it didn't stop him from contemplating visiting the restaurant Micah worked at, or calling Micah at inopportune times at night when he would do nothing but think about how impossibly horny he was.

    Going into the third week of staying at Benny's flat, Alistair returned to his own place where the toilet lids were actually shut properly and he could sit on his couch without thinking obsessively over how much time Benny and Hunter spent snuggling and kissing on it. Usually the latter act was done seemingly without Alistair's knowledge, but it was impossible to ignore considering how frequently they made out.

    Alistair found this odd, as Benny was inconsolable without Micah all through winter break. It had put an uncomfortable strain on his relationship with Hunter, he knew, and Benny's lack of drive for anything other than hugs and cuddles was eminent.

    Micah must have unblocked him, too, Alistair deduced, though Benny didn't mention it and Alistair didn't ask.

    He stole Micah's mirror panels back and pinned them to his ceiling again. They'd been sitting on Micah's desk for weeks by that point, and Alistair had replaced the mirrors already, so the bastard didn't need them. Halfway through the panels, he received a phone call.

    He crouched down on the bed, studying the caller ID. It was Micah.

    He's getting desperate, Alistair thought, and wondered if Micah had gotten laid at all since moving out.

    On a playful whim, Alistair ignored the call and let it go to voicemail. He received a second call, which he declined, and received a voicemail seconds later.

    He played it immediately, standing on his mattress with the last mirror panel in hand.

    "Are you home?"

    Alistair struggled to breathe. He clamored off the bed, stumbling. His voice threatened to crack as he brushed a hand up through his hair.

    What the fuck did that mean? Was Micah outside, right now? Did he need to stay at Alistair's place for some ungodly reason? Was he hoping Alistair was at Benny's?

    Alistair texted back, "Should I be?"

    "Yes," Micah said.

    "Are we going to talk."

    "No."

    Okay, just to fuck, Alistair concluded, and gave Micah the go-ahead to come up. With a curse, he returned to his ceiling to fix the last panel in place.

    When the knock sounded on his door, Alistair was just brushing the remnants of the adhesive supplies into the bin in the bathroom. He made it to the kitchen when the door opened.

    A manic grin he couldn't control split across his face because how was it possible for him to not see Micah for weeks, to think about him nonstop for weeks, and still be rendered stupid at the sight of him?

    Micah's look of determination didn't split away the moment he made eye-contact with Alistair. Deeply pissed-off and shucking his shoes aside, Micah said, "Do I have to shower?"

    Alistair's concerns had fled the building. "If we don't use the bedroom, then no."

    Micah unzipped his jeans, his gait telling of just how turned on he was as he marched up to Alistair and said, "Couch it is."

    Alistair met him for a searing kiss intended to bruise. He felt Micah's teeth through the pressure on his lips before they clashed, mouths opening and tongues licking messily into one another.

    Alistair was suffocated by the scent of him—a laundry detergent he didn't recognize, cologne he wore sparsely and hadn't bothered to reapply. But, most importantly, the human warmth he breathed in, nose to Micah's cheek as he was kissed down his jawline to have his throat sucked and bit.

    At the couch, Alistair kept his footing despite Micah's tug to follow him down. Their lips only parted when Micah collapsed back, fist stretching the fabric of Alistair's cutoff tee. Alistair kept himself hovering above with a hand to the back cushion.

    "Let me fuck you," Alistair begged.

    The tension in Micah's face had dissipated. His eyes were open and searching, scanning for evidence of something he didn't recognize on Alistair. His smirk was arrogance at its finest. "No."

    Alistair leant his knee into the cushion, between Micah's ankles. "Please," he begged, prettily. Noah would have put him on his back for that, but Micah was nothing if not a goddamn tease.

    He wanted to know how far Micah would let him go.

    He didn't make it much farther than a kiss before Micah's knee was to his crotch, rubbing him through his sweats. His dick arced to the left, flush to his thigh as Micah bent and extended his knee with perfect pressure.

    Alistair's lips fell open against his, panting.

    "Hump my leg if you're so desperate," Micah said.

    Alistair grinned. "You'd let me do that?"

    Micah tsked. "You woof like a dog. Might as well get off like one."

    "I'm not humping your leg for you."

    "For me? You're the one that asked."

    "I asked to fuck you, not h—hah—"

    He was rendered breathless by Micah cupping him through his sweats, bunching up the fabric, and fisting Alistair's cock through it all. Micah's hips came up, rolling, so at every push, Alistair's cock was wedged not only against Micah's thigh, but also Micah's hand.

    Micah lifted off the couch, lips catching on Alistair's. There was a bitter tinge to Micah's tongue that Alistair recognized. He didn't smell it on Micah's clothes, but knew at some point, perhaps recently, an edible had been consumed.

    "When did you take it," Alistair said, muffled by Micah's tongue in his mouth.

    "What?"

    "The edible."

    Micah was breathing just as hard as Alistair. Their chests were flush together. Micah's arm had seized the back of the couch, his hand to the forearm that gave Alistair leverage above him.

    "You can tell?" Micah said. "Twenty minutes ago."

    "So you're lucid?"

    "Yes," he reassured.

    He rode Alistair's thigh like he wanted to pin Alistair's leg to the couch. It did everything to stoke a fire where Alistair's cock remained wedged between their straddled legs.

    Micah's hands gripped Alistair's waist, thumbs hooking in the frayed gaps where his missing sleeves had torn further down his obliques. As they kissed, he bunched up the fabric, dragging it further, until they were forced to part so Alistair could discard it.

    For those brief seconds apart, Micah's lips latched onto the smooth, stippled tattoo above Alistair's peck. With Alistair's muscles so relaxed, Micah's teeth were able to latch on to loose skin and suck. He bit a trail up to Alistair's exposed throat where he left an open-mouthed, wet kiss to the hickey he'd placed there.

    "Are we just gonna make out like teenagers?" Alistair asked.

    "Only if you don't let me fuck you," Micah said, biting the words beneath Alistair's jaw.

    His skin was beginning to feel tacky as Micah's saliva dried on his skin. Alistair grinned as Micah's lips found his again, simmering with pleasure at Micah's playfulness.

    "Well," Alistair hummed, bottom lip caught between Micah's teeth, "in that case..."

    Micah's hips canted up again, rubbing into the sensitive skin of Alistair's inner thigh. His boxers had grown humid with sweat and pre, damp enough for Alistair to wonder if there was evidence of his arousal on the front of his sweatpants.

    When Alistair trained off, thoroughly distracted by Micah's tongue, Micah pulled away. Their noses brushed. Alistair was, once again, enthralled by Micah's I'm-going-to-ruin-you eyes—heavily lidded, peering up at Alistair past thick and beautiful eyelashes. Such a look turned hazel eyes emerald.

    "Is that a yes?" Micah asked.

    "It's a... I'm kinda into making out right now," Alistair said.

    Micah rolled his eyes away, so Alistair took the initiative to color Micah's throat with a bruise or two. As he was just getting started, holding Micah's neck with both hands, thumbs tipping Micah's head to the side, he felt the air shudder out of Micah.

    Micah's shoulders relaxed against the ministrations of Alistair's tongue and teeth. Encouraged by Micah allowing his weight to be cradled by Alistair, Alistair urged him back down.

    The minutes turned to an hour spent making out on the couch and riddling Micah's torso with hickeys. Feeling giddy with villainous intent, Alistair knew that once the high wore off, Micah would take one look at himself in the mirror and want to hit Alistair upside the head. He didn't care.

    Honestly, I'd probably moan in encouragement if he smacked me for this, Alistair thought, a full-fledged smile imprinting itself on Micah's naval.

    Micah had taken to playing with Alistair's hair, which turned into a weak fist intended to be forceful when Alistair's kisses traveled lower. Alistair tugged the waistband down and used his hand to coax Micah's dick free.

    Everything about Micah's dick was perfect. Where Alistair had length, Micah had girth—granted Alistair had spent enough time with Micah's dick down his throat to know he had both going for him. The thickness of it was the perfect tool for a man with a prostate. It was no wonder Alistair had been able to, more than once, get off on nothing but Micah's cock.

    He sucked on Micah's tip where his hand cupped Micah's cock over his hipbone. He let the sweltering hot head rest on the flat of his tongue, eyes lifting to watch Micah's head fall back.

    It was a fact that Alistair was good at giving head. Some might say he was prolific, if not aggressive about it. However, he'd never felt inclined to suck dick with strangers, and he could blame anxiety for that. Considering Micah had a clinic signing off on his cock every other week, though, made it possible for Alistair to relax into the motions of bringing Micah to a swift completion.

    Just before he came, Micah's knee pulled up against the back cushions, back arching. His mouth fell open, beyond words, as Alistair swallowed with Micah still in his mouth.

    Another perk: Micah's cum was not only a tolerable flavor, but one that made Alistair's mouth water as he licked excess from his lips. He could appreciate a guy with a diet like Micah's.

    Alistair got up to fetch a towel. He chugged a cup of water, swished it around his mouth, and spat it out in the guest bathroom sink. When he returned, Micah was splayed out exactly how Alistair left him—dazed eyes covered by a forearm slung over his face. One foot on the floor and the other knee raised against the cushions.

    Micah didn't move even as Alistair cleaned his dick for him. There was a faint, sweaty sheen on Micah's bruise-spotted chest. Alistair studied the rings of teeth marks on Micah's torso with a growing, smug grin.

    He tossed the towel in the wash and returned. He sat between Micah's legs, his back to Micah's raised knee.

    "Can I ask you something?" Alistair said.

    Micah responded with a huff and a vague toss of his hand. Sure.

    Alistair wasn't sure how to word the question. He sifted through the options before landing on: "I would have helped you get your own place. If you'd asked."

    Micah lowered his arms to his stomach. He stared at the ceiling, blinking slowly. "I wouldn't have let you," Micah said.

    "Is it that awful living with me?" He wasn't insecure about how difficult he was to live with. He never expected to want to live with anyone, but Micah had proved him wrong.

    Those few days they'd spent together had, undoubtedly, involved a patter of excitement in his chest as he left work knowing that Micah would be at the apartment.

    Micah put a hand out. Alistair took the indicator to help Micah rise up. Sitting, facing Alistair, Micah's stoned expression hovered somewhere around Alistair's chest.

    He wouldn't talk if he wasn't high, Alistair knew. The closest he'd gotten to intimate conversation with Micah was at parties, in public, never... like this.

    Alistair, once again, had to question why Micah felt the need to take an edible before visiting Alistair.

    "Living with you..." Micah started. He cleared his throat. "I can't live with you."

    "You can't live with me, you won't let me help you find a place, but you'd let Cassian Presley?" Alistair said, and as he spoke, Micah sunk his face against his hand, leaning his elbow into the knee behind Alistair. It put Micah's chin to Alistair's shoulder. "I'm not judging."

    "Part of it's pride," Micah confessed. "I dunno."

    "You know," Alistair said, or else you wouldn't have come here high to talk.

    Micah took a deep, yet steady breath. "It's the same reason Lee's so pissed at Presley."

    An affair? As far as Alistair knew, what he and Micah had was as far from an affair as possible. Unless—

    "Why was he so pissed at Cassian? Did something happen between you two?"

    "No. Nothing happened. That's the point," Micah said, making no sense until he explained, slowly, "I don't want to feel obligated to have sex anymore because of where I live. The hotel with Lennon... January with Lee and Presley... If I live with you, sex with you will always feel like an obligation. And if I say no, I might as well just leave. That's what I did with them. I said no and I left. It'd be awkward otherwise."

    Alistair had been viewing domesticity with Micah as convenient sex and an opportunity to dissect Micah's brain a little further. He'd always assumed Micah's ego and pride were foolproof against doing things he didn't want to do. The curse of obligation. "So Lee was just protecting you."

    "No, he wanted to continue the threesome, but now they can't. 'Cause I'd feel obligated."

    Alistair almost laughed. Cassian really screwed himself over, he thought. "Aw, that's so corny. Protecting our friends with benefits situation."

    Micah snorted, face completely obscured against Alistair's shoulder, his hand. "Yeah right. We aren't friends with benefits. We're just benefits."

    "Don't lie. We're friends."

    "Benefits."

    "You're missing the 'with' part."

    Micah pinched him in his side.

    "When can I see your apartment?" Alistair asked.

    "Never," Micah huffed, lying again. "Maybe after the engagement party or something."

    Alistair blinked. He hadn't anticipated Micah bringing up the engagement, let alone factoring a party into his equation. "What engagement party?"

    Micah shrugged. "Benny mentioned it. I dunno. After graduation or something."

    "And you're... going."

    When Micah said nothing for so long, Alistair was apt to believe Micah had fallen asleep against his shoulder. He knew then that Micah was done talking, especially when he gave Micah's side a gentle nudge and was met with a groan of hatred.

    Micah tipped like a felled tree. He flopped back on the couch with a bounce and said, "I don't wanna move. Can I just lie here?"

    Alistair rolled his eyes and stood. "Knock yourself out," he said.

    He left to shower and suspected that, upon reentering the living room, he'd find the couch vacated. This meant that he didn't expect Micah to actually knock himself out.

     Alistair went to sleep that night with his bedroom door open so that, around three in the morning, he was able to hear the telltale shuffling of Micah rising. And then, eyes barely open, Alistair watched the silhouette of Micah tiptoe to the foyer. Seconds later, the front door shut. He'd taken his shoes out to put them on in the building hallway light.

    Alistair scoffed, smothering his face into his pillow, and fell back asleep thinking, So predictable.