Page 114 of Save Me

I lean over, running my hand up Micah’s back until it sits at the base of his neck, where I squeeze just hard enough so he knows I caught that look. “As the healthcare professional, I asked you what you were feeling. Anything other than a detailed reply will be counterproductive to your healing.”

Micah pulls in a breath, and goosebumps erupt down his arms.

Ah, so I am reading him right–he likes this. I lean down so my lips are by his ear and ask, “What are you feeling, Micah? Be specific.”

There’s an audible swallow, then Micah says, “Hot. And cold, somehow.”

A thrill tingles under my skin. He’s obeying.

“More.” I run the hand that had been on his neck back down his back, careful to avoid any place I know he’s sore.

“I uh…hard. Very hard.” Micah adjusts his hips.

“Hard?” I raise an eyebrow. It’s my turn to be the asshole now. “What does that mean?”

Micah groans. “You know damn well what that means.”

“I’ve learned not to assume. Hard is an adjective that could be applied to things like breathing, seeing, feeling⁠—“

“My dick! My dick is hard.”

I grin. What a satisfying little game he wants to play. My own dick is hard too, throbbing actually. I love his defiance even though he’s basically trembling under my touch.

“Good boy,” I say, earning an actual shiver. “Healing can be stressful on the body. Would you say you’ve been stressed?”

“Yeah.” There’s a pause, and Micah starts holding his breath, and then he backtracks quickly. “I mean, not really. Not comparatively, really, I’m fin⁠—“

“Micah.” He’s talking quickly, and he’s started to tense again. “Healing can be stressful on the body. So the correct answer to that is yes. Say yes.”

There’s a pause, then Micah relaxes again. Like he’s taking in what I say and allowing it to calm his mind.

“Yes.”

That makes me feel warm inside.

I run my hands up his back. “There seems to be a lot of pent-up energy in your body. It’s not recommended that you maintain this state, as it can cause additional stress. Exercise or some form of release can always help with that.”

“Release?” Micah squeaks, then he buries his head in the pillow.

Now I’m remembering how hot it was getting Micah off in the car, the little sounds he made, and how sensitive he was. How much his cock responded in my hand in the shower. I wonder how his pretty little asshole would look stretched around my dick. What if we finish what we started all those weeks ago?

Fuck. Even the thought has my heart racing. Would he let me?

I eyeball the nightstand where the lube was before. Did Micah bring it to this new hotel?

Micah arches his back, pushing his ass up just slightly into the air toward me, offering it to me like he wants me to touch it. Like he’d let me do it. Like he wants me to do it.

All rational thought goes out the window.

”Pull your pants down,” I order.

Micah obeys instantly, sliding them down and baring that ass to me. An ass that’s free of tattoos, although I wonder how long that’ll last. I grab both his cheeks and squeeze. Micah moans, the sound going straight to my dick.

I squeeze hard, then let go, leaving red fingerprints on his ass. Those would look pretty tattooed on his ass.

Opening the nightstand, I see the lube is, in fact, still there. A rush of adrenaline flows over me, and I grab it, snapping the lid open.

“I’ll help you feel better.” I keep telling myself that I’m playing the health provider role. That this is a way of helping him heal. Objectively.