A book of matches in his pocket assisted in illuminating several candles placed sporadically around the room. The light was dim but enough for Micah’s eyes to adjust. Eden, however, seemed disoriented. He squinted, attempting to take in his surroundings, the faint outline of the small bed, the desk in the corner, the walls without windows to the outside.
“Your eyes will adjust,” Micah said, moving closer, taking in the curves and hard lines of the other man’s body. Slowly, he approached, running a hand over the fabric that covered Eden’s chest, causing Eden to shiver under his touch. From their close proximity, Micah realized the height difference between them, the stark contrast in their builds. Where Eden was broad and tall, Micah was slim and slight. He quivered, imagining those big hands roving over his body, those taut, hard muscles pinning him down.
“I haven’t…I’ve never…” Eden’s voice caught.
Micah studied him, raising a brow. “You a virgin?”
Eden flushed. “No. Not a virgin…”
“Well it’s pretty much the same, I’m told.”
“Have you ever…with a woman?”
Micah almost laughed, but refrained, seeing the look of trepidation on Eden’s face. “No. I haven’t.”
“So, is this…how you prefer?”
Micah paused, unsure how to explain to this man that there was no preference about it. Most every other time Micah had been held in another man’s arms had been for survival, for profit, or by force.
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