A frown was suddenly marring Damon’s handsome face, and he leaned backward. (Micah hadn’t even noticed how close the other man had gotten to him until just then.) “How much?” he asked crisply, pulling out a leather wallet from his back pocket.

To Micah’s credit, he was only baffled for about a second before recovering. “What?” he squawked. (Sort of recovering.) “No, you pompous asshat. I mean, you have to share something about yourself first. You know, like, an information swap.”

Damon blinked, clearly taken off guard. (Exactly how much money had he been willing to pay for Micah’s name?) After a moment, however, he cautiously put his wallet away. Then… “My favorite color is black.”

Micah laughed. It quickly faded away, however, when Damon didn’t join in. “Wait. You’re serious?”

Damon’s frown deepened. “What’s wrong with black?” he demanded.

“Nothing, but that’s not what I meant. You have to be real and tell me something no one else knows about you. Not something so basic as your favorite color.”

Damon’s stare was intense, and it was no easy task keeping eye contact. After a few tense moments, the man’s brow furrowed in consternation, but to Micah’s surprise, he didn’t back down. “I wanted to be a baker when I was a kid,” he finally said, words somewhat stilted. “Before all of this fell into my lap.”

It was probably a stupid question, but… “Can’t you just quit? If you still want that, I mean.”

Damon shook his head. “It’s not that simple. I enjoy what I do for the most part, and like I told you, I’m good at it. And more importantly,” he paused, hesitating for a moment before continuing more softly, “more importantly, my sisters and what remains of my family – this is what they need me to be.”

It was painstakingly honest, and Micah couldn’t help but gravitate towards it – towards Damon himself. Almost without his permission, one of his hands reached across the countertop and placed itself on top of Damon’s. “My name’s Micah.”

“Micah.” His name rolled off Damon’s tongue like it belonged there, and the sound of it went straight to his cock. Overcome with the sudden (sudden? ha!) desire to kiss him, and refusing to second-guess the urge, Micah leaned in and pressed his mouth to Damon’s.

He was only able to enjoy the sensation of a warm mouth mashed against his for a handful of seconds, however, before he realized the other man had stiffened under his ministrations.

In alarm? Disgust? Had Micah totally misread the situation? Was Damon even attracted to other men?

Fuck.

Convinced he’d screwed up royally, Micah jerked backward. “I’m so sorry-”

He needn’t have bothered attempting to apologize, though, because the word “sorry” hadn’t even fully left his lips before large hands were gripping his face and Damon was lunging forward, his mouth crashing back onto his.

Much like his personality, Damon’s tongue was a force of nature, and Micah had no choice but to take it as the man pushed in and lapped at the roof of his mouth and sucked on his tongue like he wanted nothing more than to devour him.