He heard Damon snort somewhere above him. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea. We still need to talk. And I want you to actually remember the conversation tomorrow.”

That’s right. They were supposed to “talk”. Heavy emphasis on the quotation marks.

It suddenly occurred to Micah that Damon’s dick was literally centimeters from his lips.

His mouth watered at the thought of Damon’s warm, thick cock sitting heavy on his tongue. He could picture it perfectly in his mind’s eye – the way he’d hollow out his cheeks as he swallowed around Damon, letting the man rut against him until he gagged.

Fuck.

Micah needed the man’s cock in his mouth yesterday.

In Micah’s alcohol-fueled brain, he could think of no reason they couldn’t “talk” right then and there in the car. Sure, there were several layers of clothing between him and his prize at the moment, but that was fixed easily enough.

Which was why, without really thinking about what he was doing, Micah’s hands began fiddling with the zipper of Damon’s slacks. Almost immediately, his wrists were caught in an ironclad grip. “What are you doing?” Damon asked tersely.

Micah blinked stupidly up at the man. He didn’t look mad, exactly, but definitely stiff – and not in the fun way either. “I… I thought you might want a test run of my services before- before talking business.”

That made sense, right? It was mostly coherent?

Micah thought so, which was why he decided to resume what he’d been doing before Damon had so rudely interrupted. Sure, his hands were currently occupied, but not his tongue, which was why he decided to nuzzle his face into the man’s crotch before mouthing at his cloth-clad cock.

“Jesus Christ, Micah,” Damon half-snapped/half-yelped, immediately tugging him away. “Why would you-?” he started before suddenly cutting himself off. Micah wasn’t sure what he was more fascinated by: the tick in the man’s jaw, or the way the veins bulged in his neck. “Is this what you thought I meant when I said I wanted to talk?”

“Um… yes?”

“That’s not… fuck, Micah,” he snarled, jerking away when he attempted to get at his dick again. “Stop that.”

Micah pouted, but obliged.

“This is not what I meant when I said I wanted to talk business. I promise to explain when we get to my place, okay?”

Damon’s tone wasn’t mean or even exasperated – in fact, he spoke extremely patiently for someone getting their cock toyed with in the back of a car. That didn’t stop Micah’s feelings from being hurt for reasons beyond his current cognitive abilities, however.

“Fine,” he muttered, refusing to lift his head from the man’s lap, but pointedly turning so that he no longer faced the man’s crotch. “You- you smell like Christmas trees,” Micah said accusingly, his best attempt at an insult at the moment.

(It’s what the man deserved for leading him on, and then rejecting him… again.)

It didn’t succeed in its intended purpose judging by Damon’s lack of outrage. But the man’s hands returned to his hair after a moment, which Micah considered a win. He leaned into the gentle touch.