A/N: If I thought any of this was true I wouldn’t write about it I would sit in a corner and giggle. This is all fiction, every last word of it. Fiction!

Chapter 439: Modo XIX—On the Sleeve

Control yourself, don’t wear it on the sleeve, and control yourself. The vow Mike made to himself after that first heartbreak with Brett. Did Brett never love me? Did he fall out of love with me? Neither of those questions never answered properly from the man’s mouth and Modano had not asked either, he didn’t want to hear the truth of it.

Your heart bleeds on your sleeve Mikey Mo.

Hard to argue with those China blue, blank eyes Keane could lay on your face. His mouth hung open just slightly whenever he made a point about anything and one would be a fool not to listen, which Mike had fast learned in the days when Keaner had taken him under the wing in Dallas. Keaner roomed with Hull now, beautiful, two men who didn’t understand the meaning of the words, “shut-up” and Mike knew he could ask Keaner, what did I do wrong?

Ah but he didn’t need to ask.

Your heart bleeds on your sleeve Mikey Mo and most men don’t like the sight of blood, not really, especially the blood from the heart.

So I scared him away?

More like he was a pussy to begin with.

And only a stone would not laugh at that.

From that moment, however, Mike knew he had to keep himself in check, he had to avoid allowing himself to be so vulnerable, and more than anyone else he knew he would always fail on that vow. With Joe, he had been so sure, he had been so healed and aware of salvation and he had done everything recklessly possible to get that man’s attention. And where did that bleeding heart get him? Joe never even looked twice at him, did he? Not ever, not really.

A pale man, a peachy man, long and lean and so muscled that he could be an alabaster representation of a god, hair titian and gleaming and soft, under his fingers, and Mike had to laugh inside. This is where the bleeding heart took him. Peter had noticed it, who knows when or how long, but Peter had taken the mantle not Joe. When Mike had first joined the team in those few frightening days, he’d heard an hourly earful of Josefina Ruiz and the luck bastard Peter was. And now?

“Ah yeah…” Peter said, and his voice sounded nasal and breathy in the same moment, and then soft and lyrical. “Ah yeah you’re beautiful.” Mike barely escaped the finish, his timing perfected from the erratic capricious tumblings with Brett. He smiled and glimpsed the last moments of shivering pleasure on Peter’s face, a large wolf like mouth, large wolf like eyes, he opened them.

The chill struck Mike through almost completely, pale and silvery like Brett’s almost. Those would be Nordic eyes my boy, go to Holland they’re a dime a dozen and they ain’t got my fat gut to compliment them. The ever present wisdom and words of Hull stuck in his brain, no matter how he’d love to delete those files. But Peter’s eyes were different, but they were certainly not softer. “You like that one huh?” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“You’re gorgeous,” Peter said lifting only one corner of his mouth, gleaming teeth and a rusty soft beard. Mike had liked that beard, the tickle, the smooth fur, and he wanted to feel it everywhere on his skin. Peter leaned forward and Mike noticed on the line of his shoulders, the peachy sun touched skin that cut into the rest of his body, ivory smooth. Heh heh, and not a fat gut to compliment it either. Everything was hard… everything. Mike felt his body flinch with the anticipation of fun and Peter touched his cheek, kissed the side of his mouth slid his hand down the front of his chest…

“Oh wow,” Mike sighed, hand slid lower, Mike closed his eyes.

A quick almost violent kiss, the rough touch, the tongue, it sent Mike’s heart racing to new heights. “I need a shower,” Peter whispered.

What?

Mike opened his eyes and Peter hopped off the bed, stretching his arms and groaning happily, disappearing into the bathroom.

What?

But he didn’t say it; he crossed his arms and stared in disbelief. Well maybe, Mike swung his legs off the bed; maybe Peter had sent an invitation, a change of scenery. When he stood up, however, the door closed, tightly, didn’t lock but the meaning was clear enough. Scowling, Mike tilted his head to one side, and took a long slow, deep breath. Peter had given nothing at all to him, not really, just some kisses, and Mike had given him, well, a lot! He felt hurt and angry, he felt initially, abandoned listening to the shower water turn on and he even felt his throat tighten with the panicked hurt that could make one want to claw the wallpaper off the place, to tear into pillows with the teeth, or one’s own face. Had he just used him and left him like a little slut piece of…

But it’s my turn, Gawd dammit!

And then Mike smiled. He’d heard those words before on a grainy whiskey soaked voice, escaping from salty lips, communicated through flashing silver blue eyes, fluffy yellow hair tufted in every direction. And now he understood and he didn’t feel so angry anymore.

Being new at this, and Peter so obviously was, Mike realized that privacy would be valuable to him, important. Hell he’d even needed that often in those first few months with Brett. Sometimes the newness, the overwhelming forbidden pleasure of it all just submerged him neck deep in confusion and fear that after Brett had gratified him first, Mike just could not reciprocate, he had to jump in the shower, take a walk, just find somewhere private to try clearing his head and calming himself.

But it’s my turn, Gawd Dammit!

Brett would never allow him that time alone; Mike would always have to come back to him just to quiet the beast. So why shouldn’t I allow Peter what Brett never gave to me? The important thing right now was making sure Peter was comfortable, and loved, and tendered in a way he never was. Being plunged into this world and Mike would not say gay, or homosexual, or bisexual, but he would say this world of honest love, could be just too much for someone to take.

Mike wanted Peter to be comfortable. Really he wanted to ask Peter everything, when did this happen for you? How did this happen for you? Why did it happen? It couldn’t be just the break up with that beautiful woman he’d been dating. Of course Mike recognized that woman’s perfection, true curves and natural beauty, and he couldn’t comprehend a creature like that turning such a ladies man as Peter to other appetites. It would make him too uncomfortable right now, no doubt, Mike would have to be considerate of his feelings.

He yawned and rolled naked in the bed sheets. Oh yeah he could use a shower too. The smell would be dried and old in such a short amount of time, and the considerate thing to do was clean it off. First night, Mike closed his eyes and inhaled, first time, some things could be left alone, just for a little while longer. In the morning, there would always be time to shower in the morning.

Mike jolted awake, he must have dozed off when Peter came out of the bathroom, smelling steamed and wet and clean, pressing a towel to his crotch and then tossing it onto the carpet. Watching through half opened eyes Mike felt his blood rush with anticipation of the man crawling into bed with him and holding onto him, how nice would that be? But Peter didn’t. He sighed and groaned with happy relaxation as he slid into the other bed and rolled into the blankets like a burrito.

Disappointed, just a little, but Mike didn’t feel altogether too bad about it. Well he just had a shower, of course he would need some time to just cool down and sleep. Yes, sleep wouldn’t be a bad idea right now either. Modano closed his eyes and he smiled, and for the first time in so long, he slept deeply, and without dreams.