Page 21 of Undone
“What are you doing?” Michael said, his heart pounding against his ribcage.
“I think we should just retrain your body and instincts,” Anthony said calmly. “Avoidance isn’t the solution here. You must get used to having me close without associating it with submission.”
Michael wet his dry lips with his tongue. “I don’t—I don’t think it’s a good idea, Ant.” Not when it was taking every bit of his self-control not to shove Ant away—or bare his neck for him.
“Do you have a better idea?” Anthony said. “I don’t want this to ruin our friendship.”
A fierce affection blazed through Michael’s chest. Anthony wasn’t very good at admitting attachment. This actually meant a lot. “I don’t want that either,” he said with a sigh.
“Then we’ll try it my way for a week. If nothing improves, we’ll try something else.”
Michael chuckled. “This? What does it even mean? Are you going to be all over my personal space and hope it fixes me?”
Anthony’s gaze was firm. “It’s worth a try.”
Michael groaned inwardly.
Well, that was just great.
But he swallowed his objections and relented.
They talked for a while about the race this weekend. Michael let the other alpha steer the conversation while he pretended that nothing was wrong—that Anthony crowding his personal space was perfectly normal, and he didn’t have feelings about that.
It was one of the most excruciating hours of his life.
The door had barely shut behind Anthony before Michael dragged his pants down, his hand closing desperately around his cock. Fuck, he was so hard he nearly came the moment he touched it. But he didn’t. It wasn’t what he really wanted.
His hole was so empty.
Shoving two fingers into his mouth, he wet them with saliva before pressing them against his empty, greedy hole. He moaned, pushing them inside. Fuck. The air was still full of Anthony’s thick alpha scent, making his instincts go crazy with contradictory urges. Michael moaned again, thrusting his fingers harder into his hole, imagining Anthony’s disgusted face if he knew what Michael was doing—fucking his hole like a slut the moment he left.
He came with a strangled cry, self-loathing roiling in his gut.
Chapter 11
Anthony seemed determined to make his life a living hell.
At least that was the conclusion Michael had come to by the end of the week.
Avoidance might not have been the solution to his problem, but having Ant all over his personal space definitely wasn’t helping the situation. All it did was make him increasingly agitated and shaky in his own skin. The urge to bare his teeth and snarl at his best friend was still present—as was the urge to bare his neck for him. And the less was said about his horniness and inability to come without putting something in his asshole, the better.
Michael tried to avoid Anthony at social functions—he didn’t trust his body to behave—but Ant was like a dog with a bone. He unerringly found him every time, forcing Michael to endure meaningless small talk with barely a couple of inches between them. All the while, his sharp blue eyes studied him with a mix of scientific curiosity and something else. Something darker. Michael wasn’t sure what that emotion was, but it made Michael’s inner alpha bristle, desperate to prove that he wasn’t affected by this little experiment.
“Step away, Ant,” he hissed, glancing around the crowded room. “You’re practically on top of me.”
Anthony gave him a lazy smile. “Stop exaggerating. No one is looking at us. Besides, that’s the point. We need to rewire your brain, remember?”
Michael wished the wall behind him wasn’t there. There was nowhere left to retreat. “That’s your theory. I’m not convinced this is doing anything—other than irritating me.”
“It’s not just my theory,” Anthony said, laying a hand on the wall by Michael’s head. “I’ve talked to Hugh, and he said the same. He’s one of the best AO experts out there.”
Michael shot him an annoyed look. “You told your brother-in-law about me?”
“Not about you. I didn’t use any names. It was just a hypothetical question.”
Michael scoffed. “He’s not an idiot. I doubt he couldn’t put two and two together.”
Anthony shrugged, leaning even further into his personal space. His scent was all Michael could breathe, and it was making his heart race, his hands clenching into balls. He wanted to shove him away. He wanted to shove Anthony against the wall. He wanted—something. A fight, a clash, anything. Worst of all, his pulse throbbed traitorously between his legs, hot and needy.
