Better than Sex (San Francisco Sex Gods #1)

Chapter 29

TWENTY-NINE

Mickey

Mickey rose to consciousness slowly, letting the remnants of his dream slip through his fingers as he lifted his heavy eyelids. The first rays of early morning sunlight crept through the window, highlighting the features of the handsome man who slept peacefully beside him. A smile spread across his face.

I had sex with him.

He almost couldn’t believe it, but the evidence of what he and Spencer had shared the night before was all around him: the crumpled towel on the floor, the bottle of lube on the nightstand, the faint smell of sex in the air. Not to mention the slight discomfort in his butt.

Taking care not to disturb Spencer, Mickey slipped out from under the covers. He searched through the pile of clothes on the floor and found his jockstrap. He was almost to the door before he remembered that Spencer had a roommate who might not want to see his bare ass at the crack of dawn. Chuckling, he pulled on his jeans and padded to the bathroom.

While he pissed and hummed a happy tune he was making up as he went along, memories of the night before played in his mind like a steamy pornographic movie. Only he’d starred in this porno.

Certain that the night’s activities had left him with an epic case of morning breath – was dick breath a thing? – he swished some water in his mouth and washed his hands. He eyed the tube of toothpaste on the vanity. Probably not a bad idea to ensure he was fresh for his morning kiss. He squeezed a ribbon of toothpaste onto his finger and shoved it into his mouth.

While scrubbing his teeth, he studied his reflection. He was truly a sight to behold. Hair a tangled mess. Dried cum matted in his chest hair. There was no mistaking what he and Spencer had been up to the night before.

He spit out the foamy toothpaste, swished with more water, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His smile stretched from ear to ear. He wasn’t a virgin anymore. Now he was sexually active .

“I get to have my walk of shame,” he said excitedly before bursting into laughter. Why did people call it that? The walk of shame. Sex was awesome. After what he and Spencer shared last night, he’d proudly strut home in his rumpled day-old clothes. He’d shared his body and given another man pleasure. He’d gotten fucked.

Finally, he truly felt like a gay man.

A jaw-popping yawn took him by surprise. They needed coffee. He could brew a pot and bring a cup to Spencer. Have a quiet morning in bed, sipping coffee and sharing time together. Maybe they could fool around some more before he had to go home and make lunch for Logan.

He clicked off the light and strolled down the hall. When he saw that Xander’s bedroom door was open, he ground to a halt. Xander must have come home after they’d fallen asleep. Maybe he’d brought someone home as well? Mickey crept to the doorway and peeked inside. The sheets were thrown off the bed and clothes littered the floor, but the room was empty.

A cupboard door closed with a soft thud. That meant Xander was in the kitchen, and possibly not alone. Suddenly his walk of shame seemed less appealing. He briefly considered climbing back into bed with Spencer, but he’d have to face Xander eventually.

Feeling less bold than he had moments before in the bathroom, Mickey took a deep breath and steeled himself. He crossed through the dark living room and took a seat at the kitchen island.

Xander was pouring himself a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Shirtless and barefoot, he wore only a pair of black athletic pants with white stripes on the outseams. His mouth curved into the cold, calculating smile that always reminded Mickey of a snake. “Well. Good morning.”

“Morning.” Mickey forced himself to make eye contact with Xander.

“Looks like I wasn’t the only one with company last night.”

Mickey shrugged. “Did your guy leave?”

“He had to leave for work. Or something.” He opened the cupboard door and set another mug on the island. “Coffee?”

“Sure,” Mickey said warily.

Xander filled the mug and slid it toward Mickey. He stared at Mickey’s chest, no doubt clocking the dried cum. With a smirk, he asked, “Cream?”

The tips of Mickey’s ears ignited, burning and tingling. He crossed his arms over his chest and rested his forearms on the island. “No thanks.”

Xander chuckled and ran a hand down his smooth, tan chest. “One of the reasons I wax. Makes cleanup a breeze.”

“Spencer likes hairy chests.”

“This week, maybe.” Xander wrapped his hands around his mug and leaned against the counter. The silence between them grew thick and uncomfortable.

Every instinct told Mickey to run. To quickly pour a cup of coffee for Spencer and then retreat to his bedroom. What good could come from subjecting himself to Xander’s taunts? Xander was fine in a group – in small doses – but Mickey wilted under his steely gaze and hated being the sole focus of his attention.

“I saw Spence’s shirt on the couch last night, so I suspected he might have someone over. Thought it might be you. You two have been pretty chummy since the sex lesson.”

Mickey stared into his coffee cup, wishing Spencer would wake up and come out of his room.

“So you’re not a virgin anymore?”

Mickey shook his head. All the pride and excitement he’d woken up with drained out of him. He took a sip of coffee and forced the bitter liquid down his throat.

Xander pushed off the counter. He went to the refrigerator and returned to the island with a container of yogurt. “Congrats.” He removed the foil seal from the yogurt and licked it before tossing it onto the countertop. “I’ll have to congratulate Spence when he wakes up. It took him ten years, but he finally finished that list of his.”

A chill traveled down Mickey’s spine. “What list?”

“His fuck-it list.” Xander retrieved a spoon from the dish drainer. He stirred his yogurt, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know, like a bucket list? It’s his list of all the sex he wanted to try before he turned thirty. It’s a few weeks after his birthday, but I think it still counts.”

Mickey’s stomach dropped, and his hands started to shake. “What…” His voice was a gravelly mess. He cleared his throat. “What does that have to do with me?”

“Well...” Xander popped a spoonful of yogurt into his mouth and moved it from cheek to cheek before swallowing. “The last thing on his list was bedding a virgin. Now he’s done that, with you.”

“No.” Tears pricked Mickey’s eyes. “It wasn’t like that. That wasn’t what it was.” Even as the words left his mouth, they sounded foolish. Spencer had been telling him the truth all along – Mickey just hadn’t wanted to hear it.

Love is a lie.

Sex gods don’t date.

I’m not a good guy, Mickey.

Mickey yanked his hand away when Xander reached for it. “I’m sorry if you thought it was something more,” Xander said. He sounded genuinely apologetic, but with Xander, even kind words seemed sharp at the edges. “That’s common with your first time. Believe me, for Spencer it was just a hookup.”

Mickey started to hyperventilate, his chest rising and falling with his shaky breaths. He’d told Spencer it was okay if it was a one-time thing. But the way Spencer had kissed him…the way he’d touched him…could it have meant nothing ?

“Sex is just for fun,” Xander continued. “Best to keep your feelings out of it. It’s part of being one of the sex gods, Mick. That’s why we have the rules.”

“Fuck your rules,” Mickey growled.

He stormed through the living room and threw open Spencer’s bedroom door.

Spencer rolled over and regarded Mickey with sleepy, squinted eyes. “Good morning,” he said, his tone calm and contented.

Mickey ignored him. He snatched up his crumpled shirt from the floor and pulled it on with a frustrated jerk, leaving it unbuttoned. He rooted through the rest of their discarded clothing but could only find one of his stupid no-show socks.

Spencer bolted upright in bed. “Mickey? What’s happening?”

“I’m leaving, obviously.” With a final aggravated groan, he tossed the lone sock aside, grabbed his shoes, and raced out of Spencer’s room.

Behind him, the box spring creaked and seconds later Spencer appeared in the living room, wrapped in his sheet. His eyes darted between Mickey and Xander, who was sitting on the edge of the counter eating his yogurt. “What the fuck is going on?”

Mickey leaned against the wall near the front door, hopping on one foot and then the other, forcing his oxfords onto his bare feet. “Xander told me about your list.”

Spencer shot daggers at Xander, then dropped his chin with a harsh exhale. “Mickey…”

Mickey unlocked the deadbolt and opened the front door, escaping into the hallway without bothering to close it behind him. He had to get away before he started to cry. He wouldn’t give either of them the satisfaction of seeing that. With fumbling fingers, he tried to button his shirt but stopped with a huff when he realized he had the buttons in the wrong holes.

Spencer charged into the hallway, still wrapped in his sheet. “Mickey! Wait!”

Mickey rounded on him. “You wanted to ‘bed a virgin’?” he spat, repeating Xander’s words with as much disdain as he could muster. “That’s all I was to you? Just a big game? All this talk about making me a sex god ?” A realization tore through him like a bullet. “Oh my god, were you trying to fix me so I’d be good enough to sleep with? So I wouldn’t embarrass you in front of your friends?” Tears welled in his eyes and his chin quivered. “How stupid could I be,” he mumbled before turning and rushing toward the elevator at the end of the hall.

Spencer followed him, calling his name with increasing desperation. “Mickey! Mickey ! None of that is true!”

Mickey jammed his thumb against the call button over and over. He crossed his arms and glared at Spencer. “Is what Xander said about the list true?”

Spencer opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Mickey’s stomach roiled with nausea. “Answer me, Spencer. Do you have a fu—” He caught himself and lowered his voice. “An ‘eff-it list’ that says you wanted to sleep with a virgin?”

“Yes,” Spencer said meekly. The elevator door slid open with a ding. “But that’s not what this is!” He gripped Mickey’s bicep, his eyes wide and wild, as if he were a drowning man and Mickey was his only hope for survival.

For a moment, Mickey was almost convinced he was contrite.

(I’m not a good guy, Mickey.)

Mickey wrenched his arm out of Spencer’s hold. “Don’t.” He stepped into the elevator and swiped at the tear rolling down his cheek. “You should have told me about the list, Spencer. At least then I would have had a choice.” He pressed the door-close button. “I might have still said yes.”

His eyes blurred with tears, and the elevator door slid closed. With a soft whirr, the car started its descent, carrying Mickey away from the first man who broke his heart.

Spencer

Stunned, his jaw slack and his hand loosely gripping the sheet around his hips, Spencer watched the elevator door glide closed. Too late, he extended his arm in a feeble attempt to stop the door from closing. Before he could reach it, the metal door slotted into the wall, creating a barrier between him and the man he’d been looking forward to waking up next to. But not before the devastated expression on Mickey’s face burned itself into his retinas.

How could this have gone so wrong? After the beautiful night they’d shared?

Go after him. He frantically jiggled the call button, powerless as the numbers lit up one by one, in descending order, as the car made its way to the lobby. His shoulders drooped, and he stifled a sob. He couldn’t just run through the streets of San Francisco wrapped in a sheet. By the time he got dressed and downstairs, Mickey would be long gone.

Mickey was angry and hurt. He had every right to be. He just needed some time to cool down, then Spencer could explain everything. How he hadn’t thought about his list in weeks. How he’d gotten swept up in the plan to transform Mickey into a sex god. How none of that mattered anymore, because those weren’t the reasons he held Mickey in his arms last night while they were making lo— having sex.

Even though he didn’t deserve him, he wanted to be with Mickey because he genuinely liked him.

Given a chance, he could make things right. If Mickey would listen, that is.

Spencer slumped against the wall, regret settling like a heavy weight in his lungs, making it difficult to breathe. He should have been the one to tell Mickey about his fuck-it list. He could have taken him out for drinks, explained the whole situation, and admitted he was developing feelings for him. He could have reassured Mickey that he wasn’t being used.

He’d been thoughtless and shortsighted. Of course, it was only a matter of time before Mickey found out about his list. All the guys knew about it. Eventually one of them was bound to let it slip.

Blake might have let it slip. Not Quinn. And definitely not Xander. He balled his hands into fists. Xander didn’t slip .

Spencer struck the wall behind him as hard as he could, giving zero fucks for the tenants on the other side of the wall. He stomped down the hallway and burst into their apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Xander perched on the countertop eating his yogurt. He motioned to the mug next to him. “Coffee?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Xander held up his hand in a placating gesture. “Sorry. Would you rather have tea?”

“Cut the shit! Why the hell did you tell him about my list?”

Xander slid off the counter and turned toward the sink. “It’s about time someone did.”

Spencer grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. “Thanks to you, now Mickey thinks his first time was meaningless. That it was just sex.”

With fire in his eyes, Xander gripped Spencer’s hand, squeezing harder than he needed to, and threw it off his shoulder. “It was meaningless, Spence. It was just sex. It’s what you do, remember?” He wagged his index finger between their chests. “It’s what we do.”

Spencer frowned. “It wasn’t just sex.”

“Yes. It was.”

“It was more than that. I care about him.”

Xander rolled his eyes. “What are you saying? You love him?” He scoffed. “You barely know him.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you!” Xander bellowed, poking his finger into Spencer’s chest with so much force that he stumbled backward. “You’re different, man. You’re my best friend and it’s like I don’t recognize you.”

Xander dragged his hand through his hair. “You wanted this! When we met in that bar after you broke up with Garrett, you told me you were done with love. That it was a big lie, and you were never going to fall for it again. We promised to look out for one another.” He thumped his fist against his heart. “I take that promise seriously.”

Xander’s expression softened, his brows pulling together with concern. “Listen, I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t want what happened with Quinn to happen with us.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He was our best friend. The three of us were inseparable. But when he met Henry…everything changed.”

“Yeah, he started a relationship.”

“He abandoned me,” Xander blurted. “I’m lucky now if I get to see him a few times a month.”

Spencer shook his head, incredulous. “He didn’t abandon you.”

“Fine. Us . He abandoned us . And now Blake is hanging out with Ethan all the time, and you and Mick are spending more time together…”

Spencer held up his hand and huffed. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous of Mickey? Is that why you told him?”

The fire in Xander’s eyes winked out as they filled with water. “I told him because he deserved to know.” A glistening tear collected in his dark lashes and dripped to his cheek. “I asked you, man. I asked if you had feelings for Mickey, if you wanted to date him, and you kept saying no. You told me it was just sex.” In a choked whisper, he added, “You were using him. It was time someone told him.”

“It should’ve been me.”

Xander wiped his cheek with the back of his fist. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over. You finished your list. You’ve gotten it all out of your system, and now things can go back to the way they were.”

“Things can’t go back to the way they were.”

“Why not?”

Spencer aimed his shot with the precision of a sniper and pulled the trigger. “Because maybe I’m sick of being a slut and whoring around like you.”

Xander recoiled, his stunned look morphing quickly into a mask of rage. He hurled his empty yogurt container into the sink, sending the spoon clattering to the floor. “Screw you,” he snarled. He pushed past Spencer, strode into his bedroom, and slammed the door.

Spencer’s hands shook from the adrenaline coursing through his system as he tied the sheet around his hips in a loose knot. His whole body vibrated like a tightly coiled spring. Applying pressure to his temples, he tried to slow down his breathing, counting his inhale and his exhale. In-two-three-four. Out-two-three-four.

“Damn it.” He picked up Xander’s spoon and placed it in the sink. Dumped out the coffee and rinsed the mugs. He winced when a loud bass beat erupted from Xander’s room like a clap of thunder.

It wasn’t like them to fight. He and Xander would grouse and bicker from time to time. They frequently got on each other's nerves. But they’d never actually fought. For the first time in their decade-long friendship, Spencer wasn’t sure what to do. Apologize? Give Xander space?

He trudged through the apartment, stopping outside of Xander’s bedroom. He lifted his fist to knock but decided against it. Xander was probably working out his anger through chin-ups. With the music blasting, it was likely he wouldn’t hear the knock anyway.

In his own room, Spencer quietly closed the door behind him and let the sheet drop to the floor. Feeling numb, he climbed into bed and hugged Mickey’s pillow to his chest. The clean smell of bourbon-scented shampoo clung to the pillowcase. He inhaled deeply, letting himself be transported to the night before, when he’d held Mickey in his arms, closer than he’d ever held another man.

What he and Mickey had shared wasn’t just sex. The only other time he’d felt a connection that profound was when he’d lost his virginity to Garrett.

It seemed like a lifetime ago, that spring break of his freshman year, when he and Garrett had rented the quaint bungalow on the beach. Spencer had been looking forward to the trip for weeks. After months of fooling around, it was finally time. He was ready to give himself completely to Garrett.

The first night on the beach had been perfect. It was as if every detail had been carefully curated to make the experience as memorable as possible. The lambent, otherworldly illumination from the silvery moonlight streaming in through the windows. The susurrant sound of the distant waves. The cool breeze ruffling the gauzy curtains. The heat and strength of Garrett’s body, young and tan and strong.

Garrett had been so tender with him, entering him slowly. Moving over him and inside of him with a gentle roll of his hips. Kissing him in the half-light. Whispering in Spencer’s ear, “ You feel so good .”

When they lay together afterward, gazing into each other's eyes and tracing lazy fingers over sweat-damp skin, Spencer surrendered his heart, trusting it would be safe in the embrace of the man beside him.

He’d had that same feeling with Mickey. So Xander was wrong – what he’d shared with Mickey hadn’t just been a meaningless hookup.

But Xander was right about one thing. Meaningless sex was what the two of them had dedicated their lives to. Quantity over quality, always on the hunt for more, racking up hollow interactions with men they treated like notches on a bedpost, or checkboxes on a list.

Spencer rolled over to his nightstand and retrieved his fuck-it list from the top drawer. It was an ancient, yellowed piece of notebook paper, worn at the edges and taped together where it had torn on one of the folds, filled front and back with his teenage chicken scratch. He glanced over the entries until his eyes landed on the one blank checkbox. Sleep with a virgin . Sandwiched between Fuck in a hot tub and Sex on Alcatraz Island .

He was as shallow as a puddle. A superficial fuckboy. And now this was how Mickey would see him as well.

The worst part, though, the regret that lodged like a shard of glass in his heart, was that without intending to, he’d done to Mickey what Garrett had done to him – ruined his first time.

Tears filled his eyes. He tore the list to shreds and flung it over the side of his bed. Curling himself into a ball around his pillow, he breathed Mickey’s scent into his lungs. With a shudder and a choked-back sob, he lost the battle with his emotions. A dam broke inside of him, and he did something he’d promised himself he’d never do again.

He cried over a man.