Chapter 427: Micah vs. the Beast (Spoiler: He Likes It)
The sound of giggling snapped Micah out of his thoughts. His head whipped to the side, and his ears burned red when he noticed a small group of girls lingering nearby. They were eyeing him and Clyde, whispering behind their hands and giggling in a way that gave Micah the creeps.
Micah’s embarrassment shot through the roof. Heat crept up his neck. Without a word, he separated himself from Clyde, though he refused to let go. Instead, he laced his fingers tightly with Clyde’s, glaring at the girls, then spun on his heel and marched away.
Clyde let himself be pulled along, silent but watchful, his gaze lingering on the damp sheen of sweat across Micah’s chest. The young man’s open shirt clung to his skin in the evening breeze, exposing a glimpse of muscle. Clyde’s throat tightened. He had felt their warmth when they hugged, and now being in public...
Without a word, Clyde reached forward. His fingers brushed the fabric as he began fastening the open buttons, each one slipping into place.
Micah was caught off guard at first, but then he watched as the man fussed over his shirt. A smirk spread on his face. "What?" His voice dripped with mischief. "I can’t show it?"
Clyde’s hands faltered for a fraction of a second before he let go, pulling back slightly. "No," he muttered, his tone stiff and careful. "You’ll catch a cold. You are sweaty, and the air is cooling down."
Micah tilted his head, narrowing his eyes like a cat stalking prey. "Really? That’s it?" His smirk grew. "What a bummer! Here I thought my boyfriend had gotten jealous. Guess it won’t be a problem if I play volleyball next time in just a Speedo, hm..."
The words were uttered in a fit of anger, but the result was nothing like Micah had expected.
Clyde’s hand shot out, gripping Micah’s waist firmly, pulling him close. The sudden force stole Micah’s breath. Clyde towered over him, his shadow falling over Micah’s surprised face. Though the sunglasses still covered his eyes, Micah could feel them burning into him, scorching with unspoken fire.
"Micah..." Clyde’s voice was low, dangerous. "Don’t start." His grip tightened. "... I am already at my wits’ end..."
Micah’s heart jumped violently in his chest. His smirk faltered, throat went dry.
He had a bad premonition. Clyde never lost control like this. He was always collected, restrained, even when teased mercilessly, he would just run away. But right now, he was trembling on the edge of something feral, like a beast ready to claim his possessiveness.
"You," Micah gulped, the sound loud in his own ears. His lips parted nervously. "When did you come?" he whispered.
"Long enough to see everything..." Clyde murmured. His head lowered until Micah could feel his breath against his cheek. "I didn’t step in earlier... because I was afraid I would kill him..."
A shiver ran down Micah’s spine, cold and hot at once. His eyes widened. This wasn’t the Clyde he was familiar with. It was as if a hidden switch had been flipped, unleashing the man’s raw instincts.
"I...I am not..." Micah stammered, panicked at first.
"I know," Clyde cut him off softly. His tone was steady, but his grip betrayed the storm boiling beneath. His hands pressed harder into Micah’s waist, caging him. "I am not blaming you. But if you provoke me right now..." His voice trailed, low and rough. "I can’t promise what I’ll do."
Micah’s chest ached, but not from fear. Instead, to his own horror, joy bloomed inside him, swelling fast and merciless. It was funny. He should be panicking that Clyde caught him with Darcy being intimate,
But instead, he liked it. He liked seeing Clyde lose control because of him. He liked being the reason for those flakes in his eyes. He liked knowing that in this moment, he was the only one who existed in Clyde’s world. It was twisted. It was wrong. But he couldn’t deny it.
Slowly, with trembling hands, Micah reached up. In one swift move, he took the sunglasses from Clyde’s face. He stared at those pale blue eyes. They were raw, bloodshot, and unguarded. They blazed with intensity, possession, jealousy, hunger...and something else... hurt? Fear?
Micah’s breath caught. His panic melted away, replaced by the softness he couldn’t hide.
"You can do anything... I won’t get mad..." The rest of his words were swallowed by the brush of lips. The kiss came gentle, tentative, like savouring a delicacy.
Clyde stepped forward, pushing Micah back until his body pressed against the rough bark of a tree. The trunk shielded them from view, hiding them away in their own small world. His hand cradled the back of Micah’s head, careful and protective, while the other’s grip on the waist tightened, pulling him closer.
Micah gasped into the kiss, stunned. His face flushed, his lips swelling under the gentle sucking. He stopped breathing, eyes wide at the man’s bold moves.
Noticing the surprise, Clyde stilled. He broke the kiss, his lips moving softer now, trailing a tender path across Micah’s mouth, then over the bridge of his nose, then up to his eyelids. Finally, he pressed one last kiss on his forehead, murmuring. "Sorry... I ruined our first kiss before. You weren’t disappointed, were you?"
He stared at the dazed look on Micah; something dark and selfish in him felt satisfied. He brushed a fingertip across Micah’s moist, swollen lips. "I’ll kiss you a hundred times gentler and sweeter until you forget about that fierce one. This is how a tender first kiss should be."
Micah lifted his eyes. "Forget just that one?" he whispered.
Clyde’s eyes darkened, jealousy sparking in their depth. He lowered his head again, claiming Micah’s lips in a kiss far more possessive this time. His tongue traced the curve of those plump lips, teasing, demanding. "Open your mouth," he growled against them.
But Micah only smiled slyly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He pulled his head aside, away from Clyde’s lips. Then, he lifted his hand and pinched Clyde’s ear. "Nope. That’s your punishment for forgetting our first kiss."
Clyde stilled, staring at him, caught off guard by the teasing resistance. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he buried his face against the crook of Micah’s neck. His lips latched onto the soft skin there, sucking gently but firmly.
Micah shivered violently, and a startled moan escaped from his lips. His knees buckled slightly at the electrifying sensation, heat rushing through him. He pushed Clyde’s head away. "Jerk! What are you, a vampire now?"
Clyde nudged his face back to that spot, his breath warm, his voice low and rough. "I’m worse than that..." he muttered.
To Clyde, it wasn’t just teasing. It was truth. After countless lifetimes, he indeed was a creature darker than any vampire.