“Fine.” Micah took the bag and pocketed it. He wanted to thank Eden, to say something that would express his gratitude, but it felt forced, trivial. Instead, he just met Eden’s eyes and nodded. “Not enough to buy me a ticket out of here, but it will have to do.”
Eden chuckled. “I suppose so.”
“Will you get dressed?” Looking at Eden, standing there confident in his nudity, made Micah flustered. He could feel the heat settling in his cheeks. “You look ridiculous.”
Eden laughed aloud at that, a glorious peal that struck Micah to his core. “Am I bothering your delicate sensibilities? You did not seem to mind it so much earlier…” A playful smirk pulled at Eden’s lips. So, their lovemaking had made him more confident, then? Again, Micah shrugged and turned away.
As Eden began to dress, Micah watched out of the corner of his eye, admiring the generous muscles that rippled down his back and over his arms. He was striking, even in the dim light, even when removed from the throes of passion. Micah pondered the countless differences between the two of them. This man was obviously born of noble birth, not one to have to fear the threats of the government, the looming menace that was the Games. Men like Eden, born on the surface, unaffected by the Great Fracturing, would have little to fear, living in the lap of luxury, protected by the invisible shield of privilege.
Micah forced himself to look away, gazing instead at his own reflection in the grimy mirror mounted on the wall opposite him. After pulling his jacket back over his shoulders, he attempted to tame the sex-induced tangles that had made a home in his thick black hair. It was getting long again, almost too long, now trailing just past his shoulders. As he tied it back in a knot behind his head, his mind flashed to all the times it had been used to restrain him, to inflict pain, to enforce another’s dominance. But for whatever reason, he hadn’t the heart to cut it.
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