Dare to Hope: Stories from the Sound, #4

By TM Smith

Tristan is the second oldest of the Brennan brothers and the odd man out. Most of the Brennan men have careers in law enforcement, but as a psychiatrist, Tristan chooses to help people in a different way. Quiet and restrained, he is content to hover in the background of his more gregarious brothers. Then he meets two men, each broken and damaged from losses beyond their control. 

Gabriel Simenson is mourning his lover's death. The random act of violence that took Gio's life has left everyone at All Cocks reeling. The only thing keeping Gabe from drowning in misery is the friendship he's forged with Micah, the newest model at All Cocks. He continues to struggle, and at the urging of his All Cocks family Gabe agrees to counseling with Tristan under one condition: Micah must go with him. 

Micah Solo can relate to unbearable loss, having lost his leg and so much more in Iraq. The past two years he has been alone, adrift and vulnerable — the memories of war haunting his dreams, spilling over into his daily life. At All Cocks, Micah has found the acceptance he craves and the family he lost, but still he yearns for happiness and peace within. 

The friendship between the three is instant, the mutual attraction evident. They circle each other, wanting more, yet unsure if it is truly possible. Is life the mundane reality they've each come to accept for themselves or do they dare to hope? 

The All Cocks Stories is a series set within the world of online gay porn. 

*Warning* Micah's PTSD is told in detail, including flashbacks to his time in Iraq.
This book is an MMM Menage

• Language: English
• Publisher: TM Smith
• Release date: Apr 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9781530900008

Book preview

Prologue

Micah removed his helmet and wiped his buzz cut hair with a bandana. He hated the heat and humidity of Iraq more than anything else, his body always covered in moisture from the unwelcome temperatures. Run Through the Jungle was blasting through the speakers of the Humvee he rode in, jarring his insides as they drove along the rocky terrain following their Captain’s Jeep.

This was a routine check of the guard stations that were set up along the perimeter of their camp, a drive Micah had taken dozens of times over the past eleven months he had spent in this god forsaken country. There was something that set his nerves on edge today though, just a gut feeling, but Micah had his rifle cocked and ready just to be safe.

The Humvee screeched to a stop and Micah peered out the window to determine why. All he could see was the Jeep in front of them. He was considering climbing out to see what the hold-up was when the Captain’s voice crackled through the radio. Stay sharp guys; there’s a group of four men up here with a couple of donkeys blocking the road — probably just some locals looking to sell or trade.

See if they have any smokes — I could use a fucking cigarette in the worst way, Banks said.

Micah turned to face him, to ask Banks about his promise to quit if they survived the last bout of gunfire on their camp three days ago, but a flash of light high up the wall of rocks to their right caught his eye. He nudged Banks’s shoulder, pointing to the bright circle that piqued off the rocks and disappeared under the side of the Humvee just before there was a loud whistle, followed by fireworks, then an explosion.

Micah didn’t know how he went from sitting inside the Humvee to lying on the rocky road they’d been driving on. He fought the deafening buzz in his ears and lifted his head, unable to see clearly through the curtain of dirt that hovered above him. The smell of copper muddled with the sound of gunfire and the muffled shouts of his Captain; it scorched the air around him. He tried to sit up but couldn’t — his chest felt tight and weighted down but Micah finally found the strength to move his head. His vision blurred and his stomach roiled as a bought of nausea seized him, causing him to close his eyes and let his head fall back to the ground. He tried to catch his breath but inhaling only resulted in a coughing fit as Micah choked on the dirt that rushed into his lungs.

Eyes closed, he turned his head to the right; his cheek ached as it scraped across brittle sand and rock. Opening his eyes, Micah gasped at the sight of the Humvee he was sitting in just minutes ago, torn in two from the explosion that had hit them. Banks? Captain? Anyone? The words formed in his mind, his mouth too full of sand and blood to voice them. Somehow, he managed to move his head so he could see to his left and whimpered. The top half of Banks’s body lay beneath the door of the Humvee, his dead eyes staring back at Micah. His legs lay about twenty yards away next to the spare tire.

Micah’s vision blurred again as another onslaught of nausea hit him. He choked back a mouthful of bile and closed his eyes, praying he would die quickly and not be taken, tortured by the Iraqis that had ambushed them. A brisk wind kicking up more sand and dust pulled Micah back from the verge of unconsciousness. There was a chorus of shouts and renewed gunfire surrounding him, but Micah had already withdrawn from the fight, realizing his worst fear was coming true: he was going to die in this miserable fucking desert.

Chapter One

Nightmares & Memories

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Micah sat upright in bed, panting, close to hyperventilating. He closed his eyes and fisted the soft, cool sheets in his hands, taking even, deep breaths. After his heart rate slowed, he opened his eyes, soaking in the dark silence that surrounded him, knowing in his heart he was safe inside his room at Victor’s house. But his mind was still playing a slow motion movie of the ambush in Iraq when he lost his leg.

It was so vivid: the explosion, the fear when he woke up at Landstuhl Medical Center in Germany restrained to his tiny hospital bed. The plump nurse with the strange accent gently cupping Micah’s face with her hands, trying to calm him as he fought to get free of the straps that held his leg and wrists pinned to the bed. The memories overtook Micah as his mind reverted back to that very day.

***

Shhhhh. Shhhh. Her voice was so soothing and familiar for some reason; Micah stopped trying to tear free and laid his head back on the pillow, staring up into her kind eyes.

Micah, do you know who I am? she asked. Micah shook his head, and yet, there was something very familiar about her voice, her eyes. Where did he know her from?

Let’s ask an easier question. Micah, do you know where you are?

Micah shook his head again, but then a memory assaulted him: Dirt, blood and gunfire just before he could feel his body being lifted, weightless, and then everything going black. Being jerked awake by a bright light and an incessant beeping, a man in scrubs with a mask over his face holding Micah down, while in the background he could hear her gentle voice begging him to lie still and sleep.

Wha... Wait... Yes. His throat was dry and sounded just like it felt, like he had swallowed broken glass.

You are in the hospital in Germany. You were flown here after your team was ambushed... The nurse — he knew that now, was telling him where he was but just the mention of his team caused Micah to flinch and jerk at his restraints involuntarily.

Banks, Captain, dead? He knew he wasn’t making any sense, but hoped the nurse knew what he was asking.

Her eyes dimmed a little and she nodded her head, reaching down and holding Micah’s hand as best as she could with the brown leather restraint in the way.

Okay Micah, if you promise me you will stay calm and listen, not go crazy and jerk out your IV, throw things at the wall like last time, I’ll tell you what I know. She paused and gave him a very serious look, one that said she meant business. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all but refrained. He took a deep breath and nodded.

Okay. My name is Annia and this— she waved her hand in the air— is Landstuhl Medical Center in Germany.

How long? Micah managed to gasp out the words.

Two weeks, Annia replied, letting go of his hand and reaching for a cup with a straw that sat next to his bed. She brought the straw to his lips and nodded, smiling, encouraging him to sip. Once the cold, wet water hit the back of his throat Micah groaned and emptied the cup with one long pull on the straw.

She set the cup back on the table before facing him again. Okay, I’m going to remove the restraints but you have to promise me you won’t give us a reason to put them back on.

Micah nodded.

No. I want you to say the words, Micah.

Instinctively, he nodded again and she tsked, which made him smile.

***

A soft knock at the door made Micah jump. He blinked and the dark room slowly came into focus. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbing his prosthetic blade and quickly attaching it to his stump before standing.

Micah, honey, you okay? Gabe’s tiny voice floated through the door.

Micah relaxed and walked over to the door, opening it and waving Gabe in. Yeah, I’m good, he lied.

Another nightmare? Gabe asked, not buying that Micah was okay for a minute. The light that flooded into the room from the hall showed his brown eyes were red rimmed and there was a fine layer of sweat covering Micah’s skin, not to mention the bags under his eyes. Gabe pushed past Micah into the room, turning on the bedside lamp and sitting down on the bed.

Micah chuckled, closing the door and going to sit down next to Gabe.

The same? Or something new? Gabe asked. He and Micah had become good friends over the past several months. Initially bonding over the shared pain of loss, their connection had grown into a genuine friendship. Micah felt he could talk to Gabe about anything and he wouldn’t be judged or condemned, like he had been with his family once upon a time. Gabe had become his best friend.

Micah sighed and turned, staring out the window at the half moon that sat low on the horizon. Same. It’s always the same, Gabe.

Gabe reached for Micah’s hand, holding it in his own smaller hands. They are coming more frequently Micah. Your monthly visits to the VA clinic aren’t enough anymore, please... Micah met Gabe’s eyes and wanted to smile at the concern he saw there. How long had it been since anyone was truly concerned for him? Please Micah, at least talk to Tristan. He won’t judge you, none of us here will. Please, for me? Gabe begged.

Micah sighed in frustration, feeling awkward. He knew the truth in what Gabe was saying. They’d spent a lot of time with Tristan since he had started grief counseling with Gabe, but it was still hard for Micah to trust most people. He ran his fingers through his sleep tousled hair and nodded, unable to verbally agree just yet. Gabe had wanted Micah to see Tristan to talk about his PTSD and nightmares from the start. He’d agreed to placate Gabe and get him to agree to go. But Micah continually found excuses not to follow through. It would seem that now, sitting in front of Gabe with sweat soaked skin and blood shot eyes after a nightmare, he was all out of excuses.

Yes? The corners of Gabe’s pretty mouth slowly turned upward, the grin lighting up his pale features. Not for the first time, Micah wanted to push his lithe body down, cover it with his own, and kiss those perfectly pinked lips. But he refrained, giving Gabe a half-assed smile and nodding again. Gabe threw himself at Micah, hugging him hard. His words were muffled with his head buried in Micah’s shoulder, but still audible. Everything will be fine, Micah. You’ll see.

Micah wasn’t so sure, but at this point, what could it hurt? They talked for a while before drifting off to sleep, only to be rudely woken at ten in the morning when Mattie blew into the room humming happily, carrying a tray with coffee and cheese biscuits.

Rise and shine, sleepy-heads. Mattie was entirely too chipper and it aggravated Micah. He opened one eye, glaring up at the perky blonde. Don’t you give me that look, Micah. Mattie glared back with one hand on his hip, cocking it to one side. The other hand was busy, shaking and pointing at Micah and Gabe. You two get your butts up and moving; Tristan will be here in an hour. And with that, Mattie turned and left the room.

Micah sat up and grabbed a cup of coffee, growling as he took a sip. Is he always happy?

Gabe snorted. No, not hardly. Mattie has his own demons to deal with, but he made a choice a long time ago not to let those demons control his life. You could learn a lot from him, maybe.

What— Gabe cut Micah off with a furious shake of his head.

No. Don’t even ask me — it’s not my place; you’ll have to ask Mattie. Gabe stood and headed toward the door. I’ll meet you in the kitchen; I have to shower. I can smell myself. And with that, Gabe disappeared out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

Micah grabbed a biscuit and tore a bite off, still a little miffed, though he couldn’t quite figure out why. Wow, that is fucking delicious. He quickly finished his biscuit, and another as well as his coffee before heading into his bathroom to shower. Hands braced against the wall, head down, Micah let himself enjoy the gentle massage the water beading down his back produced. It brought back another memory, a rare moment of happiness during his deployment in Iraq.

***

Micah quickly undressed, dropping his uniform on the floor next to his locker, then wrapping a towel around his waist and heading to the last shower stall in the makeshift lavatory. Every muscle in his body ached and he was fatigued, but the hot needles peppering his back felt absolutely amazing. He almost jumped out of his skin when a pair of hands gripped his hips. Momentary shock quickly faded when a pair of lips kissed his shoulder, a wet tongue travelled up the line of Micah’s neck, and a sultry voice whispered in his ear. Easy now, soldier.

Micah couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. Nor could he help his body’s reaction to push his ass back against the hard cock that rested against his left cheek. The hands that gripped his hips slowly moved forward, one creeping down toward his now semi-hard dick, the other climbing up to tweak his nipple between familiar fingers.

Micah leaned back, resting his head on Banks’s shoulder, sighing. That’s it baby, let me take care of you, Banks whispered into his ear before biting down on the lobe, causing Micah to shiver in his arms. You like that, baby? Banks asked. Micah grunted and thrust his hips forward, driving his now rock-hard dick into the tight grip of Banks’s hand.

Micah jerked forward when his brain caught up with what was happening, trying to turn and push Banks off him. Stop, B, someone will see us, or hear us.

Shhh, Micah. I paid Homer to stand at the entrance of the tent and call out if anyone’s coming in. Homer was a nickname they’d given one of guys that loved the show The Simpsons. He would watch it on his laptop anytime they had Wi-Fi, and he always walked around saying D’oh just like Homer in the show. He also happened to be gay, so he was trustworthy.

Micah relaxed again and continued to gently rock his hips into Banks’s tight grip. He wasn’t Micah’s type really, but he was fun and friendly and they’d hit it off the first week of their deployment in Iraq. After shared guard duties and the revealing of secrets the two soon realized they were both gay. A mutual agreement was reached where they would help each other out, for lack of a better term. Banks was a total top though, and while Micah was versatile and missed the feeling of fucking another man, being fucked and sucked and touched by Banks was better than complaining about not being able to return the favor.

Micah’s random thoughts quickly evaporated when he felt the tip of Banks’s finger penetrate his hole. He played with Micah for a few moments, before pulling out and inserting two fingers, then three. You ready for me, Micah? Banks asked.

Micah nodded, feeling the wonderful stretch and burn as Banks pushed past that first barrier, that tight ring of muscle at the rim of Micah’s ass. So tight Micah, so good, Banks whispered, driving in and pulling out at a steady pace. He ran his hand down Micah’s thigh, grabbing his leg and lifting it up to allow deeper penetration.

***

Fuck! Micah shouted into the steamy bathroom, slamming his fist into the hard tiles of the shower. He had just begun to enjoy the memory, had just wrapped his fingers around his stiff prick, when the memory of Banks tenderly grabbing his left leg and lifting it up so he could spread Micah open and fuck him through the wall crashed into him. Micah closed his eyes, head resting on the now-cool tiles — the water was running cold. When he opened his eyes it was the first thing he saw, it was always the main focal point for him: his left leg. Or his half-leg if he were being honest.

He had remembered, dreamed and fantasized about that day in the shower stalls a hundred times or more since he left that fucking desert. But he was never able to get past the point where Banks grabbed his leg in the memory, his thoughts immediately veering left, to the day of the bombing. Every. Damn. Time. Micah closed his eyes again and took a few deep breaths, grounding himself in the moment. You aren’t in Iraq. He spoke the words softly, trying to convince his body that the onslaught of memories was just that, memories. This was where it always got weird for Micah, the part of his subconscious where he had difficulty distinguishing what was reality, and what was a memory.

A soft knock on the bathroom door made Micah tense, but he managed not to freak out and let his mind trick him into thinking it was danger right off the bat.

I’m heading downstairs, meet you there. Gabe’s voice reached him and Micah relaxed, sighing with frustration at his reactions to certain sounds.

Okay, maybe I really do need to talk to Tristan, Micah said out loud, though he was the only person in the room. Well, unless you counted the soul-twisting memories of Iraq and Banks.

Chapter Two

One Step Forward

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The noise coming from the kitchen penetrated Micah’s senses before he was halfway down the stairs. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, Micah stood, watching the chaos that was considered normal in the house. Victor sat at the kitchen table deep in conversation with Chris, both men tenderly holding their cups of coffee in their large hands. Andrew and Mattie were washing dishes — Micah smiled as he watched them. Andrew kept tickling Mattie who would retaliate