Friends, and Lovers, and Politics

The night was too quiet. M’Rhal hated quiet nights. She’d suffered too many in her years already. She expressed her displeasure with a huffed sigh, and then stretched languidly, like a cat, yet more graceful and lithe than anything of the feline orientation. She settled on the sofa, her head resting on Nicolucci’s hard thigh. He brushed her hair back from her face as he smiled down at her.

“Would you like me to take you out?” Nicolucci asked.

“My dear friend,” she whispered reverently. They’d been together since the beginning. At first he was her guardian, her teacher, and her sire’s right hand man. Now he was her cherished companion, friend, and advisor. Always by her side, even after Dante betrothed her to another, and later left her behind to run his family.

“Oh no.” Nicolucci flashed a playful smile. “Please do not tell me you’re feeling melancholy and nostalgic tonight.”

She shook her head. “I want Angelo to take me out.”

“Don’t pout.”

She scowled up at him. “You presume too much familiarity again.”

Nicolucci laughed, a deep, soft chuckle that shook her where she rested against his lap. M’Rhal snorted and looked away, a smile creeping over her lips. Somehow he always knew when she was playing with him.

An authoritative knock echoed through the small room just before the door opened. M’Rhal’s smile shifted from comfort and adoration of her constant companion to unadulterated love and lust for her bonded. “Angelo, betrothed, have you come to whisk me away from all of this?” She waved a hand in the air, but made no move to sit up. Nicolucci smirked and shook his head, still trailing his fingers through her hair.

“Not now,” Angelo said gruffly. He walked swiftly to his desk and dropped into the large leather chair behind it. “Nico, where is that girl?”

“Nica?” he asked, wrinkling his nose and making a face at M’Rhal. She’d been teasing him about the similarity in their names since Judas showed up with her and Max and a half-dozen others in tow.

“Yes.” Angelo hissed out the word.

His patience obviously running dangerously thin, Nicolucci raised an eyebrow to M’Rhal as he answered Angelo’s question. “Blood Moon. She’s befriended that human Chaos has been playing with.”

“Why the fuck is she not addressing this hunter bullshit?”

M’Rhal rose to her feet all liquid and grace. “She’s working another angle,” M’Rhal said. “This human is in the same band as your hunters and claims to know how to manipulate the troublesome one.”

“They’re not my hunters,” Angelo grumbled. “She needs to pick it up. I want calm.”

“Anch’io, betrothed.” M’Rhal settled into Angelo’s lap, draping her arms around his shoulders. “I miss my playful, fun lover.”

Angelo broke a smile just for her, and tenderly brushed his fingers along her cheek. “Says the woman who was all prim and proper not so long ago.”

“Prim and proper? I think not.”

Angelo shrugged, caught her wrists, and said, “It sounds nicer than saying ‘had a sick up her butt.’”

Her eyes widened and she struggled to pull her hands away. As usual, she managed, but barely. Their bonding had made them equals in many ways. Starting a wrestling match with him was just as likely to end up with him pinning her face down on the floor as it was to have her straddling him at her mercy.

She crossed her arms over her chest, but did not get up from her seat on his lap. “Now, it is you who has a stick… in an inappropriate place.”

Angelo sighed and wrapped his arms around her waist. He rested his head against her arm until she unfolded them and embraced him. “I know,” he said. “If I could, I’d finish Judas off just to get peace and quiet in this city again.”

“Nico,” M’Rhal frowned at her friend, “Go tell Nica she needs to make progress tonight.”

Nicolucci rose to his feet but shook his head. “I’ll tell her, but she knows I have little authority over her.”

“Seniority.” When Nico gave a her a doubtful look, M’Rhal said, “Never mind. I will speak with the pup. She’s been spoiled, and needs a firm hand to understand expectations and duty.”

“My, my,” Nicolucci said with an amused smirk. “M’Rhal speaking out against an elder? I thought I’d never see the day.”

“Funny,” she said with a sneer that said it was anything but. “If you repeat that, I’ll deny it.”

“Safe.”

“Go,” she said. “I’m sure you have something better to do than push me.”

This time he knew she wasn’t kidding. He bowed his head and backed to the door. Before he slipped out he bowed his head to Angelo as well, but didn’t leave without muttering something low and teasing under his breath.

 

Competition

Mike wrapped up his afternoon kickboxing class with what his students – mostly moms who’ll run off to pick up kids at school in just a few minutes — often referred to as paid torture: lots of abs drills. They all complained, but it was always good-natured bellyaching. Whenever their whining became too much, he’d lecture them about strong core muscles while making them hold an extended plank position. Those were the classes that usually came with the most thank-yous at the end.

“Normal girls do not have six pack abs.” Mike paced the room, checking form, as they counted out loud, holding a Pilates pose for one-hundred beats. He glanced at the one guy – a relative newcomer, attending only three weeks – and added, “Or guys.” The new guy beamed at him and winked. Great, he thought sarcastically. He already had to fend off one of his regular girls, if this guy got it in his head to flirt, Mike might have to bribe Ash to switch classes again.

He looked away, pacing back to the front of the room as the class reached ninety. After counting down the last ten beats with them, Mike clapped and said, “Great job everyone. Don’t forget to drink a lot of water, and don’t go out in this weather until you’ve cooled down completely.”

He’d hoped he’d imagined that wink, but as soon as the class put their mats away and started to clear out of the studio, the new guy approached Mike, cornering him against the alcove that housed the stereo equipment for the studio. “Hey,” new guy said, “thanks for a great class.”

Mike nodded, only sparing a brief glance so he wouldn’t give the man the wrong idea.

“I’m Kellan.” He held out his head.

Raised better than to blow off a friendly gesture no matter the reason, Mike nodded and shook Kellan’s hand. “Thanks for coming, Kellan.”

“Are you done here?” Kellan smiled. Mike suspected he was going for shy, but Mike thought it more predatory. Of course, a large part of that was likely fueled by the fear that this guy would out him without even knowing for sure if Mike was truly gay. “Can I buy you a coffee? Or… something?”

Mike frowned, but forced himself to soften the expression as he met Kellan’s hopeful gaze. The man was easy on the eyes, strong muscles, dark hair, and piercing, hungry eyes. He’d been nice so far, too, but he was no Crank. Mike had left behind his one-night stands without a second thought the moment he first kissed Crandall.

“Sorry, man, but I make it a rule not to go out with my students.”

“It’s not like you’re teaching high school.” His smile broadened, teasing and playful.

“This is still my business, and I prefer to keep everything professional.”

“You never break the rules?”

As Mike debated the best response, he was saved from answering by Bria bouncing up beside him. She slipped one tiny hand into the crook of his arm and patted his biceps with the other. “Fun as always,” she said.

“Thanks Bria.” Not just for the compliment, but for the interruption. Not that he expected it to be that easy. Bria had often been more persistent than Kellan, and every once in a while, she’d try again. Mike doubted this was her saving him from Kellan as much as it was her staking her claim. As Mike extricated his arm, Kellan’s gaze shifted between Mike and Bria, his expression going dark and disappointed.

“Yeah,” Kellan said, “I see. Whatever.”

“You two have a good night,” Mike said. He turned his back on both of them, returning his attention to the stereo equipment that really didn’t need any more from him. Any excuse in a storm, and hopefully they’d both take the hint because he didn’t have the energy to remain polite about it much longer.

 

 

The Dragon and His Beloved

The Dragon, proud and strong when fighting an immortal beast, hung his head before his beloved wife. “I know, Tash. I know,” he said. In his submissive gesture, his gaze fell to the blood staining his shirt. Some his, some the beast he’d staked an hour earlier, and all the focus of his wife’s fury. Natasha knew it all. She knew about vampires, and she knew about hunters. Her father had been one – the latter, of course — and so had his father before him. Had she not been barren, there’d been a good chance, she would’ve bore another hunter to the world. Some nights, when sleep eluded him, and he craved the sharp, needy cry of a child of his own loins, Dragan wondered if Natasha made sure she didn’t bring a child into the world knowing what he or she would have to face some day. He’d never voiced that concern to her, however. He trusted her. Only darkness let doubt nag at his heart.

“You look half dead already,” Tasha said. She waved a hand at his stained clothing and then settled both fists on her hips. “You promised me, Dragan. Did you lie?”

“No.” His head snapped up and he met her gaze. Never did he lie. “I was ready – am ready – but this one who calls himself the Betrayer changed things.”

“It’s not your problem!” They’d argued about this before. Dragan knew he’d lose too.

“Maybe not, beloved, but the others, you know they’re my friends. They’re in this deep, and I doubt they have much choice. Honestly, beloved, I doubt I do either.”

“Liar!”

“No.” He said it softly and fixed a stern frown on his face. She started to speak again, but Dragan held up a hand. “Tash, stop.” She closed her mouth; only then did Dragan continue. “I will retire. And it will be soon. I will not, however, abandon my friends when the shit is hitting the fan.” He paused, studying her face. Her displeasure showed, and it did not surprise him. Her concern, too, filled the gap between them. “Beloved…” He spread his hands wide and softened his expression. “I love you. I want to grow old with you. But you knew when you married me that this was the life I had to live.”

“You promised,” she whispered, her voice strong, but less fierce than before. “We deserve to retire peacefully, my sun.”

“Soon,” Dragan said. He stepped forward. When she did not renew her argument or her anger, he embraced her. “My promise stands, Tash, beloved, I will step down as soon as this threat of prophecy has passed.”

 

First Impressions

The lobby had a full wall of windows facing the setting sun. Brightly colored chairs, arranged in pairs, bathed in the sunlight. Ash tried to sit in one but bounced right back up to pace in front of a row of turnstiles. As he walked past them the security guard-cum-receptionist glanced up, narrowing his eyes at Ash. Ash raised his hands in a surrendering hands-off gesture and walked back to one of the comfortable-looking chairs by the windows. He had too much nervous energy to sit. He crossed his arms and frowned at the chair, but then a moment later decided he didn’t want his first real impression to look defensive and dropped his hands to his sides.

He heard voices coming from the far side of the turnstiles. He spun around, sighing out his disappointment when he spotted three men in jeans and collared shirts chatting animatedly as they pushed through the turnstiles. He was about to drop into a chair again when he heard Crandall’s voice carrying down the hall.

Ash suppressed a smirk. Crandall was being… Crandall. “I told you,” Crandall said. “I don’t fucking care. Just. Shit. Here.” Crandall appeared around the corner and pushed through the turnstile. “Hey, Ash, you owe me more than a coffee. This girl is a pain in the ass.”

Crandall stopped in front of Ash and glanced over his shoulder. Ginger had stopped just past the turnstile, shyly studying Ash. The sunlight shined off her pale red hair and glossed her small round lips as she offered him a small smile. “Hi,” she said softly. “Crandall, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“You know who he is.”

She was adorable. Ash had suspected Crandall hadn’t noticed just how pretty Ginger was, but even assuming Crandall had other things on his mind, Ash was still pleasantly surprised at the woman standing beside Crandall.

“Ashland Keating,” Ash said offering his hand.

Crandall snorted. “Ash this is Ginger. She, you know, pestered me to meet you.”

She took his hand, and Ash turned it in his, lifting it to his lips to place a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “A pleasure to meet you, Ginger.” Ash smiled, his nerves no longer bouncing wild butterflies in his stomach. She charmed him with just that shy smile. He took a small step backwards and took her in. She was nearly as tall as he was, which worked for her while he always felt short. She was slender, but curvy too. She dressed like she cared about her looks without coming off as vain. Ash liked her snug jeans with embroidered swirls down the sides of her legs. Though if forced, he’d have to admit he liked her legs more than the jeans that encased them.

And her eyes.

And her small, round mouth with pale pink lips.

And her voice when she giggled at his old-fashioned greeting.

It took him only a second or two to look her over and meet her gaze again, and in that brief moment, he was smitten.

“May I have my hand back?” she asked. When Ash started, and then nodded, Ginger giggled again, obviously pleased with his reaction to her.

“I was about to head out for some coffee. Would you like to join me?”

“I’d like that,” Ginger said.

“Shit, you didn’t say you were bringing her too.”

Ash tore his gaze away from her summer sky blue eyes to frown at Crandall. “This was the point,” he started, but trailed off. True, he hadn’t said specifically he’d invite her. Mike had warned him months ago that everything was face value with Crandall.

“Come on, Crandall.” Ginger reached for his arm, but then pulled back and clasped her hands together. “Can we please call a truce for one coffee break?”

“For fuck’s sake, that’s not what you said this morning.”

“Crandall…” Ash recognized the pleading in her eyes, begging Crandall not to ruin the moment, or make her look foolish. Ash knew Crandall didn’t understand, or didn’t care. Sometimes he wasn’t quite sure even though Mike swore Crandall was alright once you learned to navigate his gruff exterior.

“Hey, okay, this is my fault,” Ash said. He touched Ginger’s arm lightly and loved the smile she turned on him in return. He focused on Crandall, but let his hand linger. “I’ll bring you back something, and we’ll catch up for dinner. Does that work for you?”

Crandall narrowed his eyes and stared hard at Ash. Ash was starting to get used to that reaction, though he still couldn’t make heads or tails of it. When Crandall spoke, it was all Ash could do to not laugh at him.

“I suspected you were using me to get laid,” Crandall said. “But I couldn’t convince you to give it up and relax, so I dismissed the idea.” He turned his glare on Ginger, but she only turned her nose up and pretended to look anywhere else. “You could use it though, so I’ll forgive you for a large extra cream and extra sugar.” He turned back toward the turnstile and waved his badge in front of the reader. Once he walked through, he glanced back and said, “And make her tell you where she got that cupcake. I’d stake a vampire for another one of those cupcakes.” He grinned wickedly, and then Ash did start laughing. It was a sight he’d rarely seen. It must’ve been one amazing cupcake.

 

Now or Never

Crandall was standing in the break room, filling his travel mug with fresh coffee, when the sounds of gossiping surrounded him. He ignored the three women, refusing to acknowledge their sudden presence in the room. He would dump the contents of several tiny plastic cups of half-and-half into his cup and high-tail it back to his cubicle.

“Oh. It’s you.” A sharp voice snarled out of the gaggle. Crandall rolled his eyes before turning around to face the women.

“Who else would I be?” Crandall said. He started to walk past them, but then remembered his promise to Ash. He paused in front of the girl, staring right into her creepy pale eyes.

She met his stare. Something Crandall wasn’t used to. He hadn’t done it on purpose, but he knew he’d developed a look that unnerved a lot of people. Especially people who didn’t know him. Ginger, apparently, didn’t seem bothered by it all.

“Why are you such a jerk?” she asked.

Crandall blinked and looked away. With his gaze over her right shoulder, he considered telling her to fuck off again, but he decided that should wait until Ash had his shot at her. He couldn’t see why Ash wanted to meet this pain the ass, but it wasn’t up to him to censor that desire.

“I just fucking am,” Crandall said. He sipped his coffee, grimacing at it before continuing. “You want to talk with someone nice, that’d probably be Ash.”

She waved a hand in front of his face. “Don’t you dare tease me.” She put the offending hand on her hip and said, “I don’t have to listen to you.”

Crandall snorted and returned to the coffee counter. He ripped open three sugar packets and poured them into his mug. He stirred the coffee and tossed the plastic straws in the trash. When he turned to leave the break room, the girl was still scowling at him. He couldn’t imagine Ash falling for this girl, but it was his right to try. Maybe it’d be entertaining to see her unleash her snotty fury on someone else.

“Hell if I know why, but Ash wants to meet you this afternoon.” He watched her scowl flicker into confusion, hope, and then doubt and anger.

“Don’t you mess with me, Crandall Jacobsen.”

“I couldn’t be bothered,” Crandall said, and then walked past her. She didn’t follow him this time.

#

Crandall’s desk phone rang precisely at 3 p.m. He hit Disconnect on his desktop and tossed his headset in the corner before answering the offending device. “Yeah?” Then, after a pause, “Yeah, I know. I’ll be right down.”

Before heading to the lobby to meet Ash, Crandall stopped on the second floor. He walked into Ginger’s cubicle, side-stepped a tall, scrawny man talking to her, and said, “Ash is here. Come on.”

The beanstalk sputtered about interruptions, but Crandall had already turned and walked out of the cubicle. If she was as interested as she had said, she’d follow. If not, Crandall wanted coffee that actually tasted good and didn’t leave his stomach acidic and grumbling.

Crandall took the stairs down to the lobby. By the time he hit the landing, he heard Ginger calling after him from the top. At the bottom, as he pushed through the door that let out down the hall from the security desk, Ginger caught up with him. She grabbed his arm. Crandall stopped and spun around raising a fist. Ginger immediately released him and backed away a step. “Whoa,” she said holding up her hands, palms out. “Just wait a second. Huh?”

“Don’t touch me,” Crandall said lowering his fist.

“What’s he doing here?” Ginger asked, also relaxing.

“He invited himself.”

“Why?”

“I’m not in his fucking head.”

“Crandall, please.” She smoothed her hands over her hair.

“I told him you asked about him, so I guess he’s curious.”

“Okay, good. Thank you. How do I look?” She smiled and clutched her hands together, striking some kind of girlie pose that Crandall had seen often enough when they were flirting with other guys. Girls were fucking complicated. Shaking hips, making up eyes and lips, dressing in all kinds of different styles that somehow communicated moods and needs to each other.

Crandall rolled his eyes and said, “Either you like each other or you don’t. The color of your socks will not help you succeed.”

“But–”

But nothing. Crandall turned and walked down the short hall that would lead them to the lobby, and to Ash.

 

A Favor Asked

Mike slowed as he crossed the living room. He could hear Crandall and Ash talking in the kitchen. While he’d fallen right asleep after fucking Crandall into another screaming orgasm, he’d woken feeling hung over and restless. They hadn’t had any beer last night, but Crandall had dropped a helluva bomb on him instead. He wanted to marry Ash. Nightmares of Ash and Crandall disappearing from Mike’s life haunted him all night. He knew – knew, without a doubt – that it was exactly as Crandall said, just for the health insurance, but Mike still felt nauseated, and his mind scrambled for another solution – any other solution – to help Ash without letting his lover marry someone else.

“The surgeries aren’t even covered by most insurance plans.” Ash. Smart Ash. He’d know, of course. Mike knew Ash would’ve long ago explored all of his options. He approached vampire hunting on instinct mixed with daily drills. His own life, he’d likely do the same. Going after what he wanted, but when he got stuck, researching all possible avenues to get to that goal.

“I’ll find out,” Crandall said. “Don’t write this off without finding out for sure.”

“It’s not just the money,” Ash said. “I love you guys. If this is going to weird Mike out, I won’t do it.”

“He’ll get used to it.”

“Crandall–”

“It’s not his fucking choice. Shit, Ash, didn’t you tell me you had to see a shrink too? I know my insurance covers that much.”

Ash laughed, but it was soft and sad. “That’s true, but I don’t really need the talking part anymore. I know what I am. I’ve done a lot of research, and chatting in online forums.” Mike could almost hear a shrug in Ash’s tone. “I’d only need the appointments to get an official sign off on surgery.”

In the silence that fell, Mike suddenly felt awkward and ashamed for eavesdropping. He hadn’t realized he’d stopped walking until that moment. He shuffled forward and, as he stepped through the kitchen doorway, Ash started talking again. Mike hesitated for a second, as if caught, but then grumbled at his own bad behavior and headed for the coffee machine.

“Anyway,” Ash said, “if you have the time, I’d like to meet up for lunch today. You pick your favorite place.”

“I don’t eat lunch,” Crandall said.

Mike filled his coffee cup and then turned and leaned against the counter as he sipped. Crandall glared at him from the kitchen table, but that could just be Crandall being Crandall. He didn’t tend to hold a grudge. However, last night wasn’t the first time he’d chided Mike about remaining so far in the closet he may as well be living in Narnia.

“Coffee break?” Ash offered.

Crandall turned his glare on Ash. “What do you want?”

Ash lowered his gaze, his fingers flexing and curling around a coffee mug. Quietly, he said, “I want to meet that girl.” He looked up, a rare coy glance, and then diverted his attention back to the cup in his hands. “Would you mind introducing me?”

“I don’t know her.” Crandall pushed away from the table and brought his mug to the coffee pot. Mike slide to the side, giving him room while watching Ash. Ash had firmly denied any interest in dating for the entire time Mike had known him. It took years for the reason to come out. He wondered what changed that Ash was asking about the woman at Crandall’s office.

“I’d owe you one.” Ash glanced at Mike. “’Morning, Mike.” And then, to Crandall, “You just told me I needed to do something other than hunt vampires.”

“Fucking use that against me,” Crandall muttered.

“What’s the big deal?” Mike asked. He moved behind Crandall as Crandall sipped his coffee in the middle of the room. “Introduce them, and then you’re off the hook. It’d be up to them to hit it off.” He wrapped his arms around Crandall’s waist and brushed his lips along Crandall’s neck. “And maybe you can cheer through the wall next time.”

Ash had the good graces to blush. “Sorry about that,” he said.

Mike attempted a smile, but it was more of a smirk. He’d been embarrassed last night, but despite his objection to Crandall’s wedding plans, he did believe in supporting his friends. If Ash wanted to meet this girl, Mike was all for it.

“Alright, fine, what-fucking-ever.” Crandall shrugged Mike away, and walked out of the room muttering about fucking up his work schedule to arrange “play dates”.

Mike laughed, and after a brief hesitation, so did Ash.  When they returned to their liquid breakfasts, Mike asked, “What is it about her?”

Ash looked away, again shyness crept over his face. “I’m not sure why. I’m lonely. I’ve been lonely for a while, but for some reason when Crandall mentioned she asked after me, I felt disappointed that we wouldn’t have a chance to meet for a while.”

“Still no word on the apartments?”

Ash shook his head. “They won’t promise any ETA.”

“So meet her on neutral grounds?”

“Not very neutral when she works there too.”

Mike smiled. “Um, go for it anyway?” He laughed. “I’m not very good at this, am I?”

“Yes, I want to try. I’m going to tell her the truth right up front. I may fail miserably before we even get started, but if there’s going to be a chance, I can’t begin our friendship with a lie.”

Mike nodded, at a loss for words. He’d been living a lie his whole life. It came naturally now, and even around those who knew he was gay, he automatically pretended otherwise. It took conscious will, and a lot of it, to admit his feelings for Crandall in front of Ash and Dragon. He knew, deep down, they wouldn’t care, because Ash had come out well before him, and yet, it’d been one of the most difficult confessions of his life.

“I hope it works out for you, Ash.” Ash had a point. If this woman could get past the initial revelation and see Ash for who he truly was, they could create a strong bond. If. Hopefully it wasn’t a huge, impossible if.

 

 

Talk. Later.

Mike mouthed Crandall’s cock until Crandall ‘s singing faded to a whimper of protest and he pushed Mike away. Mike turned from Crandall’s cock to kiss his thigh, his hip, his stomach. From the next room, an eruption of clapping and a single wall-muffled hoot startled Mike from his worship. He looked up at the wall, mortified, and then hung his head. Once the noise stopped, Mike pressed his cheek to Crandall’s stomach and cursed quietly.

“Thank you!” Crandall shouted at the wall. He laughed as Mike cringed. He brushed Mike’s hair off his chest, gathering it at the nape of his neck. “Don’t fucking worry about it, Mike. It’s not like Ash though you were a virtuous virgin.”

Mike sighed and snaked his arms around Crandall’s waist. “I know,” he said softly. “I just…”

“I don’t understand,” Crandall said. He’d tried. He’d thought about it many times, and each time he’d thought he’d figured it out, understanding slipped away.

“It’s no one else’s business.”

“That’s fucking lame, Mike.” He softened his statement with a tender caress, brushing hair back from Mike’s face as he spoke. “I’m sorry, but it is. You have to hide what you are because you think it’s no one’s fucking business. Since it’s not their business, then just be you and fuck them.”

“I’d rather fuck you.” Mike’s words were muffled, his head turned away, but Crandall still caught something wistful in his voice.

“So do it,” Crandall said, “but be proud that you make me scream. I enjoy it. You enjoy it. What the fuck difference does it make that one or two random strangers might be disgusted with the thought of us getting off. Fuck them. They probably never had a decent orgasm in their lives.”

Mike’s chuckle tickled Crandall’s bare stomach. “Yeah, that’s probably true.”

“It is. You’re making yourself miserable for the sake of someone else’s opinion.”

Mike shifted, propping his head up on one hand to look down at Crandall. “If only I could not care about other’s options as easily as you do.”

“I care.” Crandall slid an arm under Mike and grabbed a handful of his hair with the other. He guided Mike over him, and their mouths together. As Mike relaxed, Crandall moved his head, showing Mike how much he wanted Mike to nip and nibble at his neck. He began to breathe hard, writhing and wiggling against Mike’s weight as he triggered all those little erogenous zones from his earlobe to his collarbone. In between soft cries of encouragement, Crandall said, “I care about what my friends think, not what fucking morons who are too ignorant to come up with a valid reason for spouting their crap think.”

Mike hummed against Crandall’s neck. He lapped at the hollow of Crandall’s throat, teasing with the tip of his tongue.

“Mike?”

Mike hummed again, but didn’t stop bathing Crandall’s skin with kisses, licks, and nips.

Crandall’s fist tightened in Mike’s hair and tugged. Mike looked up and said, “You know that kind of turns me on?”

“What? Pointing out that you’re beating yourself up for fucking nothing?”

With a snort and a roll of his eyes, Mike said, “No, Crank, pulling my hair, showing me exactly what you want.” He grinned, showing all his teeth as he ran the tip of his tongue over them. His eyes shined and his lids drooped, and Crandall knew he was in for a hell of a fucking. As agreement, or maybe encouragement, or possibly simple stubbornness, he tugged Mike’s head back further, stopping him from lunging forward for a kiss.

“Typical, Mike,” Crandall said slowly releasing the tension so Mike could press his entire body close to Crandall’s again. “Change the subject to sex. Maybe you need a head shrink for all that avoidance.”

“Are you mad?” Mike asked as he peppered light, quick kisses along Crandall’s jawline.

Mad? No. Frustrated, hell fucking yeah. Crandall opened his mouth to argue again, but Mike chose that moment to sit back on his heels, and flip Crandall over. Eager for another round, Crandall forgot what he was about to say and pulled one knee under his hips, arching his back to angle his ass upward invitingly.

They could talk later.