Oblivion

As quickly as it started, it was over. In a flourish of shadow and movement, the scrawny vampire exploded in a vicious tunnel cloud of dust and ash, and the magic that held Mike in place released him. He threw up his arms, ducking his face against the onslaught of debris raining over him. When he stood and looked around, the intervening shadowy figure had disappeared.

Crandall cursed up a storm, pushing himself to hands and knees fifteen feet away. Mike hurried to him, and with a hand under his arm, helped him up. Crandall continued a litany of profanity that would make a trucker blush as he brushed ash off his face and out of his hair.

“What the fuck was that?” Crandall said. “I had it under control.”

“I know,” Mike said. He scanned the area, tensed and waiting for the other creature to return.

“Do you?”

Mike’s attention snapped back to Crandall. “Yes,” he said. “He was right, you know. Two against two that night in the club shouldn’t have ended in our favor. So yeah, you know what you’re doing.”

“It would’ve been more in our favor if Angelo hadn’t stepped in.”

Normally, Crandall grousing about something like that would bring an amused smirk to Mike’s expression, but his thoughts were stuck on what had just passed. “I think that was Judas,” Mike said, giving voice to his concerns. “If he can do that, we’re in way over our heads. More than I originally thought.”

“He did that freeze thing? Fucking cheating bastard.” Crandall sneered at Mike’s hand still on his arm. He pulled away and stomped off in the direction of Mike’s Mustang.

Mike followed. Crandall climbed in and fastened his seat belt before Mike dug his keys out of his pocket. When he climbed in, he started to speak, but Crandall held up a hand an inch from his face. “Don’t, Mike. Just shut up for a while.” Crandall shifted to face the passenger window and stared through it hard enough to make Mike wonder if the tension would shatter the glass.

Crandall didn’t say a word, and Mike, though he wanted to discuss it, knew better than to push Crandall when he withdrew. If it had been a reasonable hour, he’d have dropped Crandall off at the apartment and sought out Ash or Dragon. He’d have to talk with them soon enough, but it wasn’t worth waking either of them at three in the morning. It could wait. If only the entire mess could wait. Like a hundred years.

In silence, they left the car in a back lot and crossed the cold, dark parking lot. Mike, on edge, jumped and started at every little city night noise following them to the building. Crandall stared straight ahead, striding quickly, but remained nonresponsive to Mike and the night.

In the apartment, Crandall beelined to the coffee table. He lifted its cluttered surface and reached underneath to retrieve a carved wooden box. Once he returned the table top to its normal position, he threw himself down on the sofa and, balancing the box on one thigh, opened it and plucked out rolling paper and a bag of weed.

“Aren’t you tired?” Mike asked. He tossed his keys on the stand by the door and shrugged out of his coat. He glanced over his shoulder, but Crandall’s attention was on the task at hand. His head bowed, his shoulders hunched, and his hands moving in slow motion. “Crank?”

“No,” he said low and quick; his lips barely moved.

“Okay.” Mike crossed the room, pausing a moment in front of Crandall. When Crandall didn’t acknowledge him, Mike continued into the kitchen. He admitted to himself that Crandall was probably right. He felt exhausted, but his mind was churning possible outcomes with Judas, and none of them were good. Or even tolerable. Sleep wouldn’t come any time soon.

Mike stood staring into the fridge until the scent of Crandall’s toke drifted in to tease him. Beer wouldn’t cut it. He slammed the door shut and reached into the cabinet over the fridge where he kept the skull-shaped bottle of vodka Dragon had given him two birthdays ago. He’d barely touched it, preferring beer to anything harder, but if there was ever an occasion for oblivion, tonight must be that night.

_________________________

_________________________

 

No CRANK this week

Dear Readers,

I’m sorry to have to announce there will be no addition to the ongoing story today. I’ve been suffering a nasty head and chest cold for nearly a week, and without my head, my focus, I cannot give you the quality writing your expect and deserve.

CRANK will resume next week. Thank you for your understanding.

Pia Veleno

 

Screwed

Mike expected to find Crandall in the Mustang staring hard at the windshield and ready to pick a fight should Mike say a single word about what transpired within Blood Moon. He’d seen it plenty in the past. His nickname was Crank and it was well earned.

The ‘Stang was empty. Mike frowned and lifted his chin, scanning the dark parking lot. When he didn’t see Crandall, he took a slow deep breath and focused on filtering out the extraneous noises – cars rolling down the next block, a plane in the distance rumbling through the cloud cover, the squeal of air brakes somewhere just beyond the quiet industrial section of the city. After several deep breaths, he heard susurrations that could be voices.

Light on his feet to make as little noise as possible, Mike darted across the lot and clung to the wall of the building, cloaked in shadows. He eased sideways, the brick at his back, focusing on the whisper of sound as it morphed into unintelligible words, and then recognizable speech, Crandall’s voice.

“Walk away now, and I might let you live,” Crandall said.

Mike rolled his eyes and peeked around the corner. Crandall, his back to the wall, inched his fingers up his leg to his belt. The vampire he tried to intimidate had Crandall pinned with a forearm across his throat, pushing his head back, and a leg wedged between Crandall’s thighs his weight keeping his prey immobile. Mike knew, from experience, that even if Crandall could draw the stake from his belt, he’d be hard pressed to muster enough force behind it while trapped by the vampire. Of course, he’d have to have a ridiculous amount of luck to hit the heart without seeing his attacker’s chest too.

The vampire grinned and said, “You might, huh?” He wrinkled his lip, revealing fangs as his smile morphed to something wicked. “You and what army, hunter?”

Mike pulled a flask of holy water from his pocket and loosened the cap. He held it low and behind his thigh as he stepped around the corner. “Him and me,” Mike said. “Let him go. You’re in violation of our agreement.”

“Fuck you and your agreement.” The vampire was deceptively thin. He appeared to have once been a handsome man with dark caramel skin and the slightly almond eyes of mixed heritage, but now his flesh pale and grey clung to his bones until he looked more the wraith than a creature that could pass for human.

“Fuck the agreement.” Crandall dug the fingers of his free hand into the man’s wrist, attempting to pry his arm away. “I’m going to kill this asshat.”

“Go ahead and try,” the vampire growled, “So I can break your fucking neck.”

Mike rolled his eyes and glanced around for security cameras or friends of the scrawny vampire. Seeing nothing that could assist any of them, Mike stepped closer and said, “You’re shit out of luck, vampire. Last time two vampires started with us–” Mike jutted out his chin, gesturing at Crandall “– he killed one before security saved the other.”

The vampire snorted and rolled his eyes. “Nice try, bloodbag. Two on two means you are outnumbered.”

Mike shrugged and then waved his empty hand at the two of them as if to say, proceed if you’re so confident of the outcome.

The vampire watched his for several seconds, wary of a trick. When he turned his attention back to Crandall, who clung to the stake still stuck in his belt but had stopped struggling against the solid wall of supernatural strength, Mike inched closer. “If you called security, you wouldn’t be trying to talk me down. I’ve heard why hunters are here and I don’t like it. It’s stupid and risky and–”

Crandall yanked his stake free. The vampire, feeling the movement, grabbed at Crandall’s wrist. While the two distracted each other with their struggle, Mike flipped the cap off his flask and flung the water at the pair. For the sickly vampire, the pain was immediate. And Crandall, when the vampire recoiled from the holy water, he also yanked Crandall forward, sending him flying sideways to skid across the unforgiving pavement of the parking lot.

The vampire howled and wiped at his eyes. His cheeks melted, dripping not just with water, but also injured flesh. Mike leaped forward, hoping to knock the beast down before it could turn its fury on him, or back to Crandall. A large shadow flashed between them, falling from above to shove Mike aside and wrap up the burning vampire. To Mike, it seemed as if the shadows danced and sparred, but in a few brief seconds, the flurry of motion ceased, and he recognized the scrawny vampire cradled in the arms of another. The face of the other hidden against the neck of the one he held, only hinted at who their savior might be. Their attacker slowed, ceasing his struggles, and fell limp in the arms of the shadow as Mike stood and stared like a deer caught in headlights.

“We are so screwed,” he whispered.

_________________________

Up Next: Oblivion

_________________________

 

Friendship Reluctant

You need us, he says. I’d kill him if I was Judas.

Mike censored the rest of his thoughts as he grabbed Crandall’s wrist tugging him back and drawing his attention away from the vampire. “Don’t be so sure,” Mike said to Crandall. “For all we know it’s also been prophesized that one of us will die before it’s all said and done.”

“Since when do you believe in this shit?” Crandall turned on Mike, staring at him, through him, making Mike draw back and frown before answering.

“Because I believe it,” Judas said. “If I believe I have to kill one of you to fulfill the prophesy, then every one of you should fear for your short, fragile lives.” He cocked his head to one side, as if weighing how much more he should reveal.

“Lucky for you, I read no lines that hint at how many hunters survive until my death.” Judas shrugged. “I could kill you. It would mean nothing to me. It’s started already.” He laughed and then turned toward the stairs. “See yourselves out,” he said without looking back.

“If it’s started then why are we playing these fucking games?” Crandall yanked his arm away from Mike, took two full seconds to glare at him, and then turned towards the door they’d just used. “Waste of fucking time,” he muttered loudly.

“Wait!”

Mike frowned after his singer. Only once the female voice called out again did he turn to see Nica rushing up to him in quick steps punctuated by the sharp clacks of her heels on the bare concrete floor of the club.

She took a deep breath and exhaled in a little harrumph that turned into a pout. “I’m going with you,” she said. She tipped her head back to look up at him.

“No,” Crandall said sharply. He spun around to face her. “You are not coming with us.”

She turned her pout on him. “Max already told me Judas granted your wish.”

“I’m going home and I’m going to bed. You are not welcome anywhere near my apartment.”

Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “So are we meeting up tomorrow night? I know where you practice.”

“No.” Crandall turned toward away and strode toward the door.

“What’s with him?” she asked looking up at Mike.

Mike shrugged. “We’re usually done with classes by nine.”

“No, Mike,” Crandall had stopped and turned to face them again. “She can’t watch us practice.”

“What difference does it make?”

“Do you want her to tell all her fang-brained friends our fighting techniques?”

“That’s not what I’m about.” Nica screwed up her face in a scowl, but a hint of a whine dribbled through her tone.

“Of course not. You wouldn’t want to kiss up to your boss. You wouldn’t want to give away our secrets so your friends can get away from us. You wouldn’t betray some measly human beings for your blood sucking monster family.” With each word, Crandall’s words darkened further, the sarcasm thick and snarky.

“I thought you were a nice guy, but you’re really just a pretentious jerk.” She crossed her arms, a barely contained snarl wrinkling her cherry red lips and revealing a hint of slender impossibly white fangs.

“Why don’t you just give me your number,” Mike said. “I’ll give you a call once we talk to the other guys.”

“Don’t bother,” Nica said. “I don’t have to help you, you know.” She spun around and hurried to the stairwell, disappearing into the dark with only the retreating sound of her heels to indicate she truly continued to the second floor.

Mike turned to say something to Crandall, but he was already through the door and into the night.

_________________________

Up Next: Screwed

_________________________

 

Push

The vampire’s smile warmed, but he did not move from the doorway. After several long seconds, he nodded once and stepped back. “Come,” he said. “I am Nicolucci. I am…what you might consider the right hand of the head of the New England vampires.”

“Nico. Nica. Don’t you Fangs have any original thoughts?” Crandall shoved the stake back into its holster and strode into the now quiet club. Mike held his breath, pausing a moment for a reaction from Nicolucci but, after getting none, he followed Crandall preferring to keep his belligerent singer in sight.

“There is no history between us. Nicoletta is much younger, and from another family well separated from my own line. A coincidence, nothing more.”

“Yeah right.” Crandall started walking toward the stairwell that led to the second floor. “It’s fucking lame. Big, lame vampires. I prefer mine with some balls, like in horror movies.”

Mike, desperate to interfere before Crandall pushed too far, stepped in front of Nico and said, “So you work for Angelo? Or Max?”

Nicolucci politely gestured for Mike to continue, and then fell in step beside him as they crossed the vast dance floor. “Neither,” Nico said. “My mistress has remained outside of this…power play. She observes, but like Angelo, has no direct effect on what is expected from you or your friends.”

“In other words, what Judas wants, Judas gets?” Mike tried to make it sound light and joking, but he was aware of the painful truth in his words.

“When one has as much life experience as Judas Iscariot, one has many methods of acquiring desires.”

“Are you hedging,” Crandall asked without looking back. “Or do you always speak in riddles?”

A soft chuckle echoed from the dark stairway and Crandall stopped in his tracks. His hand returned to the stake at his belt.

“Nicolucci is trying to be polite and answer your questions without revealing many of our secrets.” A shadow drifted forward. In the dim light of neon surrounding the bar, Judas’s features appeared sharper and darker than before.

From the corner of his eye, Mike noticed Nico bow to Judas before moving forward, slipping past the older vampire and up the stairs. Crandall hadn’t moved, but Mike could see the tension crawling up his spine. He took two quick steps to Crandall’s side, ready to grab him should he try something stupid.

“I’m not stupid,” Crandall said with a growl. Mike glanced away from the vampire to meet Crandall’s gaze. “I know damn well I can’t take him like this.”

Mike forced a weak, shaky smile. “Instincts are strong, and we haven’t worked them as well as we should.”

“Shut up, Mike.” Crandall faced the vampire. “You know why we’re here—”

“On the contrary, popular myth says we read minds, but it is just that – a myth. Now, body language is another thing altogether, and your drummer’s concern was not unfounded. Was it, Mr. Jacobsen?”

Crandall snarled, and Judas laughed without mirth. “You demanded us,” Crandall said. “Here we are. Get to the fucking point quick because I have shit to do in the morning.”

Judas’s expression hardened. “I will assume you are here to finalize our deal. If not, you may get the fight you’re itching for, young hunter.”

Crandall visibly relaxed, but his hand remained near his stake. “I’m getting really tired of having to deal with a hundred different people. Max called. You’re being evasive, and Nico/Nica are worse than Brangelina gossip at the office.”

“Max is my, as Nico said, right hand. You only need worry about me, or him. The others are inconsequential.”

“I’m sure they’re thrilled to know that.”

“They know their places.” Judas took a step forward. Crandall sucked in a sharp breath but held his ground.

“Yeah, we’re here to finish this,” Mike said, hoping to shift the conversation back to the purpose of their near dawn visit. “Do we get Nica’s assistance?”

Judas turned away from Crandall and nodded at Mike. “You do.”

“But first,” Crandall said. “You’re going to make sure she’s useless to us.” He stepped to the side, putting space between him and Mike. His fingers closed around the stake again. “Tell her all the things she can’t tell us.”

“Not at all,” Judas said. “I want you to succeed, but I also must ensure my family will not suffer unnecessarily.”

“You don’t trust her.”

“Crandall,” Mike said. “Stop pushing–”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m pushing his buttons, but you know what, he’s not going to do a damn thing about it.”

“Why is that?” Judas asked with an amused smile.

“You need us. You said the four of us made the prophecy. If you kill me, you’ll only have three again.”

Judas laughed and it sent shivers up both the hunters’ spines. It rang with danger and something much, much darker.

_________________________

Up Next: Friendship Reluctant

_________________________

 

In Motion

Mike’s grip on the steering wheel had already warned Crandall that his mind was elsewhere, and Crandall, waiting for him to get around to saying it, passed the ride to Blood Moon staring out the side window, thinking about vampires, their hunters, and the unrighteousness of it all to be stuck looking over his shoulder every night when he couldn’t care less if the Fangs prowled the streets of Boston preying on those stupid enough to be caught unaware.

“I’m still going to get jealous,” Mike said.

“Yeah, I figured.” Crandall rolled his head. His neck crackled. Fucking vampires kept him so damn tense lately.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t trust you. I just…I don’t think I can watch you flirt with her.”

“Fuck, Mike, I’m not going to be trying to get in her pants. Just… I don’t know. Nice, or something. I can’t be nice to girls now?”

Mike sighed. “I want you to be nicer to people. You know that. She’s got a thing for you though, and that I don’t like.”

“You should. Make her jealous. You get to take me home every night. You win without even trying.”

“Oh I try plenty,” Mike grumbled.

“Stop being an asshat.”

Another sigh. Then, “Okay, I warned you. Do what you will with it.”

“I’m going to ignore it.”

“And you call me an asshat.”

Crandall rolled his eyes, though with his gaze on the traffic, Mike probably didn’t notice. “If the shoe fits,” Crandall said.

They fell into a comfortable silence despite the name calling. As far as Crandall was concerned, nothing more needed to be said. Mike didn’t like it, but he trusted Crandall, and Crandall expected he’d get the information they needed without much effort on his part. Just a little friendliness — it went a long way, or so that saying went.

When Mike finally pulled the Mustang into Blood Moon’s back lot there weren’t many cars, but one immediately caught their attention: A black panel van with dark tinted windows all around, including the windshield.

“Isn’t that illegal?” Mike said, glaring at the vehicle parked near the back door.

“And how do they get from the van to the building? An umbrella? Sunblock? A fucking coffin?”

“You couldn’t transport many coffins in that thing,” Mike said. “Maybe it’s for emergencies.”

Crandall swung his door open. “Maybe they stay here. The only windows on the building are all blacked out.” He pointed up the side. “Including the ones that don’t open onto the club floor. That’s probably the office.”

Mike studied the side of the building. He hadn’t noticed the windows previously. They only visited in the daylight once, for that first fateful audition. He mentally mapped out the brief visit up to Angelo’s office after their initial gig. “Yes, I agree. Though it’s probably best not to ask,” he said. “Let’s go.”

As they approached the back door, Crandall made a rude gesture. Mike followed his snarling gaze to a small black semi-sphere mounted above the door. Security camera. He grabbed Crandall’s arm and lowered it. “Do you have to aggravate them?”

“Yes,” Crandall said. “They piss me off every fucking night.”

The door swung open and a tall vampire towered over them. The trio studied each other in silence for several seconds. The vampire wore his ashy brown hair long and it hung straight down his back and over his shoulders to mid chest. He had sharp features and hazel eyes that bore into Mike and Crandall as if his expression alone could send them on their way. If they had been normal humans, it would’ve, but instead the urge to destroy the Immortale raced through their veins and Crandall pulled his hand away from Mike’s grip to close his fingers around the stake on his belt.

“Who the fuck are you?” Crandall asked, his voice low, wary, and dangerous.

Mike stiffened, torn between keeping a close eye on the vampire and stepping in front of Crandall to force his lover to refocus and control the hunter instinct.

The vampire smiled, but it was far from friendly. “I know who you are,” he said.

“So fucking what.” Crandall pulled his stake half out of the holster.

Without taking his gaze from the vampire, Mike rested a hand on Crandall’s and said, “Let’s get on with this.”

_________________________

Up Next: Push

_________________________

 

Love Creed

“You don’t think it’s possible?”

Mike took a moment to consider his reply. “What, exactly, do you plan to do to bend her to your will,” he asked.

“Are you jealous?” Crandall dropped his fork on his plate and turned his whole body to study Mike.

Staring at the beer bottle he rolled between his palms, Mike’s only response was a half-hearted shrug.

“I’m not going to fuck her.”

Mike glanced up. The expression on his face made Crandall wonder if Mike was surprised he’d seen through his silence, or if it truly hadn’t been on his mind. After a long hesitation where Crandall finally understood the saying about seeing the wheels turning in someone’s brain, Mike said, “I’m not jealous.”

Crandall snorted. “Yeah fucking right.”

“C’mon, man.” Mike leaned forward to set the empty bottle on the table. “I know you like women too. It’s fine if you need to… you know.”

“Fuck one?” He watched Mike cringe and suspected the drummer didn’t know his reaction showed so clearly. “I’m not interested in fucking her, Mike. I’m interested in getting the fucking Fangs off my fucking back.” Each time he said fucking he put more emphasis on the word.

“Alright,” Mike said. “I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah.” Mike stood and walked into the kitchen. He returned with two more beers. After handing Crandall one, he sat down and let his head fall back against the sofa. He started when Crandall threw a leg over his, straddling his lap. “Hey,” Mike said softly, a small smile gracing his lips.

“Shut up.” Crandall grabbed a handful of Mike’s hair at the base of his heck and tugged just enough to focus his attention.

“Don’t,” Mike said. “C,mon.” He pulled at Crandall’s wrist, but Crandall only tightened his grip.

“How long’s it been?” Crandall asked.

“What’s been?” Mike winced and relaxed his grip. When he did Crandall did the same, but didn’t let go entirely.

“How long have we been fucking?”

“Not long enough.”

“I can wait.”

Mike sighed. He moved his hands to Crandall’s waist, tugging at the towel that seemed impossibly snug. Why couldn’t it fall off when Crandall moved? “I dunno…four months?”

“You just told me you’ve been fantasizing about me all along, and you don’t know how long we’ve actually been going at it?”

Mike chuckled. The towel came away in his fingers, but before he could enjoy the view Crandall tightened his hold, tipping his head back. “What’s your point, Crank?” Mike asked. He didn’t mind a little hair pulling during foreplay, but the look on Crandall’s face was not lust.

“I haven’t done more than look at another girl since we first kissed. My sex drive is a hundred times higher, and you never disappoint me. I don’t need a girl. I don’t want a girl. Any girl. And,” — his fingers loosened until the tips caressed Mike’s neck – “Even if I did want a girl, it would not be her. She’s fucking annoying and she bites.”

“Beryl was annoying–” Mike bit off his sentence, but not soon enough; Crandall’s fisted tightened in his hair again.

“I liked my dick in her mouth. I like my dick in your mouth a hell of a lot more.”

Mike licked his lips and tried to look down Crandall’s body, but Crandall refused to loosen his grip. “I like your dick in my mouth too,” Mike whispered in that husky voice that told Crandall the time for talk was over. Mike’s mind checked out so blood could be redirected elsewhere.

“Focus, Mike,” Crandall said sharply.

Mike’s gaze snapped up to meet Crandall’s.

“I’m trying to tell you. I don’t want anyone else. Ever. You’re so much more than a great fuck.” He sucked in a breath and held it a moment. “You’re more than I thought I needed. Fucking bastard. I’d say get tested and ditch the condoms, but shit, it’s just cleaner.”

“I love you too,” Mike said, the huskiness replaced by a serious stare.

“Yeah,” Crandall said. He loosened his grip and leaned forward to steal a quick kiss. “Love you too, you moron. Now don’t ever doubt it again.”

_________________________

Up Next: In Motion

_________________________

 

Vampire Contact

Crandall stayed in the shower until his fingers pruned, and then longer. When he emerged pink-skinned and dripping, he wandered into the living room with a towel around his waist and another draped over his head as he dried his hair. Mike slouched on the sofa, his booted feet propped on the coffee table and his fingers intertwined behind his head. A greasy brown paper bag sat at his feet, the scent of the food within permeating the room.

For a moment, Crandall watched his lover. Mike stared at the ceiling, apparently deep in thought. Crandall balled his towel and threw it at Mike. When it landed with a muffled plop beside him, Mike rolled his head to the side and blinked at Crandall.

“You drive me nuts when you walk around like that,” Mike said. He smiled, but Crandall narrowed his eyes. He knew Mike better than Mike knew himself, and something else was on his mind.

“Since when?” Crandall asked.

Mike’s grinned widened, the desire reaching his dark eyes. “Since always,” he said. He pushed himself up and made a sweeping gesture towards the bag with an oil-stained yellow receipt stapled to it. “Your dinner has arrived.”

“Don’t change the subject.” Crandall walked to the sofa, pushed the wet towel onto the floor and sat down. When he did, the towel around his waist split open revealing his entire right thigh. Mike noticed, his gaze stuck on the parted fabric. Even when Crandall spoke again. “So you’ve been jacking off with me in mind all along?”

At first, it seemed Mike hadn’t heard him. Crandall waited. Slowly, Mike’s gaze crawled up Crandall’s bare torso, his appreciation and desire as palpable as a caress. When he met Crandall’s gaze, Mike smiled sheepishly. “Would it be too creepy if I said yes?”

With a snort and an eye roll, Crandall stood. Mike caught his wrist and, when Crandall looked down at him, said, “Yes, I’ve been checking you out all along, and yes, there may have been a few day dreams… some very active, physical day dreams.”

Crandall cracked a smile and shook his head. “I’m going to get dressed, then we’ll eat.”

Mike held him still. “As long as we’re being honest…” His gaze dropped to his hand. He shifted his grip to twine their fingers together and lifted them to kiss the back of Crandall’s hand. “I do want to try… your…” He glanced up, shook his hair out of his eyes, and managed a half smile.

Crandall tugged his hand away and frowned. “Next time,” Crandall said. “I’ll fucking hold you to it.”

Mike watched Crandall disappear down the hallway and then slumped back against the couch. When Crandall returned a few minutes later, Mike still hadn’t moved. Crandall dropped down into the seat beside him and gave him a shove.

“Fuck, Mike, are you that distracted by a towel that you can’t get silverware when dinner arrives?”

With a low chuckle, Mike swayed with the push, but then leaned toward Crandall. He shot a hand out and caught Crandall behind the neck. He pulled him closer. After a brief pause, he tilted his head and pressed their mouths together.

Panic swelled in Crandall’s chest, but the same thing that inspired it pushed it away. He hated people in his personal space, but he loved the taste of Mike’s kisses. With a soft whimper, he opened his mouth, inviting Mike in, the tip of his tongue meeting Mike’s for a quick tussle before Mike pulled away. Crandall sucked in a deep breath and blinked once before his gaze settled on Mike’s ass just before Mike ducked into the kitchen.

Mike returned with forks, plates, and beers. Sitting side by side, Mike and Crandall ate in silence. Once he’d had his fill, Mike pushed his plate away and tipped his beer bottle to his lips. He leaned back and let his free hand rest on his stomach. “So how come no IHOP today?” he asked.

Crandall shoveled more rice onto his plate before answering. “I wanted to discuss our new contact.”

“The vampire?”

“Nica.”

“Okay, shoot.”

Crandall talked around mouthfuls of rice and lo mein. “She’s young, and best I can tell she still relates better to humans than Immorale. I think we can exploit that.”

“She’s willing to help. No exploiting necessary.”

“Sure,” Crandall swallowed and nodded. “She’s also going to have rules. Max probably already told her what she’s allowed to say or not. He seems like a fucking control freak.”

“I’m not following.” Mike sat forward again, setting his empty bottle on the table to reach for another teriyaki skewer.

“She likes me.”

“God knows why.”

“Fuck you.”

Mike grinned and the look on his face said more than the leer over the towel earlier. He shoved the meat in his mouth and chewed, still grinning wickedly.

“Fuck you again,” Crandall said. “A little flirting and maybe I can convince her to give us more information than Max approved.”

“You forget something though. Max works for Judas. He wants this stuff done with too.”

“But he also wants to protect the rest of them. I doubt he wants us to know their secrets. Otherwise, once we’re done with Judas, we can wipe out the rest of them.”

Mike chuckled. “Sure. So you have this grand plan to destroy all of the vampires now?”

With a shrug of one shoulder, Crandall said, “If we get the chance we should take it. Then we can enjoy the night again without looking over our shoulders all the time.”

Mike frowned. “Yeah, that’d be nice, but…” He shook his head. “There are so many of them, Crank. Don’t get your hopes up.”

_________________________

Up Next: Love Creed

_________________________

 

After the Show

Crandall and Mike lay sprawled in a pile of tangled limbs, sweaty torsos, and euphoric smiles. Crandall traced lines of cum across the treasure trail of fine brown hair between Mike’s navel and his spent prick.

“That was…”

As Crandall trailed off, Mike lifted his head, one eyebrow cocked in curiosity. “Are you actually speechless?” Mike asked.

“Fuck you.” Crank’s favorite tagline, sure, but he said it with a smile this time.

“Maybe later.” Mike dropped his head back to the pillow. His fingers drew lazy designs on Crandall’s body, exploring the faint bumps of his spine and the pale expanse of his shoulder blades. He couldn’t see them with the way Crandall pressed against Mike’s body, but Mike knew there were freckles to connect under his touch. He’d drawn patterns between them with his tongue on many a night.

“You say that, but you don’t mean it.” Crandall sounded less petulant than usual, but Mike knew what Crandall was digging for. He’d stopped broaching the subject after Mike snapped one night, telling him to go fuck himself in a rare temper tantrum. Ever since Mike escorted Crandall to a sex shop to buy his first gay adult toy, Crandall had wanted to use it on Mike, introduce Mike to the pleasures of a vibrating dildo.

“Those are for girls,” Mike had said at the time, and then again several arguments later.

And Crandall had taken that personally. “I’m not a fucking girl,” Crandall said, and stalked away. Crandall liked being on the receiving end, loved it even, but he was curious. So was Mike. Mike tried to let down that wall. He wanted to try for Crandall, and because Crandall’s uninhibited cries and wild writhing during sex kept Mike not only majorly horny, but also very curious about switching.

Mike took a deep breath and held it. Now or never. He held the breath longer. Or maybe next time.

Crandall lifted the hand that had been playing on Mike’s stomach and poked him in the ribs. “Just say whatever’s on your mind. Why is that so fucking hard for you?”

“It’s just… It just is.”

“With me? Shit, Mike, your silence pisses me off more than anything you could say out loud.”

Mike sighed out the pent up breath. “Yeah, man, I know.”

“So…?”

“Okay.”

“Okay? That doesn’t tell me shit.”

Mike snickered, but it wasn’t with as much amusement as frustration. He wanted it alright, he just wasn’t sure how to ask for what he wanted.

He rolled to his side, dislodging Crandall. Sweaty skin peeled apart as he put a few inches between them and looked into Crandall’s deep hazel eyes. Hazel tonight. Some nights, more like green, others more like amber. Constantly shifting, like his moods.

“Spit it out,” Crandall said, interrupting Mike’s sudden reflection.

“Okay, show me how much you like your toy.”

Crandall snorted. Mike frowned, that had not been the response he expected. Crandall said, “You’d be happy as a voyeur, wouldn’t you? Less pressure, just watching?”

Mike shook his head. “No. I mean…” He bit his lip. When he released it he ran his tongue over it, self-consciousness heating his neck and chest. He wanted Crandall to fill in the blanks left in his pause, but he knew Crandall well enough to know the man would make him say it point blank. Sometimes, Mike thought, he probably didn’t even do it to be cruel.

As if reading his thoughts, Crandall said, “When you really want to, you’ll be able to say it.” He rolled away from Mike and sat up. “I’m ordering Chinese and jumping in the shower. Listen for the door.”

“Crandall, wait.” Mike’s request went unanswered as Crandall left the room.

Mike flopped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Cobwebs he never noticed cast strange shadows with the light from the hall. He did want to. Crandall had been slowly drawing him out since they’d been sleeping together. Mike’d never made a sound in bed before, but Crandall loved to hear the pleasure, the satisfaction, the blinding orgasms. This, though, Mike shook his head. He couldn’t even say it to the empty room. He couldn’t. He was pretty sure he still wanted it even if the words make him cringe.

The sex had been great. It always was after a show. It always was every time, but after a show, Crandall had the energy and need of three of him. Tonight was no exception, and yet, Mike felt lost, still needing, and unsure if it was simply the conversation, or a subconscious willingness to take their sexual relationship to the next level.

It was the latter, he decided. He needed more. He craved that connection even before Crandall pushed the same old button with his lack of subtlety. Not that Mike would’ve acknowledged subtle in this area. He needed to be knocked over the head with a two-by-four. Yes, he liked watching Crandall use the dildo. Oh hell yeah he did. It got him rock hard, so hard that Crandall’s half-lidded oh-so-satisfied look alone made Mike wonder if he’d shoot off without even being touched.

Yeah, he liked to watch, but damn it, Crandall didn’t fake anything, and even if he could, no one could fake it like that.

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Up Next: Vampire Contact

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Bad Temper

Crandall stopped dead in his tracks as if the slam of the door locked his muscles in place. It wasn’t the noise that froze him, however; it was the vampire sprawled lazily on the cheap green sofa of the dressing room. With his golden curls, unnaturally blue eyes, and a chiseled never-aging face, the vampire appeared to fit in with the musicians that flocked to the club while the power he exuded belied those youthful, carefree looks.

“Go away, Max,” Crandall said. He spat out the words. His body trembled with the attempt to resist the unease Max inspired by simply being in the same room. Crandall relied on the dressing room for sanctuary from the crowd. Panic darkened the edges of his vision, but not enough to hide the immortal grinning at him.

“What’s up?” Jon asked from the edge of the cloud closing in on Crandall. “You’ve met Max already?”

“Let me buy you that drink.”

Crandall gritted his teeth and turned to glare at Angelo. The vampire nodded at him as he put an arm around Jon’s shoulders. Angelo steered the musician toward the door, but Jon hesitated as they passed Crandall.

“Are you okay?” Jon asked.

Crandall pushed his tongue against the back of his teeth and drew in a deep breath through his nose. It did little to control the anxiety, but gave him enough of a pause to answer his friend. “Yeah, go get your drink. That bastard doesn’t give them away often.” His gaze darted between Angelo and Jon, and when Jon didn’t move to leave, Crandall added, “Max and I have business to discuss. Get out of here. It’ll be fucking boring.”

Jon clapped his shoulder and then left with the man he only knew as the owner of Blood Moon. As Jon left with a vampire, Crandall heard Mike’s voice behind him as he spoke briefly to Jon. Crandall remained still, his gaze focused on the remaining vampire, a Fang with strength that seemed to fill and overflow the room. A small quieted part of his mind questioned how Mike could be near the Immortale without feeling that oozing, murky molasses of their inner power. Cloying and vile, the air in the room hung heavily with the poison of Max’s presence.

“Hey, Crank,” Mike said, “good show.” Mike brushed a hand down Crandall’s spine. His touch evaporated the tension and budding panic in Crandall’s body and mind.

“Yeah,” Crank whispered. He sucked in another quick breath and smiled at Mike. “Thanks. I’d like this place if we could get rid of the fucking Fangs.”

With Mike’s fingers dancing along his back, Crandall’s thoughts turned toward what he’d like to do to blow off post-gig steam. He didn’t care what Max wanted, even if it meant getting rid of the mess called Judas. All he wanted was Mike, still sweaty, skin warmed with the workout of performing.

And then Max had to go and ruin the peace and carnal thoughts. One second he lounged on the sofa, arms spread wide across its back, and the next he stood beside them, a fang-bearing and none too friendly grin on his eternal face.

“Close the door,” Max said.

The words were quiet, but the weight of his authority nearly had Crandall turning to obey the order. Instead, Crandall wrapped his fingers around the head of the stake he wore on his belt whenever they performed at the club.

“Fuck you,” Crandall said. He jumped at the sound of the door closing behind him. As he spun around, Nica smiled, but her expression seemed subdued.

“Nicoletta has informed me of your ultimatum.”

Crandall spun back around to glare at Max. The vampire continued, either ignoring or unbothered by Crandall’s petulant mood.

“Normally, I’d tell you to stop making pointless demands, but your request intrigues me.” Max paused and opened an inviting arm. Nica’s smile returned, back to its normal brightness as she stepped into Max’s arm. He pulled her to his side, his tall, solid frame making her look even smaller than usual.

“Nicoletta is under my personal protection.” Max no longer smiled, but his stern expression more than made up for not showing his fangs behind a casual smile. “This means, if you’re stupid enough to cause her any harm, even Judas’s obsession with this prophecy will not protect you.”

“Max has a very bad temper,” Nica said solemnly. She slipped an arm around his waist and leaned her head against his chest, looking all the while like a smug child seeking protection from a bully in her father’s shadow.

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Up Next: After the Show

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