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Surrender

Crank sat back on his heels and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. It still amazed him almost every single time he and Mike had sex. He didn’t care about his personal space. Not only that but he craved Mike’s presence. His presence, his sex, his scent, his taste, his voice, his everything. Crank leaned in and licked Mike’s half-deflated cock.

Mike flinched. “Whoa, man, give me a minute.” As Mike brushed his fingers down Crandall’s left cheek, Crandall leaned in to the tender touch. Crandall let his eyes drift shut and inhaled deeply through his nose. Mike’s smell filled him. A musky masculine scent with underlying threads of sweat and leather.

Crandall sighed softly. He licked his lips, savoring Mike’s lingering taste before rising up on his knees and turning his face up. He rested his chin on Mike’s stomach as he pressed his palms to Mike’s leather-clad thighs. Running his hands upward, he grinned at Mike’s sleepy post-orgasm expression.

“Only one minute,” Crandall said. “At the end of that sixty seconds, I expect you naked and hard and pounding me into that mattress.”

Mike’s eyes fluttered as he made a soft, deep sound that landed somewhere between a moan and a whimper. Yes, he had power over Mike in such simple words. He thrived on that power. Crandall rose to his feet, and as he did, dragged his hands up Mike’s legs, caressing thighs, hips, and torso. As he reached his full height, he pressed his entire body against Mike’s, pinning him to the wall.

“Naked,” he whispered again, lips brushing against Mike’s as he spoke. He wrapped his arms around Mike’s neck and then tugged at the elastic holding Mike’s hair at his nape. “Now.”

He kissed Mike, long and slow, and then pulled away, shedding his clothes as he moved to the bed. When Crandall turned around and dropped onto the mattress, Mike still hadn’t moved any more than was required to stroke his cock back to attention. Crandall watched Mike tugged his prick for several long, teasing seconds. It was unnerving the way he could become Mike’s entire focus.

Crandall blinked as if coming out of a dream. It was that way for both of them. Nothing else mattered when they were alone. Hell, it went beyond sex. Mike gave him the strength and desire to live more. To get out of his own head. Crandall had more friends because of Mike, and as much as he complained about them, he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

Watching Mike’s reaction, Crandall leaned back on his elbows and letting his knees fall open. Mike looked ready to come again. Standing alone. Watching. Cock hard, leaking precum. Crandall wanted every ounce of what Mike had to give. Pleasure all night long. Mike could do no wrong. He knew Crandall’s body better than Crandall did. It was disturbing relief to surrender. To realize Mike was the only true lover he’d had. Sure, he’d gotten off before. Even had great blow jobs before. But Crandall had never given all, or even most, of himself to anyone, while Mike didn’t have to ask or beg or demand. Crandall surrendered, and surrendered one-hundred percent, because it was Mike.

“Why the fuck do you still have your pants on?” Crandall pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth. Snark came too naturally. Mike’s penchant for drawing out the foreplay was something Crandall snapped about frequently but he had to admit, he loved every moment of it. He had a hot, sexy boyfriend who knew exactly what he was doing. Including letting Crandall think he was in control. Mike had been all along.

Crandall exhaled sharply and struggled to draw in his next breath. The thoughts running through his head were dangerous. He didn’t want to explore them further but they remained, dancing around the physical sensations and visual distraction. Mind at war, Crandall fought to focus on Mike as he moved to action.

Without taking his gaze off of Crandall, Mike kicked off his boots and shimmied out of his pants. As he crossed the room, he pulled his shirt over his head. That single-minded focus stole Crandall’s breath. It felt like the beginnings of a panic attack, and yet, it was so different. His breathing, shallow and ragged. His focus, tunneled until only Mike existed in the world. His nerves, prickles and shivers danced across his skin. Sweet anticipation. Something he knew with no other lover. Intense need. Not just lust. Not just aching balls. Need. Sweet and dangerous. Uncontrollable and necessary. So very necessary. To his very existence. Mike.

 

 
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Posted by on August 3, 2014 in Identity, Love & Lust, Relationships, Yum! (NSFW)

 

Take the Edge Off

By the time Mike pulled his Mustang into his usual spot in the back of the parking lot, he was ready to risk anything and everything to get some relief from his painfully tight pants. At one point during the drive, Mike had begged Crandall to stop, to wait until they got home, and he’d cringed at the whine in his voice as he did. It hadn’t discouraged Crandall one bit, however, and Mike was as hard as he’d ever been behind the snug fit of leather and the heated promise of Crandall’s wet mouth on his cock the moment he stripped out of those painfully tight pants.

If, in that moment as Mike turned off the engine, Crandall had offered, Mike would’ve let Crandall suck him off right there in the dark parking lot. Luckily – or maybe unluckily – Crandall was out of the car by the time Mike pulled the key from the ignition. Mike took a moment to rub his cock, not looking forward to walking the length of the parking lot and up too many stairs. What came next, yes, he was definitely looking forward to that, but getting there, shit, Crandall would be the death of him. And he’d love every torturous sumptuous minute.

Mike followed Crandall in silence. From two steps behind, he admired Crandall’s ass as they walked to the building. From just behind Crandall in the elevator, Mike’s gaze drifted over the curve of Crandall’s neck and the short red hair sticking out in every direction, some by intention and some from the sweating and dancing on stage. Mike raised his hand, running his fingertips over the nape of Crandall’s neck. Crandall shivered but otherwise didn’t move. It was enough. That one shiver conveyed everything to Mike. Want and need. Love and Lust. Mike leaned forward, brushed his lips lightly against Crandall’s neck just above the line of his t-shirt. Crandall, in return, stepped back and pressed his ass against Mike’s crotch.

“More,” Crandall whispered.

“Soon.” Mike glanced up as the elevator dinged its warning that they’d reached their floor.

Crandall stepped forward just as the doors slid open. Mike followed again. Damn that hot ass.

Mike shut the bedroom door as he watched Crandall strip out of his t-shirt and kicked off his sneakers. Mike made quick work of the leather straps at his waist, unlacing the front of his pants. He loved those pants. They were comfortable to drum in, made him look great, and they were easy to get out of despite their form-fitting design. By the time he had his cock free, Crandall had shucked his pants and boxers and had his hands full of Mike’s shirt.

Crandall pulled the tank over Mike’s head and tossed it aside. He pressed his palms against Mike chest and his mouth to Mike’s. When he broke the kiss, Crandall trailed his lips and hands down Mike’s torso with agonizing slowness, touching and kissing and licking at so many places that Mike lost count in the haze of delicious sensations.

Leaning back against the door, Mike cupped the back of Crandall’s head. He brushed his fingers along the same spot he’d teased in the elevator as he encouraged Crandall’s mouth lower. Crandall didn’t need any suggestions. Mike was certain he was heading exactly where Mike needed him. Letting Mike guide him, Crandall sunk lower. His knees hit the floor and his lips wrapped around the head of Mike’s cock.

Sweet, warm heat. Agile tongue. Firm lips. “I love your mouth,” Mike said. Crandall teased just enough. He took a little more of Mike in and then sucked and pulled back. “Oh God, you do that so well.” Mike watched as Crandall’s mouth enveloped him again, taking in more of his cock before pulling back, dragging his tongue along the underside while letting his teeth graze lightly. Mike never thought he’d like that, but Crandall knew how to get it just right. A bit of a bite with the teeth and soothing with the tongue, and shit, Crandall had the stubborn will to master everything, now easily taking all of Mike’s length without gagging. Mike never would’ve thought his sexy roommate who never considered himself gay until the night they kissed would be not only be an expert at blowjobs, but so incredibly eager to give them too.

“If you keep that up…” Mike groaned as Crandall did something with his tongue that made Mike forget the English language. “Ah, uhn.” Mike grasped his fingers in Crandall’s hair and chuckled. Crandall knew what he was doing. He was probably making up for the car ride, and making sure he got a nice long fuck. Take the edge off. That’s what he would’ve said – if his mouth wasn’t full.

“God, Crank.” Mike wanted to both close his eyes and ride it out and keep them open to watch Crandall’s lips stretch over his cock, the corners of his mouth glistening with saliva and precum. So fucking hot. Mike tried to hold back. He wanted to live in that moment for eternity. Crandall had other ideas, however. He knew Mike’s every trigger, and with an agile tongue trick that Mike could never resist, Crandall sucked Mike’s orgasm to the surface. For a brief moment, Mike thought he might hold back, but the wave of ecstasy broke over him – broke him – and he cried out as he snapped his hips forward, shooting cum down Crank’s throat as fast as his lover could swallow.

 

 
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Posted by on July 13, 2014 in Identity, Love & Lust, Yum! (NSFW)

 

Torn

Mike was torn. He knew once Crandall set his mind to something he’d do it. He could still picture numerous instances. Most recently, the way Crandall worked out until he was nearly falling asleep on his feet, intent on keeping up with Ash during their sparing sessions overnight.

Regardless of Crandall’s stubbornness, Mike couldn’t let him walk into that club with blood on his mind. He grabbed Crandall’s arm as Crandall swung the passenger door open. Before Crandall’s feet hit the pavement, Mike pulled him back and wrapped his arms around him, pulling his back against Mike’s chest.

Mike sighed against Crandall’s ear resisting the urge to release him when he felt Crandall tense, the anger and anxiety coursing through Crandall’s body as clear as lust and desire had been moments ago. “Wait,” Mike whispered. “Please.”

“You’re not going to talk me out of this.” Crandall stopped struggling but Mike could still feel the tension in his body.

“I get it.” Mike brushed his lips over the hard ridges of Crandall’s ear. Crandall’s kryptonite. “I understand, but listen.” He paused, kissed Crandall’s ear. “If you go in there now, with all those vampires in the club, you’ll never succeed, let alone survive.” He paused again, licked Crandall’s earlobe. “Wait. Wait for her to be alone and vulnerable. No one will know it was us.”

Us. Mike wanted nothing to do with killing the handmaiden to one of the strongest vampires in the city, but he would. If Crandall insisted. And he’d pray they weren’t discovered. Thank God they turn to ash and dirt. No body, no evidence.

“Alright.” Crandall squirmed away and sat up straight in his seat. “I’ll wait for her to leave.” He twisted sideways to face the back door of the club.

“Crank. C’mon, man.”

“What the fuck? Did you mean what you said or were you fucking with me?” Crandall’s glare turned on Mike for the span of three seconds before diverting back to the club.

“No, I meant it. Just not tonight.” Mike cranked the key and the engine growled and grumbled to live. “Though, shit, man, two seconds ago you were ready to skip breakfast. Come home and finish what you started. She’ll be around to stake another night.”

Crandall shifted his gaze again but Mike could tell his attention was on that door.

Mike leaned closer but left space between them, testing Crandall’s resolve. “You may as well go hang out with Jon and Beryl if you’re going to wait for Nica. I’m not sitting in this parking lot all night.”

Crandall’s  gaze dropped to Mike’s mouth, his lips parted soundlessly. Crandall’s body both relaxed and tensed, as if he was considering grabbing Mike right there in the car, or demanding Mike join him in the passenger seat. Didn’t matter. Mike knew the look. Crandall’s mind was on sex. A very good place for it to be.

“So are you getting out or are you getting fucked?” Mike grinned as Crandall sucked in a sharp breath and nodded.

“Home?” Mike asked.

“You fucking suck.”

Mike’s smile turned wicked. “That can be arranged.”

“Oh, hell, yeah.” Crandall swayed forward but paused, his lips two inches from Mike’s. “Fuck, yeah,” he whispered, barely audible, yet more powerful than any sound Mike had heard recently.

Crandall sat back in his seat, his gaze out the front glass, staring into the night. Mike nodded. Perfect. No fighting, just fucking. A perfect ending to a night of music. He sat up and faced forward. As he shifted the car into reverse, Crandall spoke up.

“What about that shit on your window?”

“What shit?” Mike glanced Crandall’s way.

Crandall threw the door open and was out the door before Mike could shift into park and grab him. Crandall plucked the card from under his windshield wiper and climbed back into the car. Just the note. Good. For a brief moment, he’d thought Crandall had suddenly decided to go through with his suicide mission after all.

When Crandall handed the note to Mike, he took it reluctantly. He shoved it between the console and his seat, then shifted into reverse again.

“Aren’t you going to read it?”

Mike considered parking again but decided if he didn’t get moving soon, he’d be tempted to fuck Crank right there in the parking lot to make his point. “Not interested,” Mike said as he turned to look out the back window.

He rolled the car back, and then shifted into drive. As he drove through the small parking lot designated for staff and bands only, Crandall fished the envelope out from beside Mike’s seat.

“If that’s going to piss you off again, it can wait until tomorrow.” It didn’t work. Crandall said nothing and slid his finger under the flap, breaking the seal. He pulled out an equally pink piece of note paper and tossed the envelope on the floor.

Mike sighed. “What’s it say?” he asked as Crandall remained quiet.

“Shit about vampires liking history, and that we should take a tour on the Freedom Trail some night.”

“Not tonight.”

“Definitely not tonight.” Crandall tossed the letter on the floor and reached for Mike. Mike stomped on the gas, pulling out onto the main road as Crandall’s fingers walked up his inner thigh. It would be tough to drive home with Crandall’s hand wandering, but Mike had no other choice and wouldn’t have it any other way.

 
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Posted by on June 15, 2014 in confrontations, Flirtations

 

Take Me Home

As soon as the last note sounded, Crandall leaped off the back of the stage, flipped off the members of the main act, and strode down the hall past the dressing room to the back door. He pushed through and into the parking lot, not slowing until he reached Mike’s car. He leaned against a primer-grey fender and scowled into the night.

It took Mike more than five minutes to catch up with him. “What took so fucking long?” Crandall pushed of the car and walked around to the passenger door.

He heard Mike sigh as he slumped into his seat. Staring hard through the glass in front of him, Crandall grinded his teeth and crossed his arms. Mike would try to lecture him and he had no intention of listening to it. As soon as Mike closed his door and shifted in his seat to face Crandall, Crandall turned his glare on Mike.

“Don’t start.” Crandall shifted his gaze over Mike’s left shoulder and out into the scrub that separated the back lot from the road. He had been finding it harder to get really angry at Mike lately. It was fucking annoying as all hell. He dropped his gaze down, to Mike’s knee, for no particular reason other than not wanting Mike to figure out he had that kind of power over him.

“I’m not,” Mike said. “Look, I’m glad you came tonight. It was a great set. The crowd was ecstatic. Didn’t you see that?”

“Of course I did,” Crandall told Mike’s knee. His gaze drifted up Mike’s thigh to his crotch. Crandall loved the snug leather pants Mike liked to perform in. He couldn’t imagine trying to move in them but Mike could and did. A helluva drummer.

“And Nica didn’t come back after you told her to stay away.”

Crandall snorted. He hadn’t been bluffing. He’d have tried his best to stake that bitch if she had ruined his after-show high. Of course, she had anyway, just being around and just considering the risk of having to deal with all that vampire crap again. That delicious rush of endorphins had fled as quickly as he had from the stage. Fucking bitch.

“Right?”

Crandall looked up at Mike. He hated when Mike pressed a point. Make your statement and move on, that was Crandall’s philosophy. Don’t be a dead horse, as they say. “Then why the fuck do I feel just as stressed out as I did before the show?”

He watched Mike’s expression waver. Mike felt bad now, and didn’t that just kick Crandall in the balls.

“Fuck.” Crandall looked away, turning his head so he didn’t have to see it. The disappointment born from Mike’s willingness to do whatever it took to make Crandall happy. It hadn’t escaped his notice. Crandall knew Mike went out of his way to accommodate all his stupid idiosyncrasies. He’d become a great buffer between Crandall and the rest of the world. Crandall appreciated it. He really did. So why’d he fuck things up and make Mike feel bad for not getting it perfect. It couldn’t be perfect. Crandall was too fucked up for anything in this world to come out perfect. Hell, perfect would probably be some kind of science fiction novel, permanently hooked up to a computer, no social interaction whatsoever, and … Well, maybe not no interaction. He still wanted Mike. Fucking Mike, getting under his skin.

When Crandall turned back to his friend, Mike was twisted around looking toward the building. “I’m sorry, Mike. I don’t want to be like this.” As Mike turned back to face him, his expression was complex. Confused? Tender? The two didn’t go together, and Crandall never did get the hang of reading people. He knew Mike better than anyone, and the man still perplexed him often enough.

When Crandall shook his head, confused himself and unsure where his thoughts were headed, Mike reached up with one hand and cupped the back of Crandall’s head, pulling him into a mind-erasing kiss. Crandall swayed forward, yearning to get closer as he welcomed Mike’s tongue with his own, breathing in Mike’s post-performance scent of sweat and adrenaline, and reaching for the thigh he’d been glaring at a minute ago.

Fucking hell. One kiss. Mike had too much power over him, and Crandall wouldn’t change it, even for that world of computers and no people.

When they parted, Mike glanced around again, and Crandall decided to ignore his annoying paranoia this time. That one kiss restored his euphoria of being on stage. He wanted to climb into Mike’s lap and grind up against him until they steamed up the windows and came so hard that Mike didn’t care who saw.

Crandall took a deep breath and trembled as he exhaled. “Take me home,” he said, feeling breathless and compliant and full of near-exploding need.

Mike quirked a half-smile. “Home? No waffles tonight?”

With a snort, Crandall rolled his eyes. Then he fixed Mike with a different kind of stare, one he hoped conveyed how the world would implode if they didn’t get naked and sweaty very soon. “You’re going to need breakfast when I’m done with you. Probably two or three plates.”

Mike’s smirked turned into a full-fledged grin and then he turned in his seat to face forward and reached for the key hanging in the ignition. His expression fell. Crandall followed his gaze to a pink envelope under the driver’s side windshield wiper. His excitement vanished, dropping into a black pit in his stomach ,and he suddenly felt like he was going to vomit out all his internal organs.

“Fucking bitch.” He growled out the words between gritted teeth. His fingernails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists. “I’m going to stake her. I swear, Mike, I’m going to kill that fucking fang.”

 
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Posted by on June 1, 2014 in Friends, Identity

 

At Home On Stage

Crandall paced in the small waiting room behind the stage. His mood so foul that even Beryl appeared to give him space to stride back and forth without question.

At the knock on the door, Crandall paused and glared, but only long enough to see who opened it. Jackson popped in to announce they had two minutes before the show started. Crandall snarled and started his pacing again; Jackson ducked out just as quickly as he’d come in. Crandall had already verbally abused the young vampire, and only because he’d hesitated when Crandall demanded that the other band, Dead Inside, vacate the back room to hang out with the other fangs out on the club floor.

Sunshine, or whatever the fuck his name was, agreed, but only did so with a laugh and some mocking comment that Crandall didn’t hear over the rush of blood in his ears. This had been a stupid idea. Crandall knew it, and he knew Mike knew it too. Crandall had hit the edge of an anxiety attack before they’d walked into the club, and then again, staring down the vampires of the main act. If he lost it during the show, he’d make sure Mike would never hear the end of it.

Crandall stopped pacing, staring at the door. Just one cheap-ass door between him and a room full of vampires. That alone didn’t bother him. It was one vampire. One annoying redheaded vampire. He dreaded her appearance. She claimed to have the key to the next step of the stupid fucking prophecy that only Judas believed in. He didn’t want to talk to her. He didn’t want to see her. He wanted his life back. Everything the way it was before vampires existed.

Except Mike. Crandall turned and leaned against the door. He knew Beryl and Jon watched him warily, but he only saw Mike. Something in the revelation of vampires – in that single vampire bite that awakened the hunter blood in Crandall – also gave Crandall Mike. Sure, he had Mike as a roommate and a friend, but now he had all of Mike. Not just sex, but something so intimate that Crandall couldn’t give it up. And sex too. Fuck yeah, sex. Mike fucked better than any woman. Times five. Times ten. Times a-fucking-hundred.

Mike stepped closer, and in a low voice, he asked, “Okay?”

Crandall jutted his chin in Mike’s direction. He couldn’t nod. He wasn’t ok, but he would be. “Ask me again when it’s over. We have to get through tonight, and then I’ll be okay.”

Mike frowned and looked about to ask another question, but Crandall silenced him with a look. The look. A hard stare that drilled through people making just about everyone who suffered it tuck tail and retreat. Mike didn’t retreat. Not right away. He dropped the confused look and nodded. “Sure. Okay, man. It’ll be a good set.”

“Of course it will.” Crandall didn’t even try to hold back the growl in his tone. Don’t state the obvious. It was one of his pet peeves.

Crandall pushed Mike back, out of his personal space, and then turned around and opened the door. He stepped through and headed down the long hallway toward the stage. At the empty doorway that let out five feet from the steps that would bring him in front of a crowd mixed with fangs and humans, Crandall stopped short. He could feel her. He knew she waited just beyond his vision. Fucking bitch. He’d warned her. He’d warned Jackson, too, the pretentious little shit. Crandall sucked in a deep breath, raised his chin and squared his shoulders in defiance and irritation, and then marched through the door and right up to Nica.

As what seemed to be usual, Nica was decked out in a slutty, cleavage-displaying red silk blouse, a skirt so short it had to be impossible to sit in, and stiletto heels with red and black zebra stripes that seemed to double her height. She was still fucking short.

Crandall gave her the Look. He glared through her, picturing himself on the stage and her with a stake in her pretty, pale cleavage. “Don’t say a fucking word,” he said. He emphasized his words by shoving a finger in her face, a half an inch from poking her pert, freckled nose. “Leave me the fuck alone and let me sing. If you open your annoying fucking mouth I will punch in all your obnoxiously white teeth. Got it?”

Nica’s eyes widened and her bright red lips fell open, revealing not just the white teeth, but sharp fangs glistening in the shifting lights thrown off from the stage.

“Back the fuck off. Now.”

Nica snapped her mouth shut and shrugged one shoulder making her already revealing blouse fall open a little further. “Fine. Later.” She turned and disappeared before Crandall could raise a fist.

Mike came up behind him. “Ready?” he whispered, his breath warm on the back of Crandall’s ear.

Crandall caught himself as he started to lean back into the comfort of Mike’s body. No, that wouldn’t do at all. Mike could hold a helluva grudge if he thought Crandall wasn’t being careful with his stupid secret. “Fuck.” Crandall wanted to pick a fight with Mike for making it impossible to relax, but it wasn’t all Mike’s fault, and Mike played better when he wasn’t in a pissy mood. Crandall leaped forward, dashing up the stairs and onto the stage. He grabbed the mic from Jackson before the vamp finished his introduction.

“Let’s just do this thing,” Crandall said into the microphone. The crowd cheered and screamed and jumped around like the crazy fucks they were. Much better. Crandall relaxed. Much fucking better. As the first few notes drifted out of Jon’s guitar and pierced Crandall’s shell of crankiness, Crandall finally felt at home.

 
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Posted by on May 10, 2014 in Crandall, Identity, Nica

 

Do What?

Crandall belted out the last few words and ended on a long note that left him breathless. As he closed his lips he threw his head and arms back, basking in the adrenaline of the performance. There was no audience, but he didn’t need their applause. He only needed to sing with every ounce of his existence. He’d done exactly that. As always. As he needed each performance to be. Perfect. Beautiful. Like his soul flew above everything else, soaring on the high notes and drifting around the lows.

“Alright,” Jon said, interrupting Crandall’s peaceful conclusion. “I have shit to do. We good?”

Crandall snorted and rolled his eyes, but did so with his back still to the group. Jon had almost cancelled, so he should be – according to Mike – grateful that they got any time at all to practice tonight. He’d needed this. The songs buoyed him in a way he couldn’t understand and never tried to explain. It would do. He’d prefer to keep going, but he’d had plenty to hold him over. For now.

“Yeah, okay.” Crandall paced to a cheap glass ashtray sitting on Jon’s amp. He picked up a roach and took a long toke.

“When’s the next show?” Jon ducked as he lifted the strap of his guitar over his head. He bent over to settle the guitar in its protective case.

“Undetermined.” Crandall exhaled a long stream of smoke and handed the roach to Jon.

“Friday,” Mike said. “We’re invited to Blood Moon, if you’re all in.”

“No,” Crandall said.

“Sure,” Jon said at the same time.

“Why not?” Beryl rounded on Crandall, trapping him against Jon’s amp.

“Fuck off.” Crandall side-stepped his bassist and strode across the room.

“You’re outvoted.” Beryl could be a stubborn bitch sometimes.

Crandall turned around and pointed a finger at her. “I’m not going there, so plan an instrumental set.”

“Stop,” Jon said stepping between them. “Crandall, what’s wrong with Blood Moon.”

Crandall opened his mouth, but his promises prevented the words he wanted to voice. Fuck. Stupid secrets. He closed his mouth, glared at Beryl, and then shifted his angry gaze to Mike. “They owner is a fucking asshole.”

Mike shrugged as Jon glanced toward him. “He can be, but he pays well.”

“It’s a set,” Jon said, “and one of the better ones we’ve been to over the past couple of years.”

“It’s a damn good place.” Beryl shrugged out of the strap and set her bass against a speaker. “Don’t do this because you’re pissed at me.”

“It has nothing to do with you. Don’t be so fucking stuck up.”

Mike stepped out from behind his set, and Crandall tensed. Mike liked to play referee, and Mike wanted to play the gig. Crandall glared at him, locking in with his hardest stare. “Crank,” Mike said softly. He looked away, and then looked back. “It’ll be fine. It’ll be fun.”

Crandall continued to stare through Mike, but Mike wasn’t deterred. “I’m in,” Mike said softly.

“Fuck.” Crandall could feel the tiny muscles in his jaw twitching as he ground his molars together.

“So, we’re good?”

“No, we’re not good.” Crandall looked away. He hadn’t told Mike about Nica’s visit. “I’m not going back there.”

Mike sighed, had the nerve to look sad and frustrated.

“Nica stopped by while we were at the Crane. She insisted we play Friday night.”

“And?” Beryl didn’t get it. She wouldn’t. Even if he tried to explain it to her, which he had no interest in doing.

“C’mon, man, you don’t have to talk to the owners. We’ll show up, play our set, and then take off. You can avoid everyone else before and after.”

“Sure, it’ll happen that way.” Crandall snatched the joint from Jon and plopped down on a metal folding chair to take a drag.

“So, confirm?” Beryl pushed.

“We’ll figure it out,” Mike said. “Okay?” He met Crandall’s glare and nodded.

Crandall stared over his right shoulder. He shrugged, and then nodded once, curt and shallow. For Mike, yes. If it wasn’t so important to Mike, he’d avoid the place with every last ounce of willpower left his in body.

 
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Posted by on March 30, 2014 in Inertia Stand, music

 

Feeling Better

Crandall rode in silence as Mike maneuvered his ‘Stang through the city streets. Jon lived on the outskirts, in a quiet little neighborhood a couple of miles from the last T-station. Sometimes, Jon would pick them up at the station so they didn’t have to drive through the city, but tonight, Jon’s wife  had his car while hers was in the shop for a few days.

Crandall preferred it this way. He hated riding the T. He hated traffic more, but since he wasn’t driving, he preferred this – Mike’s old car, and Mike as his only company.

Travelling could be so exhausting. So many people. It seemed he rarely got a chance to be alone anymore. Mike didn’t count. Crandall liked having Mike around. More lately, of course, but even before they’d started having amazing sex, Mike seemed the exception to Crandall people-hating rules. Ash was okay, and Crandall liked him, but Crandall was ready to start apartment searching on behalf of his friend.

He needed his space, his sanctuary, his peace and quiet where he didn’t have to work to conform to society’s expectations of polite small talk, tolerance of irritations, and other things he could avoid by simply staying home. This afternoon, he’d left work early to take a much needed break from people, but Ash had the stereo blasting while he belted out awful lyrics from annoying electro-dance tunes made popular by stupid sheep who listened to whatever the local station played whether it was good or not.

Crandall picked a fight by telling Ash he’d never find an apartment if he melted his brain listening to shitty music. It started low and went downhill from there. By the time Mike got home, Ash was sitting on Crandall’s back, pushing his face into the carpet while Crandall strung together curses and threats of painful and drawn out bodily harm.

“Okay now?” Mike asked, breaking into Crandall’s internal world.

Crandall grunted, and expected Mike to drop the conversation at that.

“C’mon, man, cut Ash a break. He is looking for a place, but he had a good deal before. Cheap. We don’t make much from the Crane. He can’t move into just anywhere.”

“Fuck.” Crandall snorted a sigh.

“I thought you two were getting along.”

Crandall stared out the side window, watching shadowy buildings flash by. “We were. We are.” He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the rest. “I need my apartment back, Mike. I can’t completely relax with guests in the house.”

“Don’t think of Ash as a guest.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“I know, man. I know. You’re okay with me around. Ash can be that kind of friend too.”

“I don’t want to fuck Ash.”

Mike made an odd snorting sound. Crandall opened his eyes and turned to look at him. “Are you laughing at me?” Crandall asked.

A smile snuck through as Mike shook his head. “No, not like that. I’m glad you don’t want to sleep with Ash.” He chuckled, then his expression sobered. “We lived together okay before we started sleeping together.”

“I don’t get it either.”

They drove for another couple of miles. “Would you rather blow off practice tonight, get some quiet time in?”

“Fuck no. Music is…” Crandall shook his head. “It makes it better.”

“Okay, good. So you won’t try to kill Ash when we get home?”

“Only if we stop for pizza, and Jon has some MJ on hand.”

“Right.”

Crandall shifted in his seat so he could lay a hand on Mike’s thigh. “I didn’t mean to start shit tonight. I wanted to lock myself up alone for a couple of hours before practice, and Ash was home, making a racket and being a dick about it, and I lost it. I need to be alone sometimes, Mike. You know that.”

“I do.” Mike nodded. He covered Crandall’s hand with one of his own. After another couple of miles, he added, “Feel free to hole up at the Crane if you need to. You’re welcome to the office; bring your laptop and headphones, and just crash.”

That was Mike, always thinking. It wasn’t Crandall’s business, but the guys had embraced him as one of the team with all the vampire hunting bullshit. Dragon wouldn’t mind Mike’s offer one bit, and Ash, well if Ash was at the Crane, Crandall wouldn’t need a place to hide out.

Crandall rubbed his chest with his free hand. Damn Mike, made Crandall give a shit about someone. About Mike. He’d been good for Crandall. Very good.

“Thank you,” Crandall said softly. He squeezed Mike’s thigh. “I appreciate that. You. Definitely you.” He smiled and leaned his head on Mike’s shoulder. “I bet a blow job would make me feel more grounded.”

“Not while I’m driving.” Mike’s voice broke. He was definitely thinking about it, even if his words objected.

“Okay, later.” Crandall sat up straight in his seat. He brushed against Mike’s crotch before removing his hand from Mike’s lap, feeling much better than he had all day.

 
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Posted by on March 16, 2014 in confrontations, Friends, Love & Lust

 
 
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