Mike started awake. Lying still, but tensed for action, he listened to the silence of the room. Distant, and not unusual, he heard the neighbor’s television like a faint buzz of an airplane flying overhead. That didn’t wake him; the old man next door would leave it on all night, every night.
He held Crandall in his arms, their bodies pressed as close as possible despite the sleepwear Crandall had stubbornly pulled on after sex. Mike focused on the gentle rise and fall of Crandall’s chest under his arm. His fingers brushed over warm flesh, aimlessly wandering while he let his mind drift, seeking sleep once more.
Crandall’s chest heaved in a sigh. “For someone tired enough to fall asleep on the sofa, you’re staying up awfully late.”
Mike’s hand paused as he chuckled against Crandall’s neck. “Something woke me,” he said. His touch drifted up, fingers twirling around a nipple covered in a thin undershirt until Crandall arched his back and moaned softly.
Lips pressed to the back of Crandall’s neck where the fine red hairs tickled his nose, Mike smiled. “No, but since you’re awake…”
Crandall covered Mike’s hand and guided it down his torso and over his waistband to cover his crotch. “What did you mean?” Crandall asked.
Mike stroked Crandall through his pants. “When?”
“When you asked if I thought about switching.”
Licking and nipping at Crandall’s neck, Mike didn’t answer immediately. He eased his hand between skin and cotton, brushing his fingers over the soft head of Crandall’s prick to gather the cum leaking there and spread it down his shaft. Crandall’s soft moans sent Mike’s blood flowing to his crotch at sonic speeds.
“I thought I wasn’t allowed to talk while I pleased you.” As soon as the words left his lips, Mike’s mouth returned to Crandall’s neck, sucking his skin against his teeth.
“Now you listen to me.” Crandall covered Mike’s hand, pressing him down. “Harder,” he moaned. “Make me come.”
Mike shifted his hips, pressing his own hardness against Crandall’s crease, rocking gentle as he stroked Crandall’s cock.
They both jumped at a pounding at their front door. “Ignore it,” Crandall said. “Finish–”
“Shit,” Mike muttered. His hand froze, his other arm tightening around Crandall for a moment before rolling backwards out of bed.
“Fucking bastard Fang,” Crandall hissed. He kicked his legs free of the sheets as Mike hurried out of the room.
In the entryway, Mike paused as another round of pounding rattled the door in its frame. He fished a flask out of his jacket hanging to his right, and then, standing behind it with the security chain linked, he eased the door open.
“Don’t make me break it down,” Angelo said, as casually as Mike would order a beer at a bar. Mike’s eyes darted from the imposing vampire to a smaller, but just as intimidating man beside him, baring his fangs through an opened-lip grin.
“Fuck.” Mike nodded, shut the door, and slipped the chain. Crandall stepped out of the bedroom, tugging on his pants to adjust himself. Mike waved him back and pulled open the door slowly. “What do you want?”
“Is it too much to ask for a civil conversation?”
“At three a.m.?”
Angelo stepped forward, and Mike, unsure if it was voluntarily or not, stepped back to let him in. His companion followed, shutting the door behind them. Angelo smiled, keeping his fangs hidden behind lips, and said, “You’re not on the same schedule as your prey. I’m disappointed, Blood Hunter.”
“It doesn’t pay well enough to be full time,” Mike said, taking a step back, though he knew there wasn’t enough space in the apartment to keep the vampire at a safe distance. Crandall inched down the hallway, his hands folded behind his back.
“I got this,” Mike said to Crandall. “Go back to bed.”
“You can get back to that once I get an answer,” Angelo said. “Or has your guitarist not passed along my offer.” Angelo’s gaze lit on Mike, drawing him in so that he didn’t see Crandall move.
With a roar of anger, Crandall lunged forward, stake raised high. Angelo did not move, didn’t even flinch. His companion stepped between them, grabbed Crandall’s wrist, and spun him around to slam him against the wall. With his arm behind his back and immobilized by the vampire’s hand at the base of his neck, Crank spat out a litany of curses, wrenching his body side to side attempting to break free.
“Let him go!” Mike shouted.
Angelo held up a hand. Mike froze and Crandall slumped under the viselike hold of the vampire pinning him to the wall. The stake fell from his grip. Angelo turned his gaze to Mike’s hand.
“Yeah, okay. Just let him go.” Mike reached out behind him to set the flask on a small table that kept their keys in a safe location. He spread his hands wide to show he had no other weapons.
Up Next: His Choices