All Apologies

17 Oct

Crandall stared at the ceiling for a solid twenty minutes. Then, he curled up on his side and stared at the wall for nearly an hour. Flopping back, he rolled to his other side and stared out his open bedroom door, counting sheep until he reached two-hundred and forty-two.

“Fucking Mike!” Crandall threw the sheets back and rolled out of bed. He stomped down the hall and stopped in front of Mike’s mostly closed door. “Hey Mike?” When he got no answer, he knocked on the jamb and pushed the door open. “Mike?”

The only answer he heard was a familiar, but faint snore. Crandall rolled his eyes and slid through the doorway. Halfway to where he thought the bed should be he tripped over a plastic hamper full of clothes, his big toe twisting in one of the holes. Arms flailing in a desperate attempt to keep his balance, he crumpled sideways onto the floor.

“Son of a fucking bitch!” Crandall kicked the basket and rubbed his foot. Over the sound of his own failure and frustration, he didn’t hear Mike until the light clicked on, blinding him from a ninety degree angle to where he’d been heading.

“What are you doing?” Mike asked. Propped up on one elbow, his hair tousled around his face, and sleep holding his eyes mostly closed, Mike didn’t look like he wanted an answer. That, of course, never stopped Crandall from speaking.

“I can’t sleep.” Crandall kicked the basket again and then stood up, a glare etched deeply on his face.

“It’s easier to do in a bed.” Mike dropped his head back down to his pillow and closed his eyes.

With a snort, Crandall crossed the room. With the light on, he managed to avoid a tangle with three drumsticks and a pile of clothing between him and the bed. Without ceremony, he shut off the light and slipped under the sheets, seeking Mike’s warm body.

“What are you doing?” More surprised than sleepy now, Mike tensed at Crandall’s touch.

“How long are you going to hold a fucking grudge?” Crandall pushed past the tension and pressed his palm against Mike’s chest, his thumb rolling one nipple into a hard, sensitive nub.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I don’t joke. Fuck, Mike, you know that.” He inched closer and the hand that had been teasing snaked around Mike’s waist to hold him against retreat.

Mike sighed and put an arm around Crandall in the darkness. “No, you don’t,” he said, defeated.

“I’m still pissed off, but I can’t sleep alone.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“What do you have to be pissed about?”

“Shut up, Crank.”


“Seriously. Shut up before you end up on the floor.”

Crandall opened his mouth, but then decided he had better uses for it than words. Without the assistance of light, he found Mike’s shoulder, kissing sleep-warmed skin with light lips. He worked his way to Mike’s neck, brushing aside tangled hair to reach the sensitive spots he’d memorized with ease.

He felt Mike’s breathing shift from sleepy to aroused, and in that brief moment, Crandall thought he was in the clear. Then, Mike’s hand on his chest pushed him away, and his husky, lust-filled voice said, “Stop.”

“I want–”

“Let me sleep.” His tone lost that horny pitch and the hand keeping Crandall at bay didn’t surrender.

“It’s not you, it’s me,” Crandall blurted out.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Mike asked. He rolled away. Blindly, Crandall reached out for him, finding him flat on his back, one arm over his chest.

“Isn’t that what people say when they’ve fucked up? Or, uh, I meant well.”

The sheets rustled as Mike shifted. “Are you trying to apologize?”

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know.” Crandall snorted out his frustration. “I’m not saying I was wrong, but maybe I overreacted. Is that good?”

Mike laughed. Crandall recoiled, glaring at him though he knew Mike couldn’t see it.

“What the fuck is so funny?”

“It’s only good if you mean it,” Mike said. “Or are you just trying to get laid?”

“Both.” Mike didn’t answer, so Crandall added, “It doesn’t make this better. We have to come to some kind of agreement about Blood Moon, but I don’t want to fight, and I do want to suck you off like nothing else right now.”

Like morning mist, the tension in the room dissipated when Mike said, “So what are you waiting for?”


Up Next: Too Much Blood


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Posted by on October 17, 2010 in Crandall, M/M, Relationships


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