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From the Closet

14 Nov

Crandall yanked his shirt off, tossed it to the floor, and then lifted the sheets and ducked beneath them. As the blankets settled again, he nudged Mike’s knees apart, stretching his body between his thighs and resting his arms on Mike’s hips. His chest pressed against Mike’s crotch when he dropped his head to kiss his stomach. He curved his spine, undulating, so his bare flesh rubbed against Mike, the pajama bottoms he always wore to bed too thin to protect him from the erotic movements of Crandall’s body.

Mike writhed beneath Crandall, a soft bitten-lip moan escaped his throat. His hands found him under the sheets, one brushing through Crandall’s hair while the other rubbed between his shoulder blades. Mike’s hips rolled of their own volition, seeking more contact with the man he craved more than air.

Crandall’s lips traced every inch of Mike’s stomach. He inched lower, licking the hard swell of one hip bone and then lifted his head. “You’re too quiet.”

His voice, though muffled by the blankets over his head, still reached Mike’s ears. Mike knew how much Crandall like to hear about his successes. He wanted to know when something felt good and when something felt fucking amazing. He tried to comply because he wanted to encourage Crandall to continue any time he had his mind on Mike’s pleasure, but Mike had grown up deep in the closet, and had learned long ago that secret sexual affairs stayed secret better if no one heard a word or whimper.

“I’m still waiting for that wise mouth to land on my cock,” Mike said.

Crandall’s chuckle vibrated in his chest sending teasing sensations through Mike’s dick. Already half hard from having Crandall’s weight pressed against him, that soft laughter nearly finished the job.

“Tell me what you want.” Crandall tugged at Mike’s pants. When Mike lifted his hips, Crandall inched the fabric down to his thighs and then paused. His fingers tickled barely exposed skin.

“I just did.” Mike tried to guide Crandall’s head, but Crandall shook off his touch. With an exasperated sigh, Mike pushed the sheets off of them both and lifted his head to glare at Crandall. “I want you to suck my cock like you said you wanted to do, or is this your way of picking a new fight?”

Crandall laughed again, but without his chest pressed to Mike’s groin, Mike didn’t get the pleasure of it. “You’re such a bitch tonight.”

Mike rolled away from him and sat up. When Crandall lunged after him, Mike caught his wrists and rolled them both, pinning Crandall on his back, Mike’s own weight holding him down despite the red head’s squirming and struggling. “Now you tell me,” Mike said, “what you want?”

“You,” Crandall spat.

Mike couldn’t tell if he was truly pissed or just annoyed that Mike decided to fight back. “More specifically,” he said.

Crandall rolled his hips, his cock brushed against Mike’s tensed stomach. “You, happy, or in a better mood if I can’t have that. Damn it, Mike, I don’t like you mad.”

“We’ve always fought.” Mike released Crandall’s wrists and lowered his weight to his elbows on either side of Crandall’s head. Their faces were close, more than Crandall could usually take without initiating it himself, but Mike had had enough of the sniping game for one night and if it had to end in Crandall flipping out, at least he could sleep. If not, he hoped to still get lucky. “Could it be you care enough to not be a prick every day?”

“I love you,” Crandall blurted out. “Not like I loved Beryl just so she’d shut the fuck up about that romantic shit. I feel like an ass when we fight no matter whose fault it is.” He rolled his head to the side, his eyes searching the darkness of the room. Space. He needed space, but Mike wasn’t ready to give it to him. “Make up sex was always good with her, you know.” Crandall’s eyes flickered back to Mike and then sought the open room again. “I expect it to be ten times better with you.”

Mike stared down into the face he’d snuck longing peeks at for years. Faint light reached them from the open doorway. The light fixture in the hall was down to one bulb of three. Up close, even in the near darkness, he could make out a scattering of freckles. More than what he could see floated between them. Men that hid in the closet cloaked themselves in secrets and didn’t fall in love. They couldn’t afford to when caring too much could easily lead to a crumbling of the protective walls revealing the soul to the world.

He kissed Crandall, slowly parting his lips and letting their tongues mingle. When the kiss broke, Mike brought one of Crandall’s hands to his mouth, kissing his fingers. “Damn, Crank, it will be a hundred times better, but don’t you dare start picking fights just for make-up sex.”

“Fuck you.” Mike didn’t need to guess that time. He heard the mix of anger and lust in those two words.

“With pleasure,” Mike said. He rolled his hips, his body undulating over Crandall’s. “But first, you promised to suck my cock, and I’m going to hold you to that.”

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Up Next: Bedtime does not mean Sleep

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1 Comment

Posted by on November 14, 2010 in Identity, Love & Lust, M/M, Relationships

 

One response to “From the Closet

  1. Olivia Brynn

    November 14, 2010 at 7:12 pm

    Aww! Leave me hanging why don’tcha?

     

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