Once upstairs and the door to their apartment bolted, Mike dug out his phone while Crank beelined to the kitchen.
“Hey Ash,” Mike said as he shrugged out of his coat. “What’d Dragon say?”
“Tomorrow, after morning classes.” Ash still sounded pissed.
“Can’t. Crandall has to work.” Mike dropped his coat over his favorite chair and then leaned on it to balance as he kicked off one boot, and then the other.
“When?” Crandall appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. He tipped a can of soda to his lips, but his eyes didn’t leave Mike’s as he drank.
“Hold on, Ash.” He pressed the phone against his chest. To Crandall, he said, “Tomorrow around eleven.”
“I’ll be there.”
“You have to work.”
“I have to do this.” Crandall walked past Mike without another word. As he rounded the corner, heading down the hall to the bathroom, he took long swallows of soda, finishing with a belch that echoed from the bathroom just before he slammed the door shut.
“Okay.” Mike returned the phone to his ear with a resigned, frustrated sigh. “Yeah, okay, we’ll be there.”
Mike heard the shower running before he opened the door. The room already filled with steam, the mirror as opaque as the sea green shower curtain behind which Crandall sang softly to himself. He fell silent when Mike shut the door.
“Don’t stop on my account,” Mike said. He walked up to the toilet and unzipped his leather pants.
“Really, Mike?” Mike glanced away to find Crandall peeking around the curtain, revealing nothing more than his hair darkened by moisture and directing rivulets of water down his face. “You can’t wait until I’m done?”
Mike returned his attention to hitting the bowl and shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you in the shower before.”
When he finished, Mike peeled back the plastic curtain and leaned against the corner of the tub. Crandall had his head back and his eyes closed. Suds ran with the water, from his hair, down his chest and stomach and legs. Mike hummed his appreciation. When his gaze travelled back up to meet Crandall’s eyes, he flinched back from the scowl plastered on his face.
“What? I can’t enjoy the show?”
With a snorted sigh, Mike stood up and let the curtain fall back in place. He closed the toilet lid before sitting down on it. He waited until the water shut off and the towel hanging over the rod zipped down behind the curtain. Crandall stepped out still drying his body, unabashed at his nudity despite the vicious glare he’d given Mike. As if that had not happened, he crossed the small space and stood between Mike’s knees while he ran the towel over his red-orange hair, sending it standing on end, pointing every which way.
“Tomorrow will be for discussing Judas’s request, obviously, but can we also spar, or do those drills or some other kind of training?” Crandall whipped the towel around his body, draping it over his shoulders.
Mike’s hands drifted up, hovering a moment before resting on Crandall’s hips with a light caress and a possessive squeeze of fingers digging into flesh. “Sure, yeah, I can’t imagine the discussion will take all day.”
“If it takes more than five minutes, I’d rather do it in the Pit.”
Dark hair fell over Mike’s face as he nodded and smirked. “That might be painful, but I agree, it sounds better than shooting the shit in that cramped office all morning.” Mike leaned forward to kiss Crandall’s stomach with light brushes of his lips and tongue. He rolled his eyes up and rested his chin just above Crandall’s navel. “Still want to hump my leg?”
Crandall lifted a hand and brushed hair back from Mike’s face. He ran his fingers through the wild locks, knotted from his workout on stage. “No,” Crandall said. He added his second hand to the mess, slowly working through the tangles with gentle care.
Eyes drifting shut, Mike sighed softly, leaning into Crandall’s touch. “Okay,” he whispered. “Come to bed with me and keep me warm.”
“Huh?” Mike opened his eyes.
“Shower first.” He pushed Mike’s head away and stepped back. “Then come to bed.”
Up Next: Hit the Switch