Crank’s Interlude, part 2

19 Jun

It didn’t take long for me to realize all the fun was in picking out toys with Mike. I wanted his input, and yes, I wanted to tease and flirt. This closet shit made no sense. I never cared much for the opinions of others, and even though he did, we didn’t know the few strangers in the store, so it shouldn’t matter. His parents? Okay, sure. The guys at The Dancing Crane? Maybe, yeah, since they had to work together. The fans of Inertia Stand? Not that I cared, but I could kind of see that one. But strangers in an adult store all wanted to be nameless and unmemorable. I figured they wouldn’t even notice us, let alone give a fuck that two guys planned a good time in the corner.

The anticipatory joy gone, I piled a few choice items on the counter, and then added a new, bigger bottle of lube. My phone vibrated in my pocket. No one bothered me after a show, so curiosity got the best of me and I checked my messages. A text from Mike reminded me we were low on condoms. Lazy fucker. Fuck that. I spared the display a passing glance, curious about some of the varieties, like ribbing, but instead of buying a box, I grabbed a smaller lube bottle to stash in the living room. I’ve been wanting him to bend me over his favorite chair for a while now, but we always had to move to the bedroom for supplies.

With my purchases tucked into a discreet brown paper bag, I walked across the dark street and peered into the car. Mike’s head tipped back against the headrest, and he’d lashed his hair into a ponytail hanging over one shoulder. With his eyes closed, he looked peaceful, but I knew my roommate, and he could hold a hell of a grudge when I pissed him off.

I walked around the front of the car, tapping the hood as I went to wake him. When I slide into the passenger seat and put my bag on the floor, his gaze followed my purchases. “Let’s get breakfast,” I said. “I’m starving.”

“You’re not starving,” he said.

I glared at him. I didn’t appreciate my words being picked apart, and he damn well knew that.

“I’m hungry too.” He didn’t turn the key in the ignition, however. He just stared at me.


He smiled. Fucker. “What did you buy?”

I crossed my arms. Okay, so I could hold a grudge too, and while I didn’t mind the store as some would – sex didn’t embarrass me – I was pissed that he left after he’d agreed to come along in the first place. He reached between my legs and grabbed the bag. I caught his wrist as he lifted it. He froze, his gaze shifting from my purchase to me, but then flickered back.

After a brief hesitation in which he likely measured his chances of figuring out my mood, he wrapped his free hand around my neck and pulled me into a kiss.

I wasn’t so pissed after all. I opened to him, tasting his tongue as it dove past my lips. The moan filling the car came from my throat, and the hand I had on his wrist travelled up his arm to dig into his hair behind the elastic loosely restraining it. He dropped the bag to slip a hand under my shirt, fingers teasing along my waistband, and dipping lower to tickle the hollow of sensitive skin below my hipbone. Oh fuck yeah. I wanted him more than I wanted breakfast, and almost as much as I wanted to be on stage.

When he pulled back, I followed for one more kiss, and then leaned against the door, watching him as he visibly reeled in his control and calmed his breathing to somewhat normal. He tugged the elastic out of his hair, and when he gathered the ponytail again, I plucked the band from his fingers and shook my head.

He smiled and said, “You like it down?”

I licked my lips, still tasting him.

He shrugged and turned the key in the ignition. “So.” He cleared his throat, and then said, “Breakfast then?”

I nodded. We’d need a good meal because I intended to pick up right where that kiss left off the moment we stepped into the apartment. We needed the fuel because we weren’t sleeping tonight.


Up Next: Reluctant Submission


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Posted by on June 19, 2011 in Flirtations, Identity, Secrets


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