Crandall and Mike lay sprawled in a pile of tangled limbs, sweaty torsos, and euphoric smiles. Crandall traced lines of cum across the treasure trail of fine brown hair between Mike’s navel and his spent prick.
As Crandall trailed off, Mike lifted his head, one eyebrow cocked in curiosity. “Are you actually speechless?” Mike asked.
“Fuck you.” Crank’s favorite tagline, sure, but he said it with a smile this time.
“Maybe later.” Mike dropped his head back to the pillow. His fingers drew lazy designs on Crandall’s body, exploring the faint bumps of his spine and the pale expanse of his shoulder blades. He couldn’t see them with the way Crandall pressed against Mike’s body, but Mike knew there were freckles to connect under his touch. He’d drawn patterns between them with his tongue on many a night.
“You say that, but you don’t mean it.” Crandall sounded less petulant than usual, but Mike knew what Crandall was digging for. He’d stopped broaching the subject after Mike snapped one night, telling him to go fuck himself in a rare temper tantrum. Ever since Mike escorted Crandall to a sex shop to buy his first gay adult toy, Crandall had wanted to use it on Mike, introduce Mike to the pleasures of a vibrating dildo.
“Those are for girls,” Mike had said at the time, and then again several arguments later.
And Crandall had taken that personally. “I’m not a fucking girl,” Crandall said, and stalked away. Crandall liked being on the receiving end, loved it even, but he was curious. So was Mike. Mike tried to let down that wall. He wanted to try for Crandall, and because Crandall’s uninhibited cries and wild writhing during sex kept Mike not only majorly horny, but also very curious about switching.
Mike took a deep breath and held it. Now or never. He held the breath longer. Or maybe next time.
Crandall lifted the hand that had been playing on Mike’s stomach and poked him in the ribs. “Just say whatever’s on your mind. Why is that so fucking hard for you?”
“It’s just… It just is.”
“With me? Shit, Mike, your silence pisses me off more than anything you could say out loud.”
Mike sighed out the pent up breath. “Yeah, man, I know.”
“Okay? That doesn’t tell me shit.”
Mike snickered, but it wasn’t with as much amusement as frustration. He wanted it alright, he just wasn’t sure how to ask for what he wanted.
He rolled to his side, dislodging Crandall. Sweaty skin peeled apart as he put a few inches between them and looked into Crandall’s deep hazel eyes. Hazel tonight. Some nights, more like green, others more like amber. Constantly shifting, like his moods.
“Spit it out,” Crandall said, interrupting Mike’s sudden reflection.
“Okay, show me how much you like your toy.”
Crandall snorted. Mike frowned, that had not been the response he expected. Crandall said, “You’d be happy as a voyeur, wouldn’t you? Less pressure, just watching?”
Mike shook his head. “No. I mean…” He bit his lip. When he released it he ran his tongue over it, self-consciousness heating his neck and chest. He wanted Crandall to fill in the blanks left in his pause, but he knew Crandall well enough to know the man would make him say it point blank. Sometimes, Mike thought, he probably didn’t even do it to be cruel.
As if reading his thoughts, Crandall said, “When you really want to, you’ll be able to say it.” He rolled away from Mike and sat up. “I’m ordering Chinese and jumping in the shower. Listen for the door.”
“Crandall, wait.” Mike’s request went unanswered as Crandall left the room.
Mike flopped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Cobwebs he never noticed cast strange shadows with the light from the hall. He did want to. Crandall had been slowly drawing him out since they’d been sleeping together. Mike’d never made a sound in bed before, but Crandall loved to hear the pleasure, the satisfaction, the blinding orgasms. This, though, Mike shook his head. He couldn’t even say it to the empty room. He couldn’t. He was pretty sure he still wanted it even if the words make him cringe.
The sex had been great. It always was after a show. It always was every time, but after a show, Crandall had the energy and need of three of him. Tonight was no exception, and yet, Mike felt lost, still needing, and unsure if it was simply the conversation, or a subconscious willingness to take their sexual relationship to the next level.
It was the latter, he decided. He needed more. He craved that connection even before Crandall pushed the same old button with his lack of subtlety. Not that Mike would’ve acknowledged subtle in this area. He needed to be knocked over the head with a two-by-four. Yes, he liked watching Crandall use the dildo. Oh hell yeah he did. It got him rock hard, so hard that Crandall’s half-lidded oh-so-satisfied look alone made Mike wonder if he’d shoot off without even being touched.
Yeah, he liked to watch, but damn it, Crandall didn’t fake anything, and even if he could, no one could fake it like that.
Up Next: Vampire Contact