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Category Archives: Identity

Surrender

Crank sat back on his heels and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. It still amazed him almost every single time he and Mike had sex. He didn’t care about his personal space. Not only that but he craved Mike’s presence. His presence, his sex, his scent, his taste, his voice, his everything. Crank leaned in and licked Mike’s half-deflated cock.

Mike flinched. “Whoa, man, give me a minute.” As Mike brushed his fingers down Crandall’s left cheek, Crandall leaned in to the tender touch. Crandall let his eyes drift shut and inhaled deeply through his nose. Mike’s smell filled him. A musky masculine scent with underlying threads of sweat and leather.

Crandall sighed softly. He licked his lips, savoring Mike’s lingering taste before rising up on his knees and turning his face up. He rested his chin on Mike’s stomach as he pressed his palms to Mike’s leather-clad thighs. Running his hands upward, he grinned at Mike’s sleepy post-orgasm expression.

“Only one minute,” Crandall said. “At the end of that sixty seconds, I expect you naked and hard and pounding me into that mattress.”

Mike’s eyes fluttered as he made a soft, deep sound that landed somewhere between a moan and a whimper. Yes, he had power over Mike in such simple words. He thrived on that power. Crandall rose to his feet, and as he did, dragged his hands up Mike’s legs, caressing thighs, hips, and torso. As he reached his full height, he pressed his entire body against Mike’s, pinning him to the wall.

“Naked,” he whispered again, lips brushing against Mike’s as he spoke. He wrapped his arms around Mike’s neck and then tugged at the elastic holding Mike’s hair at his nape. “Now.”

He kissed Mike, long and slow, and then pulled away, shedding his clothes as he moved to the bed. When Crandall turned around and dropped onto the mattress, Mike still hadn’t moved any more than was required to stroke his cock back to attention. Crandall watched Mike tugged his prick for several long, teasing seconds. It was unnerving the way he could become Mike’s entire focus.

Crandall blinked as if coming out of a dream. It was that way for both of them. Nothing else mattered when they were alone. Hell, it went beyond sex. Mike gave him the strength and desire to live more. To get out of his own head. Crandall had more friends because of Mike, and as much as he complained about them, he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

Watching Mike’s reaction, Crandall leaned back on his elbows and letting his knees fall open. Mike looked ready to come again. Standing alone. Watching. Cock hard, leaking precum. Crandall wanted every ounce of what Mike had to give. Pleasure all night long. Mike could do no wrong. He knew Crandall’s body better than Crandall did. It was disturbing relief to surrender. To realize Mike was the only true lover he’d had. Sure, he’d gotten off before. Even had great blow jobs before. But Crandall had never given all, or even most, of himself to anyone, while Mike didn’t have to ask or beg or demand. Crandall surrendered, and surrendered one-hundred percent, because it was Mike.

“Why the fuck do you still have your pants on?” Crandall pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth. Snark came too naturally. Mike’s penchant for drawing out the foreplay was something Crandall snapped about frequently but he had to admit, he loved every moment of it. He had a hot, sexy boyfriend who knew exactly what he was doing. Including letting Crandall think he was in control. Mike had been all along.

Crandall exhaled sharply and struggled to draw in his next breath. The thoughts running through his head were dangerous. He didn’t want to explore them further but they remained, dancing around the physical sensations and visual distraction. Mind at war, Crandall fought to focus on Mike as he moved to action.

Without taking his gaze off of Crandall, Mike kicked off his boots and shimmied out of his pants. As he crossed the room, he pulled his shirt over his head. That single-minded focus stole Crandall’s breath. It felt like the beginnings of a panic attack, and yet, it was so different. His breathing, shallow and ragged. His focus, tunneled until only Mike existed in the world. His nerves, prickles and shivers danced across his skin. Sweet anticipation. Something he knew with no other lover. Intense need. Not just lust. Not just aching balls. Need. Sweet and dangerous. Uncontrollable and necessary. So very necessary. To his very existence. Mike.

 

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Posted by on August 3, 2014 in Identity, Love & Lust, Relationships, Yum! (NSFW)

 

Take the Edge Off

By the time Mike pulled his Mustang into his usual spot in the back of the parking lot, he was ready to risk anything and everything to get some relief from his painfully tight pants. At one point during the drive, Mike had begged Crandall to stop, to wait until they got home, and he’d cringed at the whine in his voice as he did. It hadn’t discouraged Crandall one bit, however, and Mike was as hard as he’d ever been behind the snug fit of leather and the heated promise of Crandall’s wet mouth on his cock the moment he stripped out of those painfully tight pants.

If, in that moment as Mike turned off the engine, Crandall had offered, Mike would’ve let Crandall suck him off right there in the dark parking lot. Luckily – or maybe unluckily – Crandall was out of the car by the time Mike pulled the key from the ignition. Mike took a moment to rub his cock, not looking forward to walking the length of the parking lot and up too many stairs. What came next, yes, he was definitely looking forward to that, but getting there, shit, Crandall would be the death of him. And he’d love every torturous sumptuous minute.

Mike followed Crandall in silence. From two steps behind, he admired Crandall’s ass as they walked to the building. From just behind Crandall in the elevator, Mike’s gaze drifted over the curve of Crandall’s neck and the short red hair sticking out in every direction, some by intention and some from the sweating and dancing on stage. Mike raised his hand, running his fingertips over the nape of Crandall’s neck. Crandall shivered but otherwise didn’t move. It was enough. That one shiver conveyed everything to Mike. Want and need. Love and Lust. Mike leaned forward, brushed his lips lightly against Crandall’s neck just above the line of his t-shirt. Crandall, in return, stepped back and pressed his ass against Mike’s crotch.

“More,” Crandall whispered.

“Soon.” Mike glanced up as the elevator dinged its warning that they’d reached their floor.

Crandall stepped forward just as the doors slid open. Mike followed again. Damn that hot ass.

Mike shut the bedroom door as he watched Crandall strip out of his t-shirt and kicked off his sneakers. Mike made quick work of the leather straps at his waist, unlacing the front of his pants. He loved those pants. They were comfortable to drum in, made him look great, and they were easy to get out of despite their form-fitting design. By the time he had his cock free, Crandall had shucked his pants and boxers and had his hands full of Mike’s shirt.

Crandall pulled the tank over Mike’s head and tossed it aside. He pressed his palms against Mike chest and his mouth to Mike’s. When he broke the kiss, Crandall trailed his lips and hands down Mike’s torso with agonizing slowness, touching and kissing and licking at so many places that Mike lost count in the haze of delicious sensations.

Leaning back against the door, Mike cupped the back of Crandall’s head. He brushed his fingers along the same spot he’d teased in the elevator as he encouraged Crandall’s mouth lower. Crandall didn’t need any suggestions. Mike was certain he was heading exactly where Mike needed him. Letting Mike guide him, Crandall sunk lower. His knees hit the floor and his lips wrapped around the head of Mike’s cock.

Sweet, warm heat. Agile tongue. Firm lips. “I love your mouth,” Mike said. Crandall teased just enough. He took a little more of Mike in and then sucked and pulled back. “Oh God, you do that so well.” Mike watched as Crandall’s mouth enveloped him again, taking in more of his cock before pulling back, dragging his tongue along the underside while letting his teeth graze lightly. Mike never thought he’d like that, but Crandall knew how to get it just right. A bit of a bite with the teeth and soothing with the tongue, and shit, Crandall had the stubborn will to master everything, now easily taking all of Mike’s length without gagging. Mike never would’ve thought his sexy roommate who never considered himself gay until the night they kissed would be not only be an expert at blowjobs, but so incredibly eager to give them too.

“If you keep that up…” Mike groaned as Crandall did something with his tongue that made Mike forget the English language. “Ah, uhn.” Mike grasped his fingers in Crandall’s hair and chuckled. Crandall knew what he was doing. He was probably making up for the car ride, and making sure he got a nice long fuck. Take the edge off. That’s what he would’ve said – if his mouth wasn’t full.

“God, Crank.” Mike wanted to both close his eyes and ride it out and keep them open to watch Crandall’s lips stretch over his cock, the corners of his mouth glistening with saliva and precum. So fucking hot. Mike tried to hold back. He wanted to live in that moment for eternity. Crandall had other ideas, however. He knew Mike’s every trigger, and with an agile tongue trick that Mike could never resist, Crandall sucked Mike’s orgasm to the surface. For a brief moment, Mike thought he might hold back, but the wave of ecstasy broke over him – broke him – and he cried out as he snapped his hips forward, shooting cum down Crank’s throat as fast as his lover could swallow.

 

 
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Posted by on July 13, 2014 in Identity, Love & Lust, Yum! (NSFW)

 

Take Me Home

As soon as the last note sounded, Crandall leaped off the back of the stage, flipped off the members of the main act, and strode down the hall past the dressing room to the back door. He pushed through and into the parking lot, not slowing until he reached Mike’s car. He leaned against a primer-grey fender and scowled into the night.

It took Mike more than five minutes to catch up with him. “What took so fucking long?” Crandall pushed of the car and walked around to the passenger door.

He heard Mike sigh as he slumped into his seat. Staring hard through the glass in front of him, Crandall grinded his teeth and crossed his arms. Mike would try to lecture him and he had no intention of listening to it. As soon as Mike closed his door and shifted in his seat to face Crandall, Crandall turned his glare on Mike.

“Don’t start.” Crandall shifted his gaze over Mike’s left shoulder and out into the scrub that separated the back lot from the road. He had been finding it harder to get really angry at Mike lately. It was fucking annoying as all hell. He dropped his gaze down, to Mike’s knee, for no particular reason other than not wanting Mike to figure out he had that kind of power over him.

“I’m not,” Mike said. “Look, I’m glad you came tonight. It was a great set. The crowd was ecstatic. Didn’t you see that?”

“Of course I did,” Crandall told Mike’s knee. His gaze drifted up Mike’s thigh to his crotch. Crandall loved the snug leather pants Mike liked to perform in. He couldn’t imagine trying to move in them but Mike could and did. A helluva drummer.

“And Nica didn’t come back after you told her to stay away.”

Crandall snorted. He hadn’t been bluffing. He’d have tried his best to stake that bitch if she had ruined his after-show high. Of course, she had anyway, just being around and just considering the risk of having to deal with all that vampire crap again. That delicious rush of endorphins had fled as quickly as he had from the stage. Fucking bitch.

“Right?”

Crandall looked up at Mike. He hated when Mike pressed a point. Make your statement and move on, that was Crandall’s philosophy. Don’t be a dead horse, as they say. “Then why the fuck do I feel just as stressed out as I did before the show?”

He watched Mike’s expression waver. Mike felt bad now, and didn’t that just kick Crandall in the balls.

“Fuck.” Crandall looked away, turning his head so he didn’t have to see it. The disappointment born from Mike’s willingness to do whatever it took to make Crandall happy. It hadn’t escaped his notice. Crandall knew Mike went out of his way to accommodate all his stupid idiosyncrasies. He’d become a great buffer between Crandall and the rest of the world. Crandall appreciated it. He really did. So why’d he fuck things up and make Mike feel bad for not getting it perfect. It couldn’t be perfect. Crandall was too fucked up for anything in this world to come out perfect. Hell, perfect would probably be some kind of science fiction novel, permanently hooked up to a computer, no social interaction whatsoever, and … Well, maybe not no interaction. He still wanted Mike. Fucking Mike, getting under his skin.

When Crandall turned back to his friend, Mike was twisted around looking toward the building. “I’m sorry, Mike. I don’t want to be like this.” As Mike turned back to face him, his expression was complex. Confused? Tender? The two didn’t go together, and Crandall never did get the hang of reading people. He knew Mike better than anyone, and the man still perplexed him often enough.

When Crandall shook his head, confused himself and unsure where his thoughts were headed, Mike reached up with one hand and cupped the back of Crandall’s head, pulling him into a mind-erasing kiss. Crandall swayed forward, yearning to get closer as he welcomed Mike’s tongue with his own, breathing in Mike’s post-performance scent of sweat and adrenaline, and reaching for the thigh he’d been glaring at a minute ago.

Fucking hell. One kiss. Mike had too much power over him, and Crandall wouldn’t change it, even for that world of computers and no people.

When they parted, Mike glanced around again, and Crandall decided to ignore his annoying paranoia this time. That one kiss restored his euphoria of being on stage. He wanted to climb into Mike’s lap and grind up against him until they steamed up the windows and came so hard that Mike didn’t care who saw.

Crandall took a deep breath and trembled as he exhaled. “Take me home,” he said, feeling breathless and compliant and full of near-exploding need.

Mike quirked a half-smile. “Home? No waffles tonight?”

With a snort, Crandall rolled his eyes. Then he fixed Mike with a different kind of stare, one he hoped conveyed how the world would implode if they didn’t get naked and sweaty very soon. “You’re going to need breakfast when I’m done with you. Probably two or three plates.”

Mike’s smirked turned into a full-fledged grin and then he turned in his seat to face forward and reached for the key hanging in the ignition. His expression fell. Crandall followed his gaze to a pink envelope under the driver’s side windshield wiper. His excitement vanished, dropping into a black pit in his stomach ,and he suddenly felt like he was going to vomit out all his internal organs.

“Fucking bitch.” He growled out the words between gritted teeth. His fingernails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists. “I’m going to stake her. I swear, Mike, I’m going to kill that fucking fang.”

 
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Posted by on June 1, 2014 in Friends, Identity

 

At Home On Stage

Crandall paced in the small waiting room behind the stage. His mood so foul that even Beryl appeared to give him space to stride back and forth without question.

At the knock on the door, Crandall paused and glared, but only long enough to see who opened it. Jackson popped in to announce they had two minutes before the show started. Crandall snarled and started his pacing again; Jackson ducked out just as quickly as he’d come in. Crandall had already verbally abused the young vampire, and only because he’d hesitated when Crandall demanded that the other band, Dead Inside, vacate the back room to hang out with the other fangs out on the club floor.

Sunshine, or whatever the fuck his name was, agreed, but only did so with a laugh and some mocking comment that Crandall didn’t hear over the rush of blood in his ears. This had been a stupid idea. Crandall knew it, and he knew Mike knew it too. Crandall had hit the edge of an anxiety attack before they’d walked into the club, and then again, staring down the vampires of the main act. If he lost it during the show, he’d make sure Mike would never hear the end of it.

Crandall stopped pacing, staring at the door. Just one cheap-ass door between him and a room full of vampires. That alone didn’t bother him. It was one vampire. One annoying redheaded vampire. He dreaded her appearance. She claimed to have the key to the next step of the stupid fucking prophecy that only Judas believed in. He didn’t want to talk to her. He didn’t want to see her. He wanted his life back. Everything the way it was before vampires existed.

Except Mike. Crandall turned and leaned against the door. He knew Beryl and Jon watched him warily, but he only saw Mike. Something in the revelation of vampires – in that single vampire bite that awakened the hunter blood in Crandall – also gave Crandall Mike. Sure, he had Mike as a roommate and a friend, but now he had all of Mike. Not just sex, but something so intimate that Crandall couldn’t give it up. And sex too. Fuck yeah, sex. Mike fucked better than any woman. Times five. Times ten. Times a-fucking-hundred.

Mike stepped closer, and in a low voice, he asked, “Okay?”

Crandall jutted his chin in Mike’s direction. He couldn’t nod. He wasn’t ok, but he would be. “Ask me again when it’s over. We have to get through tonight, and then I’ll be okay.”

Mike frowned and looked about to ask another question, but Crandall silenced him with a look. The look. A hard stare that drilled through people making just about everyone who suffered it tuck tail and retreat. Mike didn’t retreat. Not right away. He dropped the confused look and nodded. “Sure. Okay, man. It’ll be a good set.”

“Of course it will.” Crandall didn’t even try to hold back the growl in his tone. Don’t state the obvious. It was one of his pet peeves.

Crandall pushed Mike back, out of his personal space, and then turned around and opened the door. He stepped through and headed down the long hallway toward the stage. At the empty doorway that let out five feet from the steps that would bring him in front of a crowd mixed with fangs and humans, Crandall stopped short. He could feel her. He knew she waited just beyond his vision. Fucking bitch. He’d warned her. He’d warned Jackson, too, the pretentious little shit. Crandall sucked in a deep breath, raised his chin and squared his shoulders in defiance and irritation, and then marched through the door and right up to Nica.

As what seemed to be usual, Nica was decked out in a slutty, cleavage-displaying red silk blouse, a skirt so short it had to be impossible to sit in, and stiletto heels with red and black zebra stripes that seemed to double her height. She was still fucking short.

Crandall gave her the Look. He glared through her, picturing himself on the stage and her with a stake in her pretty, pale cleavage. “Don’t say a fucking word,” he said. He emphasized his words by shoving a finger in her face, a half an inch from poking her pert, freckled nose. “Leave me the fuck alone and let me sing. If you open your annoying fucking mouth I will punch in all your obnoxiously white teeth. Got it?”

Nica’s eyes widened and her bright red lips fell open, revealing not just the white teeth, but sharp fangs glistening in the shifting lights thrown off from the stage.

“Back the fuck off. Now.”

Nica snapped her mouth shut and shrugged one shoulder making her already revealing blouse fall open a little further. “Fine. Later.” She turned and disappeared before Crandall could raise a fist.

Mike came up behind him. “Ready?” he whispered, his breath warm on the back of Crandall’s ear.

Crandall caught himself as he started to lean back into the comfort of Mike’s body. No, that wouldn’t do at all. Mike could hold a helluva grudge if he thought Crandall wasn’t being careful with his stupid secret. “Fuck.” Crandall wanted to pick a fight with Mike for making it impossible to relax, but it wasn’t all Mike’s fault, and Mike played better when he wasn’t in a pissy mood. Crandall leaped forward, dashing up the stairs and onto the stage. He grabbed the mic from Jackson before the vamp finished his introduction.

“Let’s just do this thing,” Crandall said into the microphone. The crowd cheered and screamed and jumped around like the crazy fucks they were. Much better. Crandall relaxed. Much fucking better. As the first few notes drifted out of Jon’s guitar and pierced Crandall’s shell of crankiness, Crandall finally felt at home.

 
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Posted by on May 10, 2014 in Crandall, Identity, Nica

 

No More Games

When Mike didn’t immediately jump back up, Crandall forgot about his conversation with Ash and hurried to Mike’s side. “What’s wrong?” Crandall asked as he dropped to one knee beside Mike.

Mike grimaced and covered Crandall’s hand on his chest. “Knocked the wind out of me,” he wheezed.

Crandall snorted. “You fell for that three times in a row, asshat.”

“Your support is appreciated.” Mike pushed himself up to a sitting position, and then Crandall stood and pulled Mike to his feet.

“I’ll support you when you don’t fall for that move again.”

Crandall squeezed Mike’s hand and then stepped away. He watched Mike for a moment, before returning to Ash’s side.

“What were we bitching about?” Crandall said as he slid down the wall.

“Nothing.” Ash flashed a grin. “I’d rather talk about my girlfriend.”

“Fuck. Me.” Crandall groaned, but he didn’t object.

#

Mike walked to the far wall where he’d left a bottle of water. As he sipped, he watched his lover. Crandall rolled his eyes and made disgusted faces at Ash, but didn’t interrupt Ash with more than the occasional smart-ass comment. Mike was glad Ash changed the subject; he hadn’t liked what he’d been hearing.

He had expected Crandall to start objecting sooner. Crandall didn’t like lies, and he didn’t understand why people pretended one thing while doing another. He never cared about what others thought about him and would never understand why Mike did. Mike had his reasons, but lately, he’d been doubting them. The longer he and Crandall were together, the more he wanted to shout it from the rooftops. He knew there were times that he couldn’t keep the happy, satisfied, so much in love look off his face. He would out himself if he didn’t get some control. Would it be all that bad? It would be. Mike was certain. He’d love to give Crandall the openness back that he valued, but Mike feared the haters, the derogatory comments, the off-color questions about why he didn’t like girls and worse. He could imagine so much worse.

“He’s right,” Dragan said.

Mike startled, dripping water down his shirt. Dragan didn’t know what was on Mike’s mind, but his words still hit home as if Mike had spoken out loud.

“About letting down your guard. As soon as you think you see an opening, you drop your right shoulder and you step off balance.”

With a frown, Mike replayed the last couple of moves in his head. He didn’t see it.

“Let’s do it again,” Dragan said. “Slowly.”

Mike nodded and set his water aside, grateful for a distraction to his previous train of thoughts. He’d worry about Crandall when Crandall demanded he do so. It was inevitable, sooner or later.

#

“There’s more than one way to get off.”

“Sure, I know that, but–”

“Shh!” Crandall sat up straight, his chin dipped to his chest, a fierce look of concentration on his face.

Ash listened for a moment, but the only sounds he heard were Mike and Dragan stepping through a combo in the center of the Pit. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Neither do I, but that bitch is here.” Crandall stood up. When Ash moved to stand as well, Crandall held out a hand. “Wait here.”

Ash looked ready to object but seemed to think better of it. He leaned back against the wall.

Crandall hurried through the building, impatience and fury coloring his strides. He’d had enough of these vampire diversions. If they thought he’d deal with their crazy-ass old fucker through all these mind games, then they had another think coming. He was done. He’d already told that obnoxious short one exactly that. Now she was back. He could feel her close. Probably the parking lot, pretending like she wasn’t contemplated breaking his door to deliver whatever pathetic message she had this time. She’d been no help, and he no longer wanted to play along. Never did. Maybe the other guys would enjoy the hunt, but Crandall was done.

He flipped the lock and pushed through the door. He shouted into the darkened parking lot. “Go the fuck away before I come back out here with a fucking stake.”

Nica stepped from the shadows at the corner of the building. She hung back, watching him warily. “You’ve been invited to play Friday night. You’re opening for Dead Inside again. Try not to start another fight.”

She put a fist on her hip and glared at him as best as she could. Crandall wasn’t intimidated; he was exasperated. He flipped her the finger and said, “Consider this my rejection of you invitation. I’m not going back there.”

“You’ll get your information after the show.”

“What’s wrong with your hearing? I’m done. I’m not doing this. I’m not playing your games, or your club.”

Nica licked her lips and her confident expression wavered. “You like to perform. I can tell.” Crandall started to speak but Nica talked over him. “Play your set and I’ll give you what I’ve pieced together from Judas’s schedule.”

“Get lost, fang.”

She said something else but the words were lost to the darkness as Crandall ducked back inside and threw the lock. He was ready to spar again, and hoped he didn’t hurt one of his friends as he vented his anger at his stupid luck with vampires.

 
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Posted by on February 16, 2014 in Friends, Identity

 

Owe Nothing

Crandall sat on the mat-covered floor, his back to the wall. Ash’s leg was propped on his bent knees. Crandall pressed a cold compress against Ash’s ankle.

“How’s it feel to lose a match?” Crandall asked.

“I didn’t lose.” Ash watched Mike and Dragan spar in the center of the Pit. “This is just an injury time out.”

“Yeah, sure. Try that with the next vampire you find. ‘Excuse me, Fang, but I need an injury time out to put a brace on my fucked up ankle.’”

Ash rolled his eyes, but a laugh sneaked out. “I’ll be fine by morning.”

Crandall lifted the ice pack and prodded Ash’s ankle. Ash flinched and sucked in a sudden breath, hissing through his clenched teeth. “I think you should go to the hospital.”

“We heal fast.”

“Yeah.” Crandall frowned and replaced the ice pack.

“The swelling will be gone by morning; the tenderness by nightfall.”

“Show off.”

They fell silent for several minutes. After Dragan dropped Mike to the mats, Mike limped over to where Crandall and Ash sat. “How you doing, man?”

Ash waved him off. “I’ll be okay.”

Mike shifted his gaze to Crandall, and his look softened, a tenderness Crandall knew Mike thought he hid shined in Mike’s eyes. “Your turn.”

Crandall smothered a smile. It was stupid, the way he felt like smiling whenever Mike looked at him like that. He knew Mike cared, and he did to – cared about Mike – so why’d he feel like a stupid airhead girl when Mike looked at him in that way that was only his?

“I’m done,” Crandall said. “Someone has to babysit this tough shit.”

“Go practice,” Ash said.

“I only came along because I needed to put you in your place. That’s done. I’m done.”

“You did not put me in my place.”

Crandall snorted, and looked up at Mike. “Don’t wear yourself out too soon.”

Mike pressed his lips together in a thin line, and then he shook his head and laughed. He turned around and headed back into the center of the Pit, still shaking his head.

“He’s still not comfortable with this,” Crandall said. “How can I make him just be himself? He’s so uptight about hiding, even here, when you and Dragon know. It’s fucking stupid.”

“You’ve never been in the closet?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? It bothers you that Mike is, but haven’t you ever, you know, hid your sexuality, or wanted to, or felt shamed by some jerk who thinks anyone not “normal” is bad or wrong?”

Crandall frowned. He couldn’t understand any of it. Ash spoke like it was common place. It seemed to be, the way some people talked, and the way the media treated anything not straight, white and upper-middle-class. But he still didn’t get it. People were who they were, and they shouldn’t hide it. That sort of shit is exhausting.

“Never?” Ash pushed.

Crandall shrugged. “My brother left, and I didn’t understand why at the time. I was pissed at him for leaving me with our father. But later, recently, I realized, maybe, he was gay. Or something. Something dad didn’t approve of anyway.” He shrugged again. The memories were fleeting and faded with time. One day Sam was there and the next he was never spoken of again.

“It sucks. Family should be the ones you can turn to for anything.”

Crandall studied Ash. Something in his voice tugged at Crandall. “Yeah,” he said. “Your family fucked up too?”

Ash laughed but Crandall could tell it was laced with wistful sadness. “No, just me.” He shook his head and sighed. “If my family had their way, I’d be in a pink dress and a white straight jacket.” When Crandall said nothing, Ash added, “So I don’t talk to them anymore.”

“Good. Doesn’t matter if they’re family, if they’re fucking stupid and mean, then you owe them nothing.”

“Exactly.” Ash nodded. He lifted his leg from Crandall’s lap and gingerly prodded his ankle.

“Ready to surrender and go to the hospital?”

“No, Crandall, I’m okay.” Ash stretched both legs out in front of him. “Just tired. You know how that goes. Always exhausted after our healing kicks in.”

Crandall thought about it as he watched Dragan lead Mike into letting his guard down. Crandall saw it coming before Mike did. Dragan feinted left and then bobbed to the right and swept Mike’s legs out from under him. Mike should’ve seen that coming; he had more experience than Crandall. Why was he missing those?

 
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Posted by on February 2, 2014 in Friends, Identity

 

Phone Sex

Mike dropped into his favorite chair in the office. It sat in a corner in the small space between Dragan’s desk and what was left of the room after they’d wedged the bulky, ancient desk through the narrow door. He leaned back, pushing up on two legs until his head hit the wall.

He was exhausted. He loved his classes, and for the most part, his students worked hard and truly appreciated his efforts. Bria and Kellan, however, pushed him to his last morsel of patience tonight. While he thought he’d effectively and politely brushed them off, they stayed, both of them, and then started a minor war competing for his attention. All he wanted to do was sit down and shoot the shit with the Dragon, and instead he’d spent ten minutes referring their verbal sparring and wishing he’d gone to college to get a degree for an office job that didn’t involve talking to people. Ever.

The Dragon interrupted Mike’s brooding without looking up from his paperwork. “Your phone’s been vibrating for the past hour.”

Mike sighed and set the chair right so he could reach his phone on the desk. “Who?”

“Crandall.”

“Did you answer it?”

Dragan glanced up. His expression said it all, but he answered anyway. “He has my number if it’s an emergency.”

Mike laughed. He understood. Crank and the Dragon had little in common. Dragan respected Crandall’s skill against vampires, and trusted him in a fight, but beyond that, they said little to each other. They were from two different worlds. Dragan, an old world import, with more years in the field than most hunters could hope for, and Crandall was, well, Crandall, a young punk to anyone who didn’t know him — which was most people, due to his own choice and desire.

Swiping his thumb across the phone’s screen, Mike frowned. Crandall had called five times, but didn’t leave a single message. If it was that pressing, why didn’t he call Dragan? Or Ash?

Mike hit Call Back, and raised the phone to his ear.

“When are you coming home?”

Crandall’s abrupt phone demeanor stopped shocking Mike long ago. “I’m closing up tonight. Why?”

“I need you. Now.”

Mike leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re not here, naked, fucking me hard.”

Barely remembering the Dragon was in the room, and probably listening to his responses, Mike turned his face away, and bit his lip. After a few seconds, he dared to speak. “I’ll leave right away.” He whispered the words but he could hear the need in his voice, and hoped it wasn’t as obvious to Dragan. Shit, how was he going to walk out of the office with a hard on? The jogging pants he wore sure as hell wouldn’t hide the effect Crandall’s statement had on him.

Mike hit End Call, and bowed his head to take a long, deep breath. Think unsexy thoughts. Think unsexy thoughts. Not Crandall bent over the bed, screaming harder, faster. Fuck…

“Everything alright?”

Mike nodded, and then slowly looked up. “Yeah, no problem, man. Just… Crank being Crank.” He chuckled but it sounded breathy, nervous. Suddenly, he remembered, he’d come out to Dragan. He worked so hard to keep up the façade that he struggled to let it drop even when he knew he was safe. He shook his head. “Sorry, man, he’s… He wants some company, and for a minute I forgot I was working. I’ll call him back.”

Dragon’s stony features morphed into amusement as he laughed. “I figured that out.” He winked. “If you want to keep that relationship a secret, you might want to turn down the volume on your phone.”

He wasn’t one for blushing, but Mike could feel his cheeks flush as heat raced up his neck and through his face. Dragan heard that? Mike hung his head and rubbed his face with one hand.

“Go.” Dragan waved his hand dismissively. “There are just a few people still working out in the gym. I’ll lock up.”

“He can wait,” Mike said quickly, still partially covering his face as if he could hide from the entire situation.

“No, it doesn’t sound like he can. Go. I’ll be working on this until closing time anyway. Have fun.” Dragan laughed again and shook his head as he returned his focus to his stack of invoices. “To be young again,” he muttered, still chuckling.

 
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Posted by on June 29, 2013 in Dragan, Flirtations, Identity