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Category Archives: Relationships

Beyond Kissing

Ash loved the night. He had since before that fateful bite that awakened the vampire hunter blood. It had been a night much like tonight – cold and crisp, the kind of weather that froze your nose from the inside out. Tonight was different. Tonight, instead of giving in to fear and walking away from the pretty girl making eyes at him, Ash was treating a wonderful woman who knew his secret to a special evening simply because she made his head swim with her cunning, playful, freckled smile.

It was weird and it was wonderful.

Ash stepped ahead of Ginger to push open the door. He stepped through and held it for her. He fell in beside her on the sidewalk, heading back toward the T-station.

“It was magical!” Ginger did a little skip-twirl move that was similar, yet nothing at all like a pirouette. She wasn’t tall and lithe like the ballerina on the stage, but Ginger’s happiness made her a hundred times more beautiful.

Ginger skipped ahead and spun around to face him. Ash stopped walking and just took in the vision of his lovely girlfriend.

His girlfriend. He never thought he’d be able to say that.

“It was,” he said. He nodded.

“I don’t want to go home yet.” Ginger reached for Ash’s hand and pulled him along as she turned and started walking again. “It’s a nice night.”

“It’s cold. I can see your breath.” Despite his objection, Ash didn’t steer them toward the steps to the T. He let her lead him right past.

“Nonsense.” She waved her free hand, dismissing his words. “Given the weather we’ve had so far this year, this is downright balmy.”

He chuckled. She had a point. Most of the snow had melted, but there were still dirty piles here and there. Before that last storm, the temps had been rocking into the teens. In November.

She squeezed his hand and slowed her walk. When he looked at her, her smile had faded from glowing to a normal level. “If you’re cold,” she started.

“No.” He brushed a hand down her cheek. “Well, yes, a little, but you keep me warm.” Cheesy, he thought, as soon as the words left his lips, but Ginger must’ve disagreed because her smile returned to a beaming grin.

Her voice dropped low and knowing. “I’ll keep you warm. Boiling, if you’d like.” Her gaze held a wicked glint, daring him to take her up on her not-so-subtle offer.

He didn’t know what to say. She knew he wasn’t normal. Maybe it’d slipped her mind. Instead of bringing the conversation down, he kissed her. As their lips brushed, he hoped she didn’t notice him trembling. She was a smart girl. By the time they returned to her place, she’d remember and he wouldn’t have to tell her no.

“Ash.” She did that often, whispering his name against his lips after a kiss.

“Ginger,” he whispered back, and kissed her again.

When he pulled away and nodded his head to the side to indicate they should keep walking, Ginger resisted. She squeezed his hand, and held his gaze for a long moment.

“I get it. You’re scared.”

“Don’t–”

“Okay, hesitant. But, Ash.”

He covered her mouth with one finger. “Can we talk about this later?”

Her gaze filled with doubt, but she nodded. When he moved his finger, she said, “Will we talk about this?”

He wanted to please her. He was attracted to her – that wasn’t the problem. The problem was, well, she knew. It’d gone beyond blurting out his secret at that first coffee date. She knew he still needed surgery. They’d talked about that. Briefly. Any attempt at intimacy beyond kissing and holding hands would result in frustration and embarrassment. He couldn’t.

Ash forced a smile. Already, she meant so much to him. He would hate every moment, but he would talk about it as much as she needed to. He wanted her to understand that if he could, he’d make love to her every single night, all night long.

 
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Posted by on December 14, 2014 in Ash, Relationships, transgender

 

Bloody Drumsticks

The ratt-tatt-tatt of a machine gun was loud in the small apartment. Blood and guts splattered across the television screen. Mike swore, ducking to the side in his favorite chair narrowly dodging another zombie. One that looked surprisingly like Dragon. With the twist of his wrist and a twitch of his finger, he drew a pistol and blew Dragon-zombie’s head clean off its shoulders.

“Call him.” Crandall paced through Mike’s peripheral vision. Mike ignored him, tapping the game controller to reload as the next wave of zombies appeared from down the block.

“I’m not calling. Give him time to work.”

“We left there two hours ago.”

“In the middle of the night.”

“So?”

Mike sighed. He did not want to argue. It wouldn’t get either one of them anywhere but annoyed. Instead, he said nothing, opening fire on the next wave of zombies closing in on his position.

He heard Crandall snort, a too familiar sound that told Mike he wouldn’t be giving in so easily. When Crandall stepped back into his peripheral view – this time close enough to the television screen to interfere with Mike’s game with no warning – Mike decided it would be best to postpone his own distraction until Crank settled down. He hit pause, set the controller on the arm of the chair, and frowned up at his lover. He loved Crandall with every bit of his being, but sometimes – like tonight – he could be a huge pain in the ass. They both knew it, and they both knew that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. Still, the love was there, for both of them. It gave Mike patience.

“How about some music?” Mike sat still. If he couldn’t divert Crandall, he’d play on and do his best to ignore the man’s demands. “We could work on that new song.”

“You trying to get us kicked out of this shit hole?”

Mike closed his eyes and resisted another sigh of frustration. When he opened them he said, “Acoustic.”

Crandall crossed his arms tighter over his chest. He looked like he was trying to break his own ribs in a bear hug. Before he could object, Mike tried again. “Chris will do what he said he would do. So we can either pass the time with something enjoyable or we can argue about it. Do you really want to fight, Crank? Because it’s not going to get you an answer any sooner.”

Crandall’s scowl drifted into confusion momentarily, and then shifted into resignation. He dropped his arms to his sides and rolled his head around, loosening tense muscles. “It’s not a new song,” he said. “LP recorded it years ago, and we can’t do it acoustic tonight. I want the piano version. Just you on the piano, and me singing. You’ll sing Shinoda’s part.”

“I…” Mike tried to remember the song. My December. He couldn’t recall the lyrics, and while Crandall might’ve played the piano arrangement for him as some point, Mike was blanking on the tune. “I don’t sing.”

“Bullshit. I’ve heard you.”

“Not on stage.” He wasn’t sure why he was objecting. Mike liked to sing, but he liked creating music much more. He loved the power behind his drum set, and he enjoyed writing the rest of the music with Crandall. Crandall had always been the singer and had always written their lyrics – when they bothered to use their own songs. Just as often, Crandall picked out songs to cover. This was a first – asking Mike to not only play something besides his drums on stage, but to also lend his voice to the performance. He wished he could remember how much Linkin Park’s co-lead contributed to that particular song.

“Shit, Mike, you won’t have a lot of lines. Try it before you tell me off.”

Mike did sigh this time. “I’m not telling you off. I’m telling you—”

“That you’re chicken shit?”

With a laugh, Mike shook his head. “Alright. If it gets your mind off being a pain in the ass, I’ll work on this song tonight. We can decide whether it’s worthy of performance later.”

“It is.”

“I’m sure it is. I’m just not so certain that it will be after changing my role in all of this.”

He wasn’t sure Crandall heard his last objection. Crank had already walked out of the room, probably to grab his keyboard and sheet music. Just another one of his lovable quirks – when most people would’ve said “I’ll just grab my gear” before leaving, Crandall simply walked out of the room, knowing damn well if Mike thought about it, he’d know exactly where Crandall was going and why. So why announce it?

Yep, lovable. Or at least quirky.

Mike chuckled, smiling fondly as he got up to shut off his game. He’d sing tonight. For Crandall. But singing and playing the piano on stage? Well, maybe after Crandall pried bloody drumsticks out of Mike’s cold, dead hands.

 
 

Thinking, Overrated

Thoughts dissipated as Mike stopped in front of Crandall. He towered over Crandall, almost hovering, as if waiting for the panic attack that would hit so often when someone invaded Crandall’s personal space. It didn’t happen. Crandall couldn’t remember the last time it had. Not with Mike. Crandall’s breath quickened and his lungs swelled to keep up. He felt like there was little oxygen left in the room with Mike so close. So close. So naked. So hot and bothered for more.

Crandall couldn’t breathe, but it wasn’t anxiety; it was pure lust. A moment later what might’ve been hesitation became definitive decision. Mike leaned over Crandall, making Crandall arch back to tip his face up and meet Mike’s mouth with his own. Mike caught his face between his palms with a light touch – one Crandall could easily escape if he needed to – and deepened the kiss with a probing tongue.

With that kiss, Crandall suddenly needed that agile, exploring tongue on his balls. He pushed Mike back and scooted further onto the bed. He let his knees fall open as he lay back, watching Mike devour him with his gaze.

Mike didn’t need to be told. He put one hand on the bed beside Crandall’s ribcage and stretched forward to kiss him once more. Then, Mike moved to Crandall’s neck, teasing with light brushes of his lips and he eased his way down to Crandall’s shoulder, moving along his collarbone until Crandall gasped with both pleasure and frustration.

“Mike…” Crandall snarled at the whine in his voice. Mike owned him completely.

“Shh,” Mike whispered against the flesh between Crandall’s sensitive nipples.

“Don’t fucking shush me.” Crandall cut off additional words to voice a soft cry of encouragement as Mike’s lips closed on his right nipple. Mike flicked his tongue over the sensitive bud and then moved down Crandall’s sternum. Crandall pushed Mike’s head lower and Mike let him guide his mouth lower, pausing only to dip his tongue in Crandall’s belly button making him squirm.

“Do you want to cum?” Mike’s words ghosted over Crandall’s swollen cock. If he did that again, Crandall expected the question to become suddenly unnecessary.

Crandall didn’t answer with words. He lifted his hips, pushing his cock against Mike’s evil, teasing lips. He reached for Mike’s head again, but he didn’t need to. Mike opened his mouth and sucked Crandall’s head between his lips. Crandall moaned out a string of curses as his shaft slid over Mike’s warm, strong tongue. “Oh, goddamn, fuck yeah.”

He tried to hold back but Mike’s mouth felt too damn good. Warm and wet and so fucking damn good. Crandall’s moaning grew louder and shorter as Mike sucked him right to the edge of orgasm and then threw him over with a calculated twist of his tongue across his slit and around the sensitive flared head of his cock.

Crandall’s orgasm crashed down around him as he thrust up into Mike’s mouth. He swore. He called Mike’s name. He cried out without words. Shooting cum and seeing white starbursts behind his tightly closed eyes.

Moments, minutes, or maybe even months later, Crandall returned to his senses as if floating back into his body from a faraway distance. Mike had nestled himself between Crandall’s thighs, his weight a light comfort supported by Mike’s hands planted on either side of Crandall’s head. Crandall made a happy, satisfied humming sound in the back of his throat and Mike responded by rubbing his hard prick against the crease of Crandall’s left hip.

“Wear you out?” Mike asked. He lowered his head, his hair tickling Crandall’s face as Mike ran tongue and lips over Crandall’s neck and up to his ear, sucking in the lobe.

Crandall dug through the fog of an amazing orgasm to force his hands to Mike’s ass. He pulled him closer and bucked his hips up against his lover. His prick might be taking a breather, but Crandall still wanted to get fucked hard.

“Not yet,” Crandall said. He rolled his head to the side, giving Mike more access to his neck. Something that used to bore him made his cock refill in record speed when Mike did it. As Mike traced the hard cartilage of Crandall’s ear with his tongue, he moved one hand down Crandall’s body to wrap long fingers around his balls, rolling them together until Crandall was once again panting and squirming and doing his best not to demand Mike get on with it and fuck him hard and fast.

Mike moved his hand from Crandall’s balls to his hole, one finger exploring, pressing gently. “Ready for me?” Mike asked.

“Since before we got home.” Crandall squirmed. He didn’t like fingers as much as he liked Mike’s thick cock. “Mike…”

Mike ceased the objection with a kiss. He lowered more of his weight onto Crandall, dropping his weight onto one elbow so he could slide his forearm under Crandall, cradling his head, and pulling him deeper into the kiss. Crandall forgot his objection, his rush to fuck, and everything else in the world with that kiss. Thinking…overrated. He just wanted to be. With Mike. All night long.

 
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Posted by on August 31, 2014 in Relationships, Yum! (NSFW)

 

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)

 

Love and Marriage

With a sound somewhere between a contented sigh and a feral grunt, Mike gave one last thrust, deep and hard, and then collapsed over Crandall’s prone body.

“Fucking hell,” Crandall mumbled into his pillow. That was what Mike thought he said anyway.

Mike pressed his nose against Crandall’s neck. He loved that damp, sweaty, sexed-up smell. “That good huh?”

“You still need to ask?” Crandall squirmed. Mike rolled off of him, but as he did, Crandall said, “No.”

When Crandall reached back, his hand slapping Mike’s side, and then the bed, Mike quickly wadded the condom in a tissue and tossed it on the floor. He pressed his hand into Crandall’s. Crandall pulled and said, “Come back.”

Mike obliged happily. He wrapped his arm around Crandall as requested, and covered his body again. While Mike took some of his weight on one arm, and left a hip on the mattress, they were as close as they could be without fucking. “I didn’t want to trap you,” Mike said against the back of Crandall’s neck.

“I like it.”

“This?” He kissed Crandall’s neck. He’d figured Crandall only tolerated the cuddling because he was bone-tired and falling asleep after sex.

“No, chocolate fucking cake, moron.”

Mike snorted and shoved Crandall’s shoulder playfully. “Then go get some fucking cake.”

Crandall craned his head around to glare at Mike. “I like the closeness, asshat. I like the feel of you holding me down, exhausted and panting and sated.”

With a shake of his head and a wide grin, Mike rolled all of his weight onto Crank. “Better?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “Mike?”

“Hm?” Mike dragged his lips lightly over Crandall’s neck in long, lazy kisses.

“Ash thinks you might want to get married.”

Mike froze. Where the hell did that from? He licked his lips. Salt from Crandall’s skin tinged his tongue. He didn’t want to think about any future that didn’t have Crandall in it, but marriage was out of the question. He’d thought they’d finally settled his closet issues.

“Crandall…” He sighed and closed his eyes, pressing his face against Crandall’s shoulder. “I can’t. You know how I feel about coming out.”

“Right. Good. That’s what I told him.”

Mike frowned. That wasn’t what he was expecting. “Why are you asking?”

“I told Ash I’d marry him so he could have my health insurance.”

Marry… Ash? Mike lurched up, kneeling on the bed beside Crandall in an instant. “You said that? Why would you say that?”

Crandall shifted, rolling to his side to glare up at Mike. “Calm the fuck down, Mike. He said no way. Shit. It’s not like I’m want to knock him up.”

“No, you’re just marrying him.” Mike dragged both hands through his hair and tugged at the long locks. “Shit, Crank, didn’t you think to mention this crazy idea to me first?”

“What the fuck, Mike?” Crandall sat up. “I didn’t think you’d fucking freak out about it.”

“Did you think about how I’d feel at all?”

“What’s your problem? You’re afraid to be openly fucking gay, so you’re not going to marry me.”

“You never even mentioned wanting to get married.” My fault. Sonuva… All because I don’t want to tattoo a rainbow on my forehead, he’s proposing to someone else. Shit. Hell. Fuck.

Crandall pried Mike’s fingers out of his hair. He hadn’t realized he’d dug into it again.

“Crandall…” Mike frowned at the desperation in his voice, but he couldn’t lose Crandall. Not like this. Not for any reason.

“Ash needs the fucking insurance to get his hormone pills.” Mike stared at him, studying those hazel eyes that sometimes shifted to green and back again. Crandall had faint freckles across his nose that it took Mike months to notice since he always turned his face away, avoiding eye contact with everyone, and hiding those beautiful eyes from the world.

“What’s wrong with you?” Crandall sounded less pissed and… concerned? Mike tried, but couldn’t grasp onto Crandall’s calm. “It’s just for the money, Mike. I’m not going to fuck him.”

Please don’t. He couldn’t put voice to the words he desperately wanted Crandall to hear. It wasn’t fair of him to ask Crandall not to do it. If Ash needed the help and Crandall could help, then Mike would have to accept that. The dojo couldn’t afford to pay into group health insurance for the three of them. It was all so expensive, and so was what Ash needed to do to transition properly.

“Mike?” Crandall inched closer and lifted Mike’s chin. He pinned Mike with that same stare that had always unnerved him. “If there was any chance you’d come around,” Crandall said. “I never would’ve mentioned it to Ash. I won’t do it if you don’t like it.”

“It’s okay,” Mike whispered. The words sounded hollow and empty, but he forced them out with a shallow, shaky nod. “You do what you have to do.”

Mike pulled away, sliding to the edge of the bed. Crandall’s touch had left a brand on Mike’s face, burning with all the desire Mike couldn’t capture. He wanted that future, but if he tried he just couldn’t picture himself in some perfect gay happily ever after.

 

 
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Posted by on September 22, 2012 in Identity, Relationships

 

And All the Rest (part two)

“Look, dipshit–”

Ash looked up from his mug, his lips pressed tightly together to keep them from trembling. The night was catching up with him quickly, and Crandall’s suddenly harsh tone didn’t help.

“That cocky version of Ash isn’t sexy anyway,” Crandall said, apparently unaware of Ash’s reaction. Nothing new, Ash thought; he’d always thought Crandall was a bit self-centered, even if tonight he’d already revealed there was much more to him than those first impressions.

“No one is perfect, and you pretend you are. Fucking Karate Kid. While you’re too depressed now to see it, and you’ll probably deny this, it’s a fucking relief to see that you are a real person.”

Ash snorted and looked away. He reached deep down and forced up some anger at Crandall’s mini rant. He’d rather be offended than mopey and depressed any day.

Crandall waved a finger in his face, forcing Ash’s attention back to him. “Don’t fucking argue with me either. Yeah, you’re in the wrong body — I get that — but you’re cute, and you’re smart, and you’re damn fucking quick when fighting. Fuck, Ash, you’re alright, and I’ll help you figure out what to do about the girl shit.”

“You don’t have to help with that. It’s an expensive dead end right now.”

“I don’t have to sit here eating cookies and drinking instant chocolate either, but we’re friends, and that’s what friends do.”

“We’re friends?” Colleagues, yes, but he hadn’t realized Crandall thought of him as a friend. It wasn’t like they’d had any heart-to-hearts before tonight. Well, Ash cocked his head thinking, they’d both come out after that incident with the blond vampire. That didn’t really count though, did it? Crandall didn’t give a fuck about being out, it was Mike he’d been protecting.

“We’re not?” Crandall actually sounded hurt.

Ash laughed, but in a friendly way. He had to let the sudden release show somehow, so it was laugh or cry. Crandall scowled at him, so he quickly explained. “Yes, we’re friends,” Ash said. “I wasn’t sure that’s how you thought of us.”

Ash waved a hand between them, and then relaxed enough to try a cookie. He’d been watching Crandall dunk his in his hot cocoa, but Ash’s stomach churned at the idea. Now, having dumped some of his stress on Crandall, he found the idea delicious, and quickly finished one and grabbed a second.

“Marry me,” Crandall said.

Ash dropped his second cookie into the mug. Chocolate splashed over his hands, his shirt, and the table. He stared wide-eyed at Crandall, who didn’t look like he was joking. “Excuse me?” Ash asked. “I don’t think I heard you right.”

“Marry me.” Nope, he heard right. “You’d get on my insurance. You’re legally a girl, so we could, and my insurance covers therapy. I don’t know about the hormone meds or cutting you up, but I’ll check that.”

Ash stood. His legs shook. He grabbed onto the back of his chair. His mind reeled with the sudden and strange change in conversation. “That’s nice, Crandall, but we can’t.” He briefly wondered if Crandall really was teasing, but both Crandall and Mike had said Crandall didn’t make jokes. Heck, half the time, he didn’t catch the sarcasm and jokes passed around the Pit. He wouldn’t kid about this. Would he?

“Sure we can. You’re already living with me.”

“And your boyfriend.”

“Shit, Mike’s more your friend than I am. He’d be fine with it.”

“I don’t think so.” Besides it was wrong, but Ash didn’t think that’d be an argument Crandall would consider. “Gays can marry in this state. Shouldn’t you marry Mike first?”

Crandall snorted. Ash frowned. He’d seen Crandall and Mike in a couple of uninhibited moments since they’d come out to him and Dragon. He was certain they were very fond of each other, probably even in love, so the attitude didn’t make sense.

“Trouble in paradise?” Ash asked.

“Huh? You mean me and Mike? Hell no. It’s not perfect, but I wouldn’t trade him for anything. Not even a music deal.”

Ash smirked. It was close enough to a compliment. “But you don’t want to marry him?”

“Marriage is for people who doubt their relationships. Lock it in. Put it on paper. Fuck that shit. I know Mike loves me. I don’t need some judge to approve it.”

“Justice of the peace.”

“What-fucking-ever.”

Ash fished the cookie out of his mug and ate what he could as it disintegrated into a mushy mess. He took all the extra towels and wiped up the mess. “Mike’s a bit of a romantic,” Ash said. “You should talk to him about this.”

“It makes sense, Ash. Don’t argue.”

Ash looked up and met Crandall’s intense stare. “Talk to him. I refuse to consider anything until you two talk about this. I don’t think Mike will like it, and frankly, it’s weirding me out.”

Crandall shrugged one shoulder, and then took several more cookies out of the bag. “So where in Boston do we buy boob binders?”

 
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Posted by on July 15, 2012 in Ash, Crandall, Relationships, transgender

 

A Friend with Breasts

Mike set Ash up with a towel and a quick lesson on the trick to make the hot water work in the shower while Crandall dug up some sweat pants and a t-shirt for him to wear. Once Ash was closed in the bathroom, Mike sunk onto the couch and hung his head in his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees. He sighed audibly, and ran his fingers through his hair. Crandall dropped onto the sofa beside him, their thighs pressed together.

“You should grab what you need from your room,” Crandall said, “and I’ll help you change the sheets.”

Mike turned his head, resting it on one palm. Before he could say anything Crandall leaned in and pressed their lips together. Then Crandall said, “If you’re worried about hiding our thing, we can throw a blanket and pillow on the sofa so it looks like Ash is sleeping out here if someone drops by, but don’t make him sleep on this piece of shit when he already knows about us.”

A tired smile spread across Mike’s face. “I’m not a jerk,” he said. “I just hadn’t thought of that.”

“I know you’re not really an ass, but you do act like one when it comes to sex.”

“Sexuality,” he corrected, “and only because it’s no one else’s business.”

“It’s no one else’s business to say what’s wrong or right.”

Mike’s smile became a smirk. “I know,” he said. He took Crandall’s hand in his. “You’re never going to be okay with this, are you?”

Crandall stared past him, whether in thought or withdrawal, Mike couldn’t tell. It’d been a busy night, and while Crandall’s panic attacks were far between since they’d started sleeping together, they hadn’t been cured.

After a long moment where Mike decided he wouldn’t get an answer and should go ahead and get the bedroom ready for Ash, Crandall finally spoke. “I don’t know.” He frowned at a point in space six inches from Mike’s right knee. “I’m trying, Mike, but it’s so unnatural to hold that part of me back.” He met Mike’s eyes with his unnerving stare. “Next to singing, this thing with us is the best thing in my life.”

Mike snorted and shook his head. “I’d like to be the best.”

Crandall rolled his eyes and stood up. “Get over it,” he said. “You are. Singing is a couple of hours a week, maybe a few more if we get a second gig. You’re all the rest of the time.” Crandall started toward the bedroom hallway, but stopped and looked back. “Except work, which just plain sucks. I still can’t convince them I should focus on computers and not have to talk to people.”

As he walked away, Mike fell sideways, laughing. He was still snickering when Crandall returned to throw a pillow at him. “Yeah, I’m coming,” Mike said.

“I wish.”

* * * *

Once the bed was made with fresh sheets, Mike filled a plastic laundry basket with a couple of changes of clothing so he wouldn’t have to disturb Ash to dress one days their schedules conflicted.

“Mike?”

Mike went to the doorway. “What’s up?” he asked, trying not to frown at the way Ash hugged the bathroom door jamb, just his head peeking out.

“Can I borrow one of your shirts?”

“Yeah, I guess so. It’s going to be big on you.”

“Shut up, Mike,” Crandall said from behind him. He squeezed past with one of Mike’s band t-shirts. He handed it to Ash. “This band sucks anyway. Keep it.”

Ash managed a strained laugh as he took the offering.

As he stepped back into the bathroom, Crandall’s gaze fell, and he said, “Whoa.”

“What?” Ash looked up and blushed. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Just don’t,” he said. “I don’t have my things.” He dropped his gaze and turned away, shutting the door.

Crandall caught the door before it latched and stepped inside. “You got–”

“Leave it be,” Ash snapped.

“I assumed you’d–”

“Crandall!”

“What?” He’d been staring at Ash’s chest, but his gaze snapped up when Ash growled his name.

“I thought you said you read up on what it means to be transgender?”

“Yeah, I did. So fucking what?” He looked away.

“So I’m not comfortable in my own skin, so get out and stop staring!”

Crandall’s raised his gaze from the swell of breasts Ash had never had before, to recognize the shame and anger in his expression. Crandall couldn’t read people well, but Ash was clear as glass. “Shit, okay.” He started turning toward the door, but paused and glanced back. “I’ll take the T to work and you can use my car to pick up what you need tomorrow.”

“Get out!” Ash slammed the door in his face.

 
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Posted by on June 24, 2012 in Ash, Identity, Relationships, Secrets, transgender