[fic] Enemy Action (McLaren/Rivet)
Title: Enemy Action
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kyle McLaren/Craig Rivet (San Jose Sharks)
Word Count: 2575
Author's Notes: This one picks up where There's No Such Thing as a Two Night Stand left off. It's set the right after the game on November 17, 2007, where the Sharks lost at home to the Ducks 2-1 in a shootout. Craig Rivet was behind the bench as a coach for that game as well.
The title comes from the saying coined by Auric Goldfinger (yes, of James Bond fame): "Once is Happenstance. Twice is Coincidence. The third time it's Enemy action."
I'm posting this now (even though I will have zero time to reply to any comments) because zdarovyeh is persuasive. Also, thanks go out to her again for the beta, and for letting me bounce ideas off her like crazy.
Also, once again written for ophidiae, who I heard mentioned that she would donate more money to my Avon Walk fundraiser if I wrote more of these two. ;) No need to actually do that, dear, but I definitely won't complain if you do. :)
My offer (and Z's) still stands, by the way. If you'd like me (or Z) to write some fanfiction (500 words, at least) for you (pairing of your choice) in exchange for a small donation (five dollars minimum), please just drop a comment here. Please do also include your ellejay username in the comments of the donation, so I know which donation belongs to who. Also, let me know if you have questions. Danke!
P.S. packt, I AM working on fic for you, btw. And though I don't think I'll be able to write enough to say thank you for your donation, I'm definitely gonna try!
Okay, enough babbling...
Enemy Action
Back at home, two nights later, they lost.
There was no smug smile from against a locker room wall that night. In fact, Craig was gone as soon as Ron released him.
Home to his wife, probably, and his kids. Good. Kyle didn't want to fucking see him anyway. He had his own beautiful family - adoring daughters, sweet, toddling son, gorgeous wife who didn't mind that he was away more than he was home during the season. That's what felt right. Natural. That's what he wanted.
Somehow, relief felt like disappointment.
But Craig hadn't gone home. When Kyle headed out of the dressing room and down the hall, Craig stepped out of the shadows, dark look in his eyes that meant business.
"Not in the mood," Kyle said, even before he'd reached Craig's position.
Craig's lips pressed together in a tight line across the middle of his face. "We need to talk."
Kyle's mouth curled back in a sneer. "Not in the mood."
"Five minutes," Craig replied. His hands were pushed deep into his pockets again, and Kyle was starting to think Craig was just trying to make Kyle believe he was at ease, even though he wasn't.
Kyle sighed heavily in irritation. "What part of 'not in the mood' don't you get? I want to go home."
"Just give me five fucking minutes, for fuck's sake. I just want to talk."
Against his better judgement, Kyle crossed his arms over his chest in consent. "Not a fucking second more than five minutes."
"Not out here," Craig responded, turning down the adjoining hallway and heading into the empty video review room. He held the door for Kyle to enter, then closed it behind them.
"What do you want?" Kyle asked, not uncoiling from his defensive stance.
Craig just stared at him for a long moment, eyes roaming over his face in a way that felt violating. He took a step toward Kyle, and Kyle could see what was happening from a mile away. He got his hands up immediately, moving out of the way before Craig could get into his personal space. "That isn't talking, asshole."
"Do you really want to talk?" Craig asked, seemingly confused by the way Kyle recoiled.
"No. I don't want to be anywhere fucking near you right now."
Kyle turned and took hold of the door knob, but Craig came up abruptly behind him and pressed his palm flat to the door, holding it closed. His front pressed against Kyle's back, and when Kyle tried to whirl around, Craig pushed them both forward, Kyle's chest connecting solidly with the door. Kyle's immediate reaction was to get his hands up and shove himself backward, but Craig must have been expecting it, because he didn't hardly budge, and he had the leverage to force Kyle forward again, this time Kyle's chin and forehead colliding with a dull thud.
"Fucker, get off me!" Kyle tried to get away again, but Craig managed to keep him pinned.
"Calm down for a fucking second," Craig's voice growled, but the tone was even and less demanding than it could have been.
Kyle's initial urge was to keep fighting, to do whatever it took to get Craig away from him, even if that meant hurting himself in the process. It was like being crosschecked, like battling for position along the boards. He was good at this. He knew he could get away.
But there was something in the quality of Craig's words that made him hesitate. He had a feeling that Craig could sense it, too, if only by the way Kyle's muscles loosened just a little bit. Craig exhaled as the tension lessened, and the heat of it brushing over Kyle's bare neck made Kyle shiver involuntarily. He immediately wished he could take it back.
"That's it," Craig murmured, and his stance changed a little, softening into Kyle's back. "I don't know why you keep fighting this. I know you want it, you know you want it-"
"I don't want it," Kyle interrupted with bile.
"You're a fucking liar," Craig replied. "You like it this way. You enjoy fighting with me. You get off on it." A shift of Craig's knees, and Craig's full erection pressed hard against Kyle's ass through their slacks.
Kyle's world was reeling. He didn't want to agree to this, he didn't want to let Craig do this to him again. He didn't want to just stand there and let Craig push and prod and manipulate him until he didn't know who he was anymore, or what he really wanted.
But there was no denying what it was doing to him. He wasn't sure he'd ever been this hard in his life, and it took everything in him to keep from arching back, feeling that huge cock grind into him, the solid, male body pressed into his back. "You have no fucking idea what I get off on."
"Bullshit," Craig said, his mouth too close to Kyle's skin.
Distracted by the resonance of Craig's voice against his shoulder, he didn't notice Craig's hands moving until he had his fingers firmly arched over the ridge of Kyle's cock.
"Fuck, you're hard..." Craig's fingers squeezed, and Craig's dick twitched against Kyle's backside. "See how fucking turned on you are? You love this. You love my hands on you."
"I feel fucking sorry for your wife," Kyle responded, tone filled with virulence.
Craig's fingers tightened around Kyle's shaft hard enough to make Kyle gasp. "Leave her the fuck out of this."
"If you fuck with her the way you fuck with me, I'm fucking surprised she didn't leave you years ago."
"I said leave her out of this. This has nothing to do with her."
"Or maybe you just don't satisfy her. Maybe that's it. Maybe she won't fuck you anymore, so you've gotta-"
"Shut up," Craig snapped, shoving Kyle hard enough against the door to make the air rush out of his lungs. "It's not her that isn't fucking satisfied, okay?"
Craig's admission made Kyle feel sick to his stomach. Empty sex. Love, but no passion. Doing it for the sake of fucking, because that's what a married couple was supposed to do. Climax with no relief. A cold sweat broke out over Kyle's skin. It may as well have been his own confession.
He could feel Craig's breath huffing against his ear, the cadence rushed with anger and lingering desire. He could hear his own breath, raspy, his own heartbeat thudding at the base of his throat. Craig wanted this - wanted him - to try and fill a void. It wasn't a game. It wasn't even really an affair.
His hand pressed hard into the back of Craig's, enough pressure there to feel the bones standing out beneath the thin skin. He wouldn't admit anything, especially not out loud, but he hoped the gesture would translate well enough into what he wanted.
It did. Craig's fingers closed tight again, another rough squeeze, and Kyle let himself moan, returning his hand to brace himself against the door. Neither of them spoke, and Craig ground his pelvis forward, dry humping Kyle's ass as he fisted him through his pants. He fabric was rough over his skin, and Kyle clenched his teeth, fighting the urge to whimper in discomfort, or beg Craig to get his slacks off.
Craig seemed to read his mind instead, pulling his hand away and bringing the other around to open Kyle's belt, slide the silver clasp apart, draw down the zipper. Gravity took the garment away, and an enormous palm slid into Kyle's boxers, gripping his overheated flesh, stroking. The motion was restricted by the remaining scrap of clothing, so Kyle took it upon himself to get it out of the way, essentially baring himself from the waist down. Craig didn't hesitate in lengthening the passes of his hand along the shaft of Kyle's dick, the angle easy and familiar enough to get a dangerous rhythm going. Kyle's head tipped back and Craig took the opportunity to get his mouth on Kyle's skin, tasting the long column of his throat as his free hand palmed Kyle's belly. Anchored there, he started to thrust, the texture of Craig's pants rubbing at the skin over Kyle's buttocks, the girth of his erection pressing the material into the cleft of Kyle's ass.
It continued this way for several long minutes, Craig jerking his fingers up and down Kyle's cock and grinding his own roughly into Kyle's ass. Kyle could feel the polyester starting to chafe, and he was about to ask Craig to stop when Craig pressed his damp lips to Kyle's ear and panted, "Fuck, can I take them off? I want to fucking feel you."
"Yeah," Kyle groaned, arching his own hips into Craig's temporarily stilled hand. "You're gonna fucking rub all my skin off if you don't."
Pulling his arms back around, Craig quickly dispatched his own belt, ripping his pants open and shoving them and his underwear down. He reached out without preamble and parted Kyle's ass cheeks with his fingers, making space as he leaned in and fitting his erection along the split. Kyle tried immediately to pull away, shocked by the touch, and panicked by the apparent intention. But Craig caught his hip, his other hand finding Kyle's cock again, resuming his previous ministrations.
"I won't," Craig breathed, his voice husky. "Just wanna feel..."
Kyle believed him. Maybe it was because Craig's fingers were undoing him faster than he thought possible, or because the connection they didn't know they had made him trust Craig more. But it didn't matter. The sensation of Craig fucking the crack of his ass was strange, but not unpleasant, and it didn't hurt that Craig was curling his fingers just the right amount at the end of each stroke, or that his other hand was kneading at his hip as he ground himself forward. Craig was panting and gasping right behind his head, and he felt the pull of his own orgasm reaching up from underneath and tugging him down. He moved to brace himself on both of his forearms, pressing his head against the wooden door, eyes closed and breath noisy in the small space.
Craig came. Kyle wasn't sure if there hadn't been any warning, or if he'd just missed it, but he was brought quickly into realization when he felt warmth against his tailbone, Craig's hips stuttering against him, Craig's voice broken with grunt of climax. Craig's fingers tightened around him, but any semblance of rhythm was gone, and Kyle felt a sense of desperation, not wanting to lose the level of pleasure that had been built up.
"Don't stop, fuck," he bit out, turning his head to try and see Craig over his shoulder.
Craig forced his arm into moving, though he was obviously fighting through his own aftershocks to do it. Maybe he was trying to make up for the stiffness of his movements, but he started talking, leaning in close, smearing his own come across Kyle's lower back. "You feel so fucking good... Every time I touch you, I want more. Don't want to wait... I want you all the fucking time." He reached around again with his free arm, this time crossing it over Kyle's ribs, holding them close together as he managed to increase the speed of his strokes. "And God, I want to fuck you. You have no fucking idea... No idea... Fuck, when you were in me..." He moaned at the memory, and Kyle could feel the balance starting to tip again.
"Don't stop... Fuck, don't. Keep talking to me."
"That was it," Craig responded lowly, mouth against the shoulder of Kyle's sport coat. "Having you... Having your dick in me... Best fucking orgasm I've had in forever."
"Fuck." Kyle remembered, better than he'd even admit to himself, what it was like when Craig had come that first time, the clench of Craig's muscles around him, the smell of it, the raw taste of the inside of Craig's mouth when they kissed after. And he could smell Craig's semen again, feel it against his skin, and Craig's voice, throaty and deep, reminding him, bringing his own memories to the fore. He swore again, back arching as his hips rocked forward, cock jerking in Craig's fist. His mind went blank, world swirling around him as he fell into the swell of bliss, only barely aware that he was being held upright by a pair of strong arms.
It was the jingle of Craig's belt buckle that cleared his head again, and he found himself resting against the door. He took a shuddering breath, stooping to pull his pants back up, trying not to think too much about the sticky mess that was causing his shirt to cling to his lower back. He'd have to remember to do this load of laundry himself.
And then there was the state of the door. He didn't even really want to look at that, let alone figure out how they hell he was going to clean that up.
Luckily, Craig didn't seem to be daunted by it, producing a wad of tissue from his jacket pocket and taking care of it himself. Kyle cringed when Craig returned the ball of Kleen-x to his pocket, but Craig only shrugged.
"Like I haven't had more disgusting things in my pocket before. I've got kids."
Kyle's mouth made some kind of expression that didn't really translate into anything. They both had kids. They both had marriages.
They both had this. Heterosexual men with some kind of compulsion, some kind of twisted desire, to have sex with each other.
Kyle wished it was guilt he was feeling. Or disgust. As it was, he didn't know exactly what the churning in his stomach meant. The whole moment was uncomfortable, just like it had been the two times before. He didn't like being there, in Craig's presence, after the deed was done. He didn't know what to do with himself, once their clothes were back on. He didn't want to hold Craig, or even be close to him. But it didn't feel exactly right to just say 'see ya' and head on home like nothing had happened.
Craig cleared his throat. "Probably should take off."
"Yeah," Kyle agreed. He had heard the unspoken mention of Craig's wife, who was probably waiting up for him. He wasn't sure himself how he was going to get away with taking another shower when he got to his own place, but there was no way he was going to bed without one.
Craig lingered a moment longer, chewing at the inside of his mouth and looking like he wanted to say something else. Whatever it was, it didn't make it to his lips. He strode to the door and pulled it open, glancing back over his shoulder at Kyle. "See ya."
Kyle hoped the low lighting of the room covered his flinch as he responded in kind to Craig's retreating back.
"Yeah. See ya."
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kyle McLaren/Craig Rivet (San Jose Sharks)
Word Count: 2575
Author's Notes: This one picks up where There's No Such Thing as a Two Night Stand left off. It's set the right after the game on November 17, 2007, where the Sharks lost at home to the Ducks 2-1 in a shootout. Craig Rivet was behind the bench as a coach for that game as well.
The title comes from the saying coined by Auric Goldfinger (yes, of James Bond fame): "Once is Happenstance. Twice is Coincidence. The third time it's Enemy action."
I'm posting this now (even though I will have zero time to reply to any comments) because zdarovyeh is persuasive. Also, thanks go out to her again for the beta, and for letting me bounce ideas off her like crazy.
Also, once again written for ophidiae, who I heard mentioned that she would donate more money to my Avon Walk fundraiser if I wrote more of these two. ;) No need to actually do that, dear, but I definitely won't complain if you do. :)
My offer (and Z's) still stands, by the way. If you'd like me (or Z) to write some fanfiction (500 words, at least) for you (pairing of your choice) in exchange for a small donation (five dollars minimum), please just drop a comment here. Please do also include your ellejay username in the comments of the donation, so I know which donation belongs to who. Also, let me know if you have questions. Danke!
P.S. packt, I AM working on fic for you, btw. And though I don't think I'll be able to write enough to say thank you for your donation, I'm definitely gonna try!
Okay, enough babbling...
Enemy Action
Back at home, two nights later, they lost.
There was no smug smile from against a locker room wall that night. In fact, Craig was gone as soon as Ron released him.
Home to his wife, probably, and his kids. Good. Kyle didn't want to fucking see him anyway. He had his own beautiful family - adoring daughters, sweet, toddling son, gorgeous wife who didn't mind that he was away more than he was home during the season. That's what felt right. Natural. That's what he wanted.
Somehow, relief felt like disappointment.
But Craig hadn't gone home. When Kyle headed out of the dressing room and down the hall, Craig stepped out of the shadows, dark look in his eyes that meant business.
"Not in the mood," Kyle said, even before he'd reached Craig's position.
Craig's lips pressed together in a tight line across the middle of his face. "We need to talk."
Kyle's mouth curled back in a sneer. "Not in the mood."
"Five minutes," Craig replied. His hands were pushed deep into his pockets again, and Kyle was starting to think Craig was just trying to make Kyle believe he was at ease, even though he wasn't.
Kyle sighed heavily in irritation. "What part of 'not in the mood' don't you get? I want to go home."
"Just give me five fucking minutes, for fuck's sake. I just want to talk."
Against his better judgement, Kyle crossed his arms over his chest in consent. "Not a fucking second more than five minutes."
"Not out here," Craig responded, turning down the adjoining hallway and heading into the empty video review room. He held the door for Kyle to enter, then closed it behind them.
"What do you want?" Kyle asked, not uncoiling from his defensive stance.
Craig just stared at him for a long moment, eyes roaming over his face in a way that felt violating. He took a step toward Kyle, and Kyle could see what was happening from a mile away. He got his hands up immediately, moving out of the way before Craig could get into his personal space. "That isn't talking, asshole."
"Do you really want to talk?" Craig asked, seemingly confused by the way Kyle recoiled.
"No. I don't want to be anywhere fucking near you right now."
Kyle turned and took hold of the door knob, but Craig came up abruptly behind him and pressed his palm flat to the door, holding it closed. His front pressed against Kyle's back, and when Kyle tried to whirl around, Craig pushed them both forward, Kyle's chest connecting solidly with the door. Kyle's immediate reaction was to get his hands up and shove himself backward, but Craig must have been expecting it, because he didn't hardly budge, and he had the leverage to force Kyle forward again, this time Kyle's chin and forehead colliding with a dull thud.
"Fucker, get off me!" Kyle tried to get away again, but Craig managed to keep him pinned.
"Calm down for a fucking second," Craig's voice growled, but the tone was even and less demanding than it could have been.
Kyle's initial urge was to keep fighting, to do whatever it took to get Craig away from him, even if that meant hurting himself in the process. It was like being crosschecked, like battling for position along the boards. He was good at this. He knew he could get away.
But there was something in the quality of Craig's words that made him hesitate. He had a feeling that Craig could sense it, too, if only by the way Kyle's muscles loosened just a little bit. Craig exhaled as the tension lessened, and the heat of it brushing over Kyle's bare neck made Kyle shiver involuntarily. He immediately wished he could take it back.
"That's it," Craig murmured, and his stance changed a little, softening into Kyle's back. "I don't know why you keep fighting this. I know you want it, you know you want it-"
"I don't want it," Kyle interrupted with bile.
"You're a fucking liar," Craig replied. "You like it this way. You enjoy fighting with me. You get off on it." A shift of Craig's knees, and Craig's full erection pressed hard against Kyle's ass through their slacks.
Kyle's world was reeling. He didn't want to agree to this, he didn't want to let Craig do this to him again. He didn't want to just stand there and let Craig push and prod and manipulate him until he didn't know who he was anymore, or what he really wanted.
But there was no denying what it was doing to him. He wasn't sure he'd ever been this hard in his life, and it took everything in him to keep from arching back, feeling that huge cock grind into him, the solid, male body pressed into his back. "You have no fucking idea what I get off on."
"Bullshit," Craig said, his mouth too close to Kyle's skin.
Distracted by the resonance of Craig's voice against his shoulder, he didn't notice Craig's hands moving until he had his fingers firmly arched over the ridge of Kyle's cock.
"Fuck, you're hard..." Craig's fingers squeezed, and Craig's dick twitched against Kyle's backside. "See how fucking turned on you are? You love this. You love my hands on you."
"I feel fucking sorry for your wife," Kyle responded, tone filled with virulence.
Craig's fingers tightened around Kyle's shaft hard enough to make Kyle gasp. "Leave her the fuck out of this."
"If you fuck with her the way you fuck with me, I'm fucking surprised she didn't leave you years ago."
"I said leave her out of this. This has nothing to do with her."
"Or maybe you just don't satisfy her. Maybe that's it. Maybe she won't fuck you anymore, so you've gotta-"
"Shut up," Craig snapped, shoving Kyle hard enough against the door to make the air rush out of his lungs. "It's not her that isn't fucking satisfied, okay?"
Craig's admission made Kyle feel sick to his stomach. Empty sex. Love, but no passion. Doing it for the sake of fucking, because that's what a married couple was supposed to do. Climax with no relief. A cold sweat broke out over Kyle's skin. It may as well have been his own confession.
He could feel Craig's breath huffing against his ear, the cadence rushed with anger and lingering desire. He could hear his own breath, raspy, his own heartbeat thudding at the base of his throat. Craig wanted this - wanted him - to try and fill a void. It wasn't a game. It wasn't even really an affair.
His hand pressed hard into the back of Craig's, enough pressure there to feel the bones standing out beneath the thin skin. He wouldn't admit anything, especially not out loud, but he hoped the gesture would translate well enough into what he wanted.
It did. Craig's fingers closed tight again, another rough squeeze, and Kyle let himself moan, returning his hand to brace himself against the door. Neither of them spoke, and Craig ground his pelvis forward, dry humping Kyle's ass as he fisted him through his pants. He fabric was rough over his skin, and Kyle clenched his teeth, fighting the urge to whimper in discomfort, or beg Craig to get his slacks off.
Craig seemed to read his mind instead, pulling his hand away and bringing the other around to open Kyle's belt, slide the silver clasp apart, draw down the zipper. Gravity took the garment away, and an enormous palm slid into Kyle's boxers, gripping his overheated flesh, stroking. The motion was restricted by the remaining scrap of clothing, so Kyle took it upon himself to get it out of the way, essentially baring himself from the waist down. Craig didn't hesitate in lengthening the passes of his hand along the shaft of Kyle's dick, the angle easy and familiar enough to get a dangerous rhythm going. Kyle's head tipped back and Craig took the opportunity to get his mouth on Kyle's skin, tasting the long column of his throat as his free hand palmed Kyle's belly. Anchored there, he started to thrust, the texture of Craig's pants rubbing at the skin over Kyle's buttocks, the girth of his erection pressing the material into the cleft of Kyle's ass.
It continued this way for several long minutes, Craig jerking his fingers up and down Kyle's cock and grinding his own roughly into Kyle's ass. Kyle could feel the polyester starting to chafe, and he was about to ask Craig to stop when Craig pressed his damp lips to Kyle's ear and panted, "Fuck, can I take them off? I want to fucking feel you."
"Yeah," Kyle groaned, arching his own hips into Craig's temporarily stilled hand. "You're gonna fucking rub all my skin off if you don't."
Pulling his arms back around, Craig quickly dispatched his own belt, ripping his pants open and shoving them and his underwear down. He reached out without preamble and parted Kyle's ass cheeks with his fingers, making space as he leaned in and fitting his erection along the split. Kyle tried immediately to pull away, shocked by the touch, and panicked by the apparent intention. But Craig caught his hip, his other hand finding Kyle's cock again, resuming his previous ministrations.
"I won't," Craig breathed, his voice husky. "Just wanna feel..."
Kyle believed him. Maybe it was because Craig's fingers were undoing him faster than he thought possible, or because the connection they didn't know they had made him trust Craig more. But it didn't matter. The sensation of Craig fucking the crack of his ass was strange, but not unpleasant, and it didn't hurt that Craig was curling his fingers just the right amount at the end of each stroke, or that his other hand was kneading at his hip as he ground himself forward. Craig was panting and gasping right behind his head, and he felt the pull of his own orgasm reaching up from underneath and tugging him down. He moved to brace himself on both of his forearms, pressing his head against the wooden door, eyes closed and breath noisy in the small space.
Craig came. Kyle wasn't sure if there hadn't been any warning, or if he'd just missed it, but he was brought quickly into realization when he felt warmth against his tailbone, Craig's hips stuttering against him, Craig's voice broken with grunt of climax. Craig's fingers tightened around him, but any semblance of rhythm was gone, and Kyle felt a sense of desperation, not wanting to lose the level of pleasure that had been built up.
"Don't stop, fuck," he bit out, turning his head to try and see Craig over his shoulder.
Craig forced his arm into moving, though he was obviously fighting through his own aftershocks to do it. Maybe he was trying to make up for the stiffness of his movements, but he started talking, leaning in close, smearing his own come across Kyle's lower back. "You feel so fucking good... Every time I touch you, I want more. Don't want to wait... I want you all the fucking time." He reached around again with his free arm, this time crossing it over Kyle's ribs, holding them close together as he managed to increase the speed of his strokes. "And God, I want to fuck you. You have no fucking idea... No idea... Fuck, when you were in me..." He moaned at the memory, and Kyle could feel the balance starting to tip again.
"Don't stop... Fuck, don't. Keep talking to me."
"That was it," Craig responded lowly, mouth against the shoulder of Kyle's sport coat. "Having you... Having your dick in me... Best fucking orgasm I've had in forever."
"Fuck." Kyle remembered, better than he'd even admit to himself, what it was like when Craig had come that first time, the clench of Craig's muscles around him, the smell of it, the raw taste of the inside of Craig's mouth when they kissed after. And he could smell Craig's semen again, feel it against his skin, and Craig's voice, throaty and deep, reminding him, bringing his own memories to the fore. He swore again, back arching as his hips rocked forward, cock jerking in Craig's fist. His mind went blank, world swirling around him as he fell into the swell of bliss, only barely aware that he was being held upright by a pair of strong arms.
It was the jingle of Craig's belt buckle that cleared his head again, and he found himself resting against the door. He took a shuddering breath, stooping to pull his pants back up, trying not to think too much about the sticky mess that was causing his shirt to cling to his lower back. He'd have to remember to do this load of laundry himself.
And then there was the state of the door. He didn't even really want to look at that, let alone figure out how they hell he was going to clean that up.
Luckily, Craig didn't seem to be daunted by it, producing a wad of tissue from his jacket pocket and taking care of it himself. Kyle cringed when Craig returned the ball of Kleen-x to his pocket, but Craig only shrugged.
"Like I haven't had more disgusting things in my pocket before. I've got kids."
Kyle's mouth made some kind of expression that didn't really translate into anything. They both had kids. They both had marriages.
They both had this. Heterosexual men with some kind of compulsion, some kind of twisted desire, to have sex with each other.
Kyle wished it was guilt he was feeling. Or disgust. As it was, he didn't know exactly what the churning in his stomach meant. The whole moment was uncomfortable, just like it had been the two times before. He didn't like being there, in Craig's presence, after the deed was done. He didn't know what to do with himself, once their clothes were back on. He didn't want to hold Craig, or even be close to him. But it didn't feel exactly right to just say 'see ya' and head on home like nothing had happened.
Craig cleared his throat. "Probably should take off."
"Yeah," Kyle agreed. He had heard the unspoken mention of Craig's wife, who was probably waiting up for him. He wasn't sure himself how he was going to get away with taking another shower when he got to his own place, but there was no way he was going to bed without one.
Craig lingered a moment longer, chewing at the inside of his mouth and looking like he wanted to say something else. Whatever it was, it didn't make it to his lips. He strode to the door and pulled it open, glancing back over his shoulder at Kyle. "See ya."
Kyle hoped the low lighting of the room covered his flinch as he responded in kind to Craig's retreating back.
"Yeah. See ya."