Asbjorn woke him up at the library.
Sean was a man in possession of an analytical mind, and the only possibility was the seemingly impossible one.
He had leaned down to kiss Asbjorn—right after he was caught appreciating his friend’s fine physique. He didn’t know what that made him or what it meant. He had never felt more than friendship for another man before. He loved to hit Asbjorn and be thrown by him, to receive his attacks and throw him back—and throw him hard, because few things were as sensuous and erotic as a good fight, but—
Sensuous and erotic.
Sean scowled. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore—all he knew was he wanted it again, and he wanted a lot more of it.
N ELL WALKED through the door. Dud and Asbjorn were in what could be construed as a compromising position in the middle of her living room floor. Asbjorn saw her assess the situation, noting the way they pushed all furniture to the walls.
He was stuck under Dud now. Dud’s left thigh was pinning Asbjorn’s hips crossways and his fists pushed into the sides of his neck. He heard the sound of Nell’s phone camera just before he almost blacked out.
Click.
Asbjorn tapped out. His eyes began to glaze over.
Dud rolled off him with a jubilant grin on his face, but his cackle died in his throat as Nell, whose baby girl he was watching that night, looked at him. “Oh. Hi, Nell.”
“That looked quite interesting, Dud. So interesting I even took a picture.” She smiled so wide. Asbjorn loved the way her eyes crinkled.
“Aww, Nell, that man of yours totally trashed me. And you have to take pictures of that?” he whined.
Penelopye Thorpe shot a glance in his direction and then took an assessing look around.
“At least you took care not to break anything this time,” Nell said, her voice filled with relief.
“Stella’s asleep?” she asked.
“Yeah, and we fought quietly.” Dud stood and wrapped Nell in his long arms, bending his head down for a brief kiss. “We already ate. Dinner’s in the oven.”
They moved to the kitchen and settled down. Nell forked some baked ziti, eyeing the two of them from the corner of her eye. They were dressed in hunting-camo fatigues and black, long-sleeve T-shirts, and they already wore thin-soled running shoes.
“Are you just waiting for me to finish so you can leave?” She said after she swallowed another bite.
“Nah… take your time,” Dud said. Asbjorn winced. The very air was abuzz with the excitement they were trying to suppress.
“So tell me,” she said with a wry look. “What are you up to?”
Dud looked up with guarded innocence. “Oh, not much.”
“Where might you be going?”
Asbjorn barely suppressed a groan. He felt like a teenage kid again, and he knew she would get her way in the end. Except Dud didn’t know it—not yet. The signs of her patience wearing thin were written in the tension of her shoulders and in the way she pressed her lips together. It wasn’t like she was new to being given half-assed answers—there were times she had quizzed Tiger mercilessly after every bar fight, dissected his strategies and tactics and techniques as well as their motivations, and tended his scrapes. Asbjorn had been present for her inquisition even when he didn’t take active part in the fights themselves.
“There’s a party,” Dud allowed.
“At the Warehouse?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“And I wasn’t invited because…?”
“Who’d watch Stella?”
“I see.” Nell picked up her phone and found a name on the touch-sensitive screen. “I’m sure I can find a sitter for a sleeping baby.”
Dud and Asbjorn exchanged a look. They were doomed.
S EAN WORE loose black pants, sneakers, and a tight red Under Armour jersey under his brown winter jacket. Midterms were over, and he was waiting for his ride. Friday, November 13 was a fine day to try something new, which is why he was waiting for his ride to party.
Dud’s black Jeep coasted to the
Sean was a man in possession of an analytical mind, and the only possibility was the seemingly impossible one.
He had leaned down to kiss Asbjorn—right after he was caught appreciating his friend’s fine physique. He didn’t know what that made him or what it meant. He had never felt more than friendship for another man before. He loved to hit Asbjorn and be thrown by him, to receive his attacks and throw him back—and throw him hard, because few things were as sensuous and erotic as a good fight, but—
Sensuous and erotic.
Sean scowled. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore—all he knew was he wanted it again, and he wanted a lot more of it.
N ELL WALKED through the door. Dud and Asbjorn were in what could be construed as a compromising position in the middle of her living room floor. Asbjorn saw her assess the situation, noting the way they pushed all furniture to the walls.
He was stuck under Dud now. Dud’s left thigh was pinning Asbjorn’s hips crossways and his fists pushed into the sides of his neck. He heard the sound of Nell’s phone camera just before he almost blacked out.
Click.
Asbjorn tapped out. His eyes began to glaze over.
Dud rolled off him with a jubilant grin on his face, but his cackle died in his throat as Nell, whose baby girl he was watching that night, looked at him. “Oh. Hi, Nell.”
“That looked quite interesting, Dud. So interesting I even took a picture.” She smiled so wide. Asbjorn loved the way her eyes crinkled.
“Aww, Nell, that man of yours totally trashed me. And you have to take pictures of that?” he whined.
Penelopye Thorpe shot a glance in his direction and then took an assessing look around.
“At least you took care not to break anything this time,” Nell said, her voice filled with relief.
“Stella’s asleep?” she asked.
“Yeah, and we fought quietly.” Dud stood and wrapped Nell in his long arms, bending his head down for a brief kiss. “We already ate. Dinner’s in the oven.”
They moved to the kitchen and settled down. Nell forked some baked ziti, eyeing the two of them from the corner of her eye. They were dressed in hunting-camo fatigues and black, long-sleeve T-shirts, and they already wore thin-soled running shoes.
“Are you just waiting for me to finish so you can leave?” She said after she swallowed another bite.
“Nah… take your time,” Dud said. Asbjorn winced. The very air was abuzz with the excitement they were trying to suppress.
“So tell me,” she said with a wry look. “What are you up to?”
Dud looked up with guarded innocence. “Oh, not much.”
“Where might you be going?”
Asbjorn barely suppressed a groan. He felt like a teenage kid again, and he knew she would get her way in the end. Except Dud didn’t know it—not yet. The signs of her patience wearing thin were written in the tension of her shoulders and in the way she pressed her lips together. It wasn’t like she was new to being given half-assed answers—there were times she had quizzed Tiger mercilessly after every bar fight, dissected his strategies and tactics and techniques as well as their motivations, and tended his scrapes. Asbjorn had been present for her inquisition even when he didn’t take active part in the fights themselves.
“There’s a party,” Dud allowed.
“At the Warehouse?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“And I wasn’t invited because…?”
“Who’d watch Stella?”
“I see.” Nell picked up her phone and found a name on the touch-sensitive screen. “I’m sure I can find a sitter for a sleeping baby.”
Dud and Asbjorn exchanged a look. They were doomed.
S EAN WORE loose black pants, sneakers, and a tight red Under Armour jersey under his brown winter jacket. Midterms were over, and he was waiting for his ride. Friday, November 13 was a fine day to try something new, which is why he was waiting for his ride to party.
Dud’s black Jeep coasted to the
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