Under the Skin

Caleb hissed slightly, brows furrowing as he rubbed the lotion the tattoo artist had given him into his skin. It smelled absolutely foul, though the woman had claimed it had a fresh, herbal scent. Frankly, it smelled like garlic that had gone rotten.

Still, he diligently rubbed it in three times a day, as ordered, since it did seem to keep the skin from peeling. Always a plus.

Straightening, he tugged his pants back up, clicking his belt back up and dropping the little bottle of lotion into his bag. Not what most people were doing in the guys bathroom at Spenser Academy, he was sure, but who cared? He was eighteen – had been for two weeks. He was perfectly allowed to have a tattoo and be taking care of it. Unlocking the door, he shouldered it open, and stepped out of the stall, heading to wash his hands.

“Fuck, Danvers, you reek.”

Caleb rolled his eyes.

“Spoken like a true bunch of daisies, Abbott.” Caleb glanced up, shaking his head. “Do me a favour, and fuck off?”

Aaron rolled his eyes.

Brushing past him, Caleb left the bathroom, heading for biology.

Sliding into his seat next to Pogue, Caleb sighed. “Aaron’s an asshole.”

Pogue snorted, not lifting his head from where it was resting on his folded arms. “Yeah, and? It’s not like that’s a surprise. He’s always been an asshole.”

“Yeah. I know.” Caleb glanced over at the black hardcover book half under Pogue’s arm. “Draw anything new?”

Pogue slid the book forward, still not lifting his head. He was quite comfortable.

Caleb flipped the book open, flipping through the pages, intrigued. Sketch after sketch of cars and motorcycles and swimming forms. All charcoal and soft pencils, messy stuff, though each had been sprayed with hairspray to seal them in. As he flipped, he paused on the same page he always paused on, lips pursed as he examined the picture.

“Why do you like that one so much?” Pogue asked softly, idly, peering at him inquisitively, sideways where he rested.

Shrugging, Caleb flipped automatically, peering thoughtfully at the new drawings, then closed the book, set it down, and slid it back under Pogue’s arm. “Dunno. Just do, I suppose.”

“Mm. So, are you done babysitting Aunt Evie, that you can come back to swim practice today?”

Lotion, three times a day. Bandage over the tattoo when showering or bathing. No chlorine for two weeks – and I mean that. Two weeks at least.

“Yeah. I’ll be back at swim practice again. Been itching to get back in the pool, but my mother’s been worried…”

“I know.” Pogue said calmly. “She may be your mother, but she’s my Aunt Evie. Raised me since the car crash, remember?”

“I know,” Caleb smiled broadly, ruffling Pogue’s hair.

“Hey, hey…” Pogue reared back, finally moving to salvage his rough and tumble hairdo. Far as Caleb could tell, there was no difference between the ruffled look and the original style Pogue had been trying to go for in the first place.

“Hey dorks,” Reid dropped heavily into the row of seats behind them, followed closely by Tyler. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” Caleb shrugged, twisting in his seat to look up at the other two. “What’s up?”

“Pogue said you might be back soon, for swim practice and all,” Tyler said, as he unpacked his books from his bag.

“Yeah. Be back tonight.”

“Sweet.” Reid smirked at him, leaning forward, arms draping over the edge of the desk so that he could swat at Caleb’s head. “Decision’s made for you, then, you got no choice. You’re coming to Nicky’s, we’re having your birthday party. Bit late, but whatever. It’ll do.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s going, then?”

“We kinda got roped into it,” Pogue smirked, stretching.

“All right, everyone, time to actually work on something,” Mr. Sanderson called as he all but stormed into the room, slamming a few books down on the desk at the front of the room. “Bio time!”

“So, right after swim practice, we’re off to Nicky’s,” Reid hissed. “Got it?”

“Got it,” Caleb muttered over his shoulder, flipping open his textbook.

Once swim practice itself did roll around, Caleb was slightly concerned. God, he hoped this stupid tattoo didn’t hurt. He suspected the chlorine was going to sting, but he was just most worried that it would affect his swim times. Better not, or he’d end up using to heal it, and he hadn’t really wanted to do that. Aging and all, now that he was eighteen.

He changed in the bathroom, not because he was shy – being on a swim team from grade six would purge any of that from a guy, not to mention skinny dipping with his best friends at summer camp through the years and having his friends walk around naked and proud every time there was practice. Besides that, he was a guy, one with nothing to be ashamed of. Still, there was the stupid issue of a tattoo that he didn’t want anyone to see, still red, if healing. It was supposed to be private.

“Suddenly shy, Caleb?” Pogue asked when he emerged, towel around his neck.

Caleb hesitated. Shit. What am I supposed to say?

“Relax, Cay.” Pogue smirked, clapping him on the shoulder. “Coming out?”

Caleb coughed. “Yeah. Coming.”

Following the blonde out onto the deck, he took a deep breath, eyes closing for a moment, content. Most people hate the smell of chlorine. It makes me feel relaxed and so much better. Go figure.

“Glad to be back?” Reid smirked, when the two of them got to where he and Tyler were leaning on the pool cover rack.

“Very,” Caleb smiled slightly, running his fingers through his hair.

“Danvers!” the coach called, waving him towards the edge of the pool.

Caleb raised a hand in acknowledgement, then headed for the edge of the pool, readying himself, then diving in at the whistle.

FUCK! It burns so fucking much!

Caleb hissed in pain, shuddering. He was still swimming, still swinging his arms, but the pain was actually pretty damn brutal. When he finally got back to the deck, he pulled himself up onto the tiles, trying not to let anyone know he was in pain.

“You okay, Cay?” Pogue asked softly, crouching beside him.

“Danvers!” the coach roared. “What the hell was that? You’re out for two weeks, then you come back crappy?!”

He winced. “Sorry, coach.”

“Yeah, you’d better be. Simms! You’re on.” He pointed at Caleb meaningfully. “You’re on again in five minutes. Shape up, whatever the problem is.”

“Cay?” Pogue asked again. “Is it what happened?”

“No.” Caleb pushed himself to his feet, wincing when that ground chlorine into the ink-sensitive skin. “Just sore. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

“Caleb, you’re not going to…”

No one was looking except Pogue, and he didn’t count anyway. Caleb’s eyes flared black, and the skin repaired itself perfectly. He could feel it heal. It was slightly unnerving actually, but it felt so good, was so easy… which was, of course, why it was so easy to get addicted to this.

“Caleb.” Pogue hissed, narrowing his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Fixing it,” Caleb sighed, smiling tightly. “Sorry, Poe. Had to do it.”

Pogue just shook his head, sadly.

Reid held true to his word, and dragged Caleb along to Nicky’s after practice, going so far as to actually ride in the convertible with him instead of in Tyler’s truck. Nicky scowled a little when they came in, especially since they knew that Reid had plans for Caleb’s birthday, and yes, they involved underaged drinking. But hey, so long as the Sons of Ipswich kept themselves out of trouble, and kept the fuck away from Aaron and his boys… he’d turn a blind eye on events like birthdays.

As a result, yes, all four were at least tipsy, if not, in Tyler’s case, completely smashed.

They were trying to play pool. They were failing to play pool, but they were trying. Tyler was mostly just standing around, leaning on his cue, snickering at everything the other’s did, though it seemed the drunker Reid got, the more accurate his shots got. The others suspected magic might have been involved.

Pogue slumped against Caleb suddenly, throwing off any chance Caleb had ever had of making that last shot. “Hey, Cay,” he grinned, arm draped over his shoulders.

“Hey, Poe,” Caleb smiled, looking up at his best friend. “What’s up?”

“I think we’re getting trashed,” he answered. “And I don’t think we can drive home. Wanna walk to my apartment? I called Aunt Evie already.”

Caleb’s heart sunk for a moment. “You called her already?”

“She’s cool,” Pogue shrugged. “Said you should crash at my place cause she didn’t want you driving. No worries,” he held up his hands at Caleb’s horror stricken expression. “Told her I was drunk, not you.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “I think you’re more sober than me, but whatever. Kay. I can walk.”

Pogue snorted. “Sure about that?”

Pogue was, of course, right. Caleb was a little too drunk to walk straight, though not drunk enough to not remember how to get to Pogue’s place, how to retrieve the key from under the planter because Pogue had forgotten to bring his and locked it in his backpack inside, and how to put the coffee on in the kitchen.

“Heavenly smelling,” Pogue grinned, leaning on the kitchen island. The apartment was small, but extremely nice. It was rich kid singles place, the kind of place any sort-of single, seventeen year old teenaged boy would have if his parents had been dead over six years and he’d been raised by his best friend’s mother until he could get his own place and decorate it in the eclectic decorations and discarded clothing and garbage of a usual teen’s place. It was a mess, but otherwise, it was high quality and nice. The coffee maker was one of the nicer features, or at least one of the few that didn’t have clothing strewn on it.

“Glad you like,” Caleb grinned, pouring them each a mug. “Figured we could use it.”

“Mmm. Thanks,” Pogue took a deep sip of the burning liquid. “Mmm. S’good. So. Good birthday, even if it was two weeks late?”

Caleb smiled. “Yeah, I had fun. Got a little bit too drunk… but hey. We are only eighteen once.”

“True that,” Pogue smirked. “So… you want your birthday present now?”

Caleb blinked. “I get a present?”

“You thought I was gonna forget that? Yeah right.” Pogue set his coffee down, then headed for his bedroom, returning a moment later with a huge, thin, rectangular package. It was about poster sized, maybe an inch or two thick, wrapped in blue, shiny paper, paper with balloons all over it, and a large patch with holly and mistletoe. “I ran out of wrapping paper, had to use the ends of three rolls. But it’s wrapped.”

“Thanks,” Caleb laughed, accepting the package, and tearing at the paper.

His breath caught in his throat.

“You always look at it, every time you look at my book. Thought you might like a copy of your own, big enough so you’d be able to put it up in your room. Might really make your room.”

It was Pogue’s artwork, blown up to poster size. It was a charcoal piece, a tall, muscular but lean man, though shown only from the base of his jaw down to the tops of his calves. He was naked, mildly interested. Most distinctive about the piece, however, was the small tattoo the man had, on the inside of his thighs, visible only because he was slightly interested. Had he been any harder or any more flaccid, the tattoo would have been invisible.

The tattoo was a pentagram, simple sharp lines, though it had been modified, so that, beside the tiny star – made big by the sheer size of this poster – was the letter ‘P’ in italics script.

The tattoo was Pogue’s signature, used on all of his pieces. It was just that it had never been shown before on the body of the subject – this one picture was totally unique.

And as far as Caleb was concerned, it was beautiful.

“You… you made me a copy.” He’d never expected… and so large… wow. Wonder what mother would say if I do put this up in my room? “Thank you.”

“Well, you do always stare at it.” Pogue smirked. “Figured either you were secretly gay – and with the amount of other naked man pictures in my book, staring exclusively at this one didn’t make sense – or you just really liked that one picture.”

“I do, I mean…” Caleb cleared his throat, shaking his head. “Damn, this is… wow.”

“Like it then, I take it?” Pogue leaned on Caleb’s shoulder, peering at the picture thoughtfully. “I don’t know, zoomed in, it looks rougher.”

“It’s amazing.” Caleb told him, firmly. “I love it.”

“I’m glad,” Pogue smiled. “Always thought you’d enjoyed it cause the guy kinda looks like you.”

“Hmm.” Caleb snorted. “Been staring at me naked so you could draw me, have you?”

Pogue’s lips quirked up. “And what would you say if I was?”

“I’d wonder when you were managing it.” Caleb laughed. “I mean, I’ve never really seen you staring at me in the locker room.”

“That’s what you think,” Pogue laughed. “Besides, you’ve never really been shy, Caleb. I’ve seen you naked a lot. I could draw you in my sleep.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes at him mischievously. “Do you draw me in your sleep?”

He smirked. “Of course. I sleep draw all the time.”

“So.” Caleb traced the lines of the picture softly, fingers on the glass. “It’s so good, Poe. I love it. I do.” He shifted a little, uncomfortably, laying the picture down on the counter carefully. “I have to tell you something.”

“Yeah?” Pogue tilted his head to the side, watching Caleb thoughtfully.

“I always found this… kind of… inspiring.” Caleb nodded at the poster sized drawing. “I mean, you drew it like, a year ago, right? And… I really like it.”

“I’ve noticed.” Pogue grinned. “Hence the poster.”

Caleb cleared his throat awkwardly. “Right. You know. But…. Well, yeah. I just really like it.”

“Thank you,” Pogue grinned, clapping Caleb on the shoulder, then rounding the island to retrieve his mug and head towards the living room, taking another swig of his coffee.

Shit. Was so close to just telling him.

“So, ah… didn’t see Kate there tonight.”

Lame, Danvers.

“She… and I… we’re taking a ‘break’ in the permanent sense.” Pogue shook his head, flopping back against the back of the couch. “As in, she wants to see other people. Thankfully, Chase is not one of the options.”

“Well, as he’s dead,” Caleb shrugged.

“Yeah. Still.” Pogue arched a single eyebrow at Caleb. “Where was Sarah? Haven’t seen her around lately.”

“Well, as she doesn’t recognize me, that might have something to do with it.” Caleb admitted sheepishly.

“She doesn’t recognize you.” He repeated, disbelieving.

“Yeah.” Caleb coughed, scratching self-consciously at the back of his neck. “I kind of tried to correct my mistake of telling her, and some how that progressed into my wiping her mind completely. Well, not completely, I mean, she still knows how to talk. She just… doesn’t remember much from the last… month or so. Doesn’t recognize me, either.”

Pogue threw his head back and roared with laughter. “You are such an idiot, Cay! You wiped her mind?! I just broke up with my girlfriend!”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t tell her,” Caleb grumbled. He crossed the living room, flopping down beside Pogue. “So. About that picture.”

Pogue rolled his eyes. “Obsessed, much?”

“You have no idea,” Caleb muttered.

Pogue smirked. “What about the picture, Caleb?”

“Well, that tattoo…” Caleb muttered.

“My signature.”

“Right. Your signature.” He cleared his throat, shifting a little in his seat. How do I tell him this?

“The thing I sign all my pictures with.” Pogue said calmly, trailing his fingertips up Caleb’s thigh idly.

“Right. So… you know I like that signature, right? I mean, the way it looks.”

“Sure,” Pogue shrugged, fingers trailing over Caleb’s crotch.

He swallowed. What’s he doing? “Well, why’d you chose to make it a tattoo?”

“Mmm. Seemed perfect. I mean, he was posed, it was there… besides, it’s sexy. Like a secret, that only your lover knows about.”

Yes!

“That’s exactly what I thought,” Caleb nodded.

“Mmm. Too much thinking,” Pogue decided, putting his hands on Caleb’s shoulders, and pushing him back onto the couch, straddling his thighs and leaning over him, hands braced on either side of Caleb’s neck.

“Pogue?”

“Shut up,” Pogue told him firmly, kissing him.

Caleb groaned, sinking into the cushions, spine arching as Pogue pushed his tongue into his mouth, claiming his entire being, it seemed. He had effectively taken control of Caleb, and demanded everything.

And he was going to get it.

Pogue dragged his hands up Caleb’s sides, then down again, hooking his index fingers in the top of Caleb’s jeans. “These,” Pogue murmured, “are coming off.”

“Are they?” Caleb gasped, shuddering when Pogue nibbled his way down Caleb’s jaw, then neck, licking at his Adam’s apple.

“They are,” Pogue murmured, then bit down on hollow of Caleb’s throat.

He cried out, hips arching upwards. “Fuck!”

Pogue smirked, popping the button on the jeans, and slipping down the zipper. “I take it, Caleb, that you enjoy?”

“Unnnh…” Caleb groaned, incoherently.

“Mmm. Yes, then.” Pogue slipped Caleb’s jeans down over his hips, then down, and tossed them to the side. “Commando, Caleb?”

“Dropped my under… wear… shower…” Caleb tried to talk, though it was mostly incoherent.

Pogue snickered. “Caleb, that just became a hell of a lot less sexy. For the record.” Squirming down a little, he kissed the head of Caleb’s penis slightly, smirking at the fact that Caleb was beyond hard already.

Caleb gasped, hips bucking.

“Hips down,” Pogue informed him calmly, resting the heels of his hands on Caleb’s hips, pressing him down. “Stay there. I have other plans for you.”

“Pogue, I’ve never…” Caleb gasped.

“I know.” Pogue answered, smoothly, nuzzling slightly at Caleb’s penis, slipping down, then paused. “Caleb? What’s this?”

Caleb hesitated. “…my new… tattoo.”

“That’s my signature,” Pogue murmured. “The one from the picture.”

“Yeah,” Caleb murmured softly.

“Oh my God,” Pogue gasped. “You got it tattooed on you. You got my signature tattooed on you.”

Caleb nodded, swallowing.

“That… that is the fucking sexiest thing I have ever seen,” Pogue gasped, dipping down to lick the spot, then nibble on the skin.

Caleb let out a keening cry, pressing against Pogue’s hands hard as he tried to lift his hips in reaction. He couldn’t, because of the hands on his hips, but he could still cry out, letting the blonde know how much insane desire he was causing him.

“Was that for me, then, Cay?” Pogue murmured, dragging his lips across the now-roughed spot. “A secret for the lover?”

“Uh… huh…” Caleb gasped. He never would have imagined that, should he ever end up in a situation where he might actually get what he had been craving for longer than he’d been able to vocalize what exactly it was he wanted, Pogue was be the one dominating him. He’d just sort of always assumed that he’d be the one to pin Pogue and take him, but it should have made sense.

Pogue knew what he was doing. Caleb barely knew in theory.

“So I guess that makes me your lover,” Pogue purred, licking slowly up Caleb’s penis, like it was a Popsicle, broad flat of his tongue against the skin. “Mm. Your lover that knows the secret no one else does.”

Caleb nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“Good to know,” Pogue murmured, releasing Caleb’s hips at last to crawl up his body, kissing Caleb firmly.

Then abruptly, he wasn’t there, and the cold air was breezing over Caleb’s body.

“P-Pogue?” Caleb blinked.

“Get up,” Pogue said calmly, coolly.

Blinking, Caleb sat up, feeling conspicuous and naked, while a fully clothed Pogue stood there with his arms crossed, watching him calmly. Did I do something… wrong? What’s wrong?

“You’re not standing,” Pogue said calmly. “Up, Caleb.”

Swallowing, he stood.

Pogue pointed towards the bedroom wordlessly.

Oh shit.

Caleb walked into the other room, soundlessly as he could manage, not sure what Pogue wanted from him. To be pushed from behind so that he toppled onto the bed was not what he’d expected. Nor was it for Pogue to climb onto the bed behind him, tossing an armload of clothes to the floor, then roll Caleb onto his back and, without a single word, slide his mouth over the head of his penis and sink down until his nose rested in Caleb’s dark, curling pubic hair.

He shouted, trying to buck up, but unable to do so because Pogue had, again, pressed his hips down with his hands.

“Oh, God, Pogue!” he screamed.

“Mmm,” Pogue hummed, bobbing his head, twirling his tongue around Caleb’s penis as he did.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God… fuck!”

Pogue lifted his head, releasing Caleb’s penis with a ‘pop’.

Caleb whimpered, head thrashing on the pillows.

Pogue smirked, and stood, still on the bed, so that he straddled Caleb, then reached up and pulled off his t-shirt, dangling it from his fingertips as he stretched out his arm, dropping it to the floor beside the bed. Caleb swallowed, eyes widening when the other unbuttoned his jeans and slid the fly down slowly. “Damn,” he whispered.

Hooking his thumbs in his jeans, Pogue pushed them down, then lifted his feet one by one, bouncing a little, awkwardly, as he tried to balance on the bed, before tossing his jeans to the side and standing there in only a pair of pale blue boxers.

Caleb’s chest was heaving as he stared up at his best friend, his own arms akimbo, legs spread vulnerably, tattoo black and sharp against his pale skin.

“I have a question for you, Caleb.” Pogue asked, thumbs hooked in the top of his tented boxers, though they stayed firmly where they’d always been. “When did you get the tattoo?”

“Two weeks ago,” Caleb gasped.

“So that’s why you haven’t been at swim practice. Aunt Evie had nothing to do with it.”

Caleb shook his head. “She… she needed me too. But I could… could have just gone… home later…”

“Thought so.” Pogue nodded, then slid the boxers down an inch or two, until Caleb could see a stripe of golden, curling hair, then stopped again. “Caleb.”

“Mmm?” he whimpered.

“How long have you wanted the tattoo?”

“Since I saw… the picture…” Caleb admitted, without hesitation.

Pogue pushed the boxers down another two inches, so that they were clearly hooked over his erection, and one more push would pop them right off entirely. “And before that? When did you start wanting me?”

“No idea,” Caleb confessed. “Since… ever. Always.”

Pogue pushed the boxers down, pushing them off entirely, kicking them away.

Caleb let out a keening cry, licking his lips.

Pogue smirked. “So why didn’t you say anything, Cay?” he asked, stroking his own penis slightly, gently.

“Was afraid of what you’d say,” Caleb admitted. “Thought you’d reject me.”

“You still got it tattooed on,” Pogue lifted one foot, trailing it up the inside of Caleb’s thigh, toeing slightly at the tattoo itself.

“Even if you hadn’t… didn’t want me…” Caleb whispered, “I wanted… forever… to have that… for me…”

“That,” Pogue purred, “Is an answer I can appreciate.”

He dropped to his knees, still straddling Caleb’s thighs, and reached over to retrieve a bottle he’d tossed onto the blankets, a bottle Caleb hadn’t noticed. Snapping it open, he poured a sizeable amount into his hand, then tossed the bottle away, and dipped his hand beneath himself, behind his balls, and let out a gasping cry as he pushed his finger into himself.

Caleb gasped, eyes wide. “Oh, my God, Pogue… that is… the hottest thing… ever….”

Pogue smiled slightly, softly, then gasped, raggedly, as he slipped in a second finger. “Ahhh…”

Caleb tried to sit up, wanting to reach Pogue, but the other managed to fix him with a stern look.

“Lie back down, Caleb.”

Caleb lay back down.

“Good,” Pogue moaned, stretching himself. “You listen, at least.”

Slipping another finger inside, Pogue hissed. “You almost ready, Cay?”

Caleb swallowed. “More than.”

“Good,” Pogue slipped his fingers out, hissing at the loss. Licking his lips eagerly, he shifted forward, settling himself over Caleb’s groin. Reaching down, he positioned Caleb, and slid down, impaling himself on Caleb’s penis.

Caleb roared, hips arching sharply.

“Ungh!” Pogue gasped, full and stretched, completely full. “Aaah, Caleb! So… fuck!”

Caleb whimpered, trying to reach for the other’s hips, but Pogue stopped him, lacing his fingers with his, holding his hands out from their sides as he tightened his thighs, sliding himself up Caleb’s penis, then slamming himself down onto it.

“Aah!” Caleb cried out. “Fuck!”

“General… idea…” Pogue gasped. “Mmm,” he moaned, lifting himself up again, then dropping, again and again, setting a strong rhythm.

Caleb whined, head thrashing on the pillow, breath coming in panting gasps. His entire spine felt like curling and twitching, sharp pleasure developing in his lower torso. “God, Poe… never felt… anything…”

“I know,” Pogue murmured, fingers twined with Caleb’s, tugging a little on his arms as he continued to lift himself up and down. “God, Caleb… you feel so good… fill me right up…”

“Nng…” Caleb moaned, swallowing heavily. “God, I can’t… take much more of this…”

Pogue grinned, shivering when the other’s penis stroked deliciously along his prostate. “Just a little longer, Cay… just keep… keep going… promise you’ll like… it will… be worth it…”

Caleb nodded fervently, not quite sure what he was agreeing to, just that the expression on Pogue’s face suggested agreement was required, and otherwise, his world was reduced to the sensations trailing up and down his spine.

“Good,” Pogue whispered, squeezing his cheeks together tightly, tight muscles tugging on Caleb’s penis relentlessly, making the other’s keening cries grow in intensity and frequency. He was delighted with the other’s reaction, partly because the wonderful sounds meant that he was enjoying himself, but also because each time he dropped down onto Caleb, the other’s penis was dragging deliciously across his prostate. It was so good…

“Cay…” he whispered, breath beyond difficult to maintain evenness in. “I can’t… fuck!”

He cried out, muscles clamping down on the other as he came violently and joyfully, emptying himself completely.

Caleb shouted, edging on a scream, breathe gone as he arched up violently, draining himself violently and completely into Pogue. His vision was blanked out completely, like a white canvas of pleasure and electric tingling up and down his spine.

Groaning softly, Pogue climbed off the other, hissing as Caleb slid out of him. “Fuck… Caleb… that was…”

“Wow.” Caleb murmured softly, eyes half closed.

“Yeah,” Pogue grinned, flopping on the bed beside the other. He refused to cuddle after that – he had his pride, after all. They were men. Lying next to each other was as cuddly as they got. “That was something. Fuck. Why did you never tell me about this before? Hello, you got my name tattooed on your thigh. Pretty damn serious for a best friend.”

“True,” Caleb laughed. “I should have told you earlier.”

“You told me at all. Good start.” Pogue leaned over a little, kissing Caleb deeply. “So. Keeping you, for the record.”

“Keeping me?” Caleb smirked lazily, eyes half lidded as he leaned over to peer at Pogue.

“Yeah.” He kissed him again.

When Caleb woke up, not having remembered going to sleep in the first place, it was to discover that he was alone in the bed, tangled hopelessly in the sheets.

Then he looked up, and discovered that Pogue was sitting on the end of the bed, bare legs tugged up underneath himself, biting his lip as he worked away furiously on the sketchpad on his lap. He glanced up, perhaps to check on his subject, and grinned when he realized that Caleb was, in fact, awake, and peering back at him. “Hey. Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Caleb yawned. “Don’t remember going to sleep.”

Pogue set his sketchbook aside. “Remember the best sex of your life?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

“Want another go?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

The sketch lay forgotten, half finished, as Pogue leapt onto the bed, mind focused on considerably different aims. It may never be finished, but Pogue had added one thing to the hastily made sketch of Caleb sleeping, tangled in the blankets, that Pogue usually added very last – his signature, black and dramatic, against the sketch Caleb’s leg.

Return to the Covenant.