A taste of Freedom...current WIP

The morning after his sister's funeral... Ash wakes up in bed... and he's not alone....

The harsh banging reverberated through Ash’s skull and he groaned loudly. Grabbing his pillow, he buried his head beneath it in an attempt to block out the incessant pounding.  Why wasn’t it stopping?  Um… because it’s inside your head, dumbass?  Ash opened his eyes slowly and immediately snapped them shut again when the shaft of light through the curtains burned into his retinas. 

What the fuck had happened last night?  He remembered sitting on the porch and watching the sun go down, a bottle of whiskey in his hand.  He remembered drinking half of said bottle of whiskey and then Kaleb showed up… and was his irritating self and then… no, no, no, no. Ash sat bolt upright in bed and cursed when the pounding in his skull increased.  There’d been arguing, recriminations, some shoving and then… oh God.

“Mornin’.”

Ash’s head whipped around and cried out at the million daggers that stabbed through him at the movement.  Although the pain was over-ridden by the nausea that roiled in his gut when he gazed down into Kaleb’s blue eyes.  “What’re you doing in my bed?” His voice sounded as though he’d been gargling broken glass and his mouth tasted like the inside of a bar drip-tray… not that he knew what the inside of a bar drip-tray tasted like.  Kaleb crossed his muscled arms behind his head, smiled slowly and his gaze traveled the length of Ash’s naked, Holy fuck, naked? Oh, God, what did I do? Ash glared at him and waited for a response to his question.

“You don’t remember, City-boy?”

“Remember what?”  Ash’s gaze widened as Kaleb rose up on his elbows and leaned in to press a kiss to his shoulder. 

“Jesus, baby,” Kaleb said softly, kissing a path up Ash’s throat, “you were amazing.  I’m gonna feel you for a week.”

“Oh, God,” Ash sank back against the pillow and batted at Kaleb’s head.  “Stop doing that!”

“That’s not what you said last night, Ashie.”

Ash combed frantic fingers through his hair and groaned, desperately searching for something, anything to say.  How did this happen?  He didn’t do this?  He didn’t even like the asshole for fuck’s sake!  Since when does like have anything to do with being hotter than the filling in McDonalds Apple Pie?  Ash punched his inner voice for its inappropriate and unhelpful muttering, and licked his lips nervously.  “Look, Kal, I’m sure last night was… um… wonderful, but I… um… it was a mistake and I… um… think we should—” his mouth dropped open when Kaleb threw back the covers and clambered out of bed.  “Why are you wearing pants?”

Kaleb picked up a pillow and threw it Ash’s head and snorted in derision. “Same reason you are.  Or didn’t you bother to check that before you lost your mind?  Don’t worry, sweetheart, nothing happened.  You threw yourself at me and then got all pissy when I didn’t fall under your spell.  Then you passed out cold while trying to take a swing at me.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing in my bed?” Ash threw the pillow back at Kaleb as the other man pulled on the shirt he’d hung on the back of the chair in the corner and shrug nonchalantly as he fastened the buttons.

“I drank.  You might drive drunk in the big city, but we don’t do that here,” Kaleb grinned at Ash and pushed his hair back from his face.  “And why would I sleep on that crappy old sofa, when there was a bed up here?”

“I can’t believe you took advantage—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” Kaleb said, raising his hands.  “There was no takin’ advantage.  I’m not the one who was spooning you all night!”

“Get out,” Ash wanted to knock the smirk off that irritatingly handsome face, but the pillow he hurled at him, didn’t have the desired effect.  Kaleb side-stepped the projectile and his laughter mocked Ash as he ran down the stairs.