Page 24 of Honorable Convictions
Mitchell let out a sound that was half snort, half grunt, walked to the couch, and sat. “Nice try, but we can’t get to know each other if we don’t spend any time together.”
“It’s seven o’clock on a Sunday, and I have work in the morning.”
“Please don’t try to convince me you’re heading off to bed this early. There’s no way you need that much sleep, and if you want to jerk off, I humbly offer my assistance in that endeavor.”
Pierson blinked heavily. “I didn’t mean I was going straight to bed to sleep or masturbate. I was relaxing—something that’s impossible to do with you around.”
“It’s cute the way you call it masturbating. Very quaint.”
“Brooks, get off my couch.”
After lifting his feet to the coffee table, he crossed his legs at the ankle and wiggled. “Not the most comfortable piece of furniture on the planet. Did you not sit in this before you bought it?”
“It came with the apartment, not that it’s any of your business.”
“Really? That’s a pity. I’ve always enjoyed picking out the decor for my place.”
“I guess I didn’t get that part of being gay.”
Mitchell’s gaze locked with Pierson’s, and he didn’t appreciate the glare. “That’s rather stereotypical of you to suggest that all gay men are good at decorating.”
“Clearly, they’re not or I wouldn’t have chosen a furnished place.”
Reaching out, Mitchell patted the cushion next to him. “Come sit with me.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Stop arguing for the sake of fighting, and get over here. We’ll watch some television and talk. I told you we need to get to know one another. You don’t want to be lonely, and neither do I. Who’d be better as a friend than your very own mate? Unless, of course, you’re afraid to get close to me. Maybe that’s the reason you’re so ready to separate…you want to see me naked so bad, it’s embarrassing.”
Although Mitchell wanted to laugh at Pierson’s dramatic eye roll, he held his breath as the prickly fallen knight sauntered around and while he didn’t sit on the sofa, he did park himself in the adjoining chair. “You really are full of yourself.”
“No lying, Blondie. You know you want to go strip me down. I solemnly vow not to fight if you want to drag me into your bedroom.”
“I think something went wrong during your resurrection.”
“I doubt it. The Arch Lich resurrected me first; that means I got more necro mojo. I’m probably a finer-tuned machine than you are.”
“I’m not a machine,” Pierson spat, and Mitchell wanted to slap himself. In his joy of simply talking instead of sparring, he’d forgotten that plenty of people, including his friends, had referred to Pierson’s often emotionless way of handling things and questioning loudly if he was a robot.
“I called myself a machine, not you,” Mitchell said quietly. Snatching up the remote, he grinned as he hit the power button. “So, what were you—well, what do we have here? The sappy, sweet channel that plays love stories twenty-four seven. Color me shocked, Murphy.”
His cheeks went a little pink, which made Mitchell’s smile grow. “There wasn’t much else on.”
“Liar. It’s okay, I’ve watched plenty of them myself. In fact, I’ve seen this one. You can do better; these two guys didn’t really have any problems. I didn’t need to see the ending to know that the first dude was going to sell his business to the competitor that suddenly offered him a deal he couldn’t resist.”
“Way to ruin the ending.”
“You knew how it was going to end.”
“I know. It’s the journey that’s important.”
Mitchell settled in to watch the last half of the movie. While he’d cracked jokes about it, this particular film was one he’d seen half a dozen times. It wasn’t necessarily the plot, because it was as predictable as every other one on the channel—it wasn’t called the Eternal Love Channel for nothing. For Mitchell, it was that one of the actors bore a similar but not quite as handsome visage as Pierson. “The same could be said of us,” he offered in a soft voice after several minutes.
“Our journey speaks of two people who might’ve been picked by Fate but have a contentious and protracted history.”
“Who doesn’t love a good enemies-to-lovers story, Blondie?”
“At least you’re finally admitting that we’re enemies,” Pierson muttered. “Odd that we finally have something to agree on and that’s it.”
