Gale Harold/Christian Kane
No prior history. Both angry, but not at each other.
Long hair, blue eyes, rooster attitude. A cold smirk in the bar, a look that wet dreams were made of and the smell of Marlboros and Jack on his breath. Too long of a day to put up with this bullshit. But then there were those biting kisses in the bathroom stall, pushing back when pushed. Torn shirts, scratched skin and for a moment, Gale thought, it could have gone either way. Then that soft, hoarse, midwestern voice relented,
He turned in Gale's arms. Pressed his face into the cold metal wall and spread his legs.
Out of order, but I'm taking them as they come.