Edge's shoulders hit the mat and his breath leaves him in a huff, but Crowe doesn't relax yet -- not until Edge actually goes limp under him and lets go of his arms. "Damnit," Edge says. "You win. Again."
"It was a good match," Crowe says. Edge never goes easy on him, never lets him just coast to a victory, and he's grateful for that. It makes him push himself, makes him better.
"Don't try to flatter me," Edge says. "It'll be a good match when I beat you."
Crowe grins. "I bet it will," he says. He hasn't moved yet. Lately doing close-quarters training with Edge has gotten a lot more interesting than it used to be, and he's enjoying the contact. The pink flush across Edge's cheeks from the exertion is pretty good, too, to be honest.
Edge glares up at him suspiciously, but all he says is, "What?" instead of telling Crowe to move.
"Nothing," Crowe says, shaking his head, but that's not quite what he means. "Well, maybe one thing." And he leans down, trying his best to be casual about it, for a kiss.
Edge tenses up for a second in surprise, but he does kiss back -- awkward enough that it's pretty clear he won't be able to tell how much Crowe is bluffing here. His lips part, and he makes a soft noise in his throat when Crowe takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between them. Their teeth click together once, jarring, but Crowe just tilts his head a little further and it doesn't happen again. Edge's hands come up and clench in the back of his shirt. Crowe threads his fingers through Edge's sweat-damp hair and kisses deeper.
They'll have to stop soon. Somebody else could come try to use the gym any time. And when they do, Crowe's sure things will get awkward again. But right now -- right now, as Edge pushes up toward him, trying to get even closer than they are -- they're doing great.
filled~
"It was a good match," Crowe says. Edge never goes easy on him, never lets him just coast to a victory, and he's grateful for that. It makes him push himself, makes him better.
"Don't try to flatter me," Edge says. "It'll be a good match when I beat you."
Crowe grins. "I bet it will," he says. He hasn't moved yet. Lately doing close-quarters training with Edge has gotten a lot more interesting than it used to be, and he's enjoying the contact. The pink flush across Edge's cheeks from the exertion is pretty good, too, to be honest.
Edge glares up at him suspiciously, but all he says is, "What?" instead of telling Crowe to move.
"Nothing," Crowe says, shaking his head, but that's not quite what he means. "Well, maybe one thing." And he leans down, trying his best to be casual about it, for a kiss.
Edge tenses up for a second in surprise, but he does kiss back -- awkward enough that it's pretty clear he won't be able to tell how much Crowe is bluffing here. His lips part, and he makes a soft noise in his throat when Crowe takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between them. Their teeth click together once, jarring, but Crowe just tilts his head a little further and it doesn't happen again. Edge's hands come up and clench in the back of his shirt. Crowe threads his fingers through Edge's sweat-damp hair and kisses deeper.
They'll have to stop soon. Somebody else could come try to use the gym any time. And when they do, Crowe's sure things will get awkward again. But right now -- right now, as Edge pushes up toward him, trying to get even closer than they are -- they're doing great.