Page 23 of Angel

I press my lips together and take a slow, calming breath. Jesus Christ Almighty, how is he so goddamn adorable?! I want to reach through the screen and pinch his cheeks. I want to see if his ears have gone pink like they did that day at the party. I shift to press the pillow more firmly against my aching erection.

“Um, what part can’t you stop thinking about?”

Angel buries his face again and stays like that for so long I’m worried he’s going to suffocate.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to share,” I say, trying to coax him out of the pillow.

Angel lets out a huff and a grumble, then the camera goes all blurry. The sound of a mattress squeaking comes through the line, then Angel comes back into view. He’s sitting up now, leaning against the headboard, wide, hairy chest on full display.

My cock is rock hard. Holy hell, that chest. With the low lighting, it’s not super clear, but I can make out the rounded pecs and the swell of his belly. All covered in dark hair with two distinct nipples peeking through.

My mouth waters. It fucking waters and I have to gulp down my own saliva before it leaks out the side of my mouth.

“It isn’t any one thing, I don’t think,” Angel says, and I quickly blink away the fog of lust to make sure I don’t miss anything. “It’s… everything. All of it. Together.”

He’s not looking at the camera as he speaks. Instead, his gaze is focused somewhere off to the side, and his brows are drawn together, and his lips are twisted up. He’s not merely concentrating. He looks frustrated.

“Does that make any sense?” He shifts his gaze to the camera, and even though the lighting is bad and the angle isn’t great and his face is about half the size of my phone’s screen, it feels like he’s looking straight into my soul.

I don’t know how to describe the look in his eyes, but it’s intense and potent. It catches me in its snare and I don’t want it to let me go. There are hidden depths to this man, places in him that I doubt he’s ever explored himself. Places he probably doesn’t even know exist. He might be a cuddly teddy bear on the surface, but his soul is old and profound.

Has he always been like this? Even back when we were kids? I had no reason to be friends with him back then, but now I wish I’d taken the time to get to know him. Maybe I would’ve discovered this buried treasure years before now.

“I…” have no idea what you’re asking because I’m too distracted by your hairy chest and soulful eyes.

He drops his gaze again and I suck in a lungful of air. I hadn’t realized I stopped breathing. I blink and shake my head. I feel like I’m coming out of some sort of hypnotic daze.

“Um, I think it’d be good for you to talk to Sebastian,” I finally say, then hurry to add, “It doesn’t mean you’re committing to anything. But Sebastian’s a cool guy and he’s really smart. He always has an answer for everything.”

There’s that look of intense concentration again, as if the offer requires serious consideration before he signs his life away.

“I can be there, if you want. We can chat about camming or about being gay or about whatever you want! You can come over to our place and we can have drinks or order in or just hang out. It’ll be low-key.”

God, I need to stop rambling.

But there’s a quirk at the corner of Angel’s mouth, and the solemn look in his eyes lightens.

“What do you say?” I ask again, wanting him to say “yes” way more than I should.

When he finally nods, it feels like fireworks go off in my stomach. I almost want to jump up and down on the bed.

“Yeah?” I ask, needing verbal confirmation.

“Yeah, I’ll meet with you and Sebastian.”

CHAPTER

EIGHT

ANGEL

I’ve lost my mind. It’s the only explanation for why I’m in Brooklyn, loitering outside Rhys’s apartment building.

I’ve been telling myself that this isn’t a meeting, it’s just hanging out with some guys. Drinking beer and eating pizza, shooting the shit, and stuff like that.

So maybe we talk about porn. Guys talk about porn all the time. No big deal.

Except my palms are sweaty and my stomach is queasy and I can’t seem to catch my breath. I lean against the side of the building, pressing my palms into the rough brick behind me.

---