Page 36 of Angel

“Pull out!”

Sebastian’s instructions filter through the roaring in my ears, and I pull out of Rhys’s body without a second to spare. My hand flies over my dick as cum shoots out of me in thick, creamy white ropes, landing all over Rhys’s butt.

My vision goes blurry and I’m literally unsteady on my feet. I’ve never come so hard before, like my entire body is getting siphoned out through my dick. My head is stuffed with cotton. My limbs are weighted down with lead. And yet, I feel completely weightless. I collapse onto my back next to Rhys.

He shifts to lie on his side, facing me, braced up on one elbow, while still stroking himself with his other hand. He leans over and attacks my mouth with his lips, teeth, and tongue. He’s forceful and aggressive and all I can do is lie there and take it.

He cries out into my mouth, and I swallow it down. A second later, he hooks his leg over mine and hot spurts of cum land on my thigh.

“Oh my fucking god,” Rhys mutters, as he drops his head to my shoulder. His exhale is a cool wash over my heated skin. The weight of his body against mine is solid and anchoring. I let my eyes drift shut, basking in all the warm, tingly feelings.

“That was awesome, guys,” Sebastian says. “You can get cleaned up when you’re ready. Then we’ll shoot the exit interview.”

Rhys lets out one last sigh, then rolls away from me. I immediately miss the press of his body, but I stop myself from reaching for him. The cameras are off already. There’s no reason for me to want him close.

Rhys sits up and stretches, his lithe body arching and bending like a work of art. Then he hops off the bed and grabs the silky robe he was wearing earlier. Sebastian and Christian have turned away too.

No one is watching me. No one will notice.

I swipe my fingers through Rhys’s cum on my thigh, then quickly stuff my fingers in my mouth. Bitter. Salty. Musky. Delicious.

I suck my fingers clean, but when I’m about to go back for more, Rhys turns to face me again. I freeze with my fingers in my mouth.

His eyes narrow a fraction, flitting between my face and my cum-splattered thigh. Then the corners of his lips lift in a suspicious smile.

My ears burn hot as I yank my fingers free and clear my throat. Shit. Crap. I scramble to sit up and act normal, but it’s too late. He totally caught me sneaking a taste of his cum.

“Here.” Rhys’s voice is soft and gentle as he hands me a towel. “Just wipe down. No need to dress for the last interview. Fans like to see us disheveled.” Then he plants a quick kiss on my cheek before disappearing out to the living room.

Sebastian and Christian are out there already, moving equipment around for the last part of the shoot. I do as Rhys said, wiping myself down as best I can with the small hand towel. But I still slip on my underwear before going to join them.

Rhys’s gaze rakes down my body when I step out, lingering for a moment at my crotch.

“Is it okay?” I ask when I sit down next to him on the couch. “It feels weird being completely naked.”

“It’s great,” he says, settling in beside me so we’re pressed nice and close.

I lean into the contact, trying not to be too obvious. I let out a silent sigh of relief when he practically drapes himself over me.

“You look super cute in tighty-whities. Like a cuddly teddy bear,” he murmurs quietly into my ear.

I squirm a little at the description. No one’s called me a teddy bear before. What does that even mean? And why does it make me feel all weird and fluttery inside?

Sebastian sits down across from us before I can really dwell on it. “Angelo! That’s a wrap on your first gay-for-pay scene. What do you think?”

What do I think? I think it was… a lot. Overwhelming. Surreal. A dream. How do I explain that it’s the craziest thing I’ve ever done in my life, and yet, it felt so normal, so natural? So good?

“Yeah, it was… cool.”

My hand settles on Rhys’s knee before I even realize I’ve moved it from my own. I stare at it for a moment, marveling at how nice it feels. It’s such a casual touch, and yet so intimate at the same time. I can be a pretty touchy-feely person with Mama, with Sabrina, with friends like Mario. But it’s different with Rhys—everything’s different with Rhys.

“How about you, Rhys? How was Angelo?”

Rhys props his chin on my shoulder so he can peer up at me through his thick lashes. “He was fantastic.”

I doubt I was fantastic. I barely knew what I was doing. He’s just saying that because the camera’s rolling. But my ears still get warm at the scripted compliment, and the fluttering in my tummy grows stronger.

“Would you do it again, Angelo?” Sebastian asks.

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