Page 24 of Glitter

Then he did a something with his tongue, a something my brain only registered asoh shitandfuck yes, and I was flying. Flying and tumbling and reeling. And my cock was pulsing, pulsing and throbbing, within the tight clasp of his mouth, made suddenly extra slippery and wet and…ungh…as my cum filled his mouth.

I shuddered at the deliciously filthy feel of his lips and tongue working my dick, the tickling vibration of the satisfied hum my angel moaned as he swallowed my release only seeming to draw my orgasm out. On and on, burst after burst of cum spurting into his mouth.

Finally, when my poor, relieved, aching balls had completely and gratefully emptied themselves, he released me, letting my replete dick fall from his mouth. Then, relaxing back against the cushions on the sofa, his entire self a casually sprawled, disheveled picture of satisfaction, he gazed up at me and—

The depiction of cats enthusiastically consuming bowls of milk was largely a misconception, I knew that; most adult felines are actually lactose intolerant. But fuck if my angel didn’t resemble a cat hungrily lapping away at some cream as he swiped his tongue along both his top and bottom lip, licking up each stray droplet and smear of my cum. Around and around and around, until not a single bit of sticky, white fluid was left behind.

If my brain had been capable of coherent thought at that moment—which it wasn’t—I suppose I would’ve expected any words coming from my angel’s mouth to be some sort of commentary on what we just did. An analysis of my performance, or of his, perhaps. A remark on the quantity or quality of my release—he’d already stated he liked the taste of my pre-cum, how did the actual thing compare?

Or perhaps he’d command me to see to his pleasure, now that he’d taken care of mine.

I would happily do so. Eagerly, enthusiastically, devotedly even. I would love to take care of his erection, which even now was a hard, slender column tenting the front of his diaphanous robe.

I would be grateful as I tenderly parted that article of clothing to explore exactly what it was that he had on beneath it. As I freed his pretty cock from whatever confined it. I would gladly feast my eyes on his cock, before worshipping him with my hands or devouring him with my mouth.

What I did not expect… What I didn’t think anybody in my position, having just come my brains, heart, and soul out, would’ve expected, was for him to casually ask me, “So…how fast do you think it’ll take for you to get hard again, boo?”

Chapter 12

How fast could I… I gaped at him, my heartbeat thrumming in my ears, as I tried to process his question.

My mouth was also open, not that any words were coming out. Just as well, as I didn’t know what my answer was. Although, with as hard as I’d just come, I was pretty sure my dick was going to be down for the count for quite a while.

Not waiting for me to answer his question, my angel gracefully rose from the loveseat, his body brushing along mine as he stood. His scent teased my nose—still sweet, but not the super sugary, candy-sweetness of earlier. Whatever cologne he’d applied to his body when he’d changed his clothing, it contained richer, warmer notes that brought to mind candlelight and gourmet caramels.

He didn’t seem to mind my speechlessness. A soft smile gently curved his full lips, and his eyes—those light blue eyes flecked with palest green—they almost appeared filled with…affection.

Normally, I’d pessimistically think that the expression was merely a trick of the light, except for once, I was able to clearly see my angel’s eyes; I wasn’t stuck looking at him beneath the various terrible lighting of a club. No dim corners, no flashing strobe lights, no harshly artificial fluorescent fixtures. I finally got to see my angel in proper lighting.

And I gobbled up every detail I could to imprint on my memory.

Before tonight, I hadn’t known that my angel had the faintest sprinkling of freckles on his nose. Miniscule latte specks that were normally hidden under sparkling glitter. I hadn’t known that he had a tiny, half-moon scar next to the outer edge of his left eyebrow. A nearly invisible, white-on-white blemish on creamy, otherwise flawless skin.

If I’d never gotten to see him outside of the club, I would never have known that his skin was so delicate, so fair, that his veins branched blue shadowy rivers down his forearms and the backs of his hands.

He was a glittery, sparkling angel inside of a club. In his own home, within the loving reach of his own lights, his few physical imperfections more easily visible…he was, somehow, even more impossibly perfect.

His eyes twinkled and his soft smile turned teasing as he nudged me back. And it was just as well I hadn’t answered his question, because what he did next would’ve made me a liar.

Scooting around me, he started walking toward his bedroom. His voice was light and flirty as he called back, “I’m feeling optimistic. Why don’t you ditch your clothes, boo, and we can find out.”

Then, as he drew even with the fabric screens separating the living area from his bedroom, my angel slid his robe from his shoulders. The thin fabric silently fluttered as it made its way to slither to the floor; a black, silky, shadow-wing cascading to pool in a cloth puddle.

Long, long lines of delicate bones and lean muscle, all encased in so much dewy, silky skin were all suddenly exposed to my stunned, hungry gaze. So much skin. So, so much. The only bit of covering now hiding any of it was the whisper-thin layer of his sheer, black, thigh-high stockings.

The swift and unexpected miles of nearly complete nudity had my dick swelling surprisingly quickly. Much quicker than I’d have believed possible. I wasn’t fully hard again, not yet, but fuck if I wasn’t well on my way almost there.

After he rounded the screens, I couldn’t see him anymore, but I swear the sight he’d presented would forever be emblazoned on my brain.

I was still standing like an idiot in front of his sofa—my shirt untucked, my pants open, and my dick pulled out of my underwear and waving around out in the open—when he spoke again. “What’s keeping you, boo?” My guilt surged as he added, “I’m still horny.” Because, while he’d gotten me off—and spectacularly—I hadn’t done anything for him yet tonight.

I was finally able to get words to leave my mouth. Not well, but they did come out. “C-coming,” I said. “I’m coming.”

To which he jokingly replied, “Already? I had hopes that you’d get hard again quickly, boo. Not that you’d come again for the second time tonight so quickly.”

It felt silly, talking to him while sort of in the same room, but separated by a partition and unable to see him. It also felt silly trying to conduct a conversation while he was naked and I was still mostly dressed.

The only logical option was for me to also get naked, because I sure as hell didn’t want my angel to put any sort of clothes back on.

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