by Peter Styles
She looked as though she meant to move on, to leave them alone now, so Chance blurted out the first thing he could think of. “He had a lot of time playing at a bar in my hometown.”
Lucille grinned suddenly, and Chance winced inwardly as he realized how much of their story he’d just given away without even saying a word about it. All the pieces were there. Lucille only had to put them together.
“Well, if that’s the case, either that bar was desperate or you’re good, Acoustic Angel. Either way, I’ve got something for you.”
“And what’s that?” Angel frowned a little, wrapping one arm around Chance’s waist.
“My band. I have a pianist and flutist, a drummer, and an acoustic. We were all set up to play at the Public House tomorrow, but my acoustic won’t be able to make it because she had to go out of town for a family emergency.”
“You want me to play in your band?”
“That’d be really stupid, wouldn’t it?” Lucille snorted. “You don’t know any of our songs. You’d turn it into a wreck. No, I have a different idea. I’ll have to make some calls when I get home in a few hours but I doubt they’d mind if we switched you into our place entirely. It’d be better than nothing.”
“Better than nothing.” Angel laughed and pulled Chance tighter against his side. Chance looked up at him, marveling in the way his jaw shook when he laughed. “I’m all about being better than nothing. It’s a done deal, Lucille.”
She smiled, tattoo stretching. “Just show up before nine p.m. tomorrow. If you’re in, there’ll be someone waiting for you.”
“I’ll be there,” Angel said solemnly.
“You better be.”
With that last sharp comment, Lucille walked away. She seemed to drift across the floor, strides long and purposeful.
I doubt I am ever going to meet a girl like this again.
After another few minutes, Angel decided he was done in the music shop and they walked back out. Evening approached, the chill winds coming down off the mountains intensified by the softening light of the sun.
“Angel?”
“Hmm?” Angel looked at him, squeezing his hand slightly.
“Why would she do that? You’re a stranger.”
“Yeah, but we’re also musicians.”
Chance waited but nothing else was forthcoming. He frowned. “Am I supposed to actually understand what that means?”
“It means we understand how hard it is for musicians to get the word out about themselves and land jobs, especially if you’re a roamer. Especially if you’re a roamer no one has ever heard of before. It means we help each other. Especially because we’re both guitarists.”
“I’m even more lost now!” Chance replied hopelessly. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Angel chuckled, rubbing his thumb over the back of Chance’s hand. “Say you like to read. Great. So does eighty percent of the population. But say you only read fantasy novels. Aren’t you going to enjoy talking to a fellow fantasy reader versus someone who only reads historical fiction?”
“Meaning that if Lucille was a pianist, she wouldn’t have been so nice to you? That’s really biased.”
“Is it?” Angel shrugged. “Or is that just how the world works? We know what we know and like when other people know it, too. Look, a museum!”
Chance followed the angle at which Angel was pointing. There was definitely a museum, albeit a small one. “What about it? Museums close early.”
“So? No reason we can’t still go see.”
The museum actually closed at eight p.m., in two hours. Angel hurried inside, dragging Chance along behind him.
I didn’t know you liked museums.
Afterwards, they picked up a pizza and took it back to their hotel room to eat while sitting on the bed and flipping through the limited thirty TV channels. Settling on watching the news, they sat leaning back against the headboard with their legs tangled together.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get to do much today,” Angel said.
“It’s okay,” Chance replied, looking up into his strong brown eyes. He reached over and patted Angel’s knee, using it as an excuse to wipe off his greasy fingers. “At least something good came out of it, right?”
“And you’ll finally be able to see me play.”
“If I think you suck, I’m not going to lie to you.”
Angel chuckled, turning his head and leaning over to kiss Chance on the lips. Their tongues danced together between them. Then, suddenly, Chance found himself on his back with his hands pinned up high over his head and Angel’s ass planted firmly on his stomach. The weight of the other felt good against him, solid and satisfying.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Angel murmured, leaning down to kiss him again.
Chance pulled in a deep breath as they parted, vision going hazy. “I want to talk to you about…”
“Later,” Angel growled, rolling Chance over onto his stomach. The sharp corner of the pizza box jabbed into his side. He hardly felt it. His awareness of the world shrank, receding down to nothing but fractured pinpoints of sensation. Angel’s cologne was spicy like wood smoke. The places where he was touched became tingling and burning sensations beneath his skin. The taste of Angel’s tongue thrusting inside his mouth, claiming his own. Closing his eyes, he gave into it and let his own hands wander where they would. Rifling through Angel’s hair, sliding over his shoulders and down his back to hold his ass.
Angel groaned a little and pressed his ass back against Chance’s hands, wiggling. “Hell yes,” he moaned. “You like my ass, baby?”
It was the first time anyone had ever called him baby before. His cock jumped to attention at the name, sensing a summons. “I do,” Chance said, breathless and shy.
“You want to finger my ass? I don’t mind.”
Chance bit his lip and shuddered, moving his hands around to the front of Angel’s waist to grab at his buttons and zipper. They went down and Angel arched his back as his jeans were tugged down.
“I haven’t ever done this before to anyone else,” Chance said nervously, sliding one hand into the back of Angel’s underwear to shove that down as well.
“But you’ve done it to yourself? That’s really hot! So, just do what you do to yourself.”
For a moment, the world widened again and Chance’s mind went blank. Then, he slowly came back to himself and shook his head while moving his hand away again. “I normally use—”
“I have some.” Angel cut him off, sliding off of him and grabbing the pizza box to move it out of the way. “Let me find it. Get naked.”
Chance was only too willing to obey, shedding his clothes like a snake shedding its skin. He sat on the bed with his legs spread wide apart, one hand fondling his cock while watching Angel’s ass wiggle around as he rifled through his backpack.
Finally, Angel straightened up with a bottle in one hand. “It’s the gel kind. That fine with you?”
“Sure.”
Angel tossed it to him, and then jumped up after it, sliding across the bed with his arms out and his ass raised up. He planted his face into the mattress and wiggled his ass around up in the air. “Come and get me! And don’t overthink it.”
The bane of my existence, Chance thought. Nevertheless, he tried to do exactly that. He flipped open the bottle cap and smeared a liberal dollop across his fingertips, rubbing them together to warm it slightly. Then, he rose up on his knees and moved over in front of Angel’s ass. His legs were spread apart, his firm ass cheeks slightly parted so that Chance could see the small, tight pucker of his opening.
Desire opened up inside him. His cock pressed hard against the muscle of his thigh, tip leaking burning hot juices down his skin.
I can do this. I want to do this.
Grabbing Angel’s hip to hold him still, Chance slid his lubed fingers deep between Angel’s cheeks to press against his opening. Angel cried out softly, his hips bucking forward. “Damn!” he said, pressing his forehead harder
against the mattress and then shoving his ass back against Chance’s hand.
“I haven’t even done anything!” Chance said, laughing. His stomach burned at having this effect on someone else. His heart thundered inside his chest, exhilaration coursing through his veins.
“No, but I need you to. Before I explode. Give it to me. I can take it.”
Chance held onto Angel even more firmly and rubbed his fingers in a tight circle around his opening. His fingers moved, working up and down, pressing and caressing. Angel whimpered and moaned for him, grinding against his fingers. His body went tense but his opening stayed relaxed, loosening so that as Chance pressed against it his fingers started to slip inside almost of their own accord.
Reapplying more lube, Chance pressed one finger this time against Angel’s opening. And he didn’t stop pressing.
“Ah!” Angel cried out, grinding his ass on Chance’s finger as it slid deep and slow inside his ass. A shudder ran through his whole entire body and then he shifted, bracing himself on only one hand while grabbing his dick with the other and starting to pull on it hard. His hips bucked, movements growing uncontrolled.
Chance shivered and moved forward so that he was straddling the back of one of Angel’s thighs. Rubbing his cock on the hard, tensed muscle there, he pushed his finger as deep into angel’s ass as it would go and then started to slowly move around to test out how it felt for both of them. He knew what his own inner walls felt like, the wavy texture, but there was something infinitely hotter about doing it to someone else. And Angel’s ass kept tightening around his finger as his body shook, tensing and loosening. Chance couldn’t take it. His cock jumped, burning and throbbing. He was going to explode, to shake apart at any second.
“Chance!”
“Uh!” was all he could manage in response. His finger twisted in lazy circles, pressing all over Angel’s inner walls, testing their limits. He ground hard on the back of his thigh, shuddering and dripping precum everywhere so that droplets splattered with every thrust.
“Fuck me,” Angel gasped. “Take me. Screw me. Do it.”
For only a moment, Chance fell away from his hypnotic state. His vision cleared. The same old hesitation he had always known threatened to stop him, but his body refused. He couldn’t pull back from the edge. He was slipping, falling over it. His breath came as shuddering gasps. His arm hair stood on end. His cock trembled, the tip twitching as every part of him started to let go.
Pulling his finger away from Angel’s ass, Chance grabbed at his hips firmly and rose up on his knees so that his cock was poised right against that inviting opening. No longer tight, it was swollen and ready, begging for him.
And there was no hesitation now as he moved his hips forward, shoving his cock inside that ready ass.
Almost instantly, Angel tensed up around him. The pressure was too much, hot muscles squeezing the breath from his muscles. His cock jumped, and he started cumming. Pulse after pulse of burning hot liquid poured from him, filling Angel’s ass.
Throwing his head back, he finished shoving himself all the way inside Angel. Their bodies ground together. Chance tossed his head back, losing himself. He couldn’t see, couldn’t do anything but shake.
Dimly, he was aware of Angel crying out but the sound was vague and distant, as if it came from within a dream.
The spasms ended. Chance collapsed across Angel’s back, and they both slid onto their sides while still tangled together.
“Oh,” was all Angel said. The sound was a ponderous groan, hardly a word at all.
When he could breathe again, Chance pulled his limp cock out; Angel rolled over, wrapping his arms and legs around him. Warm and contented, Chance just closed his eyes and immediately fell asleep.
Chapter 14
True to Lucille’s word, someone waited for them at the entrance to the Public House. A man with a well-maintained beard and a black shirt bearing the name of his establishment held up one hand as they approached.
“Evening, folks,” the man said. “You look like the two young men I’m supposed to be watching for.”
“Let me guess.” Angel tapped one finger against his powerful chin. “A punk princess told you to watch out for a hippie holding hands with his pet nerd.” He was very aware of the way Chance looked at him after he said that out loud, obviously trying to decide whether he was supposed to be offended or not.
The man regarded Angel with a serious expression that slowly faded into one of reluctant acceptance. “She might not have phrased it exactly like that, but that is the impression I got. You’re Angel, I presume?”
Angel stuck out his hand to shake with the man. He had learned how to be able to tell a lot about men from the way they shook hands, and this one had a lot of confidence. “Yes, I am. Angel Frost. And who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”
“That’d be Lester. I’m co-manager here. I was told you could hold your own with a guitar.”
“That I can.” Angel flashed a grin, putting as much confidence in it as he had felt in Lester’s handshake. These people with steady jobs tended to assume they were that much better than those who rode on the wild side with a bit of uncertainty. It was best not to show any weakness around them. “I figure two hours of your time would be well worth both our while.”
Lester narrowed his eyes. “You’re a bold one.”
“I have to be, sir.”
After a moment, Lester gave a sharp nod. “Two hours. You get to keep half of whatever tips you manage to bring in.”
Half was generous. His grin was real this time. “You won’t regret it, sir.” Suddenly, he remembered Chance and gestured towards him. “This is my friend. I don’t suppose you mind if he sits at the bar while I do my thing?”
“As long as he pays for what he drinks, I don’t much care what he does.” Lester gestured inside. “Up at the bar is Missy. She’ll seat your friend and point you towards where you need to be. Be ready at nine.”
“Will do.”
Angel grabbed Chance’s hand and pulled him just inside the door, pausing with his hand on his shoulder. Their faces were so close he probably could have snuck a kiss, but that seemed a bit disrespectful with Lester standing right there watching. “I need to go back out to the car and fetch my guitar. You get seated and wait for me, okay?”
“Okay,” Chance said easily. Something flickered in his eyes, however. Something sad.
“What’s wrong?”
There wasn’t any reply at all, but Angel understood. His heart twisted in his chest as he placed his other hand now on Chance’s shoulder. Resting their foreheads together, he said, “I’m going to come back. I’ll be less than thirty seconds. You count. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Angel smiled into Chance’s green eyes, and then he bolted out the door and raced off down the street to where they had only just managed to procure a parking spot around the corner. His aching heart beat rapidly in his chest as he pumped his arms, tucking his head down into the run. He couldn’t bear to imagine the sort of hurts Chance must have gone through for him to have that look on his face at the thought of being left alone for only a few minutes.
Crashing to a stop and grabbing at the door handle, he threw it open and grabbed the guitar out. He slammed the door again and ran back to the Public House, huffing with every breath. His legs burned.
Staggering inside, he looked around the bar and pinpointed where Chance sat on a stool watching him. Holding up the guitar triumphantly, Angel hurried over to him.
“That was a minute and seventeen seconds,” Chance informed him. He smiled teasingly but every other part of him screamed relief. “You’d think someone with long legs like that would be able to run faster.”
Angel huffed at him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leaning in to kiss his cheek. As his lips touched against warm, smooth skin, he thought how precious this man had come to be to him in such a short time. “Are you going to be okay here?”
“Sure,” Chance said. “I�
��m definitely not going to have a hard time sitting here eating chips and drinking water.”
Angel smiled at him. “No beer for you? The sign outside says they have a pomegranate beer.”
“Uh, gross. No. I’ll stick to water.”
“Excuse me,” a polite voice interrupted. Angel looked up to see a bartender watching them from a respectful distance back. With curly blonde hair and blue eyes bright and vivid even from this distance, he thought she might be a real hit with other men without even knowing it.
Rubbing Chance’s shoulder before straightening up, Angel turned fully towards the bartender. “Missy?”
“That’s me. And the pomegranate beer is disgusting. It tastes like cheese.”
Chance snorted. “I told you.”
Angel ruffled his hair, making him snort a lot more. “I’m Angel. You’re supposed to show me where I belong?”
Missy pointed over towards the corner where the main floor of the restaurant and the end of the bar intersected. An empty section of raised platforming stood there, set up with an arrangement of inexpensive lights and a microphone in a stand. “You can set up there. Clock’s on the wall. Lester probably didn’t tell you but he likes things done a specific way. At exactly nine, introduce yourself and then jump right into the music. Anything else means you probably aren’t going to come back again.”
“Fine with me,” Angel said.
Not a fan of musicians, Lester? Challenge accepted.
A good number of patrons watched Angel as he strode over towards the so-called stage and stepped up onto it. Kneeling down towards the back, he set down the guitar case and opened it up to reveal his baby.
Every single time he saw it, he remembered the first time he caught a glimpse of it standing in the corner of that resale shop. For years, he thought he would never see anything more enchanting; that is, he thought that until Chance entered his life and began to inspire those same sorts of feelings in him. The deep, cherry red headstock and the long, worn fretboard leading down into the faded body with its one sharp curved edge…It was a beautiful piece of work that needed new strings, a day of tuning, and a whole lot of polish, but the payoff was more than worth it. Guitars of this quality were hard to find anymore, and here he’d paid a handful of coins for this one. The lady at the counter of the store suggested he hang it on the wall as décor.
