If Wishes Were Horses

by Jm Cartwright

  Angel felt a warmth in his middle, and he squeezed the wheel tightly. “Mamá. I… Gracias. That means a lot to hear you say that.” He checked his mirrors and eased the SUV around a logging truck, accelerating smoothly. “I… You’ve always told me that you’re proud of me, but for the first time, I feel like I’ve really done something special that’s, well, maybe going to make a difference.” He darted a quick look at his mother. “Does that make sense?”

  Maria nodded. “It does, indeed.”

  “I mean, we’ve got the whole tour thing going well, I’m kicking it at Ridgecrest, the kids are doing well in school. Well”—he frowned—“Marisa is definitely a brain, and she’s getting straight As, and Trey is a solid B student, but that dimwitted social studies teacher that Trey has is getting on my nerves.” He gritted his teeth. “Do you know she had the nerve to tell me to butt out when I advised her to include geography in the curriculum? Most of the kids today can’t figure out where half the states are on a map. Or even how many we have!”

  “I-I hadn’t heard that.”

  Angel slanted a sideways look at his mother. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Oh. No, mi’jo. Why would you th-think that?” Maria let loose with a hearty chuckle. “Oh, Angel, I do enjoy you. You always make life so…interesting.” She laughed again.

  Angel found himself smiling. “Yeah, I guess I do.” His smile turned into a grimace. “Though a certain jug-head ballplayer doesn’t seem to agree with you.” The muscles in his back started to tighten again, undoing all the massager therapist’s work. “I’m telling you, Mamá, if he doesn’t talk to me about what he’s planning, and pretty damned quick, you’re going to want to stay away from the house for a while.”

  Almost missing the exit for Redwood Highway while he steamed over Brandon’s behavior, Angel quickly signaled and jumped onto the ramp, causing Maria to grab the door handle. “Oops. Sorry, Mamá.”

  “Sí. You’d better watch where you’re going.”

  He could hear the raised eyebrows in her admonition. “Sí, Mamá.” Refocusing, he breathed deeply as he watched the road. “We’ll be home in about forty-five minutes.”

  “Well, it’s about four thirty. It’s going to get dark soon, and you know what that means.”

  He did indeed. Twilight brought Oregon’s nocturnal creatures out. “I know. I’ll watch for deer.” He’d had the most unpleasant experience dodging them quite a few times since moving to southwest Oregon. The hazardous critters started coming down to feed in the late afternoon. “I really don’t want any hood ornaments on this trip.”

  Patting his thigh, Maria snorted softly. “Neither do I.”

  When they pulled to a stop next to the barn, the sun had set. Angel welcomed the exterior lighting on the house and outbuildings. “I still can’t get over how dark it is up here,” he murmured. “We rarely saw the stars back home, you know?”

  Maria unbuckled her seat belt. “Yes. It is quite amazing. I had no idea how beautiful sunsets could really be.”

  They stood outside the car, staring upward for a few moments. Finally, Angel had to laugh. “Mamá, we’re the absolute opposite of country bumpkins come to the big city, staring up at all the tall buildings. Instead we’re busy staring at open sky.” He pushed the liftgate button and walked to the rear of the car.

  Maria took a couple of the smaller bags. “Sí, mi’jo. I’ve come to love it here in Oregon, as you have. For so many reasons.” She nodded toward the exterior stair. “I’m going to head upstairs and unpack. I’ll see you later for dinner?”

  “Yeah. Let me take this stuff upstairs for you.” Angel dragged a couple of large shoeboxes out of the cargo area. “Brandon normally has dinner ready by about six.” He shot a look over his shoulder, frowning at the house. “If he got his act together, that is.”

  “You know you two need to talk about whatever is going on, right?” His mother arched a dark brow. She headed up the stairs.

  Gusting out a sigh, Angel trudged after her. “I know, I know. But let me enjoy my post-spa glow for a little longer, will you?”

  * * * *

  Dinner on Sundays was a family affair, with Maria joining them more often than not. Recently she’d begun bringing Danny along, and Angel was thankful for small favors that tonight was not one of those nights. He just didn’t want to be dealing with his mother’s boyfriend while he was busy trying to figure out what his own damned boyfriend was up to.

  Christ. It shouldn’t be this hard, should it? And why the hell don’t boyfriends come with an instruction manual?

  The last week, Angel and Brandon had managed to be around each other without actually talking about anything of substance. Angel could now admit to himself that they’d both been practicing avoidance instead of acting like adults and having a “discussion.”

  Ay de mi.

  “Hey, sugar. You all shopped out?” Brandon’s voice came from the bedroom doorway.

  Angel looked up from the dresser where he was placing his latest find. He met Brandon’s gaze in the mirror. “Pretty much.” Was now going to be the time they talked?

  Stupidly, he wasn’t sure he knew what to say. How to start. Angel pushed the drawer shut with his hip, then lifted a couple of shirts from the pile of new clothing on the bed. “Is dinner ready?”

  Sunday was when Brandon cooked, since he’d practiced and perfected omelets and roasts. That covered the two main meals of the day, and the kids certainly didn’t mind PB&J for lunch. Angel didn’t care since he got a break from the prep chores.

  Angel heard a low sigh as Brandon shut the bedroom door. “You still gonna play it this way?”

  He scrunched his brow. “What?”

  “You know what. You’re still pissed, so you’re gonna not talk to me?”

  “Really? You’re going with that?” Angel dropped the shirts onto the dresser top and spun. He rested his ass against the polished wood. Now he knew what to say. “I’m the one kept in the dark because you wouldn’t talk to me, and now I’m the one who’s not saying anything?”

  Brandon rubbed a hand over his face. “Oh, for God’s sake. I already told you I was worried about what you’d think, and I didn’t want to get into it until I figured out how I felt about the offer.”

  “Uh, maybe because you didn’t give me a chance to help you figure it out. You think of that?” Honestly. Why couldn’t the bonehead make that connection? Angel wanted to smack his lover. “I may not know jack about producing TV shows, but I sure as hell have an opinion on what you should do.”

  “No shit.” Brandon muttered the words under his breath, but Angel heard them nonetheless.

  “What was that?” Angel straightened, ready to deliver that slap upside the head.

  “I…uh.” Brandon bit his lip. “Well, you do kinda have an opinion on everything, sugar.” A tiny, crooked grin appeared.

  Despite the ire Angel was hard-pressed to contain, he felt his heart speed up at that familiar expression. That sexy mouth movement was one of the first things he’d ever noticed about Brandon, way back when the major leaguer had first joined Hill Agency as a client. It had tripped his switch from the day they’d met.

  “Besides. I did tell you,” Brandon insisted.

  “Uh-uh! When?”

  “The other night. When you first found out. Except—”

  “Except what?”

  “Well. You kind of fell asleep while I was talking.”

  Angel started to sputter a scathing comeback, but just in time, he remembered his mother’s admonition to listen.

  Maybe, just maybe, they could actually have a conversation.

  “Oh.” He eased his ass back down. “And-and, yeah. I guess I do always have an opinion.” He slanted a look at Brandon. “But you have to admit that most of the time, it’s a good one.”

  “True.” Some of the tension left Brandon’s rugged frame.

  “Still. You know we should have talked about this a month ago, so…” Angel let his words dangle, hoping Bra
ndon would open up.

  “I know.” Brandon stepped closer.

  Angel could smell the faint hint of aftershave. He loved that Brandon used just enough to tempt him to get closer and sniff.

  “I wanted to. I swear. I just—I couldn’t figure out how to start talking about it without you getting all”—Brandon flapped his hands—“you know.”

  “I’m afraid to ask what this means.” Angel flapped his hands in return.

  Brandon stepped into Angel’s space; he slid one foot between Angel’s. “Well, you know how you get.” He set his hands on either side of Angel’s hips, then used his knees to nudge Angel’s legs apart.

  “No. How do I get?” Angel leaned back onto his arms, palms flat on the dresser. His thighs opened. He could be persuaded to forget the discussion for a few minutes.

  “Well.” Brandon nuzzled Angel’s left ear. “It’s all that hot Latin blood.” He nipped, then licked Angel’s lobe before sucking it into his mouth.

  Angel gasped, that bite going straight to his balls.

  “You get fired up.” Another bite, then a suck. “Then you get me fired up.” Brandon switched to the other ear. “And before you know it”—he first licked, then bit Angel’s throat just above the collarbone—“we’re either fighting or fucking.”

  Angel was almost leaning against the mirror by this time. “Uh-huh.” He wriggled free enough to rip off the slate-blue designer sweater he wore. He tossed it toward the bed just as Brandon bit his earlobe again. “God! You know that makes me crazy.”

  “Uh-huh. C’mon up here, sugar.” Brandon slid both arms behind Angel and pulled his lover upright. “That’s it. There’s my baby.” He grabbed Angel’s ass with both hands. “You fit just right.” Brandon adjusted for the difference in their heights by spreading his feet apart and began rubbing his hardness against Angel.

  The feeling was electrifying. Angel hiccupped as his cock got just the right pressure at just the right spot. “Ooh. Yeah. There.” He pressed his chest forward, loving the way the soft wool of Brandon’s sweater rasped against his nipples. Heat was zinging between his chest and his crotch, and he dropped his head back, exposing more of his throat. “Mmm. More.”

  “Uh-huh.” Brandon obliged, lips and tongue sliding over more skin. He thumbed open Angel’s black chinos. “Kick off your moccasins, will you?” The leather slippers plopped to the floor. Brandon pulled the pants zipper down and slid his hands inside to cup Angel’s hips. He pushed the fabric away. “Let me just get these…” He shoved the chinos down, and Angel obligingly stepped out of them. “Oh, sugar. I do so love your boy shorts. Oh, yes I do.” Brandon dropped to his knees, and his eyes zeroed in on the miniscule cranberry cotton that stretched over Angel’s erection.

  Angel petted Brandon’s hair, adoring the crisp blond crew cut. That macho look rang his bell big-time. He cupped the back of Brandon’s skull. “I know you do, amado. And, damn it, you know I wear them for you.” It was true. He’d taken them along on the trip to Eugene because he loved them and because he knew they made Brandon crazy. “Even when I’m ready to clock you, I still wear them for you.” He thrust forward gently, letting his dick caress Brandon’s cheek. The cotton of his briefs was so fine, he swore he could feel Brandon’s five o’clock shadow. “Ah, sí, hombre. That’s it. I can feel your…oh, your beard.” He hummed a little as he inched as close as possible.

  Brandon slowly turned his head back and forth.

  Angel grunted at the sensation. His dick was leaking copious amounts of precum, and he spread his feet a bit wider as he rocked his hips. “Brandon. Querido. Please.”

  Brandon darted a mischievous glance upward. “You needing, Angel?”

  Nodding, Angel managed to grab a bit of brush-cut blond hair. “You know it.” He tilted Brandon’s head back far enough so he could quickly bend down and steal a kiss. “And you know what I love.”

  “Yes. I do.” Brandon pulled Angel’s briefs down. “Cariño.”

  Groaning at the word, Angel aimed his dick at Brandon’s lips. “Amado. Please.” Brandon obligingly opened wide, and Angel grunted again at the heated, wet pressure on his cock. He began rocking again, slowly pushing farther. He whimpered when Brandon took him all the way, and he grabbed Brandon’s shoulders for balance.

  His lover was absolutely worshiping him, and Angel’s heart beat faster. His belly was tight, his balls pulsing. He pushed a little farther, shoving his fist in his mouth to contain a moan when Brandon swallowed. Then swallowed again. Without thinking, Angel moved his hips faster, sliding in deeper. He held there for a couple heartbeats and groaned loudly as Brandon’s throat contracted around him.

  Brandon jerked his head back and grinned as he wiped his mouth. “Shh! The soundtrack for Halo might be loud, but the kids still might hear that.” He popped to his feet. “Lemme make sure the door is locked. You get your fine ass on that bed, sugar.”

  Just about ready to whine that Brandon get back on his knees, Angel quickly switched gears at that order. “Oh yeah. And you get rid of those clothes.” Angel ripped back the duvet and dumped it at the end of the mattress. Then he grabbed the blanket and sheet and dived underneath. Without Brandon to warm him, he was quickly feeling a chill.

  He slid one arm out from the covers long enough to click on the iPod.

  Shirtless and shoeless, Brandon paused and cocked his head. The loud dance beat of “Swagger Jagger” was playing. “You trying to tell me something? ’Cause that’s your theme song, not mine.” Brandon smirked as he unzipped his jeans.

  “I’ll show you swagger, querido. Just you wait and see.”

  Chapter Nine

  Angel pushed the covers back enough to expose that lovely cock, and Brandon licked his lips. The man was just damned beautiful. No matter that his feisty lover hated to be called that, it was true.

  “You are, you know.” Brandon hopped on one foot and then the other as he shed his jeans. He tugged the sheet out of the way and put a knee on the bed.

  “I am what?” Angel reached for him.

  “Beautiful.” Brandon lay down and slid a leg between his lover’s, then rolled, flattening Angel beneath him. He grabbed Angel’s wrists and held them against the pillows. “Ah-ah.” He tsk-tsked when Angel started to protest. “I’ll call you that if I want to. And I want to.” He cut off any further discussion with a kiss.

  Brandon loved being able to shut Angel up, especially that way. He shoved his tongue deep, taking command. When Angel moaned and began sucking on it, Brandon moved in a full-body rub. The hair on his chest rasped faintly against Angel’s skin, highlighting the contrast between them. Brandon was husky and hairy, and Angel was lean and smooth.

  He took a quick breath. “God, I love this.” He inched down, nipping and licking along the way. His first target was Angel’s left nipple.

  Angel whined a protest that quickly turned into a whimper at Brandon’s nibble. “Muérdeme. Los dos.”

  Chuckling softly, Brandon obliged. He captured the nipple with his teeth, biting down, then he moved to the right one, nipping and sucking. He used his fingers to pinch and twist as he shifted back and forth.

  “Brandon! Unh…” Angel spread his thighs wide, hips rolling up.

  “Sugar. You’re humping me like a bad puppy.” Laughing, Brandon pushed back on his heels and threw the covers to the end of the bed. “C’mere.” He manhandled Angel, tugging and pushing until Angel flipped over. He shoved his knees between Angel’s thighs and spread them wide. “Grab the slick, will you, love? And then grab the headboard. You’re gonna want to hold on.”

  Grunting as he rearranged himself prone, Angel sent a skeptical look over his shoulder. “Really. Feeling full of yourself tonight, aren’t you?” He tossed the lube at Brandon.

  “Oh, no, sugar. You’re gonna be full of me. Real quick.”

  Brandon was gratified to hear Angel’s snort turn into a gasp and then a cry as Brandon shoved two wet fingers inside.

  “See?” Brandon knew that Angel liked it
rough, no matter how the man might pretend. Angel had been a good teacher—and Brandon an all-too-willing student—when they’d begun three years ago.

  He dropped forward, holding himself up on his right forearm. “Gonna get you all slick, stretch you out, get you ready for me. Then I’m gonna shove all this”—he bumped Angel’s thigh with his dick—“up in here.” Brandon twisted his fingers, searching for Angel’s gland.

  Angel shivered at the whispered words. “Ballsy talk, hombre.” He whimpered as Brandon pushed both fingers deep. “You’re-you’re not too bad as a pearl diver. Let’s see…let’s see what kind of a bum bandit you are tonight.”

  Shouting with laughter at Angel’s unending swagger, Brandon pulled his hand back and quickly slicked up. Angel liked to spout all kinds of gay slang and euphemisms, the stranger the better. “Sugar, where do you come up with this stuff?” He used his wet hand to hold his cock, pointing it at Angel’s opening, then drove forward until the head popped through. He hissed at the tight feel around his shaft.

  Angel groaned, forehead dropping to the pillow. He widened his knees and stretched his arms toward the wooden rail at the bottom of the suede headboard. “I don’t know.” He moaned again as Brandon eased deeper. “There’s.” He took a deep breath. “There’s, um, oh, a new guy at the… Oh yeah.” He tilted his ass upward. “Yes. A new guy. At work.”

  Brandon slid both hands under Angel’s arms and curved his fingers around the top edge of the mattress. He allowed most of his weight to cover Angel. “Yeah?” He rolled his hips, driving deeper. “And the new guy’s teaching you some stuff?” When Angel arched with another cry, Brandon grinned in satisfaction. “Oh yeah, right there, huh, sugar?”

  “Yes. Oh yes.” Angel pushed back to meet him. “He’s from…from the UK, I, uh, think.”

  Brandon lowered his head enough to grab Angel’s earlobe with his teeth and tugged softly. “If you can still think, I’m doing something wrong.” He started hammering, thighs plastered to Angel’s, biceps taut as he held himself in place. His dick was in the hottest, wettest, tightest grip, Angel squeezing him, working him. He thrust and thrust.