Can't Hide From Me

by Cordelia Kingsbridge

  “Charles,” Ángel said, and his voice had acquired the low, smoky quality that meant he was turned on. “A few bites of ice cream won’t ruin your body, you know.”

  “I don’t like cookie dough.” Charles turned his head anyway, heart pounding as he met Ángel’s dark eyes. He opened his mouth for the spoonful Ángel offered him and swallowed it down.

  Ángel licked his own lips, gazing at Charles’s mouth. He was sitting way too close, kneeling on the couch with both knees pressed against Charles’s thigh. Charles could hear each one of his heavy breaths.

  Ángel spooned up more ice cream, started for Charles’s mouth—and flipped the spoon over halfway, dropping the ice cream onto Charles’s chest. Charles jumped at the sudden shock of cold.

  “Oops,” Ángel said.

  Charles could no longer keep his hands off Ángel. He stroked Ángel’s hip, then snagged the waistband of Ángel’s jeans. “If you wanted me to take my shirt off, you could have just asked. You didn’t have to ruin it.”

  “It’s not ruined. That’ll come right off.” Ángel smirked. “I’m sorry, did I say off? Obviously I meant out.”

  Charles laughed; he couldn’t help himself, and the delighted smile he got in return was well worth it. “Obviously,” he said. He stripped out of his shirt, tossed it aside, and leaned back, letting Ángel ogle him.

  Ángel fed Charles more ice cream, then dropped another spoonful onto his bare chest. This time, Charles was prepared, and he held himself still as the cold liquid slid down his skin. He wasn’t prepared for Ángel’s hot, sinful mouth to follow, licking along the path the ice cream had taken until he found Charles’s nipple and sucked hard. Charles groaned aloud at the slight nip of Ángel’s teeth.

  “C’mere,” Charles said, hooking his fingers under Ángel’s chin. He pulled Ángel upright and into the kiss he’d been wanting to seize all evening.

  Ángel swung his leg over Charles’s thighs, settling on Charles’s lap and deepening the kiss, pushing Charles hard against the back of the couch. He braced one hand on Charles’s shoulder, the other still holding the ice cream carton. Charles yanked open the fly of Ángel’s jeans and shoved his own hands down the back to grab Ángel’s ass and help him grind their cocks together.

  They were both flushed and panting when they came up for air, Ángel appearing as dazed as Charles felt. Ángel sat back on Charles’s thighs and looked at his groin.

  “Don’t even think about getting ice cream on these jeans,” Charles said.

  “Get your cock out, then.”

  Charles opened his jeans, then shifted around and tugged them down far enough to free his balls as well as his cock. He was aching, standing at full attention, his cock straining toward Ángel like it knew who was responsible for its current state.

  Though Charles braced himself, he hissed through his teeth and clutched at the couch for support when Ángel dripped ice cream onto his cock. For a few seconds, Ángel watched with a half-open mouth as the ice cream trickled down Charles’s shaft; then he slid back and knelt between Charles’s legs. He set the carton on the floor, got rid of his own shirt, and bent his head, lapping up all of the ice cream before he took Charles’s cock into his mouth and let it glide right into his throat.

  “God, that feels good.” Charles threaded his fingers through Ángel’s silky hair and closed his eyes.

  Ángel was so fucking good at this, every bit as enthusiastic as he was skilled. He alternated between fast, shallow sucking and deep, slow strokes that brought his mouth all the way to where his hand gripped tight at the base of Charles’s cock, working Charles into a fever pitch in no time. Charles was moments away from blowing his load when his cell phone rang, startling them both.

  “Fuck,” he said, fumbling for his phone and glancing at the caller ID. “It’s Eva. If I don’t answer, she’s gonna get suspicious.”

  Ángel pulled back. “Take it.”

  Grimacing in discomfort, Charles swiped his thumb across the screen and lifted the phone to his ear. “Hey, what’s— Fuck!”

  Ángel’s mouth was back around him, wet and tight and searing hot, his head bobbing in Charles’s lap without a care in the world.

  “Shit, sorry, Eva, hang on a second.” Charles pressed the Mute button, glaring down at Ángel. “What the hell are you doing? If she figures out what’s going on—”

  With a slick pop, Ángel slid off Charles’s cock, though he continued lazily stroking him with one hand. “How would she? Can’t you control yourself?”

  Oh, so that was how it was? Charles’s blood fired up at the challenge. “You think you’re that good of a cocksucker, huh?”

  Ángel flicked his tongue against the tip of Charles’s cock, grinning when Charles’s hips twitched. “I know I’m that good of a cocksucker.”

  Charles’s eyes narrowed. Holding Ángel’s gaze, he picked up his phone, unmuted it, and said, “Sorry, Eva, I dropped something heavy on my foot.”

  Ángel’s grin widened in the moments before he descended on Charles’s cock once more.

  “Are you okay?” Eva asked.

  “I’m fine.” Charles gritted his teeth against the hitch in his breath when Ángel’s tongue dragged along the underside of his shaft. “What’s up?”

  “I’m just calling to check in,” she said. “The cops in custody of Buzz gave us an update—he came through his surgery fine and he’s recovering well, but with all the painkillers he’s on right now, it would be too easy for a lawyer to challenge any statement he made.”

  “Buzz is too doped up to be questioned tonight,” Charles said to Ángel.

  Ángel rolled his eyes. His mouth was still stuffed with Charles’s cock, his full, pretty lips stretched wide. As he took Charles deeper into his throat, his eyes fluttered shut, long lashes sweeping his flushed cheeks. He moaned softly around his mouthful.

  “. . . hear me?” Eva was saying, sounding irritated. “Charles.”

  “Uh, sorry, what?”

  “We’re going to send someone out to interrogate him tomorrow morning. I was thinking Buzz would respond best to Shane.”

  “Yeah, sounds like a plan.” Charles stared down at his lap, watching Ángel going to town. He enjoyed giving head himself, but Ángel turned it into performance art, fucking his mouth on Charles’s cock and moaning and squirming around like he’d never had it so good.

  “You sure you’re okay? You sound out of breath.”

  Coming up for air, Ángel met Charles’s eyes and nursed languidly at the head of his cock. His mouth was already swollen, glistening with saliva and a bit of Charles’s pre-come.

  Charles clawed his free hand around the edge of the couch to keep from reaching for Ángel’s head. He looked away, training his eyes on the far wall—there was no rule that said he had to watch.

  “I bruised my foot up pretty bad,” he said into the phone. “I’ll ice it in a minute. Was there anything else?”

  Eva paused, then said, “The other Jackals in custody have been spilling some good stuff, trying to cut themselves deals all over the place. We’re going to be knocking down some doors tomorrow—I may need you to come in.”

  “That’s fine. Just let me know.”

  Ángel’s hand snuck between Charles’s legs, caressing his balls while he sucked hard on Charles’s shaft. Charles made a noise that was definitely not a whimper and clapped one hand over his eyes, struggling for control.

  “How’s Ángel doing?” said Eva.

  So good, Charles thought nonsensically. He lowered his hand, his attention drawn helplessly back to the sight of his cock sliding in and out of Ángel’s mouth. “He’s, um . . . he could handle a lot more than this before he’d give up.”

  Ángel’s choked laugh reverberated through Charles’s cock and balls. Charles slapped his free hand against the couch cushions and hunched over, breathing through it.

  “Okay,” Eva said. “I’m not going to ask anything else, because I know you’re not the kind of man who would have sex with som
eone who just experienced a loss in one of the most traumatic ways possible and is under the stress of being stalked by a psychotic murderer who likes to paint with blood. Right?”

  Charles winced. “Right.”

  “I’ll call in the morning and let you know what’s going on. Tell Ángel I said hi.”

  “I will. Have a good night.” Charles hung up and dropped the phone on the end table; the second his hands were free, they landed on Ángel’s shoulders, stroking his bare skin. “Eva says hello.”

  “Mmm.” Ángel lifted his head. “You held it together better than I expected. I’m impressed.”

  His voice was so hoarse. It was all low and scratchy because he’d had Charles’s cock in his throat, and God, Charles had to get back in there.

  Cupping Ángel’s head with one hand, Charles guided him to his cock, but Ángel turned his face at the last second so the tip skated over his cheek instead. Charles groaned.

  “I’d rather have you finish inside me,” Ángel said.

  Charles’s balls throbbed at the thought of the time it would take to prep Ángel and get him caught up to where Charles was.

  “I’ll never last that long,” Charles said. He smoothed his hand down to the nape of Ángel’s neck and rubbed his muscles, eliciting a pleased hum. “Can’t we finish like this?”

  Ángel tilted his head back against Charles’s massaging hand. “What’s in it for me?”

  “I’ll do you afterward.”

  “You won’t be too tired?” Ángel said dubiously.

  Charles glared at him. “That happened one time.”

  “Three times.”

  Despite his show of reluctance, Ángel pressed a line of kisses to the side of Charles’s shaft, working his way down. He could be convinced, but Charles would have to offer him something he wanted more than a blowjob, something to make up for not being fucked.

  Ángel rubbed the head of Charles’s cock back and forth over his lower lip. Charles’s jaw went slack as he watched.

  “I’ll eat you out,” Charles said.

  “Really,” said Ángel, sitting back on his heels.

  “Really.” It was a tempting offer, Charles knew; he’d always had to be talked into rimming Ángel before.

  “Without a dental dam?”

  “Yes.” Charles took hold of Ángel’s head with both hands but didn’t pull. “Now will you get your mouth back on my cock?”

  “That’s not very nice, Charles,” Ángel said, his mild scolding tone going straight to Charles’s balls.

  “I’m sorry,” Charles said, light-headed. “Please.”

  Ángel lowered his head until Charles’s cock was grazing his lips. “Please what?”

  “Please suck my cock.”

  Ángel swallowed him down, and Charles moaned in relief.

  He gave a small, experimental thrust of his hips; when Ángel didn’t object, Charles thrust harder, fucking up into Ángel’s mouth. Ángel took it like a champion, bracing his hands on Charles’s thighs, shifting himself into a better position for having his throat fucked.

  “Oh God,” Charles said. He tugged gently on Ángel’s head in time with his pumping hips, taking complete control of the blowjob.

  Ángel relaxed into it. Reaching into his open jeans, he pulled his cock out of his underwear and stroked himself while Charles used his mouth.

  “Such a gorgeous fucking cocksucker,” said Charles, mesmerized. “Take a little more for me.”

  Though Ángel was right at his limits, gagging a little on every deep thrust, he never backed off. It was Charles who couldn’t sustain that rough pace for long, urging Ángel’s face up and out of his lap.

  “I’m gonna come,” he said.

  Ángel climbed up onto Charles’s lap again, straddling his legs and jerking him off. Charles clutched Ángel’s thighs, pleasure spiraling tighter and tighter, and watched Ángel’s hand flying on his wet, swollen cock.

  At this angle, Charles was going to shoot all over Ángel’s stomach when he came. Back in Tucson, Ángel had allowed Charles to give him a comeshot every so often, but Charles would have thought that privilege had been revoked.

  “I’ll come on you like this,” Charles said, as if Ángel could have failed to notice.

  “Yeah, you’re gonna blow your load all over me.” Ángel’s own cock bobbed between them, knocking against Charles’s.

  “I’d rather come on your face,” Charles said with raw honesty.

  “I’m sure you would.” Ángel leaned forward, brushing the head of Charles’s cock against the hard muscles of his abdomen, his hand speeding up even more. “I’ll tell you what. If you’re a good boy when you’re eating me out, I’ll let you come on my face next time—”

  Charles came with a strangled groan, his back bowing away from the couch. His hips jerked with every pulse as he painted Ángel’s skin. Ángel coaxed out a few last drops, his hand lingering near the head of Charles’s cock.

  Only then did Charles realize they didn’t have anything at hand to clean up the mess. He made a feeble attempt to get up, but Ángel pushed him back down and swung himself off Charles’s lap.

  “I’ll be right back,” Ángel said, and headed for the kitchen. He returned a minute later, scrubbing his stomach with a damp dishcloth, his hard cock still hanging out of his jeans.

  Ángel tossed the cloth to Charles, who wiped himself down before hitching his pants and underwear back up. He zipped his jeans as he watched Ángel do the exact opposite, stripping out of the rest of his clothes until he stood buck naked in Charles’s living room.

  Charles slid off the couch and knelt in front of Ángel. Smoothing his hands up Ángel’s thighs, he nuzzled the crease of Ángel’s hip, breathing him in. Then he licked a broad stripe up the side of Ángel’s cock and sucked it into his mouth, bobbing his head, reacquainting himself with the taste and texture.

  Ángel’s nails scritched along his scalp. “This isn’t what you promised,” he said, though he seemed disinclined to stop him.

  Ignoring him for the moment, Charles continued sucking his cock, kneading Ángel’s ass cheeks with both hands. He hadn’t given head since—well, since the last time he’d done it for Ángel, over two years ago. He was out of practice, unable to take as much as he remembered.

  Pulling off, Charles said, “Get on the couch.”

  Ángel arranged himself on the couch with his arms propped on the back, his knees spread wide and his back arched to present his ass. Charles knelt behind him and admired the picture he made, those firm round cheeks parted just enough to give him a good look at Ángel’s hole.

  Ángel had been the first lover, male or female, who had been able to convince Charles to rim him. Charles had been so unenthusiastic that first time, assuming he would hate it, thinking he was doing Ángel some enormous favor—and then had been so embarrassed by how much he enjoyed it that he’d still been reluctant to repeat the experience afterward.

  Charles massaged Ángel’s ass, indulging himself in the give of the supple flesh, then parted Ángel’s cheeks farther, using his thumbs to spread the rim just a bit. He worked up a mouthful of saliva and spat right onto Ángel’s hole; Ángel’s entire body jerked in response.

  “Fuck, I love it when you do that,” Ángel said.

  “Really?” Charles said, surprised.

  “It’s so fucking dirty.”

  “Well, I have to get you wet,” Charles said, and then smirked at the shudder that ran down Ángel’s back.

  Holding Ángel open, he leaned forward and kissed him gently, his breath gusting against Ángel’s skin. His lips traveled down to Ángel’s balls and back up, soft and clinging. By the time he returned to kissing Ángel’s hole, Ángel’s thighs were quivering.

  “Charles,” he said.

  “What, you don’t like this?” Charles asked, all innocence.

  “Use your tongue!”

  Throwing his earlier words back at him, Charles said, “That’s not very nice, Ángel.”

  Ángel t
wisted around to glare at Charles over his shoulder. He looked so sexy scowling, with his ass still up in the air, that Charles couldn’t resist sinking his teeth into one lush ass cheek. Gasping, Ángel dropped his head to his arms.

  Charles soothed the bite mark with his tongue and gave Ángel what he wanted, licking along his perineum and over his hole. With a firm grip on Ángel’s ass, Charles shifted into a more comfortable position on his knees and settled in for a good, long rimjob.

  Ángel wasn’t shy about being eaten out—he rocked back and forth, pushing his ass against Charles’s face, urging him on with filthy encouragement. Charles savored every grunt and groan, every shaking muscle as his exploring tongue pushed Ángel closer to the point of incoherence.

  When Charles worked his tongue into Ángel’s hole, Ángel moaned loud enough to echo off the walls and said, “Yeah, fuck me with your tongue, come on—”

  Charles plunged his tongue in and out, getting as deep as he could; he pulled back for a moment, lapping around Ángel’s hole while he rested his aching jaw, then dove back in. Ángel came undone underneath the attention, squirming around and scrabbling at the back of the couch. His cock dripped pre-come all over the upholstery.

  Charles made to give Ángel a reach-around, but Ángel pushed his hand away. “You’re not coordinated enough to do both,” said Ángel. “Just focus on my ass.”

  Rolling his eyes, Charles smacked said ass in reproof. Ángel yelped and arched his back, just about begging for more—so Charles gave it to him, slapping both cheeks pink before he got back to work. This time, Ángel jerked himself off while Charles cored him open on his tongue.

  “I need . . . I need more inside me,” Ángel said, sounding wrecked.

  His hole was slack and relaxed, drenched with Charles’s saliva. One finger should be fine, maybe two, but that was as far as Charles would go without real lube. He slid one finger in up to the third knuckle and was greeted with a deep-throated groan.