by Taylor Law
“Yeah, sure. I can take care of that for you—get you a few things. If you are going to help me, I will owe you huge. So, no problem.” Brandon had hope in his eyes, and that combined with his kindness, caused Samael’s throat to swell.
“Right.” He smacked his hands on his thighs and stood. “Well, let us get some sleep, so that we will have our strength for tomorrow.”
“Oh…umm …yeah.” Brandon looked down, flipped his hair into his face, and got up. “Why don’t you take my bed, in there?” He pointed at the door next to the bathroom. “I’ll take the couch; cause there is no way you’re gonna fit on this thing.” The man was grinning and that sparkle was back. Samael inspected the small piece of furniture he’d been sitting on. No. Bent in half, he still would not be able to lay on it.
He glanced back at his rescuer. “Thank you. For everything.”
Brandon blushed and his ears turned almost purple. And there was that hair flick again, hiding the man from his gaze. So endearing. “You’re welcome.”
Samael moved to his assigned room, and opened the door. It was well lived in. The bed rumpled, a pair of black jeans and matching shirt thrown over the footboard, random things spewed across the dresser top. There were a few posters on the walls. An alarm clock and empty glass on one of the bedside tables, along with a bottle of some clear fluid that he did not recognize. Brandon came in behind him, flushing; he snatched the bottle, and pushed it into a drawer as quickly as possible.
“Sorry. It’s a bit messy in here.” The man was looking everywhere, but at him.
Hmmm. Wonder what that was about? “It’s fine.”
“Okay, lemme just grab a pillow and sheet, and I’ll be out of your way.” Brandon, loaded the items into his arms and headed back to the living room with a soft, “Nite.”
As the door closed behind him, Samael just stared at it. “Good night, Little Raven.”
****
Chapter 3
Brandon had a difficult time falling to sleep; he stayed in a semi-doze world, where his mind could still twist and turn over the problems that he needed solutions for. He couldn’t seem to turn down the noise enough to drift off. Finally, after hours of torture, he slept, only to dream a crazy mix of reality and fantasy. Sex with DJ Jammin’ who turned into Samael, only for them to be interrupted by Carlos and his goons, who then transformed into …angels?
He startled awake to a noise that couldn’t be placed in the dream, and sat up drenched in sweat. What the fuck?! Removing the sheet, and swinging his legs until his feet touched the floor, he glanced around the room trying to remember where he was. Couch. Company. Right. He scrubbed his face with both hands, pushing back his hair; then jumped when a shout came from his bedroom, startling him. Bran stilled and listened hard, hearing the bed springs squeak and rustling noise, followed by a loud “No.”
The normal internal struggle started. Should I stay or should I go? Would he want me to help? Would he hurt me if I tried? Finally, he decided that he would want someone to wake him up and be there for him if he was stuck in a nightmare. Gathering his courage, he stood and carefully maneuvered his way to the room.
Samael was tossing and turning, groaning and murmuring nonsense. Bran put a hand on the arm closest to him and shook it gently. “Hey, Sammy. Hey, wake up.”
Then déjà vu’, he was on his back and the heavy weight of Sam was on top of him.
“Whoa, it’s ok. It’s just me.” He tried to look up into the man’s face, but it was too dark to see much except shadows. “It’s Brandon…remember, you’re in my house. I got you out of the alley?” He was rambling, but he didn’t know if the guy would recognize him or instead pummel him in his half-awake state.
“Brandon?” A gruff voice came out of the dark.
“Yeah, it’s me. You were having a bad dream, I think.”
Before he knew it, he was wrapped up in Sammy’s arms, with the man’s face wedged in his neck. “Hey, it’s alright.” He was patting the guy’s shoulder, stupidly, but he didn’t know what else to do.
“I dreamt…I dreamt…”
The big man blew out a hard breath and then continued in a whisper. “Half of it was real, and half was not, but all of it was bad.”
Bran had suspected that the man had gone through some rotten shit before he met him, but the verification of it had his chest hurting in sympathy. Maybe they could help each other.
“You want to tell me about it?
Samael shook the head still wedged in the crook of Brandon’s neck. “Just…stay with me.” It was a statement and a question rolled into one, and Bran could hear the vulnerability in it.
“Okay.” They each shifted until Sammy was spooning him. The strong arms around him drew him in close. Once his butt was wedged in just the right spot, Bran had second thoughts. How was he going to keep from getting hard this way? What would Samael say if he discovered it?
Almost immediately, the soft, steady breathing ruffling his hair put him at ease, and within a few minutes, he’d fallen into a nice, dreamless sleep.
****
Samael was warm, almost too much so, but he was comfortable and didn’t want to move. There was a delicious scent tickling his nose, and he felt absorbed into the mattress. He hadn’t slept that well in ages.
He squeezed his arms tight around the pillow he held, and the thing moved and let out a low groan. Frozen, he tried to remember what happened the previous night. It took him a moment, but he recalled the nightmare and Brandon coming into the room.
Last night, the only thing that had concerned him was keeping the man beside him safe. He had dreamt of his fall, of Gadreel finding him, and hurting Brandon. It was so vivid, and so horrifying, that he’d just wanted to stay together. Then, if something came at them, he could fight it. In the light of morning, however, it was somewhat strange…but not in a bad way.
Samael had never lain with a man before, neither in a sexual nor nonsexual context. It was not uncomfortable though. In fact, he found he liked it. Perhaps too much. There was a trembling in his lower stomach and his morning erection was trapped between the cheeks of Bran’s rear. Even with clothes on, it seemed to want to wedge itself there. Actually, it felt really good, especially when Brandon started to move. The friction was wonderful, and he didn’t want it to stop.
He thrust his hips, searching for more of that feeling. Bran moaned, murmuring something before pushing back on him. Oh, yes. Just right. Before he knew it, he was panting and wanting something he couldn’t explain.
It wasn’t that angels didn’t have sex. They married their mates, and had children, just the same as humans. However, no one had wanted him. As Death, others looked upon him with fear and revulsion, not lust. On the rare occasion he had need, he’d taken care of himself. But this. This felt different.
He changed the position of his hands to pull the body closer, to get more contact. Brandon’s cock bumped his arm; rock hard through his sleepwear. Brandon had come awake at some point, and groaned, “Don’t stop,” while dragging Sam’s hand further down, placing it on the warm erection. Feeling the damp spot on the front of the pants had Samael moaning again and he grunted out, “So good.”
He squeezed the bulge in his hand and rhythmically snapped his hips, loving what was happening inside of him. His balls tingled, and his need was growing stronger with every movement.
“Hold on a sec.” He growled low in his chest as Bran pulled away. With a chuckle, Brandon removed his clothing and grabbed that bottle of clear fluid out of the bedside drawer, before returning to his place. He reached behind him to tug Samael’s shorts down under his balls. Sam heard a snick, and then he was rubbing something onto his lower back and in his butt crack.
“Now.” Bran said, wiggling backwards.
When he’d taken up his post again and begun to move, Sam almost jumped out of his skin. The slick substance Bran had applied made movement easy and the friction was even more exquisite than before. Without the pants as a barrier, he was wedged betwee
n the lush cheeks completely, nearly surrounded by flesh. The sensations were amazing, building, doubling by the minute. He hissed his pleasure, thrusting into the warm crevice.
Brandon applied more of the goop to Sam’s hand, and again urged him downward. He wrapped his slippery fingers around the man’s cock and heard their moans in stereo.
“Oh God! Yes. Faster Sammy, faster.” But he couldn’t concentrate on moving his hand with the need that had enveloped him, so he let Brandon do that for him.
Bran was moving backwards against him, and then forward into his hand, over and over. Again and again. He’d never been this aroused before, so when he heard a gasping whimper, he lost all control.
Animal instinct. That was all that was left of him. There was no thought process left, only sensation. He pushed the man almost to his belly, with just enough room left for his arm to fit –because he couldn’t let go of that hot erection in his hand. Threw his knee over the man’s hip and thrust against him as hard and fast as he could, in turn pushing Bran more firmly into his fist. Yes. Yes. Yes. Chasing clouds. Chasing dreams. Chasing heaven.
Sweat was dripping off him and onto the body beneath, making everything slick. He licked Brandon’s neck, tasting him, smelling that compelling scent that had been in his nose earlier. He couldn’t say much, he was too overwhelmed to complete words. Nothing had ever been like this.
“Oh, God! Oh God, Samael please!” At the shouted plea, he tightened his fingers and nipped gently at Bran’s shoulder, while rubbing and pushing and pumping. He heard Brandon cry out and felt him spill onto the bed, penis pulsing and twitching in his hand. It was so unbelievably exciting, that he followed him into bliss.
****
Brandon’s bones were liquefied and he couldn’t move. Samael had collapsed on top of him, so he wasn’t going anywhere anyway, not even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. They lay there a few minutes, panting and recovering, until Sam finally rolled over onto his back.
“Well, that was…unexpected.”
Bran couldn’t help but laugh at the awe in the man’s voice. “Yeah, and a good morning to you too.”
He turned to admire his companion, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. Damn, what a sexy man.
Samael reclined on the pillow, one knee bent. His perfect uncut package rested on a thick, fuzzy thigh, still glistening with release. A big hand propped up on his forehead, bicep bulging, elbow pointed to the sky. Indigo eyes stared into space, and his mouth turned up in a strange half-smile. He looked like some sex god, all sated, relaxed … and amazed.
“I’ve never done anything like that before.” Sam looked at him and gave a smile full of wonder. “I never knew…”
Bran couldn’t say the same, but he hadn’t expected doing it this morning. After the man had gone all Crazy McHottie on him last night, he figured he would need to avoid him at all cost; but Sam had been so repentant, seemed so guilty for scaring him - quietly talking him down - he decided to give him another chance. All night, Samael had reached for him. If he turned in his sleep, before long, he was pulled back into a warm embrace again. It had been so long since he had felt anything like it. He’d greatly enjoyed the cuddles, and wasn’t scared anymore.
So, this morning when Sam had started humping his butt, his cock all hard and warm…well, come on. He was so hot, and Bran was only human after all.
Samael seemed to be searching Brandon’s face. He didn’t know what was on it, or what the guy saw, but all of a sudden, the wonder transformed into what looked like pain, affection, and something else that Bran couldn’t name, before he finally glanced away again.
“No one has ever looked at me like you do.” Sam’s voice was a heavy rasp.
“How do I look at you?” Bran whispered back. He knew he had a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve, and his face was very expressive. That was why he’d originally cut his hair so he could hide behind it. He hoped he wasn’t showing too much.
“With lust and affection, you look at me like you want me, Little Raven.”
Yep, he was showing too much. Crap! He knew it was too soon to feel anything for this man, but he did. It wasn’t the L-word, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it was something. The guy was perfect. If he could create his dream man, Samael would be it.
He had to nip it in the bud, wall it up, and hold back. He just wasn’t ready to put himself out there after what Chris had done to him. Already, he trusted Samael too much for his own good. If he allowed it, Sam could really hurt him.
Pull away. Put on the brakes.
“Come on.” Brandon sat up on the bed and threw his legs over the side. “You can’t tell me people don’t throw themselves at you. You’re smokin’. Definitely could be a model without even trying, just by walking down the street.”
As Bran was going to get up and leave the bed, he was pulled backward into a solid chest and warm breath tickled his ear. “No one but you, Little Raven.”
He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the ache in his chest. Shit, this was not good. “What does that mean? Little Raven?”
He felt the man smile into his neck. “It’s your name.”
“My name?”
Samael pulled back to grin at him. “Yes. In Gaelic, Brandon means Little Raven, among other things. I think it suits you.” Sam touched his black hair with gentle fingers and smoothed it back. Bran just lowered his chin and shook his head, forcing his bangs into place again, as he felt heat burning his cheeks.
Sam chuckled.
Time to change the subject!
Brandon moved away, and pulled his sleep pants back into place as he stood. “So…umm… I’m going to jump in the shower. I’ll make sure to leave you some hot water. Then we can get outta here and get you some stuff.” He roamed around the room, gathering fresh clothing, trying not to give away how uncomfortable and confused he was. For the duration, he was hyperaware of the fact that he was not alone in the room.
Not gonna look back, not gonna look back, not gonna look back, not gonna….shit!
Bran glanced at the bed, where Sam was watching him intently, eyebrows arched in question. He had to get out of there. He practically ran to the door. “Be right out.”
****
Chapter 4
Samael felt ridiculous. He was still clothed in the snug shorts from the night before, paired with a black t-shirt so tight, that if he raised his arm to scratch his nose, he heard it tear. Even with his arms down, a line of his stomach showed, because the damn thing wasn’t long enough to cover him completely.
If that wasn’t enough to spark his embarrassment to an all-time high, he was wearing sandals that Bran had called ‘flip flops’, which covered slightly more than half of the bottom of his foot. The ridiculous shoes cut into his arch every time he took a step. Which meant he had to hobble instead of walk.
He felt like a giant wearing midget’s clothes.
Brandon had insisted he wear them though, saying most stores had a policy that their customers must have on a shirt and shoes. There was no other option either. They’d spent over an hour going through everything the man owned, and this was the only thing that worked. If one could call it that.
At one point, Samael was ready to turn the sheets into a toga, but Bran wouldn’t allow it.
At least Brandon looked better. In fact he was far too cheerful, snickering and snorting every time he glanced Sam’s way, trying to rein in his amusement but failing, miserably. He had laughed so hard when Samael had come out of the bathroom in his borrowed attire, there were tears rolling down his face and he was nearly blue from not being able to breathe.
It took him a full ten minutes to be able to talk.
Bastard!
Samael was glad to see the color back in Brandon’s cheeks though. Before he’d left the bedroom for the shower, he’d paled considerably and his eyes had widened with fear. One minute Bran was looking at him as if he was an oasis in the desert. The next, he was afraid, and wearing the same expression, Sam ha
d seen too many times, on too many faces. There was no way to know what set him off. So much was going on; it could be any of it. They were basically strangers to each other, but Samael couldn’t help but feel a connection to him.
Maybe it was because he’d lost everything. Maybe because, no one had really ever seen him before. All he knew was being with Brandon felt right, and he did not want to see the man ever look at him that way again.
As they approached the department store, Bran turned to open the door for him and lost it again. Samael was a few steps behind, and knew he probably resembled a penguin, or a black duck. Arms plastered to his side as he waddled forward, shuffling his feet to keep the stupid shoes from falling off. He could feel the shorts wedged into the crack of his ass too, so he knew the way he was moving was creating that ‘very fashionable look’ of raising just the inside of the shorts, making the hem fall at an angle, while the crotch bunched up. Lovely!
Sam glared at Bran, but he was hunched over holding his stomach, so he didn’t see. “Hardy, har, har,” he said dryly.
“Sorry. I’m so…” Bran looked up at him only to break down into fits of hysteria again. This had the great benefit of bringing his humiliation to the forefront of anyone in the area. Heads swinging. People pointing. Everyone trying to see what had someone roaring with laughter so hard they were wheezing.
Maybe he should take a bow.
“I am sooo going to get you back for this.” Samael grumbled. “I have a long memory. I promise, someday your time will come.” But he was trying to hold back his own amusement at the situation, and knew his lips were twitching with the effort.
“I really am sorry.” Brandon said in a squeak, trying to calm himself. “I can’t help it. You’re so hot, and that makes it so much worse.” He quieted for a few breaths, wiping his eyes, but before long, he let out a bark of laughter once again. “I keep waiting for you to break into song, and start waving your hands around your head, showing your whole stomach to the world. Maybe we should’ve tied a knot in the front of the shirt, under your chest.” The last few words were almost unintelligible through the chuckling.
