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Just Call Me Angel . . . Chapter 1 2 3 5 6 Home
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Chapter Four
Xander bounded out of his truck with a decidedly Tigger-like bounce. All was right with his world.Forrest and Graham were sort of huddled around the coffee pot. Ry straddled the bench of the picnic table on which the coffee pot had pride of place, keeping a wary eye on them. Xander bounced over to draw a cup for himself. Not that he needed caffeine—he felt wonderful.
Xander draped his arms around both their necks. “And how are you guys on this fine, beautiful morning? The sky is blue, the air is clear . . .”
Xander drew a deep breath into his lungs in appreciation. Graham moaned and Forrest glared at him. Forrest's skin had an interesting shade of olive-green undertone. He must have really tied one on last night. Xander felt a tiny flash of guilt that he'd left Ry to cope on his own, which was quickly drowned out by joy that he'd left when he did.
He pinched Forrest's cheek. “Feelin' a tad hung over, Forrest? You're lookin' sorta green around the gills.”
Forrest shot him a purely-evil-if-looks-could-kill Glare of Doom, downed the rest of his black coffee, turned even greener, and rushed for the job johnny.
Ry shook his head and made a tsk-tsk noise, but Xander noticed Ry was making a real effort to keep from laughing.
Graham looked at him with puppy-dog eyes. “That weren't very nice, Xan. Forrest's feelin' indisposed this mornin'.”
Xander grinned. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but he didn't feel sorry in the least.
Forrest staggered back to the group and pulled another cup of coffee. “What's up with you, Mary Poppins?” he growled at Xander.
Graham said, in what passed for a whisper in his own mind, “Don't mind Forrest, Xan. He's just pissed 'cause he didn't get laid last night, on account of Ry took his keys and wouldn't let him drive Sandy home.”
“Can you say that any louder, Graham?” Forrest asked. “I don't think the whole crew quite heard ya that time.”
“What?” Graham looked puzzled.
“That's right! Forrest didn't get laid!” Forrest proclaimed, and then his eyes narrowed as he stared at Xander. “But it looks like someone did!”
Three sets of eyes focused on Xander. Riley looked worried, Forrest looked like he was spoiling for a fight and Graham just looked confused.
Careful!
“Sure did,” Xander said, lifting his hand and wiggling his fingers. “Five-fingered lay—it's always handy!”
That diffused the tension and everybody laughed. It was even the truth. He just hadn't specified whose hand.
The air horn signaled the start of the work day, and Forrest clapped his hands over his ears and groaned. Xander gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and started for his station, jauntily twirling his hammer and whistling Hi,ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go . . .
Riley snickered. Graham just looked confused. Xander hummed as he placed nails and hammered them home.
The work day seemed to fly by in a glow of happiness for Xander. He finished his section in record time, and since he couldn't do any more until he got more drywall, he'd normally have taken a break. But he thought back to all the days after the break-up with Ahn, when he'd barely been able to function through a haze of alcohol and Mondays meant perpetual hangovers, and he decided to give Forrest a hand.
Forrest was sweating profusely and looked miserable. Xander gave a twitch of his head in the direction of the water cooler.
“You wanna keep hydrated, 'specially in this heat.”
Forrest nodded and went to get a drink. He looked a little better when he returned, and he nodded his thanks to Xander. With both of them working, it didn't take too long to get Forrest caught up.
Xander saw the forklift heading toward his work area. “Well, gotta go. There's my drywall.”
Forrest nodded. “Thanks, man. Sorry I was rough on ya earlier.”
Xander touched Forrest's shoulder. “Don't worry about it. We all been there at one time or another.”
He hurried back to his station, breaking into a big grin as he saw Angel unloading his drywall.
Angel looked up. “Got any plans for tonight?”
Xander raised an eyebrow. “I don't know. Do I have plans for tonight?”
“Yep.”
“Then I guess I do. Do I happen to know what they are?”
Angel gave a brief laugh. “Pack a lunch. I'll pick you up at 6:30.”
Xander grinned. “Okay. Uh . . . what should I wear?”
Angel stared incredulously. “Do I look like Calvin Klein to you? How should I know? Wear what you usually wear.” He shook his head, but his lips twitched and there was an amused glint in his eyes. “Sometimes you can be so weird.”
“Well, since I don't know yet where we're goin' . . .” Xander hinted.
Angel shook his head. “Uh-uh. It's a surprise. Guess you'll just have to wait 'til we get there. Oh, and bring a jacket. Leather, if you got it.”
Angel vaulted back into the forklift and chugged away.
Damn! The time that had seemed to fly by earlier, slowed down to a trickle of individual minutes now that Xander couldn't wait for the day to be over. He had an actual date! With Angel! And he was supposed to wear leather.
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Xander hurried home, twisting the dial of the radio to find something that matched his mood. Country was his music, but it was also the music of pain, and he was too happy and too excited for pain right now. He found an eclectic Oldies station and sang along to Walkin' on Sunshine, moved his head in time with Wouldn't it Be Nice, and joined Richie Sambora in the wa-was of It's my Life, while pounding the steering wheel in time with the beat. He was just making the turn into his driveway when Earth Angel came on. Xander stopped the truck and grabbed his hairbrush from the passenger's visor to use as a microphone as he crooned along with the Penguins.“Earth Angel, Earth Angel, will you be mine? My darling dear, love you all the time.
I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you. Earth Angel, Earth Angel, the one I adore. Love you forever, and ever more. I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you-u-u-u-u-u-u-u.”He drew out the you as long as he could, because he didn't know the words to the rest of the song, and then flushed with embarrassment. Glad I don't have any near neighbors, he thought, as he hurried into the house.
Xander threw his work stuff on the counter and then searched the fridge for something to pack. He had no idea where they were going, so he thought he'd better pack stuff that didn't need refrigeration 'cause his cooler was pretty big. He finally settled on that old standby, PB&J. Can't go wrong with the classics. He couldn't remember if Angel wanted him to pack for both of them, so he figured better safe than sorry. He made six sandwiches and added four apples to the brown paper bag. Xander leaned on the refrigerator door, debating between beer and soda, finally choosing the more portable Capri Sun packets. At the last minute, he threw in a couple of cereal and milk bars and a package of beef jerky. He surveyed his bagged lunch with satisfaction. Yep. He had all the bases covered.
Xander jumped into the shower, and then carefully shaved with his 3-blade safety razor. He figured this was their first real 'date' and he wanted to look good. He splashed on the trusty Stetson and glanced at the clock. Ohmigod! Angel would be here in ten minutes! He'd better get his ass in gear and find something to wear. Just like with the sandwiches, you can't go wrong with the classics, he decided. Xander quickly pulled on a white 'beater, clean jeans and his every-day cowboy boots. He added a plaid flannel shirt and grabbed his vintage WWII brown leather bomber jacket and his tan Stetson. He was as ready as he was gonna get.
Xander started to pace. Everything was accomplished, and now all he had to do was wait for Angel. Butterflies flapped frantically in his stomach, his heart rate sped up and his palms began to sweat. He suddenly felt very nervous. Was he dressed okay? What if Angel didn't show? What if he did come over just to say this had all been a big mistake? What if . . .
No! That wasn't gonna happen. Something that felt this right couldn't be a mistake. It just couldn't! Angel was interested in him—he knew it! But, he wished he knew where they were going. He'd feel a lot more comfortable if—
The roar of Angel's Indian was audible and his heart started doing flip-flops as he breathed a sigh of relief. He opened the door and stepped out on the porch slab, as Angel turned into his driveway with a spray of gravel.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
Angel looked him up and down. “See you managed to dress yourself.” The corner of his mouth twitched.
Xander laughed. “Yep. Managed to get my clothes on all by myself.” What the hell . . . go for it! “I just might need a little help takin' 'em off, though.”
Angel choked, and his fingers tightened on the handlebars. Xander grinned. It was a heady feeling, discovering that he had the same effect on Angel that Angel had on him.
“You'll need to lose the hat, though.” Angel tossed him the motorcycle helmet that had been resting on the back of the bike.
“Where's yours?”
“That is mine.”
“If I wear your helmet, what're you gonna wear?”
“It's okay. I usually don't wear it at all. I been ridin' a long time but you haven't, and if anything happens, I don't want your head splittin' open like a ripe melon if it hits the road.”
Xander shook his head. “No matter how long it's been, your head would do the same melony thing, and I kinda like it just the way it is.” Xander tossed the helmet back. “Put it on. I'll be right back.”
He unlocked the door and tossed his Stetson on the kitchen counter, next to his tool belt, then hurried to the storage room where he dug around for his old football helmet. Xander grinned, remembering the last game, Senior year. Ry was the quarterback and he'd played wide receiver. Ry had thrown a long pass that had seemed to hone in on his hands as if it had radar. He'd caught it and ran, and he'd felt like a knife slicing through butter. Nobody could touch him, and he'd scored the touchdown to win the Championship. He and Ry had liberated their helmets after the game and the coach had never said a word, although he'd have to have known they were gone when he did the equipment count.
Aha! Xander triumphantly grabbed the maroon helmet with the gold razorback boar on the side, and hurried out.
Angel was still holding the black and silver motorcycle helmet. Xander flourished the football helmet.
“Put it on, you big wuss. Afraid you'll get helmet hair? See? I got my own.”
Angel looked at him with a flash of something in his eyes that Xander couldn't interpret.
“Y'know,” Angel's voice was low and soft. “I've taken various people on the bike over the years an' I've always given them the helmet and not once has anyone worried about my safety. Until you.”
Xander felt warmth spread through his insides at Angel's words. He shoved the football helmet on his head and picked up the bag containing the lunch he'd packed. Angel put on his own helmet, and then turned in the seat to unbuckle the saddlebag. Xander put the lunch in the saddlebag and buckled it. He threw a leg over the bike and gasped as his cock rubbed up against Angel's ass. He slowly slid his arms around Angel's waist, his hands taking the time to explore Angel's ribs. He felt Angel's abdominal muscles tighten and his thumbs stroked the ridges of Angel's abs.
Xander leaned forward and rested his chin on Angel's shoulder. “Ready to go?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Angel pushed off with his left leg and the bike twisted in a tight circle, spraying gravel, and then it straightened out and they were on the open road.
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They had been riding for almost an hour and were approaching the Guadalupe foothills, when Angel turned off the two-lane road they had been following. Angel guided the bike onto a dirt road that soon became little more than a track. Xander clutched Angel tighter; the bike bumped over the rough ground and Angel swerved frequently in an attempt to miss the worst ruts.Xander had initially thought by going commando, for only the second time in his life, he was making a daring statement. That fashion statement was about to bite him in the ass. The throbbing vibrations of the bike between his legs and the proximity of his hard-on to Angel's ass were becoming a major problem. If he didn't get off this bike soon, he was going to relive an embarrassing nadir in his personal history that occurred at age 13 when a really hot substitute showed up in English class. And, okay, thoughts of the substitute—who strongly resembled Pamela Anderson—were not helping!
“Mrs. Murdock, Mrs. Murdock, Mrs. Murdock,” Xander chanted under his breath, forming the image of his regular English teacher in his mind. Mrs. Murdock was over 60—bearing a stronger resemblance to Hans Christian than to Pamela—with steel gray hair scraped back in a bun, and a ruler that may have been an actual appendage to her hand. Xander couldn't remember ever seeing her without it. She'd slap her palm with the ruler to accentuate her points when she was talking, and she'd walk up and down the rows and smack you on the head with it if you weren't working up to her standards. Xander was glad he'd always had thick hair, as he'd frequently failed to meet Mrs. Murdock's standards. Not like Ry, who was definitely Mrs. Murdock's pet. Riley'd get gentle taps on the shoulder with the ruler to show he was doing a good job.
Xander never imagined he'd feel grateful to Mrs. Murdock, but she'd really come through for him this time. Regaining control of himself, Xander looked around and discovered they were already in the foothills. Two minutes later, Angel brought the bike to a stop, using his left foot to complete the braking. He cut the engine, and silence surrounded them, broken only by the tick-tick sound as the motor cooled down.
Xander scrambled off the bike, but Angel dismounted with the grace of a dancer, pulling off his helmet and running his hand through his hair.
“We're here,” he announced, as he bent to unbuckle the saddlebags. He handed Xander the lunch bag. Angel took a rolled sleeping bag and a large flashlight from the other saddlebag and held out a hand to Xander. “Come on.”
Xander took the proffered hand and Angel pulled him in the direction of a path meandering up the rocky outcrop in front of them.
“Okay, I get that we're 'here', but where exactly is 'here'?” Xander asked as they started up the path.
“Remember when you showed me your special, secret place when we went fishin'?” Angel asked.
Xander nodded.
“Well, this is mine, and I wanted to share it with you.”
Xander felt a lump forming in his throat and swallowed hard.
The path wasn't too steep and the surface was climbable without too much difficulty, so Xander was surprised by how high they'd actually ascended when he reached the top and looked around. The top of the outcropping was fairly level, with the exception of a sheer rock face that rose another 12 feet above their heads.
“C'mon,” Angel urged, leading Xander around to the other side of the rock wall. Xander caught his breath. A large, shallow depression, shaded by the upthrust rock was apparently a repository for the infrequent rainfall, because instead of barren rock, he saw a thick, springy carpet of moss, studded with delicate, fragrant, white star-shaped flowers. Angel was pulling his boots off, so Xander did the same. Stepping onto that moss carpet made his feet happy and he wiggled his toes, gripping the moss and releasing a clean, earthy scent, overlaid with fresh floral tones.
“This . . . it's . . .” Xander sputtered. “It's like Faerieland. It's beautiful!”
A slow smile brightened Angel's face.
Xander gripped Angel's shoulders and leaned closer to kiss him lightly in appreciation.
“Thank you for bringing me here. It's very special.”
Angel cupped the side of Xander's face with his hand. “I hoped you'd see it like I do.”
Xander's eyes darkened with desire and he leaned forward to kiss Angel again, when a loud rumbling-gurgling sound broke the quiet of the evening.
“Oops.” Xander flushed with embarrassment. “Guess it's past my dinner time.”
Angel laughed. “Then I guess we better eat. A 'growling' boy like you needs to keep his strength up!”
They sat on the springy moss, leaning their backs against the wall of rock and Xander reached for the bag of food. The moon rose as they ate, and the sky turned from blue to lavender. The sun gradually set behind the Guadalupe Mountains with a swan song of technicolor brilliance. Xander thought he had never seen anything more beautiful—until he looked at Angel's profile, standing out in dark relief against the softly fading colors of the sky.
He reached out a tentative hand and traced the contours of Angel's face. There was no softness in the lines of that profile, from the craggy forehead to the strong nose, firm lips and well-formed chin. This was not a face that should ever be captured in bronze or the smoothness of marble—this face needed rough-hewn granite to do it justice. Xander wished desperately that he had the talent to sculpt. He could see it so clearly in his mind's eye. His fingers traced the taut throat, the bump of the Adam's apple, and then came to rest in the hollow between the collarbones.
“You're beautiful,” he whispered in awe. He heard Angel suck in a quick breath in surprise at his words.
“Been called a lot of things in my life, but I can't say 'beautiful' was ever one of them.”
“You are,” Xander insisted. “'Handsome' is like something man-made. You know, like 'that's a handsome leather coat' or a 'handsome set of shelves'. This rock . . . these mountains . . . the sky . . . they're not 'handsome', they're 'beautiful'. And you are, too.”
Angel turned to face him, and then they were kissing. There was nothing frantic about this kiss. They had all the time in the world. Xander's heart beat with a slow and steady rhythm. There was no need to rush. He felt the passion simmering below the surface, but for the first time since he'd known he was attracted to Angel, he had no trouble waiting.
Xander had taken off his leather jacket as soon as they reached the top of the outcrop, and he now felt Angel's hands ease the flannel shirt over his shoulders. He gently disengaged Angel's hands and stood. Xander slid his arms from the flannel sleeves, and let the shirt fall to the moss at his feet. He slowly tugged the 'beater from the waist of his pants and then pulled it over his head. It joined the shirt on the ground. His hands fumbled with his belt buckle, as the tongue caught in the leather. He pulled the belt tighter, which allowed the buckle to release. He worked the button through the buttonhole, and carefully lowered the zipper. The jeans slid down his slim hips to pool around his ankles and he stepped out of them, standing tall and strong and naked in the moonlight.
Angel sucked in his breath with an audible hiss. Angel was cloaked by the shadow of the upthrust rock, but Xander moved toward the sound and extending his hand, he pulled Angel to his feet. Angel's voice was rough as he said, “Guess you didn't need help takin' your clothes off, after all.”
“Guess I didn't. But it looks like you do, 'cause you're still dressed.”
Xander's fingers gathered the material of Angel's T-shirt and pulled it over his head; he dropped it on the pile of his own clothes. His hands slowly slid down Angel's sides until they were halted by butter-soft leather. Xander's fingers followed the curve of the waistband until they found the button, standing out from the tight leather like a braille mark on smooth paper. He undid the button and slid his hand under the fly as a barrier so if the zipper caught, it would be on his knuckles.
He pulled the zipper down, then hooked his thumbs in the sides of the leather pants as he eased them over Angel's hipbones. With a soft, slithery sound, they pooled on the moss, leaving a patch of darker shadow to mark their position.
And then they were both 'sky-clad' as his grandmother used to say. It was the perfect descriptor as their bodies were bathed in silvery light from the nearly full moon. In the distance, a coyote howled and received an answer from its mate. In the nearness, the only sound was their suddenly ragged breathing. They stood for a long moment, not touching physically, as they looked into each other's eyes. And then Angel reached out and pulled Xander against him, and Xander's knees failed to support him and they collapsed onto the living bed of moss.
As Angel's big hand closed around Xander's cock, he looked at Angel and said conversationally, “Y'know, I think I just might be ready for you to fuck my brains out.”
Angel's hand tightened almost painfully. “You sure?”
“Well, I'm pretty sure. I won't know for sure if I'm really sure until we actually, you know, do it.”
Angel raised himself on one elbow, and reached for his leather jacket. He touched the sleeve and dragged the jacket closer. He felt around for the inner pocket, and withdrew a small bottle of Classic Probe and a handful of condoms. With his weight supported on his forearm, Angel squeezed some of the lube into his hand. He slowly began to stroke Xander's cock, then reached under to cradle his balls, and gently rolled them in his hand. His thumb nudged at Xander's opening.
“Xander, you've got to relax.”
“Um, okay . . . but 'relaxed' is not exactly the word I'd use when you're doing that.” Xander's hand briefly covered Angel's on his cock, as if the 'that' needed clarification.
Angel squeezed out some additional lube and his thumb finally penetrated the hard ring of muscle. Within ten seconds, he'd lost all feeling in his thumb and he was pretty sure it was turning blue from lack of circulation. He finally managed to extricate his thumb with a sound like the pop of a champagne cork.
“Uh, Xander? I don't think this is such a good idea right now. It's obvious you've never done this, and we've got a long ride back. On the bike. So, I think maybe we'd better save this for another time.”
“Okay. Whatever you think's best. Can I fuck your brains out?”
Angel froze, and then laughed at his reaction. This relationship wasn't about roles or power. It wasn't about tops or bottoms. It was about mutual exploration and satisfaction, and the only 'roles' they'd play would be during occasional mutually agreeable games.
“Well . . . the same problems kinda apply. I've never done that, either, and we've got a long ride back. On. The. Bike. So, maybe we better save that for another time, too.”
“Okay.”
Angel reached for his discarded T-shirt and wiped his hand, carefully cleaned the excess lube from Xander's cock, then lowered his mouth.
The moon had set and the sky was lightening to pearlescent gray when they finally made their way down to the Indian, and then homeward.
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