He still has the fishnets on, though they’re basically torn to shreds, hickeys and bite marks everywhere.
Standing by the bar, I’m sipping scotch, eyeing him over the rim of my glass while he shifts on his feet across the room. I’m not sure what he’s waiting for.Is he expecting a goodbye kiss or something?
He’s knows how this works.
He was just a body. They all are. It’s their purpose.
To destress me. To get me, and them, off, because I’m not a selfish bastard—at least, not when it comes to sex.They exist simply as objects, toys for me to play with when I’m bored.
To fill the void.
I’m feeling much more vacant than I should, despite how toe-curling tonight’s session was. Better than any of the others over the last two weeks, that’s for sure. Because tonight, I let some more of my incessant desires out of their cages. It was necessary.
The body is lingering, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Maybe tonight felt different for him, too. Maybe it sparked something…Lit a match, who knows.
For me, it was more about being unable to quiet the noise in my head. The memory of the last stunning bright-eyed angel I had in this room with me…
My jaw tightens at how frustrated I still am. And now I’m frustrated at being frustrated, because I just came four times, which means I shouldnotbe fucking frustrated. But I am.
My skin is sticky, and my muscles are sore, and I just want him togoso I can take this stupid fucking mask off.
Setting down my glass with a thunk, I reach for my cigar case, taking one out and sticking it between my teeth. I flick the wheel of my Zippo, the sound apparently catching his attention. He peers at me while I light my cigar, staring, almost hypnotized. But when I snap it shut, he blinks.
And then he pads, barefoot, out of the room without a word.
Putana es loca.
Wandering naked up to the floor-length window, looking out at the city, I smoke, and breathe, and wonder.
Where are you, pajarito?
Will you ever return to finish what you started?
For two weeks since my little bird came to seek hisrevenge, and wound up trembling in my arms like a sweet, unexpected gift I’d accepted in a very brief moment of uncharacteristic weakness, I’ve been living life as if it never happened. Because dwelling on things accomplishes nothing.
Taking out my aggressions on the occasional employee doesn’t count.
The interaction with Angel was bizarre. Start to finish, none of it made any sense. Aside from him coming for me, that is.
Comingafterme…
Showing up, goddammit.
The point is, I knew that would happen, eventually. But the rest of it was just the definition of unprecedented, and that is both my excuse and my explanation for my errant behavior.
The moment I saw him, swallowing that pendejo’s cock like the thirsty little puta he is, I knew he was there to kill me. Regardless of what led him to suck off a bartender, he’d obviously come to Club Edge forme. So when I had Dom bring him up to my suite, part of me foolishly expected him to just whip out that cute baby blade and attack.
When hedidn’tdo that, the rest of it fell into place…Sweet Angelito has been hard at work for the fifteen years since I left him in that closet.
The kid is cunning, patient, and observant. But he’s still just a kid. I have two whole decades on him. That’s two decades spent honing my ruthless malevolence. Hardening my heart and purging myself of emotional responses.
You can train all you want, but you have to be able to follow through even when it’s hard.Especiallythen.
And it got hard, alright. Big time.
Okay, enough sex jokes.
I’m man enough to admit that the kid got to me.Fine, maybe he got to me before we even messed around. But that’s only because he is,quite literally, the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at. And no, I didn’twanthim to kill me, but I also didn’t want him to run off, all angry and defeated.
