by Peter Styles
Eight hours into the drive, as they stood outside the car and examined the town they chose for the next rest stop, Angel said, “I think I can go for another hour or two but after that, we need to stop for the night.”
Chance looked at him worriedly. “I can drive the rest of the way tonight.”
“No,” Angel grunted. “Believe it or not, I’m actually enjoying it. Just, my eyes are getting tired. They need to rest and look at something else for a little while.”
“Then why don’t I drive?”
“Because I’m a stubborn asshole,” Angel said, almost happily as they piled back into the car. He didn’t look tired or in danger of falling asleep, but Chance watched him very carefully. He could deal with Angel taking a few risks every now and again, but not deadly ones.
Their route took them north of Topeka, wrapping all the way around it before heading out straight once again. The last landmark they saw was the Speedway before once more facing a vast landscape of flatness. By now, evening would have been approaching back in Illinois. Out here, the sunlight was still looming strong and bright. Chance could hardly wrap his mind around the fact that he had come farther in only a few hours than he had ever traveled in his entire life. He wished they could go just a bit further and leave this horrible state behind but that would be asking too much of one day.
With five hours left in the trip, they stopped and booked a room in the cheapest motel to be found. There were a lot of those, perhaps due in part to the fact that it was a college town. At least, that was what Chance assumed since he couldn’t figure out another reason why that would be.
“Huh,” Angel said, looking around them. “This is actually nice.”
I have to agree.
Compared to Astoria, the roads through Kansas were practically a mile wide. They were well-maintained and also relatively clean. The street they were on was lined with bar and grill-type restaurants, all of which operated out of identical red brick buildings. The scene before them might as well have been from the 60s, from a simpler time. And for a city, it sure was quiet. Even the sounds of traffic seemed to be muted, respectfully lowered.
No doubt things would be different closer to the college and the whatever-else there was to do, but right here was nice.
“So, what are we going to do now?” Chance asked, looking up at Angel. “Do we just want to go in and uh…well…turn in, I guess?”
“I think I want to get some dinner first,” Angel answered, narrowing his eyes as he swept his gaze up and down the street. “Real food. Not candy or McDonalds. I’m in the mood for chicken. Come on.”
Then, to Chance’s horror, and to the horror of everyone within eyesight, Angel walked off from the hotel parking lot and right into the middle of the busy street. A white van approached at the posted speed limit, the driver apparently blissfully unaware of the fact that they were about to be involved in a horrific accident.
Chance opened his mouth to shout but it was like he was in a dream, with a voice that wouldn’t rise above a whisper. His feet moved but nowhere near fast enough. One hand reached out but he was too far away and would never get there in time. All around him, others appeared to be moving in the same way. Too slow. Not enough. And in the driver’s seat of the van, the driver finally seemed to realize what was going to happen. Behind tinted glass, her mouth stretched wide with horror and her eyes went bulbous. The van jerked, slowing, shuddering and swerving.
And it blazed past where Angel had been standing, jerking to a halt fifteen feet away.
Chance’s scream finally left his mouth, splitting the air. The world sucked back in around him, time snapping in. People shouted, running over towards Chance from either side of the road. One shout amongst them all stood out.
“Chance?”
He looked up, eyes full of tears, and saw Angel standing on the other side of the road looking absolutely puzzled.
Furious, it was now his turn to walk out into the street without looking. Luckily for him, all the cars on the street had stopped to gawk at the commotion.
Angel smiled at him as he approached, although the closer Chance came the more uncertain his smile seemed. “Chance? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Chance grabbed Angel’s shirt collar and stared up into his eyes, hardly able to breathe. “Are you kidding me?” he gasped out. “Am I okay? Did your mother not teach you to look both ways before crossing the street or are you a suicidal idiot? Should I even be letting you drive?”
Through the whole tirade, Angel just kept staring at him. Confusion never left his face. It was etched into every feature. Slowly, his hand came up and clamped down in a not-quite-unfriendly manner on Chance’s shoulder. “Slow down,” he said. “What are you talking about?”
Chance thrust his arms out to the side, staring up into Angel’s face. “You just almost got run over!”
Angel shrugged. “I didn’t get hit. It’s exhilarating.”
Grabbing at the back of his head with one hand, Chance gestured around them at all the people who were either standing by watching or approaching with questions on their lips; a few held their phones at the ready, either waiting to take video of a tragedy or call the police in the aftermath. “Okay, but how would everyone else here feel if you got hit? If they watched you get hit? The driver? Me? You can’t do that stuff anymore!”
A shimmer came to Angel’s eyes but he didn’t say anything, just turned his head and looked away. Someone stood right there, peering at both of them. “Do you two need any help?”
“Yeah,” Angel said, his voice a little hoarse. “Where’s the best place around here to get chicken?”
Chance looked up at the blank sky, shoulders slumping.
“Tourists,” the person said, disgust evident in their voice. Chance couldn’t even bear to look at them. He was ashamed enough for both of them. “You should try Al’s Chickenette. It’s in the name, you idiots.”
“Thanks,” Chance muttered. He looked quickly down at the sidewalk and grabbed Angel’s hand, dragging him off down the street whether or not it was the right direction to go.
The inside of Al’s Chickenette resembled an old-school diner, as much of a throwback to a better time as the rest of this part of town seemed to be. The outside looked like a barn but the inside was done up in a cheerful retro style with accents of brightly colored lights, blue booths, and shiny wooden floorboards.
A hostess sat them down and fetched their drinks, and then the silence began. The silence between them, that was. The rest of the diner was filled with a scattering of other customers and waiters, all laughing and exchanging friendly jokes with one another. Meanwhile, he and Angel were sitting there like strangers.
We still hardly know each other. Is that all we are?
But, the drive here, they hadn’t felt like strangers. What was this?
“Chance?”
Chance looked up from his soda, privately wondering why he’d ever wanted the drink in the first place. He couldn’t swallow anything. Fear turned his mouth into a desert but now the thought of anything touching his tongue made him want to squirm and then vomit. “What?”
Angel wasn’t looking at him. Angel actually hadn’t been looking at much of anything ever since he nearly got his ass run over. Probably the adrenaline surge he got from that was running out, leaving him exhausted. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I was stupid.”
“We’re going to have to talk about that, you know,” Chance said. His voice was hoarse, ragged with emotion brewing just beneath the surface. “And you aren’t driving again until we do.”
For a moment, a ghost of a smile flitted across the musician’s face. Then, he turned his head away and let out a small huff of breath that might have been sadness or annoyance. Sometimes, Chance thought, the difference was impossible to tell.
A waitress wandered over to them shortly and took their orders for dinner, not that Chance had much of an appetite. Angel ate hugely, though without his normal gusto. Everything between them ran subdued.
“Is everything tasting okay?” the waitress asked as she came wandering back over after a couple of minutes.
Angel said nothing.
Chance shoved away his shyness and looked up at the waitress. She was a pretty girl, only a bit younger than he was. Her eyes glittered and a small, worried frown nudged at the corners of her mouth. If he was a straight man, he would have fallen to his knees right then and there. As it was, he felt absolutely nothing. “It’s good,” he said. “We’ve just been traveling all day.”
“Oh, yeah?” she said, leaning one hip on their table. Chance groaned inwardly. He might not be straight but this was a definite flirt, no doubt about it. The press of the girl so close to him, unwanted, made him shudder slightly. She must have misunderstood because she only leaned in closer, the modest collar of her shirt pulling away from her breasts to show cleavage. Chance looked away, fighting with his disgust. “Where did you two fine gentlemen come from?”
A short, sharp reverb of sound snapped through the diner. Heads turned as Angel lurched to his feet, one hand planted roughly in the middle of the table. His overturned water glass leaked across his cleared plate. “Fuck off,” he snapped. His eyes blazed. Chance could only stare. Where had his gentle crush gone? The man with the body of a willow, the strength of an oak, and the gentleness of a kitten? Here, there was only a snarling lion facing down an innocent girl. Maybe she pushed her luck too far but she didn’t deserve to be yelled at.
“Angel…” Chance reached out but Angel had already moved, pacing off around the both of them and striding towards the door to the restaurant. Glancing anxiously back and forth between the table and the rapidly-receding back of his not-quite-boyfriend, Chance threw a couple random bills on the table. “Sorry,” he muttered, and ran out.
He caught up to Angel halfway down the street, just as the man was about to head out into traffic again. “Angel! Ghostie! No!” Grabbing onto the musician’s powerful hand, Chance yanked backwards.
Clearly unprepared, Angel’s other arm flew out, wind milling desperately as he tried to regain his balance before collapsing back against Chance. “Hey!” he grunted, staring hard into Chance’s face. “There was a crosswalk!” he pointed.
Chance looked.
Okay. There was a crosswalk. And he had a lap full of strong, sexy man. His blood was pumping. His nerves were up. For all the wrong reasons, his cock rose and pressed hard against Angel’s ass.
The lionlike aggression in Angel’s eyes slowly faded, replaced by something else nearly as fierce. “I made a scene. I know you can’t have liked that.”
“Two,” Chance reminded him. “You made two scenes.” Unbidden, his arms wrapped around Angel’s shoulders to hold on tightly. Right there on the sidewalk, Angel leaned into him and pressed a hard kiss to his neck.
“That’s right,” he growled. “I did. I apologize.” He pressed his lips hard on Chance’s skin, nipping with his teeth.
Whimpering, Chance tried to press closer to him but was held in place by the fact that Angel still sat in his lap. “Not enough to apologize. You need to make it up to me by being good.”
Angel nipped at him again, teeth sharp and grabbing, and then pulled back. An innocent look crossed his face, clearly fake. “Oh, I’ll be good. I’ll be real good. The best. You better believe it.”
Chance bit his lower lip. Angel’s hand came up, thumb teasing his lip away from his teeth. “We still need to have that talk,” Chance reminded him.
“Oh, we will. We’re going to do a lot of talking like the mature adults we are.”
I really don’t believe you.
Standing, Angel took Chance with him. The bottom dropped out of his stomach and he let out a squeak, grabbing at the musician’s neck with his arms and folding his legs tight around his waist. Pressing against Angel’s stomach was Chance’s cock, which absolutely refused to go away. He felt breathless, trembling against the other. Warm, strong hands stroked beneath his ass to support him, and then he was being carried off down the sidewalk while onlookers laughed and made comments.
“Look at those dudes! Damn, I wish someone would pick me up like that.”
And from the street, a passing SUV rolled its windows down. The driver leaned out, placing his fingers in his mouth to let out a sharp wolf whistle. “Get a room, ladies!”
And yet, despite the commentary on them, despite the pointing and the laughter that made Chance blush and hide his face against Angel’s neck, he felt…good. Pleased with himself. He felt embarrassed, but not ashamed of who he was or what he wanted. That wasn’t at all what he was supposed to be doing right now; he should have been dragging Angel back to their hotel room to have a strict talk about doing all these risky things.
He was fully prepared to resume that conversation, too. Angel managed to fumble the hotel room door open, and he leaned over so that Chance could regain his footing. He did, and then swung around with everything he meant to say forming on his lips. The sounds were already coming, rising up in his throat. His tongue shifted in his mouth.
Angel descended upon him before he had a chance.
Chapter 12
If lust could be love, Angel fell head over heels right in that moment. Chance’s body melted beneath his, becoming a tangle of porcelain limbs that yielded to everything. There was no resistance as he thrust his tongue inside Chance’s warm, wet mouth to claim him. Their tongues slid together but Angel wasn’t interested in playing any longer. His tongue pounced, again and again and again. Chance yielded to him there as well, deep green eyes closing as he gave in and accepted. He tasted of soda and trepidation, a sweet and sour meld that made Angel lean in even harder to the kiss; he wrapped one hand around Chance’s face to hold him still, sliding the other around to the back of his head.
Finally, after all this time, here was something better than music. Better than taking risks just to feel something. Here was everything he had always wanted, soft skin over a wiry frame. Small muscles, the result of grave digging and endless hours of trimming, pruning, and mowing lawns. Here was something perfect, and Angel wanted him.
Beneath his lips, Chance started to struggle.
Angel drew back just enough for their lips to still be touching. “Problem?” he whispered.
“Suffocating me!” Chance jabbed a finger at his chest accusingly, but it turned into a helpless caress. Angel shuddered, cock pressing firmly against the fabric of his jeans.
“Get used to it.” Angel flicked out his tongue, licking Chance’s lips and then grabbing Chance’s pants to tug on. “Because pretty soon, you’re going to have something a lot bigger in there.”
Chance tried to bite his lip, as he always did when he was nervous. He ended up biting Angel, who felt another shock run through his body. Pain mingled with pleasure. There was no difference. Everything he felt only added to the burning need inside him. They kissed again just as hard as before, and this time Angel shoved his tongue as deep into Chance’s mouth as he could, trying to thrust towards his throat. His hand in Chance’s hair slid down to his hip, holding on hard. He moved, sliding his thigh between the other’s legs to urge him backwards.
Chance ignored what he wanted, instead rocking his pelvis forward to rub his cock as hard as he could against the firm ridge of Angel’s muscles. Slight as he was, the bulge sliding across Angel’s jeans felt pretty damn sizable.
I lucked out on you. You’re everything.
Growling softly under his breath, Angel tried to gently push Chance backwards but all the other did was grin and push back against him. Growling louder, Angel moved both his hands to Chance’s shoulders and pushed with more force. At the same time, he ground his thigh against his cock.
Whimpering, with shivers running up and down his spine, Chance finally gave. He took a step backwards, and then another. Angel kept pushing harder and harder, until the back of Chance’s knees were pressed right up against the mattress.
“I want you.”
“Then you can have me,” Chanc
e whispered. He was still limp, still sagging, with all his weight pressing down on the thigh between his legs.
Angel pushed against him one last time and they fell onto the bed together, tangling as they did so. He wrapped his arms around Chance, rolling them both fully onto the mattress so that Chance stayed beneath him. They kissed again, roughly, and then Angel sat up and started to tug at Chance’s clothes. Chance obeyed, shrugging out of his shirt to reveal his thin bare chest that Angel had first seen when he was out cutting the cemetery grass. Here, in the dimness of the hotel room, it seemed somehow even more erotic. Chance’s nipples were small, ringed with darker circlets of skin.
Unable to help himself, Angel leaned back down and flicked his tongue over one of the buds of flesh. It hardened beneath the wet caress and now Angel caught it between his lips and pulled on it, making Chance gasp and arch his back.
“Ah!”
It was a sound of discovery, of a switch being flipped. Angel grinned. “Never done that before?”
“No,” Chance murmured, sliding his fingers into Angel’s hair. “Can’t say I have.”
A sudden thought occurred to him. He brushed his lips over Chance’s nipples, and then started kissing his chest. It was smooth and bare, absolutely hairless. Angel let out another series of small whimpers and squirmed his ass on the bed, clearly enjoying himself. Maybe, Angel hoped, enjoying himself more than ever before.
“What all have you done?” he asked, keeping his voice low and husky. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was very aware that this venture of theirs could easily break off into nothing, if either of them suddenly had a change of heart. As much as he would hate for that to happen, he would also hate for Chance to suffer through something he wasn’t familiar with. Communication, even in the most inopportune times like this, was the only way to ensure they both enjoyed themselves.