Fierce & Fabulous (Sassy Boyz) (9 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Fitch wasn’t a huge believer in God or fate—another secret he kept from his mom and his pastor—but there was something greater than himself pushing him toward Ansel. Maybe there was a lesson he needed to learn.

Maybe it was something else he couldn’t put into words.

For whatever reason, the idea of never seeing Ansel again had caused his gut to seize up in knots and his brain to malfunction. He needed to follow where this attraction led.

Fitch pressed his lips to the corner of Ansel’s mouth and relaxed his hold.

“Good. I’m glad we cleared that up. My cock is aching to get inside you.” Revelation of all revelations, that was. No matter how often he’d tried to imagine being with Ansel over the past couple days, he’d never thought he could want inside another man this much.

So much it hurt.

Ansel’s breathy laugh warmed his cheek as he shook his head. “And I thought
I
was insatiable.”

Fitch crooned and reached around to palm the smooth globes of Ansel’s ass. “You get me all worked up, Angel.”

“Oh honey, I’m not an angel. If anything, I’m the wickedest devil you’ve ever met. There is nothing innocent or pure about me.” To emphasize his statement, Ansel wiggled on his lap.

“I’d argue, but right now my brain has turned to pudding.”

Ansel laughed like he’d won the argument, and resumed his preparations. “Point proven.”

“I’ll agree to whatever you say if you’ll just shut up and sit on my dick.”

This time, Ansel threw his head back and chuckled to the ceiling, a laugh that vibrated all points of contact. Jesus, Fitch couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun during sex. Yeah, it had always felt amazing, but had he ever been so relaxed? So playful? His smile stretched so wide his cheeks ached, and he had the foolish desire to pause time and lock this moment away in a bottle. His spirit felt light. He’d be content to never move.

Then Ansel sighed, pulled his fingers out, and met Fitch’s eyes with that wicked smirk.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Angel, I could ask you the same thing.”

Ansel’s eyes narrowed at the nickname. He shoved Fitch back to the mattress with a guttural growl. “This is not my first show, Grumpy Bear.”

Ansel picked up the tissue and cleaned his fingers.

“Mine either, Angel.”

“Stop calling me that.” His fingers dug into Fitch’s chest as he adjusted position.

“I don’t know—you’re sexy when you’re pissed off.”

Those sinfully paint-smudged lips tightened. Fitch stretched his arms above his head and tilted his hips up so his erection brushed against Ansel’s crease. The contact caused a shiver to rack his slender body and a breath escaped from his parted pink lips. Ansel closed his eyes and shook his head like he was trying to regain focus.

“Damn, I almost forgot the condom. Where’d it go?” Ansel searched the bed frantically.

Fitch joined in, his hands feeling over the sheets on either side of his torso until he slid over the cool packet.

“Here.” Fitch tore it open, and Ansel shuffled back so he could roll it on.

Fitch grabbed the lube and pumped a couple squirts onto the latex. Ansel had been too distracted to stretch properly and he didn’t want to hurt him. If he were any kind of gentleman, he’d take a breath and make sure his lover was fully adjusted. But his blood was pounding in his ears, and by Ansel’s ragged breaths he knew his dancer wouldn’t stand for more delays.

“Come here,” he said, pulling Ansel back into position straddling his hips, hovering over his straining cock.

Ansel’s voice was hushed when he spoke, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” He held on while Ansel descended.

“Like that. Damn it, stop.” Ansel reached between his legs and gripped the length for insertion.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Pudding brain, remember?”

Heat enveloped the head of his cock. Ansel bit his bottom lip and shivered as his hole was breached. Fitch fought his own full-body quake. His heart stuttered and took up a home in his throat. He knew his fingers were gripping Ansel’s hips too hard, he’d probably leave bruises, but there was nothing he could do to stop. His body had disconnected from his brain and was no longer responding to commands.

He was doing it. And, Christ, it felt amazing.

The heat, the pressure, the knowledge that he was invading Ansel. Fitch was
inside
him. His balls tightened and fire zipped up his spine.

“Stop looking at me like I’m special,” Ansel whispered. It was so quiet and said with such a plea, Fitch barely heard because he was so focused on his own discovery. But when he finally did, the heart in his throat grew so large it almost choked him.

It took a moment to swallow back the emotion enough to respond. “Sorry, Angel, but that’s one thing I can’t do for you.”

With his words, Ansel’s tremble grew. He closed his eyes and shook his head. His fingers clawed Fitch’s shoulders and he clenched his jaw. Then, with a hoarse cry, he seated himself fully on Fitch’s dick.

Zings of pure pleasure pushed a grunt from Fitch’s lips and without thinking, he thrust up, into the heat, toward the bliss. The action forced another curse from Ansel. Without opening his eyes, Ansel lifted up enough so when he pushed back down, the friction ignited the most amazing heat. Hell yes, it felt awesome. Better than Fitch had imagined. Certainly better than ever before.

But something was missing because Ansel still wouldn’t look him in the eye.

They moved together, Ansel lifting up, Fitch following. Their groans matched the slow, steady pace, but Fitch wanted more. He needed to see the desire in Ansel’s green depths.

“Look at me,” he said.

Ansel shook his head and shivered on another grinding of hips, his breath releasing on a high moan.

Fitch increased the force of his thrust. “I said, look at me.”

Again, Ansel shook his head, this time more wildly so his hair swished around his face and hid it from view. Frustration overcame him and he pulled at Ansel’s arms until he collapsed forward. Their chests pressed together, both damp with sweat, their nipples pebbled with passion. The contact made them both groan.

Fitch wrapped his arms around his dancer even while Ansel buried his face in Fitch’s neck. Their hips continued to work together in an unending assault of greed. Fitch loved the weight above him, heavier, more solid than female partners. Ansel was hard edged, in his attitude and his physicality.

“Open your eyes, please.” He combed Ansel’s hair with his fingertips then smoothed a hand down his back.

“I don’t want to.” Ansel’s breath warmed his neck and his cock quivered between them.

“I need you to look at me.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, just fucking fuck me and shut up.”

Fitch had to fight a laugh. As much as Ansel’s annoyance made him smile, his need for eye contact was too deep to ignore. He forced his body to stop moving even though it went against every instinct he possessed.

As he expected, Ansel cursed him, calling him every name in the book, but he didn’t look up. Because of their position, Ansel didn’t even have to slow down. He was on top. He was in control. He whipped his flexible hips up and down over Fitch’s shaft, seeking his own satisfaction. Fighting, with every swearing breath.

Goddamn, it was ferociously hot and he was about to lose his head, to forget his need for connection. He grabbed Ansel’s ass and tried to stop the guy’s frantic movement, but Ansel’s muscles were toned to perfection, and he was stronger than he looked. Fitch needed to restrain him now or it would end too fast.

In desperation, he wrapped his arms around Ansel and rolled until he was looking down at his lover’s painted face.

“No, you bastard.” Ansel punched out wildly, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. His fist connected with Fitch’s shoulder.

“Stop it before you hurt yourself.” He grabbed Ansel’s wrists and dragged them above his head, pinning them to the bed. He hooked his feet over Ansel’s ankles to hold him still and pulled his cock almost all the way out.

Ansel’s desperate, angry sob twisted Fitch’s already aching heart.

“Open your eyes and look at me.”

That plump bottom lip tucked behind a row of straight white teeth and Ansel’s chest hitched. A moment passed and then another, Ansel’s breath fluttering wildly in and out. Finally, he spoke, but what he said wasn’t what Fitch expected.

“Please don’t make me.”

Four little words, and so much pain and fear in Ansel’s voice, that Fitch completely lost his mind. Emotion took a hold around his throat and his whole body—hell, his entire fucking soul—shook with the urge to protect. He wanted to curl around Ansel and hide him from the world, kill all his demons. Even if he was one of them.

His arms shook as he looked down at this stranger who was fast becoming as familiar as his own heart.

The pool of blond hair spread out around him, those pink lips parted to reveal teeth and tongue, his strong nose and prominent brow. The goddamn painted lids squeezed tight, like a child hiding from a monster. Only this time, the monster was Fitch.

No, Ansel wasn’t afraid of him. He was afraid of how he looked at him. Like he was special.

Well
,
fuck that shit.

Ansel was special. In fact, from everything Fitch had seen so far, Ansel was probably the most special, unique, amazing person he had ever met. And whoever had made the guy feel like he wasn’t would be feeling Fitch’s boot up their ass one day. That he promised.

He growled and eased his cock back into the tight, hot heat of Ansel’s asshole. “I will fuck you all night long. I will fuck you until you’re ready to explode, until you can’t stand it. But I swear to God I will not let you come until you look me in the eye.”

Ansel’s sob was louder this time and not full of fear or pain. No, this time it was a sob of surrender, a cry of joy. Hope warmed Fitch’s chest. He leaned down to press a kiss to Ansel’s lips even as he gently pulled out and pressed back in, out and in, infinitely slow, patient. Letting Ansel know his threat was real.

Those long, sinful lashes fluttered like butterfly wings and he held his breath until Ansel’s brilliant green eyes were revealed. Fitch’s heart burst at the sight and he felt like sobbing himself.

Instead, he rammed his cock home.

Chapter Fifteen

Ansel stared up at Fitch, and the warmth in his deep brown eyes made the cannonballs return.

“Bastard,” he said, even as Fitch began a devastating assault on his hole.

Fitch smiled and looked down at him with that indescribable look on his face. Ansel didn’t want to put a name to it, but his ridiculous heart began a syncopated beat anyway. He let out his pent-up breath and felt a piece of himself fall away.

Then Fitch rubbed against his prostate, and all thoughts about danger and falling disappeared. Oh, holy God that was good. He hissed and curled his body to seek more of the same, but Fitch was still pinning him down.

“Sadist.”

“Call me what you want, but I think you like it.” Fitch’s thick fingers wrapped around Ansel’s stone-hard cock and squeezed.

It was so difficult not to close his eyes. With the way Fitch was watching him, fucking him, and now stroking him, he was overwhelmed with sensation and emotions he didn’t want to face. Too many fucking emotions.

His heart thundered so hard he thought it might be wearing tap shoes. His asshole quivered and pulsed with every push and pull of Fitch’s shaft. The friction built to a crescendo until his balls tightened.

Fitch groaned and lowered so they were chest to chest. He cupped Ansel’s cheek and maintained eye contact. “You feel so fucking good,” he whispered.

Ansel panted a breath. “Don’t stop. I’m so close.”

“Yeah. I can feel your ass clenching. Don’t shut me out, Angel.”

He couldn’t help the whine that loosened his chest or the jolt that shook his legs. His lids drifted and his eyes rolled back.

“No, let me watch you come.” Fitch pressed a kiss to his lips and Ansel forced himself to focus on the man above him. The man making him crazy. He’d die if the evil jerk stopped now. So, he pinned his eyes open and plummeted headfirst into bliss.

His cry of release echoed in the quiet room, challenged only by Fitch’s return groan. His legs tightened uncontrollably around Fitch’s hips as they moved. His body shook and his cock spit his sticky load between their bellies.

Above him, Fitch jerked and flexed, his eyes never wavering from Ansel’s gaze, but his mouth dropped open when his orgasm hit. The shocked shout of gratification helped soothe some of Ansel’s angst. His instincts were confused. Part of him was squirming under the intensity of the moment, while the rest was shouting his joy to the sky. Luckily, Fitch released him, breaking the bond with a final deep tremble that closed his brown eyes.

“Wow,” was all Fitch said before collapsing on top of him with his face pressed into his shoulder.

Ansel smoothed a palm down Fitch’s big, muscular back. Just one second to enjoy the weight, the connection. He wanted to soak it up so he’d remember on nights when the loneliness got to him. He closed his eyes and carved the moment into his memories. But it didn’t take long, and before he’d taken another breath, the agitation started to tighten his stomach again.

“Get off me, you oaf.” He squeezed Fitch’s sweaty ass cheek and felt his chuckle.

“Christ, you never quit.”

“Mmm, haven’t so far.”

With a pained groan, Fitch lifted himself enough to plant a quick kiss on his lips. “Determination. I like it.”

“No, just survival instinct.”

With two fingers anchoring the condom, Fitch eased out. It didn’t sting too bad, but Ansel still hissed.

“Sorry.”

“You’ve got a fat fucking cock, nothing to be sorry about.”

One corner of Fitch’s mouth tipped up. “Should I be saying you’re welcome, then?”

Ansel’s smile turned coy and he batted his lashes playfully. “Thank you, baby, you fucked me like no other ever has. You rocked my world.”

“Where can I toss this?” Fitch dangled the come-filled condom, eyes darkening with something that looked like jealousy.

Damn. He didn’t have a wastebasket in his room. Thinking fast, Ansel sat up and took the soppy latex.

“In the bathroom, I’ll take it. Be right back.”

The awkward after-sex shit was about to start and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it now, after the intensity of their fucking. Not to mention the weirdness of being in his own domain. He should have felt more comfortable here, but being in his safe space with Fitch was just fucking odd. Another jumble of confusion on top of everything else. He eyed the bedside clock on his way out and noted the time.

Almost three in the morning. He tried to remember when Ange said she’d be home and came up blank. Just in case, he tiptoed down the hall and closed the door as quietly as he could. Before disposing of the condom, he wrapped it in a bunch of toilet paper. He didn’t want Ange to see it and start interrogating him. For the next five minutes, he avoided the situation by cleaning up, the whole time debating with himself as to how to handle kicking Fitch out. In the end, he decided to be honest. He did have shit to do in the morning after all.

But when he got back to his room, Fitch had spread himself out on the bed. Still naked, his cock hung limp between his widespread legs. His eyes were closed when Ansel returned, but at the sound of the door he opened them and patted the mattress at his side.

“I’ll leave in a minute. I know you’ll want to get some sleep. Just come here for a little while. I don’t think I’m strong enough to drive yet.”

Ansel shook his head and sighed. Everything in him wanted to snuggle up to that big, furry body, to feel the warmth seep into his bones, to have those arms around him while he fell asleep. He couldn’t allow any of that. But he did slide onto the bed and rest his head in his hand.

“Tell me why you’re not freaking out.”

“About what?”

“You just had gay sex. Doesn’t that make you anxious?”

Fitch sighed. “I freaked out, trust me. The first time we met, I’d been in the john chastising myself for getting hard during your dance. Then I spent the whole night and day after our first kiss debating and denying. It wasn’t fun.”

“And now?”

Fitch wet his lips and rolled so they were both on their sides facing each other. “Now I’m just following my gut. I don’t know. There’s still a little voice in the back of my head telling me this should feel weird, wrong. But it doesn’t. Not at all. It feels fucking amazing. All of it. So to hell with my brain.”

Ansel dropped his gaze to the middle of Fitch’s chest. “How different was it?”

“You mean from fucking a woman?”

Nodding, Ansel followed the pattern of stitches on his comforter with a finger.

“I don’t really know how to answer that,” Fitch said. “You’ve never been with a girl?”

“No, I’ve known I was gay since before puberty so there wasn’t really a point in experimenting.”

“Are you asking because you’re worried I didn’t like it?”

Ansel scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. I know I’m a great fuck. I’m just curious.”

Fitch studied him a moment. “Well, I guess it’s only different because the vagina produces its own lube so it gets slippery if you do it right. But in my experience, anal is tighter, hotter, much dirtier. Both are fun. But I have to say fucking you is probably going to be on my highlight reel.”

Stupidly, Ansel warmed at the compliment. “Good. I’d like to imagine you jerking off remembering how good my ass felt.”

“I can pretty much guarantee it.”

Neither spoke again for another few minutes. The only sounds were those from the street below and the occasional ragged breath between them. Fitch reached out and touched the dog tags around Ansel’s neck.

“Why don’t you ever take this off?”

Ansel sucked in a breath and rolled to his back, the pain of loss suddenly fresh because of the memories Fitch’s innocent question stirred to life. He didn’t want to answer, but his mind went back to their phone conversation and how understanding Fitch had been when he avoided family questions.

“They belonged to the man who saved my life.”

Fitch didn’t reply, but he did reach out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Ansel’s ear. The move was so soft and gentle, Ansel took a deep breath and continued.

“I was almost eighteen and had been living on the streets for about a year when we first met. Well,
met
isn’t really the right word.” He took a moment as the memory burst to life. The fear of being chased by six men down an alley, the smell of their hatred, the pain of their words. “A bunch of guys followed me from the shelter and taunted me for three blocks, calling me all kinds of names. I’m sure you can imagine. I was younger and not quite as glittery as I am now, but I’ve always looked like this.”

Though he didn’t say anything, Ansel could hear Fitch grinding his teeth. Still, his touch remained tender as he smoothed a palm down Ansel’s side. It made remembering easier, the way the men had cornered him, the dread as he’d fought back even knowing he didn’t have a chance. He’d been lying in a ball on the dirt-covered pavement when Ray had crawled out of his box.

“They attacked—and Ray came to my rescue. He saved me.”

That was putting it mildly, but no one would understand how amazing it had been to watch Ray take down six guys all on his own, no weapon in sight. He hadn’t even worked up a sweat, but he’d scared them. Enough that they’d taken off and never bothered Ansel again. To this day he knew if it hadn’t been for Ray, he would have died that day. He clutched the dog tags in his fist.

“After that I kind of followed him around like a puppy. He was a veteran, hence the dog tags. He taught me how to defend myself, and looked after me until he found Prism Center for me, an LGBTQ shelter for homeless youth where he knew I’d be safe.” He didn’t tell Fitch about how Ray died, how he’d met Ange, or how he had come to be in possession of Ray’s tags. Those were secrets for another day, or maybe never. Never would be good. The pain of reliving the way they’d met was enough. He didn’t want to think about how he’d lost his hero.

“Jesus.” Fitch’s curse was as soft as his touch and just as comforting. Even though he probably still had a whole slew of questions, he didn’t ask them. He didn’t push, for which Ansel was grateful.

“I would have stayed with Ray, but he’d made me promise. And I’m glad he did, otherwise I would never have met the guys, never would have started Sassy Boyz,” Ansel added.

He shoved the memories and the sadness away and turned his head to study Fitch’s face. He was scowling at the wall like it had deeply offended him. In that moment, Ansel knew Fitch would have protected him too. In fact, if the look on his face was any indication, he wanted to kill the assholes who’d attacked him, right now.

And there went his stupid fucking heart doing that leaping thing again.

Ansel cleared his throat. “Okay, that’s enough soppy chitchat. Time for you to leave, Grumpy Bear.” He shoved at Fitch’s shoulder and rolled off the bed.

He needed Fitch gone. Now. This was becoming way too intense, way too fucking real. He picked up Fitch’s jeans and briefs and tossed them on the bed, followed by the shirt.

“Get dressed,” he ordered before hightailing it out of the room to gather everything they’d left in the kitchenette. He found Fitch’s shoes near the counter and brought them back to his room, along with his jewelry, heels and T-shirt.

Fitch stood in the middle of the room with his jeans hanging open and his shirt in his hands.

“Calm down, I’m leaving,” he said as he slid into the green button-down.

Ansel leaned against his door. “Sorry, I’m being an ass.”

Humor lit up Fitch’s eyes. “Good thing for you, I’ve discovered asses are a whole lot of fun.”

A chuckle released some of the tension that had tightened Ansel’s shoulders. When Fitch had his socks and shoes on and his jeans zipped up, he came forward. He stood before Ansel, who was still, ridiculously, naked.

“I’m going to call you tomorrow,” Fitch said.

Instead of pulling him into another mind-melting kiss, Fitch simply pecked him on the cheek and reached behind to grab the door handle. Ansel didn’t follow him down the hall, but he did watch him go. Before he left, Fitch looked over his shoulder.

“Sweet dreams, Angel,” he said with a warm smile. Then the door closed again and Ansel was left standing in the doorway of his room completely naked.