Fierce & Fabulous (Sassy Boyz) (19 page)

“It’s difficult for me to believe what you say,” Ansel continued. “Or to trust the way you look at me. I’m not sure I will ever think it’s real.”

“Then I’ll keep looking at you and saying things until you get tired of it. I don’t know what this is—” he gestured between them “—but it is more fucking real than anything else in my life.”

“Mine too.”

Fitch rested his forehead on Ansel’s. “So, about this grinding business.”

Ansel’s laugh destroyed whatever tension was left between them and sent it scattered to the floor like dust.

“Okay, Grumpy Bear,” he said, reaching for the hem of Fitch’s shirt and pulling it off. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

* * *

At seven forty-four, Fitch pulled up outside the club.

“Door-to-door service and an orgasm in less than thirty minutes, beat that, Uber.” He smiled smugly at Ansel in the passenger seat.

“You’re the best.” Ansel leaned across the center console and kissed his cheek. “Thanks.”

“I’m just going to park and be right behind you.” And maybe stop by a convenience store to pick up condoms and lube.

“You’re coming to the show?”

“Is that a problem?”

Ansel shook his head. “I’m rusty. Haven’t rehearsed all week.” His hand rose to touch his eye. The discoloration had faded but was not completely healed. “And I can’t afford to skip the private dances again. I’m going to need all the cash I can get.”

“I’ll wait all night if I have to, Angel, but I’m taking you home tonight.”

“You don’t have to, I can ride the subway like always.”

“Sorry, you’re not getting rid of me. I’m nowhere near done with you yet.” He winked. “Consider this your intermission. Act two begins later.”

The chuckled reply was full of indulgence. “If you insist.”

“I do. Now go before I get ticketed for double-parking and causing a traffic jam.”

Ansel gathered his bags and opened the door to slide out. Before he closed it, he turned and leaned in, his tongue peeking out like he wanted to say something but didn’t know the right words. Fitch remained silent, waiting.

“I, um. I’m glad you came back.” Ansel’s lashes lifted and their eyes locked.

“I should never have left, Angel.” Fitch added, “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Okay.” Ansel smiled and closed the door.

As he drove away, Fitch looked into the rearview mirror to see Ansel standing on the curb, watching him go.

There was no denying the truth of their relationship. He was headed for a deep, endless vortex of the L-word. And he had a feeling this time would be the last time he ever fell. Funny, unlike with everyone before Ansel, he didn’t have the urge to catch himself.

Maybe it was like those circus performers who performed dangerous stunts. There must be a calm that washed over a person right before they stuck their heads into the jaws of a lion or let go of the trapeze bar. Whizzing through the air without a safety net—yep, that was how he felt. He didn’t know when he’d land, if he ever did.

Didn’t really care as long as Ansel was with him.

And wasn’t that some sappy shit.

Chapter Thirty-One

“That’s a big bag for a few condoms and lube,” Ansel said as they climbed the stairs to his apartment.

Fitch chuckled as dangerously as he could while trying not to wake Ansel’s neighbors. “Big plans require big bags.”

As he unlocked the door, Ansel looked over his shoulder. “Big plans?”

Fitch crowded into him and nuzzled his ear. “Very big, Angel. We’re going to give this place a proper goodbye by christening every room.”

Fitch crossed the threshold and set the bag on the kitchen counter. As soon as he turned around Ansel was on him, long arms circling his neck so their mouths mashed together.

“I like the way you think,” Ansel huffed between kisses. “Couldn’t get you out of my head all night. I felt you watching me.” He shivered and bit Fitch’s bottom lip. “So hot.”

Fitch groaned and crushed Ansel snug to his front.

“It was hell, trying to keep my hands off you.” To punctuate his words he squeezed Ansel’s ass with both hands and ground his cock into his hip.

Ansel moaned. “Fuck me.”

“Get your pants off,” he ordered, slapping Ansel’s side before tugging his own shirt over his head.

Ansel didn’t waste time. His shaky fingers unfastened the snap and zipper while he kicked out of the heels. In no time Ansel stood in a pair of pink lace booty shorts and a loose white T-shirt that had Femme on Purpose scrawled over a hand flipping the bird. As always, he was armored with chains and bracelets and rings that glittered in the light coming from the lamp hanging over the table.

Ansel rested a hand on his hip. “Now what, Grumpy Bear?” The slow, flirtatious blink tightened Fitch’s balls with need.

The well of patience he’d relied on all night completely evaporated. He tugged Ansel around the corner to the couch and unbuttoned his jeans. Sitting, Fitch freed his aching cock and squeezed it in a fist. This round would need to be fast and dirty. He didn’t have the restraint for romance.

“Open yourself for me, Angel, then sit on my cock.”

Ansel pulled off his lace shorts before pawing through the bag. He cracked up laughing. “Sliquid Sassy? Where the hell did you find this?”

Fitch shot him a grin. “Got lucky at the store, thought it suited you.”

Ansel flipped open the cap. With a sultry look in his eyes, he straddled Fitch’s hips. “I guess I have a new favorite lube,” he whispered. Fitch found the box of condoms and tore one open while Ansel prepped himself. By the time he was done rolling on the latex, Ansel was biting his lip and moving into position. He clutched Fitch’s bare shoulder and sank onto his cock with one smooth move and a long, lewd groan.

“God, Angel.”

“Mmm, so good.”

Ansel ground his pelvis in little circles, seemingly unconcerned, or maybe delighted, that the lip of his cockhead kept catching on Fitch’s abs.

Bombs went off in Fitch’s brain at the friction, but he held on enough to pull Ansel into a kiss. He slid his hands under Ansel’s shirt and felt the muscles of his back flex each time he lifted his hips. Fitch would never get used to how strong Ansel was beneath the delicate exterior, how graceful. Every time he moved, Fitch had to catch his breath, and not only when he was buried so deep inside the heat he could feel his lover’s pulse.

“God, Fitch.” Ansel pressed his forehead to Fitch’s as he rose and fell, over and over again.

“Yeah, just like that, Angel.” He met each move in perfect harmony, folding Ansel close so he could feel the strong heartbeat against his ribs.

It was rough. It was frenzied. It was exactly what they both needed. They held each other, breaths mingling, lips kissing, as their bodies whipped the pleasure higher and higher.

“Don’t stop,” Ansel said. “Oh fuck.” Faster and faster, sweat beaded on his pale skin, he smashed his mouth to Fitch’s. Their tongues thrusting in time with the pistoning of their hips. Their hearts thudding so loudly it was like the music of the club. Ansel’s fantastic sex noises grew to a peak and suddenly his sandwiched cock twitched and coated Fitch’s stomach in a sticky, wet, glorious mess.

He gripped Ansel’s ass and pounded up, once, twice, then followed his dancer into the abyss with a groan.

* * *

Ansel rested his head on Fitch’s shoulder, savoring the way those strong arms held him secure. He closed his eyes and drifted on clouds as his body regained its equilibrium. Every fucking time with Fitch was better than the time before. It was amazing and totally impossible. He felt Fitch’s lips on the bare skin near the collar of his shirt and pressed closer.

Then his stomach grumbled loud enough to shake the walls.

Fitch laughed. “Christ, are you dying?”

Ansel smiled and sat up. “Almost. I haven’t eaten since this morning. I’ve just been so strapped for time.”

One calloused palm rubbed his naked thigh. “How come? Are you working double shifts again?”

“No, I’ve just been busy.”

“Too busy to eat? So busy you missed a bunch of rehearsals? What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s awkward to talk about it with your dick shoved up my ass.” He moved off Fitch’s lap, carefully keeping the condom in place.

“There are wipes in the bag,” Fitch said, standing to remove the condom and toss it in the trash. He pushed off the jeans and reseated himself on the end of the couch wearing only his boxers. Ansel turned away and busied himself with the contents of the plastic sack as a distraction. The lube was pretty epic, he’d have to show the boys. They’d all die with giggle fits.

He found a cardboard cell phone box. “What’s this?”

Fitch looked up and his face transformed into one of embarrassed apprehension. “I, uh, well, yours got stolen. So...”

“Fitch—”

“I know. I know. You don’t need me to buy you stuff, but it’s really for me. I don’t like the thought of you without one. What if there’s an emergency? And anyway, it’s just a cheap burner. You can buy your own minutes, or get a package if you want. As long as I can get in touch, that’s all I care about.”

Ansel bit his lip and shook his head. “I was going to say thank you.”

“Oh.” Fitch’s expression softened. “You’re welcome, Angel.”

Setting the box aside with a wary look, Ansel pulled out the wipes and cleaned himself up. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful. He needed a phone and it was sweet of Fitch to get him one. He just wasn’t used to anyone taking care of him.

“So, tell me what’s been going on that you haven’t had time to eat.”

Ansel pulled his lace shorts back on. It was one thing to be emotionally vulnerable, it was another to be naked at the same time.

He hadn’t gotten to the point in his recovery where it was easy to admit his faults. But Fitch should know, if they were going to try to make this relationship work.

He sat on the opposite end of the couch and tucked his knees to his chin. “Um, I’ve started going to meetings. You know, for AA.” He focused on a loose thread on the back of the couch. “I’m an alcoholic.” He held his breath for a beat before swallowing the embarrassment the confession still caused. It was only the second time he’d said those words aloud and they burned.

Fitch’s fingers brushed his and stilled his nervous thread-pulling. “Wow, that’s big.”

“Yep.”

“It takes a lot of courage to admit something like that, Angel. You are really fucking brave.”

He finally lifted his face and tangled his fingers with Fitch’s. “I’m trying to be.”

All he saw in Fitch’s face was acceptance and it made him feel cleansed. The band around his chest loosened, and gratitude rinsed some of the grime off his spirit.

“By the way, how’s your dad?”

“It looks like he’ll be fine. Stubborn old coot.”

“That’s great.” Ansel tickled the hair on Fitch’s forearm.

“I also, sort of, told my sister I was dating a guy.”

“Really? But—”

“I know, perfect timing, right? Just when we break up, I finally spill my guts. I guess I’m not a great actor because my family saw right through me.”

Ansel pressed his lips together and fought the self-reproach. The past was the past. He couldn’t change what happened so he shouldn’t dwell on it either. “What did she say?”

“She was confused, but supportive.” Fitch paused before adding, “I think my mom might suspect too. I’m going to tell them tomorrow after church.”

“Are you sure? What if they don’t take it well? I know your parents accepted your sister, but this is different.” He was their only son, their heir. Fitch was supposed to take over the family business and continue the family name. It was more than likely his parents would not take the news well. And for someone like Ansel? Even worse.

Fitch tugged him across the couch until he was cradled between his knees. “It is different, Angel, and not just because you happen to have male parts.”

His stomach chose that moment to protest again and Fitch smiled up at him. “I think we’d better feed you.”

“Thank fuck. I’m starving.” Ansel pushed off and went to the drawer where Ange stored the takeout menus. “Pizza?”

“Sure.”

He found the one he wanted and tossed it to Fitch. “I’ll have a large extra cheese with peppers. I’m going to take a quick shower.”

“If you’re not out in ten minutes, I may come in after you. Fair warning.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Ansel took longer than ten minutes, but Fitch decided not to bother him. Instead, he tried to clean up some of the mess and get a handle on his feelings. His dancer was an alcoholic. He’d suspected as much and he was absurdly proud of Ansel for taking the first step.

Even if he had to go the rest of his life without another drop of alcohol, he’d do what he could to support Ansel’s recovery.

The pizza arrived as Ansel came into the kitchen wrapped in a purple towel. His pale skin was still wet from the shower, his hair combed through but not dry. Fitch groaned and slammed the door on the delivery guy.

“Christ, if I didn’t know you were starving...” He let the threat hang. Ansel’s raised eyebrow and cocky smile said he knew exactly what he did to Fitch’s libido.

“Ditto. That look is pretty hot.” Ansel gestured to Fitch’s open jeans, bare chest and feet. “But it will have to wait, because if I don’t eat soon I might faint.” He sat at the table and opened the pizza boxes. “What the hell is that?”

“Sausage, bacon, pepperoni, jalapenos, and olives,” Fitch said as he sat across from Ansel and pulled out a piece.

“You’re crazy.” Ansel picked up a slice from the other box.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“You’ve got so many toppings you can’t even see the cheese.”

They ate in silence for a while, each taking another slice after finishing their first.

“So when exactly do you have to be out of here?” Fitch asked, savoring another jalapeno.

Ansel licked the grease off his mouth. “Tomorrow night is my last.”

“How are you going to move everything?”

“The landlord is letting me store the furniture in the basement for a few weeks. Ange and the boys are coming tomorrow to help with that. Then they’ll each lug a box of my stuff home with them.” He pulled a pepper off his slice. “I usually do a Sunday dinner for everyone, but since all my shit is packed we’ll probably just order Chinese or something. Do you, maybe, want to come?”

Fitch swallowed, the spicy mouthful burning his esophagus on the way down. He put his slice down and took a big sip of water. Cautiously, he replied, “If you want, I could take boxes in the truck so your friends don’t have to maneuver through public transportation with them.”

Ansel’s eyes brightened. “Cool, thanks.”

A pleasant warmth filled Fitch’s stomach and it had nothing to do with the hot peppers on his pizza. Smiling, he watched Ansel stuff slice after slice into his mouth with an expression of pure bliss on his unpainted face.

“You have a really bad habit of staring at me when I eat,” Ansel said.

“Sorry, but I told you about your mouth and melted cheese. Weirdest fucking turn-on, I know, but there you have it.”

With an arched brow, cheeky grin and hooded eyes, Ansel wrapped some of the cheese around his finger before sucking it all off.

“Fuck.” Fitch took the slice from Ansel’s hand and put it in the box before slapping the lids shut and tossing both boxes to the counter. “I think it’s time for round two.”

He pulled a chuckling Ansel to his feet and ripped off the towel. After a quick kiss, he turned Ansel and bent him over the table.

“Fuck, Fitch.” Ansel’s usually sultry voice had deepened another octave into a husky rumble.

“Ready to bless the kitchen, Angel?”

“Hell yes.”

* * *

Much later that night, Ansel was catching his breath on the bed in his room after another mind-blowing orgasm. He couldn’t remember ever having so many in one night. It was like Fitch was on a mission. A mission to destroy Ansel for anyone else, ever.

And it had worked.

“Damn,” Fitch said to the ceiling.

“My thoughts exactly.”

Fitch found Ansel’s hand on the bed between their hips. “Your apartment has been thoroughly anointed.”

Ansel burst out in a fit of laughter. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

Fitch joined him and together they chuckled, joy infusing almost every dark corner in Ansel’s soul. He turned his head on the pillow and studied the amazing man next to him. Fitch’s profile was aristocratic, like a Disney prince. His wide smile brought out the dimples in both cheeks and gave those deep-set brown eyes crow’s feet. But the imperfections only added to the allure.

Keeping his hand in Fitch’s, Ansel rolled to his side so he could run the other along Fitch’s scruffy jaw. He’d never seen him without facial hair.

“How often do you shave?”

Fitch rubbed his free hand over the opposite cheek. “In the morning, and again in the afternoon if I have a chance. Which I didn’t today. Sorry, did I give you beard-burn?”

“I hope so.”

Fitch shot him a confused look.

“I like that you’re hairy,” Ansel clarified.

“Is that why you call me Grumpy Bear?”

Ansel shifted closer so he could trail a finger through Fitch’s chest hair. “No, you’d be more of a wolf than a bear. I call you Grumpy Bear because that’s what you reminded me of the first time we met. Grumpy Bear, from the Care Bears.”

“Are you shitting me? I reminded you of a cartoon?”

Ansel laughed at the false offense in Fitch’s tone. “Not just a cartoon, I had one of the stuffed animals when I was little.”

Fitch rolled to straddle his thighs and started tickling his ribs. “I’ll show you. Keep laughing, Angel.”

“Okay, okay.” It was difficult to speak between snorts. “You win.”

Fitch stopped the torture and leaned forward until his nose almost touched Ansel’s. “What’s my prize?”

Ansel caught his breath at the heat in Fitch’s brown gaze. “Anything you want.”

Fitch’s grin was wicked. “Oh, you just gave me far too much power.”

Suddenly Ansel’s heart stuttered in his chest and his lips dried. “I trust you.”

Those three simple words stopped time. Fitch froze, even seemed to stop breathing, and so did Ansel until his lungs began to burn. Half a dozen heartbeats later, Fitch finally moved enough to kiss him.

“Thank you,” Fitch whispered against his lips. He stayed there for another moment, just looking into Ansel’s eyes. Then, like a switch being flipped he pasted on a hungry half-smile and straightened. “I’ll claim my prize at a later date and I won’t promise you’ll have any warning.”

“Yep, total wolf.”

Grunting, Fitch toppled off him and moved to the edge of the bed. “If I’m a wolf, what does that make you, Little Red Riding Hood?”

Ansel kicked Fitch’s hip. “In your dreams. I’m the fucking woodsman.”

“You are pretty deadly,” Fitch agreed over his shoulder, finding his boxers on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Ansel rose to his knees.

“It’s pretty late and I still have a long drive ahead of me. If I want any sleep at all I better get going.”

“Or—” Ansel paused until Fitch looked at him again “—you could stay.”

Turning fully, Fitch studied him. A moment passed while they stared into each other’s eyes. “Or I could stay,” Fitch repeated, slowly. “But if I do, I’ll want to snuggle and I know how you get about all that mushy shit.”

Sounded like heaven. “Hmm, tough call, but I think I can handle a little cuddling if it means you get more sleep. After all, it is my fault you’re up so late.”

Fitch tossed the boxers to the ground again and reclined in the bed. “I have church in the morning so I’ll need to leave early.” He tugged Ansel down into his embrace and pulled the sheet over their naked bodies.

“That’s fine.”

“I may not let you go, all night.” He kissed the top of Ansel’s head.

“That’s okay too.”

“Good night, Angel.”

“Sweet dreams, Grumpy Bear.”