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“I’d ask your place or mine, but it has to be your place because my kids are at mine.”
“Alone?” Stupid question, and none of my business. Their eldest must be practically teenaged by now. Damn, time flies.
Angel shakes their head.
“I hired a sitter. So you better make this worth her hourly rate.” Angel winks at me.
I laugh at their audacity. “I’ll do my best. You know I’m not going to fall in love with you and make all your problems go away, right?”
Angel snorts, like I’m talking out my ass and presses a finger to my lips. They plaster their body to mine, their chest is all angular planes leaving no space between us as I hold them in my arms. The transition they put off for years for the sake of a broken marriage looks good on them. They seem happier like this, cheekbones more prominent, the barest hint of a downy mustache over their kissable lips, so much quicker to smile than I remember.
They’re sure of themself as we dance. Irresistibly confident. It’s like they’ve carved away all the parts that used to make them hide at the edges of our group with hunched shoulders. Reticent, even before their ex hooked his claws into them.
“The only problem I need you to solve is that I don’t remember the last time I had a really good fuck.”
I nibble at the finger still pressed to my lips. When Angel makes no move to pull away, I suck the tip into my mouth, giving them the barest hint of what’s in store back at my place. Angel’s eyes flutter shut and they moan before pulling their hand free.
“Well, that is a problem I am more than happy to fix for you.” I wink.
Angel laughs, stepping out of my arms. They trail their fingers down my arm to take my hand. With our eyes still locked, they maneuver us to the edge of the dance floor so we can settle our tabs and leave.
The entire drive home, I keep glancing in my rearview to be sure their ancient old beater of a car is still behind me. Angel parks on the street in front of my duplex. They grin when I fumble with my keys because I’m too busy staring at their approach to pay attention to what I’m doing. Once we’re finally inside, they quirk a brow at me. “Nice digs. Show me the bedroom?”
I shut the door between us and the rest of the world, and it’s like we can’t keep our mouths and hands to ourselves. I strip off their silky shirt and kiss their sharp collarbones. They tug my shirt off too, heedless of the fiddly buttons, so it’s just as well I had enough of them unfastened to make that easy. We keep kissing and touching all the way up the stairs, shedding clothing as we go, until we’re naked in my room and Angel pulls me down onto the mattress.
“Want you on top of me, condom if you want to fuck me. I’ve got an IUD, but I’mnotrisking another kid or anything else.”
“Got it.” I chuckle as I reach over to grab a condom from the side table. “Not looking for anyone to call me Daddy. Unless that floats your boat?”
Angel licks their lips, eyes darting over me. “Not tonight.”
“Sure.” I rake my gaze over their tantalizing body. “Do we need something for oral? I could probably cut open a condom to use as a dental dam.”
Angel shrugs, their hair bunching around their shoulders with the motion. “I’m okay risking unprotected oral if you are, I haven’t been with anyone since my last test.”
That’s good enough for me, sure there’s still a risk, but I want to taste them. “Anything else I should know about what you like?”
“Not the biggest fan of anal.” They don’t meet my eyes as they say it and they seem tense even talking about it. I don’t miss how they’re reticent to give a firm no, so anal’s definitely off the table tonight. “You can fuck my front bits.”
That last part they seem more into. I stroke my thumb along the shaft of their clit, enjoying the way they arch into the touch and how the foreskin moves over the swollen head. Hmm, actually, I should probably ask what terms they prefer.
“What do I call this?” I rub them again for emphasis.
“I call it Bitsy. No anatomical terms, please.” Angel bites their lip. “Mm, keep doing that.”
“Does Bitsy like it?” I tease, wondering if they’re cool with me fingering them to get my fingers nice and wet—only one way to find out. “Can I finger you, darling?”
“Mhm.”
I kiss them as I trace their opening with two fingers. They seem into it, but we’re probably going to need lube for this. Between the size of Bitsy and the dryness between their folds, I’m pretty sure they’re on testosterone. But it’s not really any of my business unless they want to talk about their transition.
“You good to come more than once, Angel?”
“Yeah.” They gasp and nod. “Don’t stop.”
“I’ve got you. Just relax and let me take care of you, yeah?” I’ve got plenty of lube, and all night to make this good. I take my time working my way down their body. As I stretch Angel open with lube, I suck on Bitsy. It’s not long before every thrust of my fingers makes filthy, squelching sounds. They’re already bucking into my mouth with broken little moans and pleas for more.
This is one of my favorite parts of sex. The raw vulnerability of pleasure. How Angel grips my silky soft sheets in their fists, the arch of their back as they strain against my face. The soft sounds they can’t hold back. The way they gasp my name as they come for the first time with my mouth around Bitsy and my fingers buried inside them.
