ANGEL/PEARL
The first 10k words. Formatting may not be identical to the official version.
Kinks!
- Top POV
- Dubcon
- Semi-Public sex
- Homophobic gay man
- Size difference
- Boy with a pussy bottoming
Bram’s knuckles steadily turn white on the steering wheel.
The roaring of the engine is starting to sound like the car is preparing to take flight. He knows he’s going to get pulled over in the next ten minutes if he doesn’t slow down, but he’s also certain that if he starts going the speed limit again, he’ll get the urge to rear-end the next car in front of him, and really, a speeding ticket is less trouble to disappear than an accident outside his turf.
Lips curled, Bram turns the radio up as loud as he can stand, and forces himself to take the next exit in a feat of remarkable self-restraint. He can hear Chel’s voice in his head. Fucking slow down, christ, nobody can see your dick from here.
Bram wonders if there are any drag races outside the city. That kind of sport fell out of his gang’s purview before his time. Maybe if he had the mental permission to drive as fast as he could, he wouldn’t feel like clawing his eyes out every time he was forced to play nice on the highway. Chel may not be here to brow beat him into submission, but his newfound reputation as the laughingstock of the Outerridge criminal underworld just barely manages to keep him in check.
If he’s going to fuck up, it can’t be a matter of public record.
Bram Stoker: alias for the (newly appointed) boss of the Southside Vampires, a gang that traffics in stolen goods. Shortly after his promotion, Bram got dumped by his former girlfriend Chelsea Richardson in a very well-known debacle that surely has nothing to do with Bram’s sudden interest in crashing his car at very high velocities. Despite the name of his gang, Bram is only human.
For two weeks, Bram was the biggest man in the city—boss of the biggest gang, with the heiress and daughter of a very influential politician on his arm. It seemed like he had everything in place to finally relax and delegate all the heavy lifting he’d been doing for so many years leading up to the former boss’s passing.
It started when the owner of a particularly well-loved brothel refused to join Bram’s territory. A hearty blow on its own, but not devastating. Shortly after, Bram lost a spectacular bet on a boxing match when his favorite fighter got mauled in one round. He could have recovered if he hadn’t come home earlier than promised from that fight to find Chel fucking one his own men—Reese, who didn’t just have his dick in Bram’s girlfriend, but his fingers in every one of Bram’s pockets leeching money from the gang in an attempt to run away with Chel. Now, Reese has ten broken fingers and several more problems in the ICU at St. Helena’s. The worst part of it would have been Bram being forced to pay Reese’s medical bills just to keep him from going to the cops and turning on all of them—but then Chel herself started the very flammable rumor that Bram couldn’t get it up for her anymore and that’s why she fucked his lieutenant.
That’s about when Bram’s new habit of driving through the upper neighborhoods began. Every time he enters his own apartment, he’s sure he’s about to hear the telltale sounds of two people fucking in his own bed. Now, his gang thinks they have to take care of him, and he can’t even convince one goddamn brothel to fold into their territory.
At least in the residential neighborhoods, Bram knows he won’t run into anyone he doesn’t want to see. He rarely left his own territory before all of this, but nowadays, the only place he can stand to be is way the hell out in suburbs like Beechwood where people are too polite to draw attention to their vices.
Driving by a seemingly endless loop of townhouses with perfectly measured squares of lawns, Bram sees him. A boy, much too young to know what he’s doing, standing on a street corner with his bare legs out on a forty-degree spring night. He wears nothing but a large, black sweater, much too big for his gangly body, and a pair of white sneakers. There’s no avoiding him right next to the stop sign, and he visibly perks up when Bram’s car rolls to a stop beside him.
The boy raises his hand up to wave with his fingers at Bram in the driver’s seat of his SUV. He’s got legs like a pony, a thick wave of brown hair licking off his forehead, his face all round features and soft cheeks—impossible to tell if he’s too young to be out here by himself, or just blessed with youthful features. Either way, when he holds his hands behind his back and bats his eyes at Bram, it’s obvious what he wants.
Or, obvious what he thinks Bram wants.
Bram throws the car into park, his thoughts finally calming from their angry tempest. He lowers the volume of his music and rolls the window down, letting in the light of the nearest street lamp. This is exactly what he needed: a dumb kid to teach a lesson to.
The boy bounds over to his car, leaning his hands on the windowsill—the sleeves of the sweater cover his palms, leaving only the tips of pale brown fingers showing. He smiles at Bram through dark, thick lashes, the chill turning his round cheeks pink.
“Do you know what you’re doing out here, kid?” Bram asks.
The boy chews on his bottom lip, turning his smile into a cheeky grin, and he nods.
“You sure about that?” Bram presses, letting his voice drop as deep as he can get it.
The boy’s eyes flick up, and his irises look entirely black. His breath seems to suck up into his lungs, and for a minute, Bram prepares for the satisfying victory of fear bleeding into this boy’s gaze when he finally realizes he is talking to someone three times his size.
The boy grips the windowsill, and Bram can see the swell of excitement passing through his body as his wide-eyed gaze roves over Bram. He nods again, faster and shorter, and Bram’s footing falters.
So maybe he can’t scare a boy just by looking at him. He has other tactics.
“Your parents know you’re out here?” Bram asks.
The boy is bubbling with enthusiasm, on the verge of giggling as he shakes his head. He doesn’t once look away from Bram, and suddenly Bram’s face is heating up. He didn’t expect the kid to be so dogged.
“What’s your name?” Bram tries.
The kid blushes and shakes his head again, a soft hum emitting from his throat. Hiding his sigh, Bram shifts in his seat, realizing he has fully fallen into the trap of playing this boy’s game.
“Come on kid, you know you shouldn’t be out here by yourself in the middle of the night.”
The boy sinks down, leaning his chin on the windowsill like a puppy, those wide, black eyes fixed on Bram like searchlights. It seems as though nothing will deter him, and for a brief moment, Bram gets an electric stirring in his belly at being pursued by someone so brazenly—before he remembers he has no idea how old this boy is.
“How far away do you live?” Bram asks.
The boy leans further into the car, holding out his hands to indicate the number two and the number zero, then points toward the cluster of large buildings that make up the heart of the city. Right in the direction Bram was already headed.
“Alright get in,” Bram says, unlocking the door.
The boy wastes no time jumping into Bram’s car, even going so far as to start rolling up the window for him. Bram pops his phone off the grip on his dashboard and passes it to the boy.
“Put your address in. I’m taking you home.”
This is not exactly the show of masculine force Bram had intended it to be, but maybe the walk of shame back into his own house will finally put the fear in this boy and he’ll break character.
The boy types something in and starts up the map for Bram before handing the phone back. Exactly twenty minutes away from them. Bram switches gears and starts following the directions, glancing over at the boy in his passenger seat, disconcerted by the unbroken stare of this boy’s black eyes.
“You really think it’s a good idea to be out here fishing for johns in the middle of the night?” Bram asks. “Do you even know who runs this neighborhood?”
His gaze flicks over to the boy, who seems to be hanging off his words.
Bram puffs up, sure he’s onto something here. “The Eels patrol the blocks out here. They’re not nearly as organized or structured as the city gangs are. They’re bikers. You don’t want to fuck with bikers, I promise. They’re a lot meaner to their boys.”
Bram settles into his spiel, relaxing into the driver’s seat as he revels in his own knowledge of this area. Finally, a chance to flaunt for someone, even if he is just some dumb kid in need of a good scare. Bram rolls his shoulders, some of the tension starting to melt away. He drives with one hand on the wheel, control coming back to him after the worst month of his life.
Bram doesn’t notice the boy unbuckling his own seatbelt. It’s much too late for Bram to do anything about it when the boy pops up with his hands on the console between their seats, his face suddenly close enough to catch warm breath on Bram’s cheek.
“Hey, what are you—?”
Bram doesn’t get to finish asking before he gets an answer. The boy presses his lips to Bram’s cheek and Bram startles so badly, the car veers into the lane of oncoming traffic. A tiny white car slams on the horn as Bram quickly jerks the wheel back into the right lane, his heart slamming in his chest.
The boy’s lips seem to linger on his cheek even after he breaks the kiss, and a wild bit of unwelcome heat sinks into Bram’s blood. Lord help him, if this were anyone else, Bram would be hard as a rock but when he glares at his passenger, all he can see is a face too youthful to trust.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Bram tries to snarl but it comes out too breathless.
The boy is blushing, eyes lowered, lips parted. He looks starving in exactly the way Bram wishes a woman would look at him. It takes a strange amount of effort for Bram to tear his gaze off the boy’s mouth and focus back on the road as they roll up to a stoplight. As soon as the car comes to a complete stop, Bram takes a breath to scold this idiot boy at the same time that the boy’s hand lands on Bram’s chest.
Bram freezes up, that little bit of contact enough to remind him just how long it’s been since someone felt him up. His breath slowly builds in his lungs while the boy draws his fingers down the length of Bram’s torso, a feather-soft touch through the fabric of his gym t-shirt.
Bram’s gaze cuts back to the boy’s black eyes. The way this boy smiles, the kid thing must be an act. Bram tries to make his expression look angry, distrustful, a silent warning in his eyes that people used to tell him was intimidating.
The boy makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat and kisses Bram again, his lips pillowing against the hollow of Bram’s cheek as his thin fingers graze the pounding lump in Bram’s pants.
The sound of the car behind them laying on the horn shoots through Bram’s spine and he lurches forward to grab the wheel with both hands, staring down the green light he’d been ignoring. The car rockets forward, much too fast, and the boy gives a wheezing laugh in Bram’s ear, almost no sound at all.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bram whispers, blood pressure shooting through the roof.
The boy is gripping Bram’s cock through his sweatpants, his breath tickling Bram’s ear.
“This isn’t what I let you in here for!” Bram snaps, but there is no anger in his voice, only a manic sort of overwhelm as his heart slams against his ribs.
He’s only getting harder as more and more cars populate the road. It’s not yet late enough for the streets to be truly empty, and they’re only getting deeper into the city as this reckless pretty boy slowly rubs Bram’s cock to full attention. Again, he presses a kiss to Bram face, closer and closer to Bram’s mouth each time, and every time Bram tells himself that he needs to shut this down ASAP, yet more blood empties from his head and goes straight to his dick. He can’t even bring himself to close his damn thighs with those slender fingers drawing tantalizing circles on his criminally unloved cock.
Fuck him, it’s been weeks. Chel was giving him the cold shoulder even before they split up, and she never touched him like this—reckless and desperate.
When the boy’s tongue crests over the apple of Bram’s cheek, Bram loses his grip.
“Fuck.”
Ignoring his phone entirely, he scans the streets, orienting himself in the neighborhood. It’s hard to think with a boy latched onto him like a barnacle and his dick stealing all his oxygen but eventually he figures out where they are. Near the north branch of the library, not far from the park, perfect.
Bram slams on the gas while the boy plucks the waist of Bram’s sweatpants and slips his fingers down to trace the length of Bram’s cock through his briefs.
“Fuck fuck fuck, just hold on.” Bram grinds the words out between clenched teeth, unable to stop his hips from pressing into the boy’s soft grip. A drop of fluid melts into the fabric of his underwear.
Blessedly, the parking lot outside the entrance to Piccolo Park is devoid of all life, save for the same broken-down Subaru that’s been stranded there for the last six months. Bram shoves his car into the spot furthest from the road, blocked by a few anemic trees, and kills the engine.
“Fucking calm down.” Bram breathes. He’s scared to touch the boy, scared he won’t really be able to stop him from touching Bram.
The boy inhales sharply, planting another kiss on Bram’s cheek before he suddenly scrambles into the backseat in a flurry of limbs. Bram cranes around to glare at him, watching in horror as the gangly boy begins removing his white sneakers.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Bram reaches out his hand as if to stop him, but the boy is too far away, his back pressed to the opposite door. “Fucking fuck fuck.”
Bram quickly gets out of the driver’s seat and opens the door to the backseat right in time to see the boy pick up his legs and hold them apart to reveal that he is not even wearing underwear. Bram stares, slack-jawed, at the boy’s hairless thighs while he parts them wide open for Bram to see right to the center of his body. A sweaty shiver runs up Bram’s spine as he remembers he’s holding the car door just as wide open as those smooth thighs, and he throws himself into the backseat just so he can close the door behind him.
Turning to face the boy, Bram leans on the seat between them and holds his hand up to block the sight of whatever is between the boy’s legs.
“You can’t be doing this,” Bram says, but even he can hear how desperate his voice sounds.
His pulse throbs under every inch of his skin as the boy gives a muted giggle, his smile turning wicked.
“You didn’t even ask for money,” Bram says, voice strained. “The hell kind of business are you running?”
The boy pulls his large sweater over his head, revealing his reedy body, and a pair of tiny tits that Bram’s gaze instantly zeros in on.
“Christing fuck,” Bram whispers.
The only thing he likes more than huge, round breasts he can grab onto are…tiny little cupcake tits that turn puffy and cute and red when he plays with them long enough. Not that he would tell anyone that.
“Wait a second, I thought you were a—” Forgetting himself, Bram lowers his hand and sees the darkened folds of the boy’s cunt, and the proportionally biggest clit he’s ever seen peeking out at him. “Holy shit.”
The boy (?) springs forward, wrapping his arms around Bram’s neck and catching him off-guard in a kiss that instantly gives Bram a fever. His hind brain howls its pleasure at the needy body pressed up against him, how desperate this little thing is to get in Bram’s pants. Surely that means Bram is desirable, that he’s not just some limp-dick coward who makes terrible business decisions and loses the respect of his men?
Not that he would ever tell anyone about this dubiously youthful, questionably gendered kid pressing his needy hole against Bram’s cock.
Bram’s better judgment vanishes for a minute as he slips his tongue past small but full lips, cradling the back of this fluffy head to return such a desperate kiss. Bram feels like a teenager as he trails his hand down the soft curve of a spine, and the slightest heft of a squeezable ass, too curious and hard not to run his fingers across the mouth of a slicked-up cunt.
The boy moans in a strange, wheezing, muffled way, and Bram snaps back to himself, breaking their kiss with a hand in that dense wave of hair.
“Are you a girl or what?” Bram asks, breathing hard. His dick still twitches insistently against the naked hips in his lap.
The boy’s eyes widen and he gives a demure shrug.
“You…but…”
The boy’s gaze instantly brightens, like he’s heard this joke a hundred times and it never gets old. Bram immediately regrets asking, his skin prickling with embarrassed heat as he tries to figure out why he assumed anything at all. That youthful face says boy, but strangely, even looking right at those little tits doesn’t make Bram think girl.
“Look, we have to establish some things ‘cause I don’t fuck boys,” Bram says. “I like girls—women, I only fuck women. Do you hear me?”
Instantly, the boy’s expression melts back into low-lidded hunger as he leans back into Bram’s hands, drawing his fingers off of Bram’s neck and onto his own chest. He pushes the small swell of his barely A-cup breasts up for Bram to admire, ruddy nipples gone hard. The edges of Bram’s vision are starting to go black as he stares at the cutest boobs he’s ever seen, his tongue getting heavier in his head, his hands prickling with heat.
“This isn’t…” Bram wants to suck on his tits more than anything. “Isn’t, uh…” Just a little wouldn’t hurt. As long as they don’t have sex, it’s probably fine. “Not gonna…” How did his mouth get so close? “Mmhh.”
Bram moans when his lips brush over the button of the boy’s left nipple, his cock jumping in his sweatpants. He laps at the boy’s chest like a hungry dog. The boy didn’t ask for money. That must mean he just wanted to fuck, right? He’s way too good at this to be a kid, but not good enough to be a pro. A perfect little mistake just for Bram to suck on.
Which he does, with breathless, reckless abandon as the boy holds Bram’s head against his chest, encouraging with his strange little muted moans that give the impression that his voice is somehow being suppressed. Not that Bram cares. It’s obvious the boy likes it or else he wouldn’t be rutting the knob of his clit against Bram’s chest like he’s trying to start a fire.
Bram is so distracted with the dollop of flesh in his mouth, he barely notices when his sweatpants are pushed down his thighs. All of a sudden, his cock is straining against the inside of his briefs, tantalizingly close to fresh air, and it’s driving him crazy how hot the fabric is on his skin, so he shoves his underwear down his thighs just to make himself more comfortable.
He doesn’t mean to invite the boy to rub his hips against the tip of Bram’s dick. He doesn’t say anything at all when the boy reaches down to steady Bram’s length underneath him. All Bram can manage are throaty moans and curses as the boy sinks down onto his cock with shockingly little resistance. The boy’s eyes flutter shut, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat and a fierce flush and that’s the last thing Bram remembers before he’s definitely fucking the boy he said he wasn’t going to fuck, completely mesmerized by the way his tits bounce and oddly turned on by those wheezing, breathy moans as he clings to Bram’s neck.
The most delicious haze sets into Bram’s muscles, tugging at his nerves, so much better than speeding down the highway and waiting for an accident. This boy no longer looks like a barely legal idiot trying to piss off his parents by riding a stranger’s cock, but a fucking angel sent to give Bram the best orgasm of his life.
It rips through Bram, his eyes slamming shut as he grinds his cock as deep as he can get it into his angel’s cunt, the delirious spill of his own cum making him dizzy as his head falls back onto the car seat. Bram’s entire body buzzes, dancing on the edge of numbness as he crashes back from the breathless high. His hands grasp at his angel’s hips as he gets another kiss pressed to his mouth, then his neck. Slender hands graze over Bram’s chest, the slight tease over his nipples making Bram shudder with a last twinge of pleasure before the boy crawls out of his lap.
All too soon, Bram hears fabric rustling, and then the car door opening. Bram picks himself up a minute too late, confronted with an empty car, and his angel’s silhouette disappearing through the tinted window.
The first thing Bram does is check his wallet—nothing stolen.
The second thing Bram does is grip the edge of the driver’s seat and try not to hyperventilate as he assures himself that fucking a boy doesn’t make him gay. He just likes pussy too much, doesn’t matter what it’s attached to. He was too horny and desperate to care. None of this means anything at all.
By the time Bram manages to crawl back into the front seat, he rips his phone off the dashboard grip and checks to see the address that the boy put in, only to find that the directions he was following were for Piccolo Park the whole time.
*
Bram does not think about the little demon who seduced him every second of the day for the next three days. He does not think about a next time where he could be sure to get the boy to come on him just to prove he can. It is a coincidence when he lowers all the seats in the back of his car after it suddenly occurs to him that he can make the trunk way more spacious if he wants. And it’s only sensible to keep some blankets in the back, in case of an emergency. His mother always did that, claiming they could get trapped in freezing temperatures and it’s always good to keep blankets on hand. The pillows are just to make it more comfortable—in case of a sudden spring blizzard, and not because he wants to fuck a lithe pony-boy who doesn’t wear underwear in the backseat of his car.
“Boss.”
Lee cocks his head to the side as Bram slams back into his body behind his desk.
“Huh?” Bram looks at him, hoping it wasn’t obvious that he tuned out ten minutes ago.
“We were talking about the Dandelion,” Lee says, posture straight, green eyes betraying some of his concern behind his thick-rimmed glasses. “Are you getting enough sleep?”
Leandro “Lee” Baladin: recently appointed lieutenant to Bram Stoker, as of the hospitalization of former lieutenant, Reese. Lee is now the second most important member of the Southside Vampires, and takes his station very seriously.
“We’re always talking about the goddamn Dandelion,” Bram says, trying to match Lee’s perfect posture. “And yes, I’m fine.”
He snaps that last little lie a little too loudly, but Lee graciously ignores it.
“I think it’s time we put the Dandelion on ice,” Lee says. “The owner made his point very clear, and trying to split our focus between the Spiders, the Boars and this place is just going to weaken things even further.”
Bram flicks the pen on his desk, watching it spin out of control and veer dangerously close to the edge. “This guy is pissing me off. How does he make so much goddamn money sitting outside everyone’s territory? I assume the Spiders already made their offer.”
“As far as I’m aware, yes. The owner didn’t take it. No word from the Boars, but I suspect they’re not interested in…well…”
Bram shakes his head. “That’s what kills me. How does a gay brothel do that well? He’s got to have someone in his pocket, and I want to know who it is.”
“We’re not actually sure it is a brothel, sir,” Lee responds.
Bram shakes his head. “There’s no other explanation for it. You said it yourself, it’s a lot of fucking money.”
Lee clears his throat, adjusting his straight-backed posture a little to the left. “Boss.”
“Hm?” Bram gears up to give the pen another spin, flicking the end with his finger too hard. The pen shoots across his desk, flying several feet through the room in a blink.
Lee lets out a sigh. “I don’t know how else to say this other than bluntly. If you spend any more time trying to court the owner of a gay club, people are going to talk even more than they already are.”
Bram grips the edge of his desk, a swell of rage passing through him like a tornado. “Money is money! Who gives a shit if it’s from gay boys or girls?”
“Listen, you know that I know that,” Lee says, hands raised to calm Bram. “But you also know how bad the rumors can get when you’re not around. We’re already gearing up to chase the Spiders out of the corners of our territory. Now is not the time to make people think that you’re…not the same man they thought you were.”
Bram’s lip curls, but the cool look on Lee’s face takes the wind out of his sails. “I know, I know, Christ, I know how this works.”
“Lay off the Dandelion until we fix our own house,” Lee says.
Bram nods. “I know you’re right. I’m sorry I didn’t promote you sooner, you’re way better at this than Reese ever was.”
Lee’s black brows pinch for a split second, and he rubs the back of his shorn neck. “Uh, thanks boss.”
Bram leans his arms on his desk and rubs his eyes. “I’m going fucking crazy in this office.”
“I know,” Lee says, his face finally breaking out of his business-calm. “You’re used to breaking noses, not sitting back. It’s going to take some getting used to. But hey, maybe if we clean up shop, the Dandelion will come to us.”
“That’s the hope,” Bram mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fuck me, I need a drink.”
“Just don’t go too crazy,” Lee says, rising from his chair and twitching his black tie a centimeter to the right. “Did you delete Chel’s number from your phone yet?”
Rolling his eyes, Bram slides his phone across the desk for Lee to check. “See for yourself. She’s dead and buried.”
Lee’s eyes flash, and Bram throws his hands up. “Not literally, jesus.”
“Just checking,” Lee says.
Bram doesn’t need to tell Lee that his thoughts have been deeply buried inside someone else's cunt for the last few days. A boy’s cunt, to make matters even worse. Exactly the goddamn press he doesn’t need.
Bram manages to stay away for nearly a week before he cracks and finds himself cruising though Beechwood at an ungodly hour, hoping against hope that he’ll find himself face to face with a set of knobbly knees. He finds the exact same stop sign where he found his angel before, and turns the car off. He’s about to light a cigarette when there comes a soft knock on the passenger side window.
Bram’s stomach clenches, his spine tingling as he slowly turns to look at who it is. A lanky man in a bathrobe looks in on him, eyes narrowed as he tries to peer inside the tinted windows. Rolling his eyes, Bram slams the button to slide the window down.
“Can I help you?” Bram asks.
The man continues staring at him with narrowed eyes, as if he took his glasses off too early. “We have a neighborhood watch out here, you know?”
Bram quirks his eyebrow. “Yeah, and?”
“So…” the man gestures to Bram’s car. “We don’t tolerate, uhm, suspicious figures.”
Bram stares at the middle-aged, white man in his blue bathrobe and white undershirt for an aching five seconds before he says, “I’m an undercover cop, sir. Why do you think I’m here?”
The man’s eyes pop open and he gives an overenthusiastic nod. “Ooh, oh, oh, oh.” Dropping his voice to a whisper, he leans his face into the car and says, “I understand now, thank you, sir. Apologies. We’ve just been dealing with a recent…issue. It’s got us all on edge.”
“Let me guess,” Bram says. “You suspect there’s a young man selling himself out here?”
The man in the bathrobe raises his clasped hands up to Bram, a relieved smile on his lips. “You are good. Yes, that’s the one. We just don’t want that kind of thing happening in our neighborhood.”
“Understandable,” Bram says, his body ice-cold. “If you don’t mind, talking to you is only going to scare him away so…”
“Oh, yes, of course, duh.” The man laughs and backs away from the car, muttering some kind of thanks as Bram rolls the window back up.
He takes the car up one block further and kills the engine again, trying to figure out what he’s going to do with himself for the rest of the evening because he is surely not going to run into the boy after that. Nobody would be dumb enough to approach his car after seeing one of the neighborhood dads at his window.
Knock knock.
Bram jumps out of his skin at the soft rapping on the driver’s side window. He turns, the breath punched from his chest as he sees two wide black eyes peering in, his angel’s hands cupped around his face.
Bram panics, trying to act as quickly as possible so he doesn’t lose his moment, which results in opening his own car door for some stupid reason.
His angel doesn’t care. As soon as he has room, he squeezes through and hops into Bram’s lap, looping his reedy arms around Bram’s neck with a smile.
“You scared the shit out of me,” Bram says.
The boy gives him a delighted smirk, pushing his hand up into Bram’s black hair, his head lolling to the side. Bram’s breath quickens, his pulse already accelerating into a roar as he sets his tanned fingers against the boy’s neck.
“Fuck me,” Bram mutters, already getting hard as the boy shifts his hips and leans his back against the steering wheel. Today, he’s only wearing a long button-down shirt that shows his nipples through the fabric. When he lifts his slender leg up to prop his foot against the car door, Bram can see his pussy peeking out from under the shirt.
All the blood drains straight to Bram’s cock.
“Come here, Angel,” Bram whispers, pulling the boy against his chest. “Is it okay if I call you Angel?”
His answer comes with a hungry kiss that sends gooseflesh rippling down Bram’s body. Soft lips on his, soft fingers on his face, soft hips pressing into his cock—Bram moans into Angel’s mouth and grips those lean hips with both hands.
“I gotta take us somewhere else.” Bram breathes the words between hungry kisses. He’s barely able to stop himself, but he manages to peel his lips off of Angel’s mouth long enough to get his car in drive.
“Please don’t make me crash,” Bram whispers as he starts driving with his little angel seated in his lap.
Angel turns his attention to Bram’s chest, trailing his fingers over the swell of muscle and the beads of Bram’s nipples. Bram’s hips push up into Angel’s body without his permission, the unexpected, spiraling pleasure of that light touch making him mad as he accidentally starts down the road at double the speed limit.
“What are you doing down there,” Bram murmurs.
Angel snakes his hand under Bram’s t-shirt, leaning forward to kiss Bram’s jaw while he lightly rubs his fingers into Bram’s nipples.
“Jesus.” Bram grips the wheel in both hands. Chel never touched him like this—Angel lightly flicking the pad of his thumbs over Bram’s hardening buds.
Angel licks Bram’s jaw and gives a wheezing little giggle that travels across Bram’s skin like lightning.
“Gonna make me come before I can even get inside you,” Bram whispers, voice strained. “Ease up a little, huh?”
Angel does not ease up—lifting Bram’s shirt high enough that he can readjust his legs and latch his mouth onto Bram’s nipple.
“Nnn, fuck.” Bram drives them into the nearest office parking lot, hitting the brakes much too hard just to get his hands back on Angel’s body. “There’s more room in the back,” Bram says.
Angel leans his head to the side, looking over the flattened trunk, and gives Bram a knowing smile, just a bit of smugness tinting those black eyes.
Bram breaks into a fresh sweat. “I just…had to move some things so, you know…”
With another quick kiss, Angel crawls into the back and Bram wastes no time following after him. Angel tugs his shirt off without any prompting, and much to Bram’s surprise, takes a moment to fold it neatly and set it on the passenger seat. Bram kisses the curve of Angel’s ass when he leans into the front of the car, Bram’s pulse throbbing as he waits for Angel to wriggle back over to him and sit on his chest, forcing Bram to lay down across the newly spacious trunk.
Any hesitation Bram might have felt instantly vanishes as Angel leans his hands on either side of Bram’s head to smile at him with such an obvious lust. Bram is certain it’s only a product of his own hungry mind, but it seems like Angel’s tits are just a little bigger than they were before. The arc of his clit looks bigger too, and Bram can’t help but touch, reveling in the way Angel leans into his fingers, his back curving.
“Come back to my place,” Bram blurts out. “I got a spare room if you wanna stay.”
Angel’s eyes flick open and he gives a soft laugh.
“I’m serious,” Bram says, swirling his thumb over Angel’s clit—it’s practically a little cock for how big it is. “I could do this for you whenever you want.”
Angel pouts at him and draws his fingers over Bram’s chest. It takes Bram a moment to realize he is spelling a word over Bram’s t-shirt. Bram shoves his hand into pants pocket, pulling his phone out and hastily opening up a notepad for Angel to use.
“You really can’t talk, can you?” Bram muses as Angel quickly types out a sentence and holds the phone back out to Bram.
I have a home!
Bram squeezes Angel’s hip, enjoying the slight squish of his flesh.
“You sure you’re not just saying that so I don’t worry?” Bram asks.
Angel laughs with no sound and types out more, presenting the phone back to him.
I can prove it.
Bram nods at him. “Alright, alright, then give me your real address. We’ll go over together and I’ll see for myself that you’re well cared for. And if not…”
He reaches up to take Angel’s round face, admiring the look of his deep tan against Angel’s light skin, gently pulling him closer to kiss him again. In the thrill of those lips pressing into his own, Bram almost forgets what he was saying, but he pulls himself back from the brink of his own raging erection and whispers to Angel.
“If you’re lying to me, I might have to steal you for myself.”
Angel meets his gaze, unflinching, and nods at him.
“After,” Bram rushes to add, holding Angel right where he sits. “We’ll go after…”
Angel pulls Bram’s lip between his teeth in a painless nip. Of course, they’re on the same page about the order of operations.
*
Bram’s skin still buzzes with a deep pleasure as he gets back into the driver’s seat with Angel seated beside him. Watching Angel wipe his cunt off on a towel was entirely too satisfying, and Bram had to stop himself from just kidnapping the boy right then and there. He settled for licking Angel’s pussy clean until he was half-hard again, not caring at all about his own taste mixed with Angel’s slick. With Angel’s address in his phone, they set off toward the edges of Bram’s territory.
Bram isn’t sure what he hopes for. Part of him would like to believe that Angel is well taken care of, and that he just does this because he likes it—because he likes Bram. But the louder, more selfish part of him wishes he’ll get an excuse to rescue this perfect creature and give him a life of spoiled luxury.
As they draw nearer to a hot spot of commercial business, Bram’s stomach twists with anticipation. There aren’t a ton of places to live near here. Maybe they’re building toward Angel admitting he has nowhere to live, or that he ran away from terrible parents, or that he just didn’t want to admit that he really does want to live with Bram.
Angel only stares out the windows with the same little smirk on his lips.
When a familiar neon sign looms in the distance, Bram’s mouth instantly falls into a frown. Now is the last time he wants to think about the fucking Dandelion, but at least he’s not here to mingle with any of the business owners.
Or, so he thinks.
“Are you…sure this is right?” Bram asks, dread ballooning in his gut at the directions on his phone.
Angel turns to him with a smile and points right at the yellow neon lettering.
THE DANDELION CLUB: Dance, drinks, delights.
“Sonuva…” Bram bites back the curse and looks over at Angel, who stares brightly at the looming strip club. His hair is still messed up from Bram running his fingers through it, and it has doubled in volume, framing his round face in a halo of fluff.
“Angel,” Bram says sharply as they wait at the red light. “Did someone send you to me?”
Angel cocks his head to the side. He shakes his head no, genuine confusion painting his features. He pouts at Bram and mouths, angry?
Bram schools his voice back into something more controlled. “Nah, ‘course not.”
Angel perks up again as Bram guides them into the very back of the parking lot. Bram’s joints ache as he sits there debating his options. Before he can do anything else, Angel slips his shoes on and exits the car, running around to Bram’s side to beckon him in.
If this is some kind of trap laid by the owner of the Dandelion, Bram isn’t sure his ego will survive. He digs into his glove box and pulls out a black mask, fitting it over his mouth before he gets out of the car. Angel immediately takes his hand and begins leading Bram to the back door of the Dandelion club without a hint of hesitation.
He fishes a small key out of the breast pocket of his too-large button up shirt and unlocks the door. Bram feels like he’s going to pass out as they cross the threshold and Angel takes his hand again—they could easily be mistaken for father and son with Angel a whole head shorter than Bram. As soon as they enter into a narrow hallway, a huge man, even bigger than Bram, gives Bram a death-stare before he sees Angel and lets his breath out.
“Go on, then.”
Angel pulls Bram into a red-painted hall, passing a series of dressing room doors, some of them open, some of them closed, and several tantalizing photographs of men’s legs, thighs, and chests. A couple of guys in tight shorts and fishnets pass them by, giving funny looks to Bram, and little smirks at Angel. No one is surprised to see Angel roaming these corridors. The dread in Bram’s stomach is evolving into all-out nausea as Angel knocks three times on a closed door at the end of the hall.
“It’s open!”
The door reveals a large office. Two couches face each other in front of a thick, wooden desk where a red-headed man sits, a similar black mask to Bram’s secured over his mouth. His eyes light up when he sees Angel.
“Pearl! Where you been?”
His gaze lands on Bram like the sights of a sniper rifle.
“You brought a friend.”
Rohan: alias for the owner and operator of the Dandelion Club, the most profitable brothel in Outerridge, and current thorn in the Vampires’ side. Despite offers coming in from multiple gangs across the region, Rohan has refused to be folded into any gang’s territory, opting to maintain his independence and eschewing all protection from the larger gangs.
The quality of Rohan’s voice carries an almost imperceptible blade when he addresses Bram. His eyes narrow above the black mask, and he tilts his head, his long red ponytail trailing behind him.
“I swear I’ve seen your face before,” Rohan says.
Angel darts over to Rohan as the door swings shut, and leans his hands into Rohan’s lap, beaming up at him.
When Rohan turns to smile at Angel—Pearl?—there is obvious affection in his face that digs into Bram’s skin like nails. He sweeps Angel’s fluffed up hair away from his forehead and narrows his eyes.
“You know this place isn’t for outsiders, Pearl.”
Angel nods at him and runs back over to grab Bram’s hand, forcing him closer. Bram has never met Rohan himself, but everything he’s ever heard about the man has painted a sharp and unpleasant picture. When he rises from his chair to greet Bram face to face, Bram is instantly furious that this man is markedly taller than him. A cluster of freckles spans the bridge of his nose, just visible above the edge of his mask. He has unsettlingly bright hazel eyes that Bram wishes he didn’t have to look directly at. They make his milk skin look even paler.
“Seems you met my ward,” Rohan says, putting his hand on Angel’s shoulder. “Thanks for bringing him back.”
Bram lets go of Angel’s hand, anger and jealousy brewing into a nasty storm in the pit of his stomach.
“I know what this place is,” Bram says.
Rohan’s red brows jump up. “Perfectly legal strip club, last time the police checked. Why do you ask?”
Bram swallows, trying to rein in his mood. He takes a step closer, lowering his voice as he tries to get a measure of Rohan’s character.
“I sure hope all your dancers are legal,” Bram says.
“Perfectly,” Rohan says, not missing a beat. “You looking for a new career? I’m sure plenty of people would pay to see your ass in some fishnets.”
Bram’s hands clench into fists and he lurches forward, closing the distance between him and Rohan. “Is your ward working for you too?”
Rohan meets Bram’s gaze, unflinching. “He doesn’t work. He just lives here. Why, did you fuck him?”
Bram’s heart is going to shatter his ribs for how hard it’s beating. “I know you run a brothel out of this place.”
“I know you from somewhere,” Rohan says, ignoring the accusation entirely. “Feel like I’ve seen your picture online. Something about not being able to get it up for your girlfriend.”
“Don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Bram snarls through the mask.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Rohan says, arms folded, hooded eyes shining with obvious glee. “Mistook you for a vampire, but I’m pretty sure you don’t have any teeth in there. Is that why you wore the mask?”
Bram grabs the front of Rohan’s nice suit jacket and runs Rohan’s back into the wall, all his pent up anger jumping into his hands as he growls, “You using kids to pass favors for you?”
“Pearl doesn’t work for me,” Rohan snaps back, his hands clasping Bram’s wrists. “All my employees are legal. You don’t have fuck all on me.”
“Then what the fuck is your ward doing out on a corner?” Bram demands.
“He does whatever he wants!” Rohan snaps. “He’s his own person. Who the fuck are you?”
Bram wants to throttle this smug bastard’s pale neck. “I’m a concerned citizen.”
Rohan’s eyes shift, the brightness returning in a wicked glint like light on the edge of a knife. “I can see now why that little heiress wasn’t getting you hard. She too old for ya?”
Before he even feels it, Bram’s arm is reeled back ready to cave Rohan’s skull in—until he feels small fists beating against his back in an utterly useless assault. Bram blinks, and then turns to look behind him at Angel who desperately tries to pull Bram away from Rohan.
Shame ignites through Bram’s entire body and he shoves Rohan away from himself, stalking across the room to get a breather. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Angel tugging on Rohan’s jacket, concern bleeding through his gaze.
Rohan shrugs it off, smiling for Angel. “I’m alright, don’t worry. We’re just getting to know each other, isn’t that right, stranger?”
Bram turns back around. “Right, yeah.”
“Besides,” Rohan says, letting his breath out. “Sounds like we’re in the same boat.”
Bram frowns as Rohan crosses the room, locks the door to this office, and then takes a seat on one of the red couches. He gestures for Bram to sit across from him, and Angel crawls into Rohan’s lap—salt on the wound.
Angel tugs harshly on Rohan’s lapels, and Rohan tucks some of Angel’s hair behind his ear. “I’ll play nice, I promise.”
Satisfied, Angel darts over to Bram, pouting as he takes Bram’s hand in his own. “I won’t do that again,” Bram mumbles, feeling like a child in the principal’s office. “Sorry.”
Angel perches on the dark, wooden table between them, his gangly legs folded beneath him.
“Alright, stranger, I can only assume Pearl brought you here for one reason,” Rohan says. “He likes you.”
Some of the jealousy cools as Bram gives a small shrug. “Seems like it.”
Angel turns to him, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“So,” Rohan says. “Did you fuck him?”
“No comment,” Bram says back immediately. “Did you?”
“No,” Rohan responds just as quick. “He’s go no ID, no legal records, nothing. I don’t know where he came from or who his parents are. He won’t tell me anything except that he ran away from home. What’d he tell you?”
Bram tries to hide his embarrassment as he realizes he didn’t bother trying to wring any info out of Angel.
“He’s been pretty tight-lipped about, uh, everything,” Bram says, nerves prickling down his neck. “I thought he was mute.”
“Yeah, I haven’t heard a peep out of him, save for the wheezing.”
“Same here,” Bram says.
Angel smiles at both of them, no comment of his own.
Rohan shakes his head and pulls his phone out to give to Angel. “What do you want, Pearl?”
Angel takes the phone up and types out a quick message, showing it to Rohan who fixes him with the kind of look that Bram can’t quite decipher with the black mask over his mouth.
“I’m not your keeper,” Rohan says quietly, hazel eyes softening. “You can go wherever you like.”
Angel beams at him, jumping up to give Rohan a kiss on the temple, which Rohan receives like some kind of king accepting a most precious gift. Quickly, Angel types something else out and shows it to Rohan who barely glances at it before scoffing.
“I appreciate the offer, handsome, but that’s not gonna work.”
“What-what are you talking about?” Bram asks.
Rohan erases whatever was on the phone and says, “Looks like Pearl just wanted to let me know that he plans to spend a night with you sometime. Consider yourself lucky, stranger.”
Pride threatens to leech back into his skin as Bram looks at Angel. “You know you can spend more than one night if you want. I got a whole spare room. It’s a nice place. Probably nicer than this.”
Angel gives him a cherubic smile as he saunters over and types out another message for him to see.
If you let Rohan come with us, I’ll stay longer.
“Yeah, no, sorry, Angel,” Bram says, stomaching the pout fixed to Angel’s face. “Let’s start with one night for now.”
Angel sighs, mouthing the word, fine, and Bram’s thighs finally manage to unclench. Bram looks over at Rohan again, scrutinizing his easy posture, the casual way he seems to communicate with Angel.
“How long has he been here?” Bram asks quietly.
Rohan waves his hand in the air. “I don’t know, a few weeks? I don’t keep track. Kinda feels like he’s always been here.”
Angel smiles brightly at that, drifting back over to Rohan so he can curl up in Rohan’s lap like a cat. Rohan immediately starts running his fingers through Angel’s hair, tracing the shell of his ear. Angel stretches his arms above his head, arching his back over Rohan’s legs, his nipples pressing into the fabric of his too-long shirt.
“He’s wearing your clothes, isn’t he?” Bram asks.
Rohan laughs. “He doesn’t have any of his own. If I start buying clothes in his size, people are gonna talk. And if there’s one thing this city loves more than money, it’s talk.”
Bram grunts, pissed all over again as he realizes the two of them are in a stalemate. Nothing good with come of throwing either of them under the bus, but worst of all, Angel will get pissed at whichever one of them fucks up first.
“What day are you gonna take him?” Rohan asks, glancing over at Bram with his fingers massaging the back of a blissed-out Angel’s head. Angel’s eyes flutter shut, his body going slack.
It seems impossible that these two don’t have some kind of relationship, but Rohan is obviously too smart to admit to that here.
“Not sure,” Bram says. “Figured he’d tell me when he wants to go.”
Angel raises his hand up and gestures twice, as if to push something away.
“Monday?” Rohan asks.
Angel nods, and then looks over at Bram with an expectant, albeit sleepy, expression.
Bram suddenly feels like he’s wearing a suit one size too small, packed tight into someone else’s shell. “I’ll, uh, pick you…up…here?”
Angel looks over at Rohan who smiles beneath his mask, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “I’ll drop him off myself, thank you. Gotta make sure you’re not taking him somewhere dangerous.”
Bram barely holds back from rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, fine, whatever. Just don’t be bringing anyone with you. My address is not public knowledge.”
“Great,” Rohan says. “He has a burner phone, by the way. He just conveniently forgets to bring it with him whenever he leaves, despite my numerous and very reasonable requests.”
Angel’s lips tug into a smirk.
“I’ll give you the number,” Rohan says to Bram.
Bram digs around for his phone, nearly dropping it as he comes to grips with this incredibly mundane conclusion to meeting the man who fucked him over a month ago. Once he has Angel’s number logged, Bram rises to his feet again.
“I, uh, I guess I’ll just…head out?”
“I’m sure you can find your way from here,” Rohan says, making no move to send Bram off himself.
Bram has never felt more awkward in his life as Rohan slouches back on the couch, and Angel jumps up to say goodbye. He stands in front of Bram and raises his arms up, clearly expecting to be lifted. Bram kneels down and scoops Angel into his arms, heart beating faster as he waits to see what Angel will do in front of Rohan. His slender arms wrap around Bram’s neck and he plants a kiss between Bram’s eyes, squeezing him tight. Bram can’t stop himself from hugging Angel back, praying that he doesn’t look too needy in front of his rival business owner.
Setting Angel back on his feet, Bram glances back at Rohan and his freckles, embarrassed heat coursing through him. He shoves his hands in his pockets as Angel sits back down in Rohan’s lap, picking Rohan’s hand up to place those long, pale fingers back on his head.
Swallowing his pride and his spit, Bram clears his throat. “Sorry I got heated. I’m trying not to be like that anymore.”
As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Bram hears how very un-boss-like he sounds and he straightens his back. “If you tell anyone I was here, you’re dead.”
And with that, he flees the Dandelion like someone’s chasing him. Back in his car, Bram sits with the engine idling, staring at the chain-link fence surrounding the parking lot of the club, picking apart every interaction between Rohan and Angel—Pearl, as he called the boy. Bram tries to pull up all his mental notes that he’s gathered over the last few months on this guy, but he comes up shockingly short. Rohan is good at protecting his own image and the details of his life, but it seems even a man like that is susceptible to Angel’s charm.
One thing Bram’s men could never ascertain was whether Rohan himself was gay or not. All of the guys working at the Dandelion are incredibly tight-lipped, and strangely, so are their former clients. Bram is well aware that one’s business pursuits doesn’t necessarily dictate one’s personal interests, but Bram had always assumed that Rohan was at least an omnivore. Talking to him didn’t answer that question. Maybe he’s not interested in Angel because he isn’t built like other men—then again, there seemed to be no question that Rohan sees Angel as a boy.
Maybe Rohan is interested in Angel and just doesn’t want to admit to it.
For all Bram knows, they’ve been fucking for weeks. The thought depresses him for a moment, until he reminds himself that Angel likes him enough to spend a night with him in his own home. That’s not nothing. That’s a very big something.
Bram will have to prove that he’s the better match.
If you enjoyed this story and you want to read the rest, return to the book listing here.