Angel and the Assassin

but it doesn’t take away from
    how much I love you. I heard you telling Freddie I was temporary and Freddie said
    you loved me and you said you didn’t, you said you had no time for me. I was on the
    stairs listening to everything, so I know what you think. You don’t love me, you never
    wanted me. It’s just lust because you told Freddie that. I’m going to stay with my
    mom until I find a Daddy who will love me. I know that fucktard Conran was lying
    and my mom really wants me. You are the hottest dude I ever met, but you are
    seriously fucked up. You are nuts about everything being perfect and you are a total
    control freak and I know you kill people for a living. I don’t think you would kill me
    but even I know a relationship has to be based on more than just—would I kill this
    dude or not?
    From your Angel.
    PS I love you so much.

    He decided to stay in what he was wearing, his jeans and the leather vest shirt
    he had worn the day he arrived. He sat on the side of the bed and laced up his

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    Fyn Alexander

    German paratrooper boots. The only present he would take was the rebel cap Sir
    had bought him in the West End.
    In his leather backpack he stuffed his blanket, the money, and one change of
    clothes and headed out into the dark, cold early morning. A damp drizzle began to
    fall as he walked away from the flat. He missed Daddy already.

    Angel and the Assassin
    161

    Chapter Nineteen

    Kael was so drunk he could hardly stand up. Part of him rebelled against
    being out of control to the point where he could not defend himself if he needed to,
    and part of him wanted to obliterate all the feelings of vulnerability that being in
    love gave him.
    The man who stood with his back to him, facing the toilet wall with his
    trousers around his knees, meant nothing to him. This was much safer than being
    responsible for a lovely boy who might even love him back given the chance. “Ready
    when you are.” The man, older than himself and attractively masculine, looked over
    his shoulder.
    When he had left the flat, already drunk, he was still wearing the dark gray
    trousers and gray shirt he had worn that day. He was not dressed for a leather bar
    so he went to a gay pub to finish getting drunk and see how many men he could
    fuck in one night. By this time he had lost count and lost interest. At least he was
    not so drunk that he had neglected to use a condom, but he had started the night
    with a handful in his pocket and he was down to the last one.
    In a gentle, longing voice, the man said, “Come on, gorgeous, let me feel the
    size of you. I haven‟t had a fuck in weeks.”
    “I don‟t think I can.” Kael patted the man‟s shoulder. “No offense, mate, but
    I‟m too drunk.”
    “Come back to my place. We‟ll sober you up and try again.”
    “All right.” Kael followed the stranger out of the pub.

    * * *
    He awoke the next morning lying in a bed he did not recognize. The man

    beside him was still asleep, and he couldn‟t remember if he‟d fucked him or not.
    With the stealth he used on a job, he dressed and left without making a sound. At
    home he went directly to the bathroom without going through the bedroom so as not
    to disturb Angel, and took a long, very hot shower.
    Christ, my mouth feels like the bottom of Gandhi’s sandal.
    He scrubbed his teeth vigorously and gargled with mouthwash, then went
    naked to the kitchen and drank two bottles of water. This was insane. He‟d had a
    horrible time last night, drunk more than he had drunk since his early twenties,
    and fucked at least a dozen strange men.

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    What he really wanted was to lie in bed with Angel and hold him and ask him
    why he had stopped being affectionate and spontaneous. He wanted to tell him he
    missed being hugged and leaned on. He missed Angel sitting in his lap on the couch
    and chatting about unimportant things. He missed Angel walking up behind him
    and hugging him around the waist. He missed being called Daddy.
    I’m going to make this right.
    Picturing Angel curled up with his blanket, he quietly opened the bedroom
    door. The bed had not been slept in. Kael scanned the room for signs of his boy.
    After taking in the big details—the blinds had not been drawn, the bed was still
    made—he looked at the smaller details. Angel had sat on his side of the bed. There
    was a small flattened area in the duvet. The drawer in his bedside table was
    fractionally open.
    A sudden panic gripped Kael‟s