Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 10

thrust. The stars migrated, some moving to spin around his nipple, following his lover's hand. Others became comets, their fiery tails blazing through the inner space of his shaft when the head of Oliver's cock found the intended target. George couldn't control his moans when Oliver's cockhead staked its claim on the territory he'd sought out so many times without fully understanding why.
    "That's it, baby," Oliver crooned. "Take my cock. Take me, George."
    "I'm gonna cum," George gasped.
    Diabolically, Oliver tightened his fingers around the base of his cock and balls, squeezing until the release George craved expanded inside his sac, pounding furiously at the stricture.
    His sense of loss battled with relief when Oliver pulled out. Fingers bit into George's hips as Oliver turned him. George's cock swelled. Oliver slid off the condom and stepped close. Grasping both cocks with forceful strokes, Oliver curled his other hand around George's neck, and his tongue stroked past his lips with equal force. Though he had the truck cab at his back, George had to wrap his arms tightly around Oliver to keep from falling, returning the kiss with a need that outweighed his need to cum. Twin jets of seed splashed like hot rain onto their bare chests.
    When the blinding explosions of rapture resolved once more into darkness, George opened his eyes. There was more than male pride and sexual satisfaction in Oliver's eyes. He'd seen that look before. That look lay in pieces on Max's desk. It lurked behind reproach every time he saw Connie. George closed his eyes again.
    "Let's go curl up in my bed and sleep till noon," Oliver suggested when their shaky legs allowed them to jump down from the truck. Clinging together like drunken sailors, they walked the short distance to the house.
    "I need to go. I forgot something I have to get done. For Connie." The pointed tail of guilt pierced him when he saw the flare in Oliver's eyes."I'll be back," he lied, looking away.
    In the bedroom, George quickly donned his clothes, unable to meet Oliver's steady gaze. The other man's disappointment unfurled, filling the room and beating the air from George's lungs.
    He couldn't speak, so he left without saying good-bye.
    ****
    The bridge was a relic of the days when the city had been a hub for the railroad. Rust covered the metal girders like bloody snow where the skeletal structure poked through the morning fog. George stepped onto the first large metal plate, looking down through the skimpy railings. The mud-stained water tumbling over the dam made a roar that echoed in his head.
    It had taken him over an hour to find this place, thought it wasn't far from his apartment as the crow flew. George looked up, searching for signs of slack in the tension wires overhead. He had no idea when the bridge had last been inspected. He couldn't see anything on the other side, just the tops of the two towers that were all there was left standing of the mill. They soared above the mist, seeming miles away, sooty silhouettes against the dawn. Stopping three steps onto the aging structure, he cupped his hands around his mouth, feeling foolish. It wasn't as if the angel were real.
    He didn't know why the hell he was here, other than he hadn't been able to sleep, and after running a few scans on Connie's laptop, he'd idly Googled this place while checking to see if he'd fixed the computer's problem.
    "Sephrim!" The rush of the water seemed to defy his shout. Gazing around at the huge river oaks leaning over the water, he saw the leaves begin to turn, revealing their silvered undersides as the climbing sun began to burn the fog away.
    "So, you finally showed."
    A figure stood at the far edge of the bridge. All George could make out was dark hair and denim-clad legs. "Sephrim?"
    It was strange. He could hear as well as if the figure had been standing right in front of him. The angel chuffed out a laugh. "You were expecting the King of England, perhaps?" George thought about pointing out there was a woman on the throne of Great Britain, but Sephrim kept talking. "You're a hard man to motivate, George Lloyd."
    "I'm here, aren't I?"George felt a twinge of pain between his shoulder blades. "What do you want from me?"
    "You have to cross this bridge to find that out."
    He'd rather step in front of a speeding train. "I can't help you get your wings back, Sephrim."
    "Who said we were talking about my wings?"
    As George stared, the mist swirling around Sephrim moved, pushed aside