He stared at the door on the other side of the street. It was a modest door, really, grey and small and didn’t seem to lead to anything very interesting at all. The windows to the basement were soothed and didn’t reveal even a glimpse of what was going on inside.
Andrew took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the lilac air, straightening his deep blue velvet coat and tightening the band that held back his dark hair. Then he walked the few steps across the alley, slowly and almost hesitantly, and opened the door.
Before his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, he couldn’t see a thing and he made his way down the steep stairs with the careful steps of someone who still knows where to put his feet. Soon he could make out the room, the red lights from the poison burning in the pipes, and the beds where people were laying in strange and sometimes nearly ecstatic poses. Arms dangling from red silk beds, legs bent and head tilted backwards. A low mumbling of conversation between those who could still speak. The scent of the lilacs that had followed him down the stairs gave way for smoke and sweat, alcohol and laudanum.
A silent attendant guided Andrew towards an empty bed and supplied him with a pipe. As the drug made it way through his system, dulling his senses and his pain, he spotted the redhead boy in the dens darkest corner and his heart jumped, despite the opium.From where Andrew was lying he had a perfect view of this angelic creature, the glow from the pipe casting bright red shadows in the soft brick-coloured hair. He watched the full lips as the curved around the metal mouthpiece and the grey eyes that went dim behind the long lashes.
He had spent too many hours doing this. Too many nights had vanished in a haze of opium and lust as he watched his angel from afar. But he could not stop. Could not make himself walk away. His legs carried him here on their own accord, night after night. He shouldn’t.
This boy was no renter, no poor lad from the shady quarters, willing to serve a rich master for food and wine. He was rich, well bred, probably educated. The intricate embroideries and silks in his clothes spoke of travels and adventure and his eyes told of age that didn’t show in his delicate features.
He called the attendant and asked for wine and tobacco to clear his head with, his eyes still fixed on the boy, who was obviously smoking too much tonight. The delicate features were flushed and his forehead sweaty. The tube with the mouthpiece had fallen from his open hand onto the floor and the grey eyes were closed. The attendant brought his order and he sat up on the low bed, crossing his legs as he lit his tobacco pipe and sipped the sweet strong wine. He wouldn’t watch this boy anymore. Andrew felt light as he made his way across the room, as if his feet wasn’t really touching the floor and his heart beating fast. But he also felt calm, like every time you’ve made a decision about something that has been bothering you for some time.
The angel didn’t even move as Andrew sat down at the foot end of the bed, and as he slowly slid down beside him, casually, all he got in response was a quiet sigh. He had brought the wine with him and filled the glass again, holding it under the boys nose, leaning over him, so close he could feel the body heat emanating through the thick layers of clothes. The boy stirred, a lock of amber hair brushed over Andrews hand, making a warmth not unlike that the sweet wine gave, spreading through his body.
- I know You…
the angel said with a mumbling and soft voice, his eyes slowly focusing on Andrews face as he reached for the glass of wine being held out to him.
- Sir. You have been watching me. I’ve seen you.
Andrew simply nodded, looking back into those clear grey eyes that now held the faintest hint of a smile.
- I have been watching you. May I ask your name, my Angel-haired boy of silk and opium?
- Jonathan Statham. It’s a pleasure, Sir.
Andrew could not help but to raise an eyebrow, this must be the son of Sir Thomas Statham. Most definitely not a renter…
- Andrew Bourdet. And it’s my pleasure. Sir.
Andrew bowed his head. A slightly awkward pose considering he was lying down with his chin supported by his hand, and Jonathan smiled and took another sip of the wine.
- Thank you for the wine. I do believe I needed this now.
he said, somewhat apologetically. Andrew refilled the glass, still in slight shock that he had not been shoved off the low bed, that there hadn’t been a scene, that he hadn’t been thrown out of the den. Surely, young Statham here was a more valued customer than him, and he could certainly get him thrown out and banned easily. But the boy just laid there with the wine in his hand, looking right at him, without a sign of wanting to change the situation. Andrew could smell him, so close was he. The soap in that beautiful hair, some exotic perfume which he couldn’t identify but that made his head swirl. A hint of sweat and of course a thick aura of opium and wine.
- So…
Jonathan Statham broke the long silence and Andrew realized he had probably been staring again. He cleared his throat and propped himself up on the elbow, trying to figure out something to say, as he suddenly felt a hand on his hip. He nearly froze, the contact sending a jolt through him, like a bolt of lightening. He held still as he felt the slender fingers travel up his hip, in under the heavy velvet in his coat until there was only a thin layer of linen separating Jonathan’s hands from his skin. He felt himself blush, in a way he hadn’t blushed since he was a boy. His usually pale skin flushing into a bright pink as the seemingly so innocent contact woke the arousal in him. For weeks he’d been watching this boy, for weeks he had gone home alone and masturbated to the pictures in his head. He leaned in closer and Jonathan didn’t back away. So close he could nearly taste the wine from the boys lips, a warm breath of air caressing his own face and he felt the hand on his ribs pressing down as his pants grew tighter. Not here… definitely not here.
He’d barely finished the thought before Jonathan removed the hand and sat up, slowly, still unsteady from the drug and the wine, tying the red hair back up at the neck and looking at Andrew.
- Come
Andrew tried hard to not rush it, coming to his feet as composed as he possibly could, and following the angel up the stairs.
The sun had started to rise and the narrow street was bathed in an soft, apricot light. The lilac seemed to be doubling it’s effort to spread it’s scent and the heat of the day had just given way, a cool wind blessing them as the cobblestones waited to get warmed by the new days sun. Andrew didn’t know where they were going. His apartment was on the other side of town and in the other direction. But he didn’t care. All that mattered now was the boy with the sunrise hair, the angel in the pale green silk, the heat from the body of the one who had captured his whole lust.
They walked until they reached the somewhat nicer quarters uphill, and Jonathan stopped by a white painted door and led Andrew up two flights of stairs, beautifully painted and ornamented.
The apartment was smaller than he expected, Andrew assumed it was a second home, a getaway. Thick red drapes hung over the tall windows, shutting the morning light out. Bookshelves were dominating the room, row upon row with thick books in mahogany casings. A chaise at the end of the room under a lamp that the boy went to light, making the room bathe in a light not unlike that of the morning street. Andrew followed his angel into the next room, which had a prominently placed bed and not much more. With a slight smile he realized he was no longer the seducer as Jonathan took his hand and gently pushed him down onto his back in the soft bolsters.
- I wanted to do this…
- From the moment I saw you.
Andrews hands slid over the soft silk as he pulled his new-found lover closer, their lips finally meeting in a kiss that quickly went from careful and tentative to passionate and deep. He felt the boys body move against his, pressing closer, the erection under the layers of fabric obvious against his leg as he started to unbutton the boys heavy coat. He went about this slowly, reverently, but Jonathan proved more impatient and ripped the buttons open before throwing himself like a predator over Andrews clothing. He felt the warm velvet tugged over his shoulders and his shirt ripped up, exposing his skin to the cool air. His half closed eyes caught a slither of light on the wall as the sun broke through an opening in the curtains, dancing over the yellow ornament flowers on the hand-painted wallpaper, the rest of his senses focused on the heat of skin against skin and the scent of arousal filling the air. He could feel full lips boldly brushing over his chest, exploring every inch of his skin on their way down his stomach. He turned his head, slowly as it felt as if the room was spinning, looking down at Jonathan. Shorter than him but broader, surprisingly muscular in a way that didn’t show when he was dressed. Andrew had no idea when they had lost all their clothes, but he wasn’t about to complain and as he felt the warm lips brush against his erection he gasped, for a short moment wondering if he’d been wrong about the angel not being a renter.
Andrew gripped the sheets with one hand as the soft lips closed around his cock, the other grabbing a handful of red hair. The silent moan of approval that reached his ears made him tighten the grip.
Still in the twilight between dream and awareness, his tongue glued to his palate, and his head feeling as if someone had wrapped a towel hard around it, Andrew didn’t dare to open his eyes. He must have passed out in the den. He groaned and rolled over on his side, expecting to see a stern attendant waiting to show him out. The sun was almost setting again and he blinked against the light. Light… and the contours of a delicate naked body, skin nearly glowing in the sun and a curtain of flaming hair falling down on the muscular back. Andrew took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and opened them again. It had seen surreal last night, but now, in the sober afternoon light, it was even closer to feeling like a dream. Jonathan turned around and smiled at him.
- Oh, good morning! I thought you were never going to wake up.
The boy handed him a glass of cold water and Andrew drank it with a grateful sigh, still blinking towards the light, and his angel, who climbed back into the bed with him, a mischievous smile curving his beautiful lips.
- You passed out last night.
- I… I guess I must have.
- I admit I was a little disappointed, but I assumed it would be best to let you sleep it off.
- I… um…
Andrew reached over Jonathan to place the empty glass on the oak nightstand, letting their bodies touch as if to assure himself that he wasn’t still lost in an opium haze.
- I’m sorry, Sir.
- Jonathan.
- Jonathan. I’m sorry, Jonathan.
It was real. He was still here. And the angel was right by his side, naked, smiling at him.
He leaned in over the boy, carefully brushing his lips against the full ones he’d watched from afar for so long. The lips he knew exactly what they looked like as they closed around the pipe mouthpiece, as they parted slightly as their owner drifted into the red warm haze. His hand was resting on a slim him and he slowly moved it upwards, exploring the ribs under the tense skin, the hard muscle over the chest, finding a hard nipple to gently pinch between his thumb and forefinger. Jonathan released a long held breath with a pleased groan and the nipple stiffened against Andrews fingers. He trapped the full lower lip between his teeth and let his hand slide down over the soft skin of the angels stomach, over a protruding hipbone and finally wrapping his fingers around the already hardening shaft. The angel parted it’s lips and trusted into Andrews hand with a moan, and he felt himself grow hard in an instant, pressing his erection against the boys hip as he kissed him, the taste of yesterdays wine and underneath that, the taste of the angel himself, pooling on his tongue.
An angel with a flushed face, red hair like a fan over the luxurious pillow. Andrew pressed his lips against the pale neck as he rolled on top, a shameless moan falling from his lips as their erections pressed together, Jonathan squirming restlessly under him. He felt nails digging into his shoulders and their teeth collided as he dove in for another passionate kiss, his breaths short and his heart threatening to beat it’s way out of his heaving chest. He watched the flushed angel pull his legs up and look into his eyes. His own knees shaking as he picked up on the invitation and slid down, biting down hard on his lower lip as he felt the boy push back against him.
There was a brief moment where pain showed in the deep grey eyes as Andrew buried himself in the tight heat, a quick flutter, before it was replaced by lust again. Strong legs wrapped tightly around Andrews waist, pulling him so close no air was left between them, the angels erection firmly trapped between their bodies as they started rocking against each-other, entwined, with hands and lips exploring every inch of skin that got within reach. The sounds from the busy street below mingled with theirs of lust and need, of passion and skin sliding against skin. Carefully watching the face of his lover Andrew picked up the pace, the tightly knit brows and the red cheeks, combined with the parted lips and the little sobs falling from them, telling him it was time.
The angel screamed. A primal, guttural scream, born deep within his soul. The tensed body arched up in a vibrating bow and the sensation of the climax, the slick liquid pumping out onto the skin of their stomachs, the shaking and the increased body heat, sent Andrew into an abyss. Everything before his eyes when white, and he no longer knew where he ended and the angel started, their bodies as one as they exploded, erupted, got engulfed by a black hole of pure pleasure, the street below going quiet and room turning red.
Andrew slowly opened one eye, feeling his stressed heartbeats slowing down, finding the same rhythm as the angels, their bodies still so close he could feel every breath, match them to his own. The room still red, as the setting sun made the shadow of them dance on the yellow flowers on the wall.
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