Page 11 of Angel Boy (Pack It In #2)

Xavier

The rest of the day passes in a haze that feels completely different from the morning's fog of despair.

This time, it's the kind of dreamlike quality that comes from finally getting something I’ve been desperately craving.

Each stolen moment with Angel feels like a small miracle.

Quick kisses in empty locker rooms when no one's looking, his hand finding mine in the back of cars as we're transported between venues, the way he leans into me during brief moments when the cameras aren't rolling.

I'm having a hard time keeping my composure, watching the light come back to Angel's eyes in a way that hasn't been there in months.

It's like someone flipped a switch inside him, bringing back the spark that made me fall for him in the first place.

The real Angel, the sassy, brilliant, impossibly vibrant man who makes terrible jokes and sees past the gruff exterior I put out as part of my job.

The realization hits me hard. I've felt just as alive as Angel in the past few hours. And I hate how easy it was to step right back into my role as Angel's Alpha instead of just his guard. Like muscle memory, like breathing, like this is what I was always meant to be doing.

Every instinct I have is singing with satisfaction at being able to care for him openly again.

When he gets that faraway look that means his blood sugar is dropping, I can press a granola bar into his hands without having to make excuses.

When he shivers between takes, I can offer him my jacket without worrying about professional boundaries.

When he needs reassurance before a difficult pose, I can give him the gentle encouragement he craves instead of watching him struggle alone.

It's terrifying how natural this feels.

Finishing up the last photoshoot of the day, Angel catches my eye from across the set. Mischief flickers through his expression, the kind of playful confidence I haven't seen from him in far too long.

The moment the photographer calls it a wrap, Angel all but excuses himself from the chaos of crew members and equipment, grabs my hand, and drags me toward the dressing room. He's all smiles and barely contained energy, practically vibrating with joy.

"Someone's feeling better," I murmur as he pulls me through the door and immediately leans up on his tiptoes for a kiss.

His hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer, and I can taste his desperation mixed with relief and something that might be hope.

I laugh into the kiss as I stumble backward against the door, overwhelmed by how much I've missed this.

Not just the physical contact, but the emotional intimacy of being what Angel needs.

But then I catch his scent, and everything changes.

Angel's natural sweetness has intensified exponentially, taking on that distinctive note that means his heat is one or two days away, far closer than this weekend. His fingers dig into my shirt a little tighter, Angel letting out a small, needy sound that instantly has me on alert.

"Babe, hold on," I manage between kisses, even though every Alpha instinct I have is screaming at me to give him whatever he wants. "As much as I want to continue this, any further and you might very well go into heat right here."

Angel whines, the sound going straight to my cock and making it incredibly difficult to think rationally. "Alpha, I need it. I need something . I feel like I'm burning up from the inside."

The plea in his voice nearly breaks my resolve, but I force myself to focus on what's best for him rather than what we both want.

A public dressing room is no place for Angel to drop into heat, no matter how much his biology is demanding relief.

I frown, studying his flushed face and dilated pupils.

"Babe, do we need to go home? Is this the beginning of your heat? "

Angel shakes his head, but his movements are slower than usual. "No, but pretty close. I just feel really hot. Can I just suck you off or something?"

A chuckle tumbles from my lips at the abruptness of his request as he reaches between us to cup me through my pants. My hips buck into his hold, my nostrils flaring as I catch the first whiff of slick hitting the air.

I manage a small, soft smile, letting a gentle purr rumble through my chest to help calm him despite my need to ravage him. The sound has an immediate effect, Angel’s shoulders relaxing slightly, some of the frantic energy dissipating.

"Babe..." I start, but he's already moving, pressing kisses along my jaw and down my neck with single-minded determination.

This isn't just about physical relief, I realize. This is Angel reclaiming his agency, choosing what he wants after months of being told his desires don't matter. It's him finally reaching for something that's his instead of something that's been assigned to him.

The symbolism isn't lost on me—after a day of being Angel-Boy for the cameras, he wants to be Angel for me. He wants to give and receive pleasure on his own terms, with someone who sees him as more than a commodity. Even if his neediness is in some part because of his heat, Angel has always been like this. The moment we’d get into the car or back home, he was mine, and he wanted to show me that he was mine.

Angel was the same during his last heat, too.

He'd been practically insatiable for days leading up to the actual heat, taking whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it.

I'd spent most of that time in various stages of undress because Angel would strip me down at a moment's notice, needing contact and closeness and the reassurance that I was there for him.

But we'd never done anything this risky, this… public . Always in the safety of his penthouse or my cottage at the edge of the city, never where there was a chance of being discovered.

Still, looking at him now, those eyes glazed with need, his face flushed with arousal and pre-heat fever, I know I'll give him whatever he needs.

I slowly maneuver him so he's leaning against the wall instead of me pressed against the door, giving us better positioning and making sure he's supported. "I'll give you what you need, babe," I tell him softly, moving to undo my pants.

Angel’s lips part, his tongue moving to coat his lips as I unearth my cock, already hard and leaking, ready for my needy Omega.

He leans forward, my beautiful Omega’s lips encircling my tip, drawing a purr from the depths of my soul.

It rattles through the room, the sensation of having Angel’s lips on me, everything I’ve ever needed.

“Jesus Christ, you feel fantastic, babe,” I rumble, sifting my fingers through his fluffy black hair, the other hand braced against the wall for support.

I guide Angel deeper onto my cock, the warmth of his mouth making it hard to stay in control, but this is for him, for my Omega, for the man who stole my heart way before I ever was honest with myself.

"Fuck, Angel, you feel so good," I purr, my grip tightening in his hair.

"I need to come so badly. You're driving me crazy. "

Even if we aren’t scent matches, an Omega’s heat scent will drive any Alpha crazy. However, I’ve always had a fondness for Angel’s, that sweet citrus tint to it that has me out of my mind.

Angel hums around my length, the vibrations sending shivers down my spine.

When his scent intensifies further, I look down to see what he’s doing, my precious Omega grasping onto my thighs, his back arching slightly.

Confused, I tilt my head and see the reason he’s so flushed.

His barely there thong is obscenely stretched out with his erection, the fabric damp with precum.

It’s been a long damn time since I’ve made him come, let alone come untouched, but so close to his heat, his body needs the release.

“You going to drink me down, babe?” My purr strengthens as Angel bobs his head up and down, one of his hands moving to squeeze around my knot.

That’s all it takes as I thrust forward and spill down his throat.

“Clean me up like a good little Omega. There you go, Angel.”

Angel hungrily drinks me down, his body stuttering too as he comes, his body sagging with relief. He leans back against the wall, my cock slipping from his lips as I step back, taking in the beautiful mess before me.

"You're going to be absolutely gorgeous during your heat, babe. I can't fucking wait," I say, my voice thick with desire.

He just sighs, straightening out his legs as he looks down at himself. “Fuck, I’m all wet. There’s so much slick, Xavier. I’m so empty.” Angel leans his head back against the wall, splaying his fingers across his silky shirt before slowly moving down to cup his cock through his thong.

My nostrils flare at the sight of him, my control about to snap when a knock sounds on the door. As much as I hate being interrupted, it’s for the best because it’s been too damn long since I stuffed Angel with my cock and knotted him the way he needs to be.

I quickly tuck myself into my pants and right my shirt before heading to the door. I crack it open, confused when there’s a young Beta standing there, the poor thing wringing his hands together before producing my phone.

“I—uh… Carter called. Well, he called three times, so I picked up thinking it was an emergency. He said that Angel was scheduled for an impromptu stage presence at the Rickland Center.”

I frown. "Angel is just getting changed, but that's not on the schedule."

The Beta shifts uncomfortably. "No, I know, but Carter was adamant. There’s a car waiting. Uh, and there's someone here to meet with you. He said this meeting couldn't wait."

That doesn’t make any sense. “Angel takes priority. I can’t just send him in a random car.”

“Right, there’s a guard waiting to take Angel, so he’s taken care of.”