Page 10 of Glitter
Chapter 10
Thank fuck. True to his word, my angel was at Glitter again tonight.
He’s the first thing I see once I battle my way through the jumble of people clustered around the entrance door. And there were a lot of them. It was one of the major drawbacks to only hitting up the clubs on the weekends—the places were always packed to the gills.
But even with all the other men, and even though he’s not standing underneath the bright glow of the dance floor lights, my eyes shot straight to my angel. Like they’re magnets and he’s my geographic north pole.
Leaning against the end of the bar closest to the door, he was a stunning vision of glittering fancy. Tonight he’s wearing tight-fitting, silvery pants, which glimmer even in the dimmer light of this part of the club, a black mesh top, a fuzzy, faux fur, cropped jacket, and shimmery, silver, bejeweled, heeled sandals. Around his neck, drawing attention to the long, slender length of it, was a narrow, black ribbon that had a large, pink fabric flower attached to it.
And the pink glitter had made a reappearance—heavily streaked over his cheekbones and across the narrow ridge of his pretty nose. He’d also stuck a pink, glittery star to his right cheek, the distance of one breathless kiss below the corner of his eye.
I wanted to spend hours looking at him, drinking in the loveliness of him. But at the same time, I didn’t want to spend another single second not being pressed up against him as close as two men could be. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to worship him. To devour him.
It had to be my imagination, the way my angel seemed to brighten when he spotted me as well. Yes, he’d told me—demanded—that he’d see me again tonight. But there was no possible way he could’ve been as eager, as restless, as I’d been, counting down the hours until we were back at Glitter, together.
My brain couldn’t wrap around that possibility.
His customary smirk was firmly in place as he called out to me, while I was making my way toward him, “There you are, boo. I knew you wouldn’t stand me up.”
“No, n-noo, never,” I stammered out, thankful I’d gotten close enough that I wouldn’t have to shout for him to be able to hear my reply. “I’d—I’d never do that.”
I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to sweep him up in my arms and press my lips to his. In greeting. In gratitude that he’d come when he’d said he would. In joy, because seeing him simply made me happy.
And because I just really, really wanted to kiss him.
Oh, how I longed to finally get to know what his lips tasted like. Would they taste of the cotton candy of his skin—was that his natural flavor or some sort of lotion or perfume he’d applied to make him smell and taste like spun sugar? Or would his mouth be more similar in flavor to his cum? Saltier, deeper, headier, but still sweet, like caramel.
But we hadn’t kissed yet. The closest we’ve gotten was his breath on my skin as he teasingly whispered in my ear. My angel had never even hinted at initiating a kiss between us. No brushing his gorgeous lips over my cheek, oh so close to my lips but not quite there. No tense, fraught moment of hovering his lips close to mine but never quite closing the distance. Nothing of that sort.
For all I knew, my angel didn’t like kissing.
Maybe he didn’t kiss anyone. It might not be only me that he wouldn’t kiss.
But without doing the thing that my body was urging me to do—to kiss him—I flailed awkwardly, unsure how to properly greet him. Should I hug him? Wrapping my arms around him, even without a press of lips added in, sounded heavenly. And it wasn’t as though we’d never touched. I’d had my arms around him, and his around me, before. A couple of times. So, I wouldn’t feel weird giving him a hug.
Except…we’d been standing here next to the bar, in front of each other, for a minute or two. At least. And going in for a hug now, after I’d been standing here, silent and just looking at him like a doofus, while he…
Was he just waiting to see what I’d do? With that teasing, smirky smile that made it look like he was laughing at me?
At least he seemed amused by me. That was something.
But, yeah, going in for a hug now, after so much time had gone by, with neither of us talking…that would be weird.
So, I wound up ending the silence by stating the obvious. “You came. You’re here.”
Yep, that wasn’t as weird as a sudden, unexpected hug would’ve been. Maybe I should’ve just gone in for a kiss. Consent, and possible personal preferences, be damned. Except, I’d never do that. Not to my angel. Not to anyone, really. But especially not to my angel.
If he thought I was being weird, he at least didn’t make fun of me for it or bring any extra attention to it. He simply stated, “I said I would be. And so, here I am. And here you are.” He flicked a quick glance around the club over my shoulder, then added, “And so is everyone else. Or at least every other gay man in the greater Milwaukee area. Fuck it’s crowded in here tonight.”
Would that… Would it being so crowded tonight make him not want to fool around with me here? It hadn’t seemed like he’d cared the other three times we’d hooked up in Glitter’s bathrooms, but those nights, while crowded, hadn’t been as jammed ass-to-elbows as it was tonight.
With that in mind, I started to say, “Do you want to—” but before I could finish up the suggestion that we could maybe go somewhere else, somewhere less crowded, he interrupted me.
“Give me your phone,” he said. An order, not a suggestion.
Puzzled, I nonetheless slid my phone out of my pocket and handed it over to him. It’s not like I had anything on there that I’d care if he saw. The icons for the couple of hookup apps I had on there might as well be digitally coated in dust for how long it’d been since I’d opened them, but I wasn’t embarrassed about him seeing them on my phone. I assumed he had the same number, if not more, on his own phone.
I’d unlocked it with a swipe of my thumb as I’d handed it over, so my angel had no trouble accessing my phone and doing…whatever it was he’d wanted to do with it.
He tapped away at it for a bit, then held it back out for me to take back, saying, “Here.”
Taking my phone from his hand, I glanced down at it and saw that it was open to my maps app, with an address entered into the search bar. Still confused, I looked back up at my angel, just in time to see him fidget with a lock of hair before he flicked the entire headful of his pink curls, sending them artfully tumbling.
“Look, it’s no big deal,” he said, although the tone of his voice wasn’t quite as casual as his words. “I’m just not in the mood to be jammed in on all sides like some sardine in a can. And while it’s my turn to get a taste of you— Don’t think I haven’t been thinking about that fucking thick cock you’ve got tucked away in your bleh jeans and how good it would feel in my mouth.”
Blood rushed to my dick so quickly that I felt lightheaded. Or maybe that was because of him saying he’d been thinking of me. Specifically, thinking of having my dick in his mouth.
Not aware of my sudden lightheadedness, he continued on, as though everything in me hadn’t locked onto and focused solely on the mental image of his lips—cherry-slushy pink tonight—wrapped around my dick. “…and the bathrooms here look fairly clean, but they’re still bathrooms. And there’s no way they’re clean enough for me to let these pants touch those floors.”
Seeing those lips pursed in disgust—an expression I didn’t want to associate with the thought of his mouth and my dick together—snapped me out of my lustful momentary daydreaming.
It took a few more moments than it should have for my brain to catch on to—“Is this… Where is this? What’s this an address for?” I asked, raising and motioning with my phone.
“It’s no big deal, okay,” he repeated, sighing and rolling his eyes. “It’s just… It’s my address, boo. I figured…since it’s way, way too full here tonight, we could go to my place instead.”
I opened my mouth to immediately agree, because…fuck. Yes. I’d love to go to his place. See where he lived. Find out more about my angel.
But before I was able to say anything, he cut me off again. “It’s no. Big. Deal,” he said, again, stressing the words, as if he thought I wouldn’t believe him. “Okay?”
This time, he seemed to be waiting for me to say something, to acknowledge what he’s said, so I nodded my understanding as I replied, “Yes. Okay. No big deal. I get it.”
“Right. So… Go to this address,” he told me, “…and I’ll meet you there.” Then he hurriedly added, “Do not go to the main house. See the ‘B’ there on the address? That means I’m in the small studio rental behind the house at this address. Do. Not. Go to the big house, okay, boo? You’ll just bother my landlords and nobody wants that.” His voice dropped, almost too low for me to hear, as he seemed to repeat to himself, “Fuck, nobody wants that. Not now. Not ever.”
The horror in his voice and the way he shuddered made me ridiculously curious about his landlords, whoever they were. But I had the feeling that if I pried, even the smallest amount, he would snatch my phone back and find a way to erase the address he’d entered into it somehow, then flee off into the night, taking his invitation with him.
Not wanting to risk that, I merely confirmed, “B, yep, got it. I won’t…I won’t go anywhere near the big house, just straight to your place.”
His eyes narrowed and his stare bored into my forehead, as if he could see right inside my head and read my sincerity straight from my brain. “Right. See that you do,” he muttered. Another moment of glaring passed, then his features evened back out to teasingly confident as he stated, “Off we go then. I’ll meet you there.”
I nodded, stepping aside so that he could scoot around me and exit the club before me.
One of the club bouncers held the door open for both of us, although I noticed his eyes lingered much longer on my angel than they did on me. Not that I could blame him. If I could, my own eyes would be glued to this pretty, glittery angel every second of the day that I could keep them open.
As we parted on the sidewalk in front of the club—me to head to where I was parked and him to wherever he had his car—he jokingly warned me, “Now don’t get lost, boo. Although…” He traced a single slender up the front of my shirt, then startlingly booped me on the nose with it. “If you should happen to take the slightly slower route to get there,” he said. “I might use that bit of extra time to change out of this into something pretty for you.”
Oh holy mother of fuck… As far as I was concerned, what he was already wearing was already over-the-top pretty. And sexy. So, so fucking sexy. That he was suggesting he’d greet me at his place in something even prettier…
Fuck. If it were capable of sound, I think my dick would’ve just whimpered.