Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

After I had seen the angel withdraw from the barn window, I entered into the dark maw of the corrugated iron building and stood just inside the door for a minute or more, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. It was a good 10 degrees hotter in here than outside, no doubt a result of the sun beating on the barn's metal skin. I could smell the hay, and as my eyes reset to the dim light, the atmosphere clouded with swirling dust, I could see that the barn was being used to store bales and bales of it.

A great candidate for an internal combustion fire, I thought. A natural place for the angel to have escaped to—ascend in fiery launch rather than drifting off in a snuff of noxious fumes. That was precisely the impression I'd gotten back in the clearing of his condition—ready to blow at any moment from internal combustion.

I saw the ladder to the loft off to the right, and I climbed it, being sure that I made enough noise that he knew I was coming and that I wasn't trying to sneak up on him. He was like a skittish pony, ready to bolt and do something stupid at the least excuse. I wanted him; I'd wanted him from the first minute I saw his slender hips suspended over the blanket in the clearing and being fucked by the dark one. And I wanted to help him get to where he wanted to go. I didn't want to spook him at this delicate stage.

He had tugged the tight jeans back on and was leaning his butt against an old wooden table, crackling with the hint of several layers of different-colored paint, that was pushed against the metal wall beside the open window he had just been standing in.

He wasn't looking at me. He was hunched forward, head hanging low over a beautifully formed torso, golden curls cascading down. He held an elbow in the palm of one hand and he was picking at his teeth with the fingers of the other hand. He didn't look at me, but I knew he knew I was there. His body twitched as he hunched there in the silence and I heard a little hiccup or sob, I know not which. My eyes went to his bare feet; beautiful, slender feet, long, perfectly spaced toes.

I wanted him. I wanted to fuck him. And I wanted him to respond as he hadn't responded to the dark one. I wanted to suck on those toes as I drilled him, down to the quick. I wanted to help him get to where he wanted to go.

"Are you OK?"

No response, except, yes, maybe another little dry sob.

"I said, are you OK?" I increased the volume a bit, but I tried to keep my voice calm and silky. These were the worse moments, the most dangerous, delicate moments of the dance. "I saw you from below . . . in the window. And I was afraid—"

"Yes, I'm OK, thanks. I just need to be alone, thanks." The voice, the first time I'd heard anything from him, although I felt I'd known him forever, was a rich, soft baritone. A voice to attract attention, just as his beautiful body did.

"Can I help . . . with anything?"

"No, no, thanks. I'm fine."

I moved slowly and quietly over to the table and pulled the pack off my back and gently lowered it to the floor. I leaned my butt against the table next to him and placed a hand tentatively on his forearm. He twitched once and there was another slight sob, but I could feel him calm down, tension starting to drain out of him from the mere contact of skin on skin. His head was still hanging down, his eyes cast toward his crotch. My eyes were drifting there too, and I could feel the increasing tightness in my own crotch.

"Fine? I wasn't sure from seeing you in the window that . . . sure you don't want to talk with someone about it . . . whatever it is?"

I moved my arm around his shoulder and he just sort of collapsed into me, his face buried in my chest."

"Vince. Vince and I . . . Vince thought . . . convinced me. . . . Life is such shit."

"There, there," I cooed, and I started an almost imperceptible rocking of our bodies. The young man seemed to like this. I could feel the tension flowing out of him. "A beautiful young man like you? How could life—"

"Up to our necks in debt, and nothing going right—"

"Vince doesn't take care of you?" My mind was racing. Vince obviously was the key; Vince obviously was the dark one. "You're with Vince? Vince is your lover?"

"Yeah, I'm with Vince. But things aren't going . . . Vince said we had no other choice."

"Vince doesn't take care of you? Who pays?"

"Vince is an artist, a musician," the blond god spoke through quiet snufflings, ". . . there's never enough . . . and what I get from my parents . . . Well, we've come to an end and Vince said it was time."

I had my lips against the golden curls and my free hand was moving on his torso, progressing from tentative touches to light stroking, and now to gentle massaging. He was responding to me. I was hearing more sighs now than sobs.

"Your parents. They don't approve of Vince?" I had my palm on his belly now, down low, my pinky under the low-rise waistband of his jeans.

"No, no, they don't," he whispered. He was slightly shuddering now, responding to my attentions.

I took just a minute away from where my arms and hands were to pull my shirt over my head but then I returned them to where they'd been immediately, not wanting him to realize I'd ever lost the purchase I had attained there.

"And are they wrong about Vince? Really?" I wanted him to think about that but I didn't want him to say anything, so I turned his face up to mine and took his sweet lips with mine. As I took his breath away with a deep kiss, I moved the palm of my hand down under his waistband, pushing his jeans zipper open as my hand descended. I possessed his cock. He melted to me. Having some idea of the hold that Vince held over him, I rode on that crest of taking charge and showing authority, and the young man put up no resistance to me.

"And is Vince a good lover?" I asked as I release his lips from mine but also released his cock from the restriction of his jeans. I press a thumb into his piss slit and slowly worked his tool up and down with my fist, giving it pressure in a slow rhythm. I lowered my head and took one of his nipples between my teeth. He was moaning quietly.

"Does Vince make love to you like this?"

"No," his answered in a small, whispery voice.

I laid him gently back on the table and work my lips and tongue across his belly and up and encasing his cock. He murmured quietly above me and sighed and moaned as I made love to his cock.

I raised my head and looked up at his golden curls-framed face. "And does Vince make love to you like this?"

"No," he moaned as I returned to sucking on his glans and darting my tongue in out of his piss slit. The fingers of one of my hands was opening up his anal canal and those of the other were playing a concerto on his nipples and belly. He was moving his beautiful body now in languid undulation in concert with the lovemaking I was giving him.

I lifted my head again and said, in a husky voice. "I want to make deep love to you. I want to move inside you."

"Yes, yes," he moaned.

I pulled away from him then stripped off my trousers. I retrieved a condom packet from the pocket of the trousers and held it up for him to see. "If you want it, you have to make a decision, do something decisive. You have to cap me with this." This was a start. I wanted to fuck him, yes, but I wanted to help him to get to where he wanted to go. He had to take some responsibility, show some life.

I tore the packet open as he sat up and then he took the condom out and rolled it onto my cock while I took his lips in mine and we kissed deeply.

Then, with a sigh, he slowly laid back onto the table, scooted his butt to the edge of the table, and lifted and parted his legs and dug his heels into the edge of the table in a wide stance. I went down on my knees between his legs and started tonguing his hole while I stroked my cock to fuller power.

When I stood and entered him, he emitted a little cry and arched his back and grabbed for the side edges of the table with his hands. I took hold of his slim hips and pulled him up to me as my cock slid farther inside of him. He was moving and writhing under me as I bottomed and then started long, powerful strokes inside him. I was panting and breathing heavily at the thrill of fucking such a beautiful, nubile blond body, he was gasping and groaning and giving little yipping sounds at the taking. This was nothing like I'd seen on the blanket in the clearing. He was giving me his all, taking the fuck in the fullness of what I had to offer and to give him.

We were into a rhythm, with his pelvis as fully in motion and revolution as mine was. He came up and threw his arms around me, and buried his face in my chest and teethed on my nipples. And I fucked on and on, in deep, long thrusts of lust.

I looked down into his eyes, which were swimming in passion and want. I wrapped a hand around one of his ankles and brought one of his feet to my lips and I kissed and started sucking on his toes as I stroked away inside him. He was writhing away under me, stroking his own cock, and as I sucked on his big toe his body lurched and he cried out and shot his seed up onto my heaving belly.

"This is life." I cried out in mid thrust. "Do you embrace life?"

"Ohhh," he responded, but then, "But Vince said—"

"Fuck Vince," I cried out and thrust deep inside him. He gave a little yelp and dug his nails into my shoulders. "Fuck what Vince said. Think for yourself. I've fucked Vince, and he wasn't half as alive as you are."

The blond arched his back down to the table top and looked at me with a shocked expression in his face. "You know Vince? You couldn't. You couldn't have fuc—"

"Want proof?" I sneered. I'd stopped stroking inside him, but I was still buried deep and had a grip on his hips, holding him to me where we both centered. I released one of his hips and reached down into my backpack and pulled out a golden-yellow T-shirt.

"Yours or Vince's?" I asked as I fisted the shirt over his face.

"Mine. How did you? Where did you . . .?"

"You left it in the clearing. Where I left Vince after I fucked him."

"Vince wanted—"

"Vince is gone," I yelled down into his face. "What is it you want. Vince is gone."

"Vince? Gone?"

I dropped the shirt and got both of my arms around him and lifted him off the table in fury and turned him and forced his chest down on the table top roughly with a fist to the small of his back. He yelped. I thrust my dick brutally inside his canal and he cried out again in pain, Digging a fist in his blond curls, I cruelly pulled his head back toward me as I fucked hard and furiously inside his channel.

"Oww, that hurts. Oh, Gawd, you're splitting me," he cried out.

"Life or death? Which one is it? Which do you want? Vince or life?" I was bending my lips close to his ear and hissing at him.

"I don't . . . Ohhh, ahhhh. Vince says we couldn't . . . Ohhhh. You're killing me."

Fucking away furiously still, I bit his earlobe, drawing blood, and hissed again. "What is it you want? Fuck Vince. Which do you want?"

He was crying out at the hard taking now, not responding with more than groans and yelps.

"I could fuck you to death. I will fuck you to death. Is that what you want? If not, fight for your life, damn it!"

More crying out, writhing under my assault on his body. I wrapped my arms around his waist and lifted him off the table and frog-marched him over the window. I suspended him outside the window over the abyss, my arms wrapped around him, my cock continuing its vicious upward stroking in his ass.

He began to struggle hard against me now. I was too strong from him, but he was struggling against me, and he grabbed the frame on either side with his hands and was holding on for dear life, grunting and gasping in an affirmation now that he wanted to live. Holding on for dear life and struggling to live.

But I was too strong for him and this was the apex moment. I covered his face with one of my hands, the heel of the hand jammed against his mouth and my fingers pinching his nose shut.

I shot my load deep inside him while he was still struggling, but it wasn't long after that that he went limp from lack of oxygen and blacked out.