by Domashita Romero (地下ロメロ)

another round of Everything’s Easy

“Are you even listening?” Zev said, shortly before snapping his fingers close enough to Angel’s face to make him swat them away.

“Nope, absolutely wasn’t,” Angel said, and Zev just rolled his eyes. Not like they were talking about anything important, anyway; it was a night out and drinks were flowing. Angel gave a nod to the other end of the bar to what he had been paying attention to, instead of his dear friend’s extended complaint about a coworker. “I think that’s one of my regulars over there.”

“Who, blue hair?” Kalina leaned in a little to follow Angel’s line of sight, though at the wrong angle, so she was looking at a woman with a mermaid’s head of hair. Knowing her, she’d been looking at her anyway.

Angel gave another, firmer nod, not wanting to be crass and just point. “No, the guy by the window.”

“Ooh, silver fox,” Kalina said as her eyes settled on the correct table and its inhabitant.

“Oh, that regular,” Zev said, and Angel didn’t have to look at him to know his grin was absolutely shit-eating. “Yima,” he said, in a breathless imitation of Angel.

“He is hot,” Kalina said. “Yima,” she echoed. Her impression was better.

Angel snorted indignantly and picked up his drink. “Do you think I’d exaggerate about someone’s hotness? Who do you even take me for?” He stood up from their table. “Think I’m gonna go say hi.”

His friends were booing this decision, but Angel was already making his way across the bar.

“Oh, boss, is that you?” he said, casual as could be as he approached Yima’s table.

Yima looked like he was coming back from another world, blinking through an adjustment to the atmosphere as he turned to look at Angel. He looked Angel over, and Angel just kept grinning through the spurt of oh don’t tell me he doesn’t recognize me when I’m not at work that made his mouth taste sour. When Yima met his eyes and gave him that soft smile, though, everything was sweet again.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Angel said as he slid right into the seat across from Yima. He hadn’t, really. He’d served Yima dinner and occasionally lunch at his restaurant, Heaven, several times a week for more than a year, but had never caught a sniff of him outside of his own working hours. Angel sometimes toyed with the idea that Yima might be some kind of sexy ghost, but he didn’t think any ghost could be as fond of ginger dumplings as Yima was.

“Didn’t expect to see you, either,” Yima said. His voice was low and soft, and just hard enough to hear over the bar’s soundtrack of lo-fi electro whatever that Angel had a great excuse to lean in closer.

“Lucky us, then, seeing each other!” Angel said, and got a little more of that smile. “I heard this place was pretty good.” Zev hadn’t shut up about it for weeks, and honestly, he’d been overselling it. Or, at least that had been what Angel was going to spend the next whatever weeks busting his chops about, before he saw the kind of patrons it attracted. “Can’t knock the view, for certain.” Angel’s eyes were focused right on Yima, who turned to look out over the neon of the city below. 

“Can’t knock it at all,” Yima said, and Angel sighed over the last few drops of his drink. He wouldn’t say he had a crush on Yima, except he would, because he absolutely had a crush on Yima. Angel’d always had a weakness for older guys, and then a premium slab of aged beef like Yima decided to start taking up a stool at his counter on the reg? Even if Yima wasn’t a sweetheart (which he was), Angel would still be nearly drooling onto his apron every time he stopped by.

“So, you come here often?” Angel had to say, then, even if he had to laugh at himself when he did. Like he could miss this chance.

Yima took a beat before answering, like even a simple question like that was worth mulling over. Angel found it beyond charming, enough to nearly successfully ignore how Zev was flipping him off back at their table, and Kalina was, bless her, obscenely waggling her tongue between her spread fingers. Yima followed Angel’s gaze, and his two idiot friends did manage to look less crass before he saw them. 

“Don’t let me keep you from your friends,” Yima said kindly, and Angel just flicked his hand in their direction, casting them off.

“Ah, of course I will, boss, but I always like seeing a regular when I’m not in the kitchen,” Angel said, and he really did, for as rare as it happened. The hours he kept meant he didn’t get out too much, save for rare occasions like this. He really liked seeing this regular in particular, soft eyed and cast in the shifting colors of the city below them. 

But, of course, of course he had to keep in mind that sometimes things were different, when the table was shared instead of divided. “Unless you’d like to be left alone,” Angel said. “Looked like you were getting some deep thinking done before I sat down.”

He’d looked like he was hearing different music. Angel’d thought the first time he’d laid eyes on Yima, too, even though at that moment he’d been struggling with the wireless speakers strung up around his restaurant. He wasn’t hearing shit, but Yima was still hearing something else. And he looked like that now — like past the generic vibes playing over the bar speakers, he might be hearing some unknown symphony. Angel wanted to hear it, too.

But he couldn’t help himself from playing a little, first. “Or unless you’re waiting for someone…” he said, leaning in a little further. 

“Oh!” Yima said, and Angel grinned at him not taking that beat. “Oh, no, I’m not.”

“Thinking, or waiting for someone?”

“Neither,” Yima said with a little sigh, and Angel’s heart fluttered. “No, I could use the company.”

Angel grinned big enough to make his glasses scoot up on his nose. “And you could use another drink, looks like,” he said, tapping his own mostly empty glass against Yima’s, which was nothing but meltwater. “Let me buy you a drink, boss.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Yima said, and Angel just waved him away.

“Of course I should! Consider it a return on investment, what with all the money you’ve put in my pocket over the years.” Angel got up from the table and tapped on Yima’s glass again. “Another of the same?”

“Please,” Yima said, and dipped his head in a way that made the warm light of the bar catch the top of his cheekbones. Angel wanted to eat him. “And thank you.”

“My pleasure as always, boss,” Angel said, and while he waited for the bartender’s attention, he snuck out his phone for a quick text to his friends.

Shooting my shot, he wrote. If I don’t I’m gonna die. 

He got an immediate response of a line of eggplant emojis interspersed with grandpa emojis, and he put his phone away with a smile as the bartender came over to him. “Another of the same for me, and also one for the handsome fella over there,” Angel said, pointing back to Yima. “Oh wait, hang on, let me not be a dick,” he said, and scurried back over to their table, picking up their empty glasses with a “yoink!” and returning them to the bar.

“Thanks,” the bartender said as she began mixing their drinks. She gave Angel a second glance and he knew that one, the ‘yeah, you’re in the industry’ glance. “Wanna be barback? Because mine had better be dead from how long he’s been on break.”

“Nah,” Angel said. “But if I find his corpse I’ll see if I can do some necromancy so he can finish his shift.”

The bartender had a good laugh at that, and Angel was bouncing when he returned to their table, drinks in hand. He had a good bit of practice putting a glass in front of Yima, but never anything alcoholic. A license to serve would make him more money, but it’d also make more trouble than it was worth, so Yima always got jasmine tea. The drink Yima had ordered at the bar had whiskey and some sort of mildly floral syrup in it; the man clearly had his tastes. “Good choice,” Angel said as he raised his glass for an actual toast, not a rattling of old ice cubes together. Yima looked right at him, with those deep brown eyes that made Angel’s little heart feel absolutely teenaged. “I might have to get one of those next. Or maybe I’ll just steal a sip or two from you.” Angel let his own glass rest a few extra moments against the bottom of his lip, and it was possible, it was just possible that a little bit of a blush rose to Yima’s cheeks.

“Maybe,” Yima said, and Angel’s cheeks were feeling warm, too. Before he could bounce that little ball of flirt back to him, though, Yima said, “Nice shoes.”

Angel let out a delighted laugh and stretched out his leg, wiggling his foot to really show off the shoes that Zev had once described as looking like if clown shoes got really into industrial music. “Aren’t they? Ugly as sin but they’re like walking on clouds,” Angel said. “These are the going out version, too. I’ll show you the work versions next time you’re dining with me. They’d make the hardest-working nurse go ‘damn!'”

Yima’d told him, over a few visits, that he’d been a nurse once, and had told him over even more visits how much that career had burned him out. “Maybe,” he said, with a sweet little smile on his lips. “They’re hard to impress.” Oh, that wasn’t a smile, it was a smirk.

Angel tapped the toe of his shoe against Yima’s calf. “Well, boss, if I can impress you with them, I’ll call it a win.”

“I think you’ll find a way to impress me no matter what.” It was another reply that didn’t take Yima a beat, and Angel couldn’t help put put his hand to his chest, a pleased swoon that wasn’t at all feigned. “I do come here somewhat often. Not as often as I come to see you, though.” Angel’s hand hadn’t left his chest, and he could feel his own heart racing. Yima sipped his drink, and Angel thought about how long his eyelashes were. “I live not too far from here.”

“Well, look at that!” Angel said. “All this time I didn’t know we were neighbors. I’m not far from here, either.” He let his hand fall from holding on to his racing heart to take that thrumming energy to his fingers tapping across the table, gradually, just gradually getting nearer to Yima’s own hand. “I’m not surprised I haven’t seen you around before now. I’m so lazy on my days off usually. Can’t pry me out the door.”

It had taken Zev and Kalina significant prying tonight, and he absolutely owed them one, or two, or three. “I’m not surprised, with how hard you work,” Yima said, and Angel could hear his soft voice say praise to him for approximately forever. “What pried you out tonight? Were you doing something with your friends over there?”

“Nothing particular,” Angel said, and spared a glance over to his abandoned friends, who seemed to have gotten on with their night without him, though he still saw the occasional sidelong look coming from their direction. “Actually, I got called out for being fussy like I get when I haven’t been doing anything but work for a while. They’re all going to roast me so hard for finding a way to hang out with someone from Heaven.”

“Sorry?”

“Nah, it’s a favor for them,” Angel said. “Who am I to deny my friends a chance to roast?” No matter how the rest of the night went, he’d given them ample fuel for weeks of fire.

“Who, indeed,” Yima said, and there was that little thought in him, that Angel could see, those moments where he was hearing some other beat. He leaned in a little. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

He made Angel giggle. Angel was the kind of guy who usually could find something to laugh about in anything, but that was different from how Yima got him tittering like a schoolgirl. “Boss!” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “It sounds like you’re asking to hear my life story.”

Yima shrugged one shoulder, his lips just slightly curved up. “Maybe,” he said. “Return on investment, like you said.” The top few buttons of his shirt were undone, giving Angel a tantalizing peek of his chest, of collarbones that he wanted to chew on. “How about telling me about your friends, to start?”

“Oh, well, that’s Zev and Kalina,” Angel said, happy to open up to any eager listener, but especially this one. “Like basically everyone I’m friends with, I know them through work. Hmm, sound familiar?” Yima dipped his head a little, smiling. “Kalina was a waitress when I was a line cook back at this place I worked at in my twenties. Real generic burgers and beers kinda stuff, the owner had his head way up his ass, but it wasn’t the worst place I ever worked.”

“Where was that?” Yima said.

“Oof, we’re having too nice of a time here, boss, for me to get into that one just yet,” Angel said, drinking up Yima’s smile. He tapped his fingertip on his glass. “I need way more of these and for you to put on a seatbelt if you want to hear the horror stories.”

“Some other time, then,” Yima said, and Angel liked the sound of that.

“Now Zev, he was another bartender at a dive I worked at when I first moved to the city,” Angel spread his fingers out like sparklers. “Absolute neon shithole, it was heaven.” He kept smiling more the more he watched Yima listening. “Well, not Heaven, of course, you know that one, and it’s no shithole.”

“Not even close,” Yima said, and that was something Angel knew deep in his bones, but it still felt good to hear it from a regular. From a favorite.

“You wanna hear the life story, how about I tell you the ridiculous hoops I had to jump through to snag that sweet location…” Yima nodded, eagerly, and let Angel talk in ways that he didn’t get to when he was on the clock. He had to keep too many plates spinning during work hours to really let much of himself loose, no matter how much he’d like to. It was easy to listen to his customers — it was one of his favorite parts of the job, in fact — but they were there for the food, not for the chef.

“It’s nice,” Yima said while Angel paused to take a sip of his drink. “It’s nice talking to you like this. It feels like I’ve been missing out.” 

“Ah, boss, you’re going to make me blush,” Angel said, like he wasn’t already. “It is nice. I’d love to get into it like this with you at Heaven, but I’d just end up forgetting everyone else. The place would burn down around me. I’ve gotta behave myself when I’m on the job.” Here, though, he was on a different kind of job. He let his fingertips dance across the table again, until they were resting on the back of Yima’s knuckles. 

“This is misbehaving?” Yima said, his voice low enough to make Angel’s toes curl inside of his comfortable shoes.

“Nah,” Angel said, just a breath, and then let his fingers move a little further, resting on the back of Yima’s palm. Yima’s eyes were fixed there, where Angel touched him. “I mean, not yet.” Yima made a sound at that, something warm humming out of the back of his throat, and Angel really had no choice after hearing that. “Ah, all this good booze and good conversation has made me hungry. How about you, boss? Why don’t you come back to my place and I can feed you something.” Angel had been waiting so long to lay out a line line that.

“Oh, really?” Yima said. “You really don’t have to.”

Angel leaned back in his chair, breaking contact from where he’d had his fingers tracing little lines on Yima’s hand. “Neither do you, boss,” he said, letting his own voice go low as he looked into Yima’s eyes. “Only if you’re hungry.”

Those beats of Yima’s had never taken so long. Angel held his breath as he watched whatever unknowable considerations were rolling through Yima’s mind simmer in the depths of his eyes. Did he just want to flirt and nothing more? Did he not trust Angel enough to go home with him? Did he think Angel was just playing with him? “Sure, yeah. I’d love to.”

Angel let out his breath and popped up out of his seat like fireworks. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said, laying his hand on top of Yima’s for another moment, letting his fingertips brush on the soft skin inside his wrist. “Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

Angel closed his bar tab, leaving a tip that might cover some of the barback’s funeral services, and took a quick swing by where Zev and Kalina were still drinking. “I’m out. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“You’re out?” Kalina said. “Is he coming with you?”

Angel tried to keep an aloof expression on his face, and didn’t particularly care if he was succeeding. “Hmm, could be. I guess you’ll just have to watch and see.”

“Asshole,” Zev said, but he was grinning. “You suck so much.”

“Ideally!” Angel said, and dodged as Zev took a kitten swipe at him. “I owe you. I’ll give you the dirt tomorrow.”

Yima was waiting for him by the door when he left his friends behind. “Such a gentleman!” he said as Yima opened the door for him. 

“Lead the way,” Yima said.

“Love to,” Angel said, and stayed close to Yima as he guided him towards his apartment. Their arms and the backs of their hands brushed now and then as they walked together, mostly quiet now after all the talk at the bar. Angel had the giddy little idea of threading his fingers through Yima’s, holding hands like real sweethearts and not just two guys going to hook up. It wasn’t too crazy a thought, was it? Not with the way Yima smiled when he glanced over, and not with the way Angel’s heart sang at that smile. Not too crazy at all.

Angel opened the door to his apartment for Yima and gestured for him to go in first. It had been a while, way too long, in fact, since Angel had brought anyone home. His friends were entirely right about him; if he wasn’t working, he wasn’t doing anything. What luck he had, luck that had his blood singing, that he could find a way to bring this little bit of work home.

He put a hand on Yima’s shoulder, biting his lower lip at how broad and strong it felt under his touch. Angel was not going to be able to be cool about any of this, and because it was Yima, steady, sturdy, strong Yima, he didn’t care even a little. He got both of his hands on Yima and turned him, crowding him into the wall.

“Dunno about you, boss,” he said, leaning up just a bit on his toes to close their height difference and breathe in Yima’s breath. “But I’m starving.”

There was that beat again, that extra unheard line playing out, before Yima started to kiss him back. Before the flash of oh shit did I read this completely wrong could work its way to Angel’s toes from where it’d struck his forehead, though, Yima’s hands were settling warm and heavy on Angel’s waist. 

Yima kissed like honey, slow and sweet, and Angel just wanted to eat him up, nibble on every inch of him until he knew what it all tasted like. Yima’s fingers found the lines of the tattoo on his back, and Angel laughed into Yima’s mouth with the thrill of it as he wriggled out of his jacket, letting it drop to the floor. 

“You think I haven’t wanted to do this since the first time you sat down at my place?” Angel said into the faint stubble at the underside of Yima’s jaw. He smelled so good, the scent of some cologne that he’d probably been wearing for twenty years clinging to his skin.

“Yes. No,” Yima said, and laughed at himself. Angel couldn’t help but laugh, too. He was cute like this, somehow out of rhythm but still moving in sync with Angel. “I didn’t know.”

He didn’t know? Angel pouted a little before contenting himself with a few nibbles of Yima’s ear. He had to know. “And here I thought I was being such a big flirt,” he sighed, getting a gorgeous shudder out of Yima as the breath heated his ear. Angel was practically drawing hearts in chili sauce on everything Yima ordered. Maybe he should have actually been. 

“I thought…” Angel bit his earlobe a little harder and oh, that was a sound, he needed to make Yima make more sounds. “Maybe you were like that with everyone.”

“Maybe a little,” Angel said, mouth against Yima’s jaw. That was part of the business, or at least the way he did it. It was part of the fun part of it, getting to lay out a little charm with every meal. “But I always meant it with you.” 

Every day when Yima didn’t come to his restaurant was a day Angel spent waiting, vibrating with anticipation, wondering when Yima might next walk through the door. Even on nights when it was too busy for them to really talk, it was still better than any other night just to have him there, that presence at the end of the counter, watching him with those soft eyes and hearing that different music. Yima being there made Angel feel like he was dancing. He always meant it with him.

Yima put a hand in Angel’s hair and bent him back with another kiss, really letting Angel enjoy those few inches of difference in their heights. Angel wanted Yima to kiss him for every second of the rest of his life, and also he needed to fuck him so bad he was going to die if he didn’t. He went for Yima’s belt.

“You’re stupid sexy, you know that, boss?” Angel said as he got a gasp out of Yima with a little scrape of his nails over his abdomen.

“No,” Yima said, clearly dazed, and Angel couldn’t help but laugh. He could believe Yima didn’t actually know how gorgeous he was, with how sweet he acted all the time. Men who knew how good looking they were could be real shitheads. “Yes. You are.”

Angel, frequently a shithead himself, had no doubt about that one. He reached up to put his hand on Yima’s cheek, stroking his thumb over his cheekbones. “You’ve got such soft eyes,” Angel said as he looked up into them. “So pretty. Always wanted to see them up close.” This close he could see himself reflected in them, but more heartstoppingly, he could see what they looked like when Angel was the only thing in the world Yima wanted to look at. He was going to absolutely burst. He put his hand on Yima’s cock and watched those gorgeous eyes flutter shut. “Now that I have, I wanna suck your cock, too.”

“Please,” Yima groaned, and Angel needed so much more of that. Not the begging, not necessarily, but that need, that desperation running through Yima’s voice. Angel wanted to satisfy it more than anything. He dropped to his knees and pulled Yima’s cock out.

“Oh, look what treat you’ve got for me,” he sighed as he brushed the backs of his fingers along the underside of it, grinning with satisfaction as it jerked at the touch. Yima was big and broad all over, and Angel had had high hopes for his cock that were not disappointed in the least. He was long and thick, the head of his cock flushed nearly purple where it emerged from under his foreskin. Boyfriend dick, Angel let himself think before looking up to get one utterly dazzling dose of those soft eyes of Yima’s watching him swallow his cock.

Angel loved sucking cock. The first things he really understood about himself, really understood to be the keys to who he was as a person, back when he was a younger man, were that he loved to cook, he loved to make people happy, and he loved to have a mouth full of dick. Yima’s dick was made in heaven, just for him. He’d tell him that, when he wasn’t focused on how good it felt to run his tongue over every inch of it, on how soft his foreskin felt under his lips, on how easy Yima’s cock fit deep in his throat. The taste of Yima, the feel of him in his mouth, was satisfaction. He needed more of it, and might never get enough.

Yima’s large, lovely hands slipped into Angel’s hair, making a shiver run down Angel’s spine. “Angel,” he said, low and hungry, and fuck, he’d never heard his name said like that. “Angel,” he said again, and Angel pinned Yima’s hips to the wall to suck him as hard as that note in his voice said he needed.

He smelled so good. He tasted divine, and every little salt-bitter drop that leaked onto Angel’s tongue made his cock throb in his pants. There wasn’t enough time or energy in the world for him to do everything he wanted to do to this man. “Angel…” Yima moaned, and Angel knew what that tone meant before he even said it. “I’m going to come.”

It was both bravery and greed that got Angel to pull off of his cock right then. Yima’s cock, shiny with his spit, jerked against nothing as Yima hung right on the edge. “You want to in my mouth, or on my cock?” he asked, his voice rough.

“Cock,” Yima said, without a single beat, and it knocked Angel breathless. Either answer would have been good, any answer would have been good, but this was perfect.

“Thank god,” he said, and got up off his knees. “I’ve wanted to fuck you so bad it’s made me stupid.” 

“You’re not stupid,” Yima said, and what could Angel do but laugh and grab him for a kiss, hoping he liked the taste of his own cock.

“How are you so fucking sweet?” Angel said, and couldn’t stop kissing him. He wanted to suck his cock forever, he wanted to kiss him forever, he wanted to devour him entirely and still have leftovers. Angel had to get a hold of himself so he could at least fuck him if he couldn’t do all of those other things. He pulled out of the kiss with a tender little peck. “Strip, sweet thing.”

Yima looked a little like he was moving through water, but that made for a good show. He’d admitted once, with a charming sheepishness, that yes, he did work out, it was important for a man his age to keep active. And fine, maybe he hadn’t realized then that Angel had been hitting on him, but it didn’t matter now, as Angel was getting to look at the broad muscles of his shoulders and chest, the sturdy thickness of his waist. He looked like he could throw Angel across the room no problem, but those honey eyes of his said he never would. 

Angel realized that Yima had stopped with his shirt still dangling off of one arm. Oh, right, he’d been taking his clothes off, too, and had been so damn thirsty he’d almost missed one of his favorite parts of first times. “Never gets old,” he said, and moved close so Yima could put his hands on his tattoos.

It was funny, having the name he had, when he’d never been religious, and didn’t have strong feelings about god, one way or the other. His mother had just liked the name. But he’d never turn down the opportunity for a good theme, and that’s why he got to shiver and sigh while Yima stroked his fingers along the ink lines of the angel wings on his back. He bent down to kiss where the tattooed feathers curled over Angel’s shoulders, and Angel felt his knees go weak. “You’ve got me swooning,” he said, and to keep himself from dissolving into a puddle, he pulled Yima’s pants and underwear down to his knees. “C’mon, boss, let’s go to bed.”

They were both naked by the time Angel gently pushed Yima back on his bed. He had to take a moment to just savor the sight. Yima was maybe the most handsome man Angel had ever had the pleasure to see in real life. He was absolutely the most handsome man who had ever been in his bed, painted in the glow of city lights coming through the window, spreading his thighs just ever so slowly. 

Angel brushed his fingers down the insides of Yima’s thighs, and oh, he didn’t need much more encouragement than that to open himself wide to Angel. He would have bottomed, if that was what Yima was into, he would have, gladly, really, but… “Your ass has been driving me crazy,” he sighed, because it had, every single time Yima had turned his back on him while he was at work. He had at least one tiny stupid burn from just how distracted it got him. Plump like a ripe peach, and now he finally had his hands on it.

Angel sucked his thumb into his mouth for a moment, then traced it around the rim of Yima’s ass. When that made Yima shiver and his back arch, he dipped his thumb into him, just to tease a little, just to play with him a bit. “I’d eat it now but I can’t wait to get in it,” Angel said, and Yima’s face was bright red when he moaned. “Next time, hm?”

“Next time,” Yima said, no beat at all. Angel sighed with satisfaction at feeling how Yima stretched out around his thumb, but it was just a few seconds before Yima groaned, “Fuck me, please.”

Angel was in love. That was all there was to it. He laughed a little at the realization, and at how dizzy it all made him, affection and arousal all at once. “Don’t have to ask me twice,” he managed to say, and gave Yima just what he asked for.

Yima knew how to be fucked, and it was absolutely beautiful. He spread himself out for Angel just the way he needed to be, lifted his hips and slung his legs over Angel’s shoulders without prompting, telling Angel with his entire body how badly he wanted this. Angel felt like his heart was going to pop. He pushed his slicked-up cock into Yima slowly, so slowly. His ass was so hot, and so tight, and he took Angel’s cock like he’d needed it his entire life. 

Yima had never looked more gorgeous, flushed and sweating, those perfect eyes of his looking dick-drunk already. When Angel had him filled up to the hilt, he just let out a sigh of utter bliss. “Oh, I could live here,” he murmured, and laughed a little at himself. He’d never felt so romantic about having his cock in someone’s ass, but Yima was different. In so many ways, Yima was different. He squeezed a little at one of Yima’s pecs before letting his hand rest over his heart, feeling the thrum of his pulse all around him. “You feel incredible, boss, just incredible.”

“Angel,” he said, and his name sounded better every time Yima said it. His breath hitched a little, then, and he said, “Say my name. Please?”

Angel looked into Yima’s eyes, and ah, there was a tiny little spark of guilt that Angel had seen more than once in his life. Oh, you think I don’t know your name, huh? It didn’t hurt his feelings, though; he leaned on nicknames for a lot of patrons, because sometimes he just couldn’t keep names in his head with everything else about them. But not Yima. 

“Yima,” Angel breathed out as he began to slowly roll his hips. When he said the name it felt like he was enunciating it straight from his cock, every time. “Yima, Yima, Yima.” Pretty little moans came out of Yima in each echo of his name, at the bottom of each of Angel’s thrusts. “See? Can’t say it without panting for you. That’s why you’ve got to be the boss.”

“Oh,” was the only sweet sound that came out of Yima’s mouth before he wrapped fingers around the back of Angel’s neck to pull him down to kiss him. Angel kept him like that when they broke apart, bent nearly in half while he drilled him steadily into the mattress. 

“Yima,” he said, again and again. He got dizzy watching his cock slip in and out of Yima’s ass, and even dizzier watching the way pleasure played its way out over Yima’s face. “You’re so good. Yima, you’re so good at this, you feel so good.” Angel was disconnected from whatever words were coming out of his mouth; he just had to tell him. He had to make sure Yima knew. “No one’s ever felt as good as you do.”

Angel hiked Yima’s hips up a little and found an angle that made Yima claw at the bed and shout his name. “Please, please, please don’t stop,” he spilled out, that low soft voice of his getting lost in the squeaking of the bed and the sounds of their bodies.

“Never,” Angel said. “Not a chance.” Some chance, though, a slight chance, since Angel could only fuck the perfect ass of the most perfect man for so long before he couldn’t take it anymore. He wrapped his hand around Yima’s beautiful cock, and let the motion of his hips thrust him right into his grip. “Said you wanted to come on my cock, yeah? Let me see it, Yima.” He was so close, so close, but he had to give Yima what he wanted. He had to. “Yima, please.”

That was what Yima wanted. He came beautifully, tossing his head back to shout Angel’s name as come spattered over his stomach. A noise like a teakettle was coming out of Angel as he railed Yima through it, just a little more, just a little longer… “You too,” Yima said, voice rough and shaky, as he tenderly stroked back Angel’s hair. “Come on.”

“Ah, fuck, boss,” Angel said, and buried himself deep enough in Yima that he felt like he might just become part of him. Yima, Yima, Yima, he couldn’t even say anymore, but heard his heart repeating in his ears as he came.

He fuzzed out for a little, there, between Yima’s warm hands petting over his tattoos, and the sound of Yima’s heartbeat where his head rested on his chest gradually slowing and steadying. He knew Yima couldn’t be the most comfortable, so Angel pulled his skeleton back in working order and sat up. He let out a deeply satisfied breath and let his glasses, which were so smudged and steamy as to be basically useless, fall off his face onto Yima’s chest. He gently pulled out of Yima and discarded his condom. Fuck, he wanted to come in Yima so bad. Next time. Next hundred times.

“Now I’m really hungry,” Angel said, pushing his sweaty hair back out of his face and reclaiming his glasses and a cloth to wipe them off. “And you’d better be too.” He gave Yima’s thigh a good squeeze before he got up to go to the kitchen, wash his hands, and put on an apron.

He wanted to make Yima a twelve course feast to his every possible craving, but right now, with what he had in the fridge and pantry, he supposed he’d make do with some stir fry. Angel felt like he was floating a foot off the ground, as though the wings on his back were real, as he started cooking with a recently thoroughly fucked Yima watching him from his bed. He’d had this fantasy.

“You really do live up to your name,” Yima said, and Angel just beamed at him and held his hands together over his head in the shape of a halo. Yima laughed, and he looked the most precious that a naked, post-coital man in his mid-fifties could possibly look.

Angel was most of the way through slicing up some peppers, happy to just work while Yima watched him, like he was so many nights at Heaven, when Yima said, “You really like me?”

Angel stopped still, and put down his knife. “Augh!” he cried out, putting a hand over his heart like he’d been wounded. “You have no right being that cute! That sweet!” He pointed accusatorily at Yima, who had gotten adorably wide-eyed. “Yeah, I like you a lot. First, the obvious: you’re so hot it’s disgusting. Just nasty. But you’re also charming, and good to talk to. And I said it before and I’m saying it again: you’re sweet. C’mon, the time that girl was crying at the counter and you just paid for her dinner? You do shit like that all the time, do you not realize how stupid dreamy it is?”

That took more than just one of Yima’s beats. It took a few. Did he really not know? Did he seriously not know any of that? Angel was going to have to remind him every day for the rest of his life. There was nothing else for it. “Oh,” Yima said, at last.

Angel walked back to the bed to sit down again. “Here’s what really got me. Rainy days.”

“Rainy days,” Yima said, with clearly no idea what Angel meant. 

“I always get less business when it’s raining, but you’d come in like clockwork no matter what,” Angel said. “You’d walk there in the rain — and you told me you didn’t work or live close — and then use the rain as an excuse why you couldn’t leave when the place was just the two of us. If I wasn’t extremely professional I would have sucked your dick right then and there. Every single rainy day.” Angel really cursed his own dedication to his work sometimes. “I mean, I also told myself it was just possibly you really liked my food, because that can explain a lot. My food is very good.”

“It’s so good,” Yima said, and that sounded even better coming out of a man Angel’d just fucked senseless.

“But I always hoped it was something more,” Angel said, grinning again. “Looks like I was right, huh?”

Yima got that look again, that different music playing somewhere. And then he took one of Angel’s hands in his, and brought it up to his lips to kiss his knuckles. “It looks like you were.”

“Oh my god, what the fuck,” Angel said in a breathless giggle, because he had to say that instead of, I love you, oh my god, I am so fucking in love with you. He could say that later. Not yet. He felt himself wanting to say it again, so he kissed Yima instead, his turn to be sweet like honey. “Alright, boss. Yima,” he said, and enjoyed the way Yima’s breath caught when he said that now. “Come watch me cook. Don’t get dressed, though. You’ll be fulfilling a fantasy.”

Yima got up to join him without missing a beat.

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