by Domashita Romero (地下ロメロ)

“Oh, boss, is that you?” Yima sat up at the sound of a familiar voice, and looked up to see a familiar face in an unfamiliar place.

Angel had a little spot just on the water with the best dumplings and noodles that Yima had ever tasted, so good that it never seemed too bold that the place was called Heaven. It also a view that couldn’t be beat, no matter if Yima was looking in to the city or out from it. Or if he was not looking either of those ways, in fact. Angel had the muscled, wiry arms that came from work in the kitchen, draining noodles in a wire strainer with one strong flick of his wrist, strong but nimble hands built on kneading dough and shaping it into something fine. Yima would have expected someone like him him to have covered those arms with tattoos, but his skin was unmarked, a clean slate for Yima’s imagination. 

Here at the bar Yima’d been wasting his night at, Angel’s arms were hidden now under the sleek leather jacket he wore, and nearly all of those long and skilled fingers were adorned with rings. He was pulling out the chair across the table from Yima, and Yima felt like he was waking up. The ice in his glass was melted. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” Angel said as he slid into the seat. 

When Yima sat down at one of the counter seats at Angel’s restaurant, he’d get a big grin, a “Welcome back, boss, pleasure as always,” and a glass of cool jasmine tea planted in front of him. Here, Angel had a highball glass of something that was not at all tea precariously pinched between his fingers. He set it on the table and gave it a spin in place. His hands never stopped moving. 

“Didn’t expect to see you, either,” Yima said, and it was the truth. It was a night when Angel’s restaurant was usually closed, but the bar he’d appeared at was not particularly close to it. But perhaps Angel didn’t live as close to his work as Yima thought, or perhaps he just didn’t mind a bit of a trip for a good drink. Yima didn’t know much about Angel, he realized, as he looked at that familiar face in the new low lighting of a bar. 

“Lucky us, then, seeing each other!” Angel said. “I heard this place was pretty good. Can’t knock the view, for certain.” Yima tilted his head to look again out of the window he had just been staring out of, actually looking at all the color and mean of the city around and below. He smiled and gave a little nod. 

“Can’t knock it at all,” Yima said. When he looked back, Angel was looking at him, eyes twinkling through his glasses.

“So, you come here often?” Angel asked with a little laugh in his voice, but before Yima could answer, Angel frowned a little, looking at something behind Yima and shaking his head. Yima turned his head to look and saw another table of people that looked like they fit with Angel, younger and fashionable and looking at him expectantly. 

“Don’t let me keep you from your friends,” Yima said. “I’ll see you again soon enough, after all.” 

Angel gave a dismissive little flick of his fingers towards his party before turning his grin back on and back at Yima. “Ah, of course I will, boss, but I always like seeing a regular when I’m not in the kitchen.” 

Yima went to Heaven two, sometimes three times a week. Dinner, usually, but sometimes lunch when he was feeling desperate. He didn’t live or work particularly close to Angel’s restaurant, but it was always worth the little extra effort, for the good food and for that feeling of being a regular. Those together made Yima a little less desperate. 

Angel raised his eyebrows, his expression going a little soft and guarded, even though that clever little smile stayed on his lips. “Unless you’d rather be left alone,” he said. “Looked like you were getting some deep thinking done before I sat down.” He showed a little more teeth with that smile and his tone went lower, conspiratorial. “Or unless you’re waiting for someone…”

Yima sat up a little straighter. “Oh! Oh, no, I’m not.” 

Angel just grinned at him more. “Thinking, or waiting for someone?”

Yima had to laugh a little, and sigh. “Neither,” he said. He might have felt put on the back foot by anyone else, but Angel had a way to him. “No, I could use the company,” he admitted.

“And you could use another drink, looks like,” Angel said, picking up his own glass to clink it against Yima’s, which was nothing but melted ice at this point. “Let me buy you a drink, boss.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Yima said, and Angel made a pssh sound at his rejection.

“Of course I should!” he said. “Consider it a return on investment, what with all the money you’ve put in my pocket over the years.” Yima couldn’t find a way to argue with that. Angel clinked their glasses together again. “Another of the same?”

“Please,” Yima said. “And thank you.”

“My pleasure as always, boss,” Angel said, and slid back up out of the seat to go to the bar.

He’d never really seen all of Angel at once before, Yima realized. They were always separated by a countertop, leaving Yima only able to appreciate Angel from the waist up. Yima smiled as he allowed himself a long look while Angel’s back was turned. He was dressed in the height of fashion, or at least what looked so from Yima’s vantage point of a few decades on, except for a pair of extremely comfortable, practical, boring-looking shoes. They weren’t far off from the slippers Yima wore at home.

Angel glanced back over his shoulder, pointing out Yima to the bartender for his order. He grinned when he caught Yima looking at him and did a quick jaunt back to their table, bouncing on his feet. Before Yima could say anything, Angel simply said, “Yoink,” and took Yima’s empty glass off the table to return it to the bar. Yima watched him chat with the bartender as he mixed his drink, leaning in on the bar the same way he leaned on the counter at Heaven. He made the bartender laugh with something, and the word that came to Yima’s mind was easy. Angel made it look easy. Angel made it feel easy.

Angel slipped easily back into his seat and planted Yima’s new drink in front of him with the same care as his usual glass of tea. “Good choice,” Angel said, and held up his glass for a clink. Yima obliged, and Angel held his eyes as they both took a sip. There was some superstition about that that Yima couldn’t quite remember: make eye contact when toasting or you’d have years of bad luck. It’d been quite a while since Yima had toasted anything with anyone, so he was glad Angel was looking out for his luck. “I might have to get one of those next. Or maybe I’ll just steal a sip or two from you.”

“Maybe,” Yima said, and felt his cheeks get warmer. Angel made it all feel easy. “Nice shoes,” he said, and before he could regret how sarcastic that complement might have seemed, Angel was laughing and stretching out his leg to wiggle his foot around.

“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 laughed again, that regular feeling settling into him even in this irregular space. They did resemble familiar footwear from when he’d been a nurse, though with the advances in comfort technology that around twenty years could bring. “Maybe,” he said. “They’re hard to impress.”

Angel wiggled his foot a little more before tapping Yima’s leg beneath the table with it. “Well, boss, if I can impress you with them, I’ll call it a win.”

Yima realized that couldn’t fully remember what he’d ever told Angel about himself. Had he ever talked about his former career? He didn’t talk about it much. Had he even ever told him his name? It felt something like he’d spilled his entire heart in those nights when he beat the dinner rush or waited it out, but maybe that was just his memory starting to go. No, he’d said plenty. Angel asking him if he was working late, what he did, if there was anyone waiting for him home. Yima showing him the picture of the cat he’d had once when he lived with his ex. Angel hadn’t pressed for details about the ex, but he’d wanted to hear all about the cat. He always found the things Yima wanted to say, and left the things he didn’t untouched.

“I think you’ll find a way to impress me no matter what,” Yima said, and Angel put a hand to his chest like a pleased belle. Yima’s cheeks were feeling warmer with each sip of his drink. “I do come here somewhat often. Not as often as I come to see you, though.” Come to eat at your place, Yima should have said, but it was too late now. “I live not far from here.”

“Oh, look at that!” Angel was leaning in closer to the table. “All this time I didn’t know we were neighbors. I’m not far from here, either.” He tapped his fingers across the table, slowly approaching Yima. “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.”

“I’m not surprised, with how hard you work,” Yima said, and Angel preened a little. “What pried you out tonight? Were you doing something with your friends over there?”

“Nothing particular,” Angel said, and laughed. “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 but to deny my friends a chance to roast?”

“Who, indeed.” Yima was shot through the heart with the need to actually know the answer to that question. “Why don’t you tell me about it?” he said, and Angel’s grin became a blinding, beautiful smile.

Angel was animated in a way that he wasn’t when he was on the other side of the counter instead of across the table. He talked about himself and Yima was the one to ask little questions to find out more. He had a warmth in his stomach like when he’d eaten Angel’s food as he talked about how he’d come to the city, the tangle of jobs that had brought him to Heaven, the friends he was ignoring. For a moment Yima had a pang in his heart, like he should have been keeping up this back and forth when he’d been eating at Heaven, like he’d been unknowingly rude every time they’d spoken. But Angel just kept smiling at him, warm as ever. 

“It’s nice,” he said, in a lull while Angel sipped at his drink. Angel made a questioning little sound around his straw and Yima laughed at how cute it was. “It’s nice talking to you like this. It feels like I’ve been missing out.”

Angel laughed and tap tap fluttered his fingers over the table. “Ah, boss, you’re going to make me blush. 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.” His tapping fingers moved forward to tap on the back of Yima’s hand. Angel wasn’t the only one who might blush. “I’ve gotta behave myself when I’m on the job.” 

“This is misbehaving?” Yima said softly.

“Nah,” Angel said, just as softly. “I mean, not yet.” His fingers stilled on the back of Yima’s hand for just a few seconds, long enough for Yima to really feel how warm they were. Then he drew them away, leaning back. “Ah, all this good booze and good conversation has made me hungry.” Yima tried to keep his disappointment at the impending close to the evening hidden. “How about you, boss? Why don’t you come back to my place and I can feed you something.”

“Oh, really?” Yima said, and couldn’t keep himself from saying, “You really don’t have to.”

Angel leaned back in his chair, eyes held on Yima, the corner of his mouth turned up. “Neither do you, boss,” he said. “Only if you’re hungry.”

He wasn’t, really. But he couldn’t let this end, not when Angel still wanted more of him. “Sure, yeah. I’d love to.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Angel said, and put his hand on top of Yima’s as he got up to pay his tab and give his friends a brief goodbye.

He did live close, but in a different direction from Yima, so as they walked, Angel stayed close to him, sometimes telling little stories about the places they passed, but also just moving with him in peaceful silence. Yima found that sometimes at Heaven, too: the feeling of being alone and together at the same time. Of course Angel could bring that with him.

Angel’s building was tall and narrow, and Angel lived on a high floor. He gestured gallantly for Yima to go in first once he opened the door. Yima got a moment to take in the space – not much more than a studio apartment, with most of the space naturally dominated by the kitchen, and a view that rivaled that at the bar. He’d only gotten a few seconds to appreciate before he felt Angel’s hand on his shoulder. Of course, he was blocking the way like an idiot. Yima started to move, but then he was being moved. Angel pressed him to the wall and Angel pressed into him.

“Dunno about you, boss,” he purred as he leaned in close enough for Yima to feel his breath. “But I’m starving.” Then his mouth was on Yima’s, hot and sweet like his last drink.

Oh. Oh. Yima felt so stupid. In a few seconds he played the whole night over again, and realized how completely dense he was. He would dwell on it later. Angel’s tongue did something that made Yima feel like he could dissolve, and his teeth kept him solid when he nipped at Yima’s lips. He could eat Yima up like this. 

Yima’s hands settled on Angel’s waist, and Angel laughed into Yima’s mouth as he shrugged out of his fashionable jacket, letting it go thump on the floor. He was lean and slim, and Yima’s hands were smarter than he was, finding their way to spread out against the skin of his back. He felt something rise there under his fingers, but couldn’t think on it long, not with Angel’s mouth moving to his throat.

“You think I haven’t wanted to do this since the first time you sat down at my place?” Angel said against the underside of Yima’s jaw, his voice like honey.

“Yes. No.” Yima laughed and Angel followed. He couldn’t think. “I didn’t know.”

Angel made a pouty little sound against Yima’s ear that made him shudder. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten so hard so fast. “Aw, and here I thought I was being such a big flirt.”

“I thought…” Yima’s hands gripped hard at Angel’s hip, pulling him tight to him as his teeth closed on Yima’s earlobe. “Maybe you were like that with everyone.”

Angel’s laugh was always like electricity to Yima; feeling it right against his skin took his breath away. “Maybe a little. But I always meant it with you.”

Yima put a hand in Angel’s hair and kissed him again, drinking in the sound it pulled out of him. He’d wanted to do this for so long. It was easy to admit it now, easy to let go of every feeling of being old and foolish. How could he not, with those beautiful fingers of Angel’s slipping under his shirt and dancing over his stomach.

“You’re stupid sexy, you know that, boss?” Angel murmured into Yima’s mouth as he started unfastening his belt.

“No,” Yima said, and it didn’t hurt when Angel laughed at him. When he was younger, he’d known, but he hadn’t felt that way in a long time. “Yes. You are.” 

Angel’s grin said he had no doubt about that. “You’ve got such soft eyes,” he sighed. “So pretty. Always wanted to see them up close.” He fit his hand against Yima’s cock through his pants, and it was all enough to make his heart feel like it’d burst. “Now that I have, I wanna suck your cock, too.”

“Please,” Yima said, and this was a different kind of desperation than what he tried to chase away at Heaven. He trusted Angel with it just as much. Angel couldn’t wipe the pleased smile off his face as he unbuttoned Yima’s shirt on the way down to his knees.

“Oh, look what treat you’ve got for me,” Angel said as he pulled Yima’s cock out. He ran his knuckle along the underside of it, like he was carefully stroking a nervous animal, and he laughed in delight when Yima’s cock jerked at the touch. He looked up at Yima and those shining, dark eyes of him made him start to believe it all. There was want there — no, it was hunger, and it was for him. Angel closed his eyes and took Yima’s cock into his mouth, slow and savoring.

Yima was far too old to feel so quickly at the edge. He hissed out a breath and threaded his fingers into Angel’s sleek, dark hair. If Angel was good at kissing, he was an artist at sucking cock. He purred with pleasure as he took Yima’s cock deep, and sighed with satisfaction when he drew back to tease Yima with just brushes of his lips. He sucked at Yima’s foreskin and tongued at his slit like he had a flavor he couldn’t get enough of. He wanted every drop of Yima, and Yima felt consumed.

It had been years, far too many years since Yima had had anyone else’s hands on him, let alone their mouth, and the shock of it kept him from coming too quickly. It was like suddenly breathing in a rush of fresh air after being cooped up somewhere dark and stagnant too long. Yima’s head was spinning but he felt more alive than he had in years. Had he even ever felt like this before?

He brushed his fingertips over Angel’s cheek as he sucked him, and shuddered at the stretch as he tried to smile around his cock. “Angel,” Yima said softly, and that made Angel moan and swallow him deep, so Yima said it again. “Angel.”

Angel pinned his hips to the wall and sucked Yima off with such enthusiasm that he needed the extra support; his legs felt like water and he felt like he was coming to a boil. “Angel,” he said before long, his voice shaking. “I’m going to come.”

Angel drew back and Yima groaned, both frustrated and relieved to be held back from tipping over a few moments more. Angel was smirking at him when he looked up, his lips just a breath away from Yima’s cock. “You want to in my mouth, or on my cock?”

For once, Yima was glad to be as old as he was; if he were a young man that would have been enough to end him right there. “Cock,” he said, shocking himself with his lack of hesitation. Angel just made it so easy. 

“Thank god,” Angel said, with a breathless laugh as he got back up to his feet. “I’ve wanted to fuck you so bad it’s made me stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Yima somehow decided to say in this moment. Of course Angel laughed.

“How are you so fucking sweet?” Angel said as he grabbed Yima to kiss him hard, giving him the taste of his own cock on his tongue. When he stepped back it was with a sweet little peck, before he smiled and shook his head, like he was the one who couldn’t believe it. “Strip, sweet thing.”

Angel peeled his shirt off slowly while Yima lost himself a little sorting what to take off first. He stopped with his shirt still hanging on one arm by the cuff when he saw what he’d felt with his fingertips on Angel’s back. Angel did have tattoos after all: two black-lined angel’s wings, starting in the middle of his back with the feathers curling over his shoulders so their tips ended on his chest. 

“Never gets old,” Angel said, and got close again to let Yima do what he obviously wanted to. Angel made soft, pretty sounds as Yima stroked his hands over his back and pressed kisses over the ink feathers on his shoulders. “You’ve got me swooning,” he said, dreamily, and then let out a wicked little giggle before yanking Yima’s pants and underwear down to his mid thighs. “C’mon, boss, let’s go to bed.”

Angel quickly got them both undressed and Yima on his back on the bed. He knelt over Yima, taking a long, long look at him, while Yima did the same. Angel was all wiry muscle, the perfect build for a man who never stopped moving, and he was smaller than Yima in nearly every dimension. 

That made Yima’s heart race, to be under him, having his thighs spread apart by warm hands. Yima was a big man all over, and even here in his fifties he would have still had little trouble lifting a grown man from one hospital bed to another. Too many sexual partners had assumed, then, that he’d want them on their backs, and never the other way around. He was happy to please, but none of it ever made him feel as electrified as he did now, with Angel looming over him, looking drunk with the need to be inside him.

Angel licked at his thumb before spreading Yima’s cheeks and teasing that wetness around his hole. “Your ass has been driving me crazy,” he sighed and barely dipped his thumb inside, pulling a moan out of Yima. “I’d eat it now but I can’t wait to get in it.” He was so casually filthy that it made Yima want to hide his face, but he couldn’t miss out on how Angel was looking at him. “Next time, hm?”

“Next time,” Yima said, that easy confirmation without even thinking again. Yima could last a few more seconds of Angel playing with his ass before groaning, “Fuck me, please.”

Angel’s laugh this time was shaky with arousal. “Don’t have to ask me twice.” Then it felt like barely a breath before Yima’s knees were resting over those tattooed wings and Angel’s slick, gorgeous cock was sinking into him. 

Yima struggled to keep his eyes from drifting shut from the overwhelming feeling of getting filled up. He needed to see Angel’s face and all the need and satisfaction that played over it as he fucked his way into him, and he needed to see the radiant, blissful smile that spread out over it as he settled balls deep. 

“Oh, I could live here,” Angel breathed out, and spread a hand out over Yima’s chest, squeezing at his muscle a little before settling over his heart. He stayed still longer than Yima wanted or needed; Yima’s cock jerked when he realized the hesitation wasn’t for his benefit. “You feel incredible, boss, just incredible.”

He did feel incredible, aware of every good inch of him in a way he’d missed too long. A thought came into him with the shifting of Angel’s hips, but he could catch it before it lept out in its raw form, like so many thoughts already had tonight. “Angel,” he said, voice low. “Say my name. Please?”

When Angel met Yima’s eyes, he knew he’d seen right through him, but the bent of his smile kept him from worry. “Yima,” he breathed out, letting those two syllables work through his mouth like he savored their taste. “Yima, Yima, Yima.” He rolled his hips with each repetition of Yima’s name, until he was fucking him firmly, steadily into the mattress. “See?” he said, breathing hard. “Can’t say it without panting for you. That’s why you’ve gotta be the boss.”

“Oh,” was all Yima could say, so he pulled Angel down to kiss him, and when he’d finished, Angel kept him like that, nearly bent in half as he pounded steadily into him. He couldn’t stop saying Yima’s name now, mixed with velvety words of encouragement and praise that made Yima feel like he was floating miles above the world and more inside of himself than he ever had before. 

Angel laughed in triumph when he found the angle that made Yima gasp and nearly sob out his name. “Please, please, don’t stop,” he groaned, feeling shameless.

“Never,” Angel panted. “Not a chance.” He wrapped a hand around Yima’s cock, letting the force of his thrusts guide it through his grip. “Said you wanted to come on my cock, yeah? Let me see it. Yima.” His voice trembled, losing the cool he’d held on to so well. “Yima, please.”

Yima fell apart and it had never been easier. Angel railed him past sense as he came harder than he thought he had capacity for, spurting over his stomach as Angel’s cock inside of him just pushed him higher and higher. He hadn’t heard himself shouting, but his throat hurt as he came down from the crest of it. He put a shaking hand up into Angel’s hair, out of his face. “You too,” he murmured. “Come on.”

“Ah, fuck, boss,” Angel said as he dropped his head to Yima’s chest and came hard, buried deep. Yima stroked his fingers over the lines of his tattoo as Angel slowed and relaxed, tender little sounds coming out of him all the while. 

Angel stayed collapsed on top of him for a while, catching his breath. He smelled so good like this, whatever appealing cologne he’d put on hours ago lost under skin and sweat. Eventually, he groaned and pulled out of Yima delicately. He took off his extremely smudged, steamed-up glasses and dropped them on Yima’s chest while he discarded his condom. He sat up and let out a deep, satisfied phew, and then grinned at Yima.

“Now I’m really hungry. And you better be, too.” He picked his glasses back up, wiped them with a cloth from his bedside, and hopped up out of bed. Yima watched him go to the kitchen and put just an apron on before starting to pull things out of the fridge and pantry. 

Yima wanted to get up and sit closer; he always loved watching Angel cook. But he stayed on the bed for now, partially to stretch out some muscles that he hadn’t used for a while, but more to enjoy this very different full view of Angel, ass out, ink on display, and making him dinner after fucking his brains out.

“You really do live up to your name,” Yima said, and before he could feel stupid about that, Angel just beamed at him and made a little halo with his fingers over his head. Like a man with wings tattooed on him and a restaurant named Heaven would be annoyed by a little cliche. The sigh that came out of Yima was dangerously lovesick. 

He watched Angel cook for a while, taken in by seeing him use different skills than he ever saw at his restaurant, a stunning display of knife prowess as he turned a pile of vegetables into perfect, uniform slices. Yima’s heart spoke before he could think again. “You really like me?” Yima said, and cringed.

Angel looked at him for a moment, and then leaned his head back to wail out, “Auugh! You have no right being that cute! That sweet!” He put his knife down and pointed at Yima. “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?”

Yima supposed that he didn’t. “Oh.” 

Angel walked over from the kitchen and sat on the bed again. “Here’s what really got me. Rainy days.”

He waited a beat, like Yima was supposed to know what this meant. “Rainy days.”

“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.” He laughed and shrugged. “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 confirmed. He was hungry now, absolutely ravenous. 

“But I always hoped it was something more.” Angel’s smile was nothing but cat-with-the-cream pleased now. “Looks like I was right, huh?”

Yima took a deep breath and reached out to take one of Angel’s hands, those beautiful, strong, talented hands. He brought it up to his lips for a kiss, and was rewarded with a soft, shaky gasp from Angel. “It looks like you were.”

Angel let out a breathy giggle, followed by an, “Oh my god, what the fuck.” He squeezed Yima’s hand tight, then leaned in to kiss him for real, long and sweet. “Alright, boss. Yima.” He hadn’t been lying; he couldn’t say Yima’s name without it sounding obscene. “Come watch me cook. Don’t get dressed, though. You’ll be fulfilling a fantasy.”

Yima smiled and did as asked. Angel made it easy.

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