In The Arms of an Angel - 4. Chapter 4 - The Man in the Kitchen

It was an uncomfortable night and when Pasha woke he was stiff and sore. He sat up and stretched, yawning. The angel had gone.

“Fuck.”

Pasha leaped to his feet, staring around wildly. Where had he gone? Where would an angel go?” As he panicked, he heard humming coming from the direction of the kitchen and, when he walked through the door he got the shock of his life. Standing in the middle of Lukas and Anna’s kitchen was the most incredibly beautiful man he’d ever seen. A man with no wings. Oh my God, is that…?

“Who the fuck are you?”

The man turned and smiled, his long golden hair cascading over his shoulders. He’d heard that expression before many time—golden hair. He even thought he knew what it meant, but he’d never seen anything like this before. The angel’s hair was actually golden, each strand a filament of spun metal. It looked like—

“A halo,” Pasha breathed. “You have a halo.”

“Hello,” the angel responded eagerly, with an even brighter smile.

“No, not ‘hello’… Never mind. What happened to your…er..?” He gestured over his shoulder. The angel looked confused. “Your… wings.”

“Oh. I woke up this morning and remembered I don’t have to have them. They were making it difficult to move.”

“Yes, I expect they were. What did you..? What… happened to them?”

“Happened? Nothing. Do you want me to bring them back?”

“I… don’t know. Can you?”

“Of course.”

Pasha blinked, as the air around the angel shimmered, then solidified into a pair of snow white wings. It’s one thing to pick up a muddy, injured angel from the side of the road and manhandle it into the car. It is quite another to see one with its wings spread, sparkling pristine in the morning sunshine, golden hair spreading out as if lifted by an invisible wind and bright blue eyes shining, lit by an internal light. The angel was awesome… and terrifying.

“That’s okay. I… You can put them away now.”

The angel shimmered again and returned to being just a man. A beautiful man. An incredibly beautiful, naked man. Abruptly Pasha turned away.

“Pasha.”

The sound of his name in that soft, musical voice sent shivers down his spine and he froze. He heard the soft pad of feet and cursed himself. Fucking hell, Pasha, move. Run. Don’t just stand here.

“Why do you fight so hard, Pasha,” the angel said. Pasha felt the heat of the angel’s body just behind him and his breath tickling his hair, over his ear.

“I… I’m not fighting anything.”

The gentle touch on his hair sent a shiver through him. He wanted even more to run, but he couldn’t. Not even when the hand kept on stroking, then brushed the hair away from his neck, allowing the angel to lean forward and whisper into his ear.

“I know you desire me. I feel it. I smell it. Why do you fight so hard?”

“I… I don’t fight anything. I don’t desire you.”

“Really?” The angel inhaled deeply and kissed his neck. Pasha’s eyes rolled and he moaned. He couldn’t help himself.

“No. Please.”

“Ssh,” the angel whispered, peppering his neck with kisses, pulling aside the neck of his tshirt to kiss his shoulder.”

“Please…” Pasha gasped, “Please, no. Stop.”

“You lie to me,” the angel whispered, breathing faster. “I hear your words but I feel your body make them lies.”

The angel slipped his arm around Pasha’s waist and pulled him closer. His kisses became more urgent.

Leaning back against the angel’s hard body, Pasha closed his eyes and tried to focus. This wasn’t right. It just wasn’t right but… It wasn’t a man, not really. It was an angel and angel’s didn’t count… did they? “Oh God,” he moaned as the angel slipped his hand under his tshirt to brush the hot skin on his stomach. His legs felt weak and his guts turned to liquid fire. What was this creature doing do him?

“You are so beautiful, Pasha. Don’t fight me. Please.”

“No… No, I…” He broke off when the angel found his nipple and pinched it. Electricity shot through his body straight from nipple to groin and he moaned again. He let his head fall back against the angel’s shoulder and rolled it when the angel kissed and sucked his throat. He shuddered and moaned as he pinched the nipple again then circled it slowly with his finger. “No…” he groaned, “Please…”

“Beautiful, Pasha,” the angel whispered, running his hand over Pasha’s body, long elegant fingers stroking the soft skin of his chest and belly.

Pasha closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the incredible sensations the angel was waking in him. Was it magic? Had the angel put a spell on him? It was amazing. The angel was right. He did desire him. He desired him more than he’d ever desired anything in his life. He desired him, longed for him, ached for him. He turned his head and found two soft lips waiting.

The kiss was long and sweet and took his breath away. He clawed at the angels arms, desperate to feel them around him. One wrapped snugly around his chest, while the other continued to stroke his belly. He arched his back, moaning into the angel’s mouth as the hand moved downward from his belly, slipping under the waistband of his sleeping shorts.

Something snapped in Pasha’s head. No, this wasn’t right. This just wasn’t right. Whatever he told himself, however he packaged him, the angel was a man. Definitely and undeniably a man. And Pasha wasn’t gay, he didn’t sleep with men. He didn’t want to sleep with men. He’d never wanted to sleep with men. But he did want the angel. He wanted him so badly.

“No.” Wrenching himself out of the angel’s arms he staggered forward and almost fell.

“Pasha?” the angel asked hurt in his voice.

“I can’t, “ Pasha said, and ran.