City of Angels

"Yes. Evan Malone. Um . . ."

"Sharon." She held out her hand. "Sharon Symons."

"Oh, are you—"

"Craig's sister. He told me he'd invited you."

"Oh, nice to meet you."

Sharon glanced inside, rolling her eyes as she looked at Craig, who was still holding court. "I apologize for my big brother's rudeness. I saw you standing out here alone so I came out."

"Oh, that's ok. I'm enjoying the view."

She looked him over and smiled. "You're cute. I can see why he likes you."

"Oh, uh . . ." Evan wasn't quite sure what to say. "I think he just wanted to thank me for the other night."

"Yes, he told me about that, too."

"Well you know, it's none of my business, really, but—is he ok? He seemed pretty bad off."

"He still is. Don't be fooled. He needs to surround himself with people when he wants to distract himself from his life."

"What exactly is the problem?"

"Oh, well, that's a long story. You don't know who we are, do you?"

"Should I?"

"Symons. You've never heard the name?"

Evan shook his head, then stopped. "Oh, wait, isn't that something to do with oil?"

"It was, at first. Symons Industries? Symons Development? My father owns most of this land out here."

"No shit. I have heard the name. You're what—some big Los Angeles family or something, right?"

Sharon laughed. "Yes, you could say so."

Suddenly the $120,000 Porsche was making more sense.

Evan whistled. "That's big time. A little out of my, uh . . . frame of reference."

"Good. I'm glad. I think Craig needs friends like you."

Evan turned around so that they were both watching Craig. He was surrounded by admirers and looking like he was having a great time.

"Really? He seems to be doing ok."

Sharon leaned back on her arms closer to Evan and started whispering conspiratorially in his ear.

"Everyone here is an asshole. They're mostly just interested in Craig's money. Or to fuck him. They don't really know him."

"And you do?"

"Yes. It was just us two, growing up, really. Nobody knows what it was like for us. All they hear is the Symons name. My mom was an 'actress.' Never around, drunk half the time. And Daddy." She rolled her eyes.

"Your father?"

"Yes. Craig Symons, Sr. CEO of Symons Development Corp. Property development, real estate. Total asshole."

Evan smiled at her. "I can relate."

Sharon put her arm through his. "I like you, Evan. I hope you give my brother a chance."

Evan felt the little shivers on his back prickle with excitement at her assumption. He didn't feel like contradicting her.

"Well, he seems preoccupied . . ."

"Oh Craig's like a little boy. Short attention span. He needs people around him. Especially when he's feeling fragile."

"Who are those guys over there?" Evan pointed out the two men he'd heard talking.

Sharon made a sound of disgust. "Guy on the left is Larry Binder—very successful gay artist; guy next to him is Troy Boneli. He owns a few nightclubs. Professional fags. The Gay Mafia. They're rich homosexuals who hate women."

"Oh." Evan was not aware. He had a certain image of gay men in his mind—an idealization—and it wasn't that.

"You're really new to this, aren't you?" Sharon said. "It's all about the image with these type of guys. They just like Craig because he's so gorgeous. And rich, of course. They'd probably hate you."

"Who's Jason Jones?"

Sharon turned to look at him and smiled. "I think I'll let you ask my brother that."

She wandered away, and Evan got another drink, then another. He had a nice buzz on and was just enjoying the atmosphere. It was beautiful up here. The deck was very high up and surrounded by jacaranda trees with lavender blossoms dripping all the way down to the ground. They were swishing and whispering in the wind. And that delicious scent of night-blooming jasmine. It was such a smell from his childhood. He turned around, leaned against the railing, and watched Craig. He didn't notice the men looking at him, though.

Craig finally caught his eye and came out.

"Hey, I'm sorry."

"No worries. You look like you're having fun."

"Oh these are just old friends from prep school. Good times."

"Prep school. Yeah, your sister was just telling me about you. You have some family history there."

He could tell he'd hit on a sore spot. He saw a wince of pain in Craig's face, who turned the conversation towards him. "What about you?"

"Me? Laguna Beach high?"

They laughed and Craig reached out to touch Evan's arm. "Look, I'll be honest. I only threw this party because I wanted to meet you."

"Yeah?" Evan's voice had become seductive. He was on auto-pilot. He found himself flirting without even realizing it. He leaned back on the railing getting comfortable and relaxed, and let himself stare at Craig. "So why didn't you just invite me up?"

Craig's eyes held a question. "Well, I wasn't sure how you'd take it."

"Plus you needed all these people around? Kind of a security blanket?"

"Yeah. Fuck. And now I wish they'd just leave."

"It's ok."

"Hey, look, would you stick around? You know LA. Everyone's in bed by 12:00."

"All right."

"I need to go play the host, and maybe I can drop some hints. You'll wait for me?"

Evan saw Larry Binder and Troy Boneli eyeing him with undisguised loathing. It made him lean ever further back on the railing and spread his legs a little bit.

"Right here."

"Ok, good." Craig gave his arm another squeeze before he left, which send a jolt straight into Evan's balls.

Evan found his eyes following his ass as he walked away. It was so perfect. And then he thought, what was he doing!? He didn't know. He just had to stay. And he had to admit to himself, if he was being perfectly honest, that this was precisely why he'd come, for no other reason than to be alone with Craig Symons. The second he acknowledged it, he felt the blood rush to his groin and his cock start to throb. The scent of jasmine was driving him crazy. It was so erotic, he'd always thought so. He was in some sort of dream, but it felt . . . right. Isn't this why he'd broken up with Amy—to experience something "different?" Well, this was different all right. And damned exciting.

Evan was still standing in the same place a half an hour later when Craig came out after everyone had left. Craig said nothing, just took his hand and led him over to a cushioned bench that curved around a heat lamp.

Evan's breath was coming deep and slow and heavy. His hands were hot and shaky.

Craig got comfortable, leaning towards him and resting his chin on an elbow as he looked into his face.

"So why did you come?"

Evan said the absolute truth. "Uh . . . curiosity, mostly."

Craig smiled. "See that's why I like you. Most people only get curious about me when they find out who I am, where I come from. But you saw me in my worst moment."

Evan was mesmerized by him. He was such a sensuous man. His gold beauty reflected the lights; his eyes were pure liquid blue.

"What happened that night?"

Craig shrugged. "I was rejected."

"I've been rejected. It hasn't made me want to kill myself."

It was true. Evan knew he'd never felt that kind of heartbreak, and it made Craig inexplicably fascinating to him, especially since he knew he was gay.

"Was this man—Jason—your lover? Were you in love with him?"

Craig looked at him oddly, as if he were just figuring something out.

"Well we fucked a lot. I don't know if that made us 'lovers.'"

"No?"

"That's what I thought, that's what I wanted, but apparently, he didn't."

"How did you know you were in love with him?" Evan asked.

Craig looked at him intensely. "Well you just know . . . don't you?"

Evan was leaning closer and closer to him, totally unconsciously. Everything was moving so quickly. He thought maybe they should talk more but he was being pushed towards him by some unaccountable desire, and he knew there was only one reason why they were both here—why Craig had invited him and why he had stayed. He was unable to talk as he gazed at Craig's lips. He drew closer, and pushed himself above Craig so he was leaning over him. As he did so he felt his hard cock pushing into Craig's thigh.

Evan whispered, "Ok, I have to tell you something."

"Yeah, what's that?" Craig whispered back, as his hand traveled down to find Evan's ass.

"I'm not gay," Evan said as he brought his mouth nearly down onto Craig's and gazed into his beautiful eyes. "I'm not . . ." he said, in an exhaled breath.

Craig's hand had reached Evan's hard-on. "No?" he said, as he lightly stroked it, and reached one hand behind Evan's head to bring his mouth harder onto his.

"No . . ."

But Evan had pushed open Craig's lips with his own, puzzled and confused. His body was responding. More than he ever had to Amy, to any woman. He was ok with that. That didn't bother him. He only enjoyed it. What confused him were his feelings. The idea that Craig had loved a man, had almost killed himself over a man, was driving him more than his body, or Craig's body. He didn't know why. He couldn't articulate it, so he kept kissing him, as if he could absorb the secret of Craig's hold on his imagination through his mouth and tongue.

If someone had told him he would be kissing a man he'd pulled over a week ago Evan never would have believed it. But his lips felt so goddamned good. He swirled his tongue inside Craig's mouth, licking, sucking, pulling at his tongue and moaning. So sweet, he was so sweet. So perfect. He pushed himself up so he was leaning way over him, on top of him. Craig was actually taller and bigger and stronger, but Evan knew he was the one in control, and a strange thrill of power went through him. He thought of Jason Jones, and wondered if he'd been dominant with Craig. He felt sure he had.

Evan had never been dominant with anyone in his life. Never. But he wanted to, now.

He kissed Craig harder, forcing his mouth wide open, and violently sucking his tongue. He was so passive, letting him do whatever Evan wanted. An idea occurred to him—a desire sparked from the conversation he'd overheard. He felt a twinge of guilt for what he was about to say—he knew some things about Craig that Craig didn't know he knew, but he simply could not help himself. He took his mouth off Craig's for a second to murmur, "Do you want Daddy? Is that what you want? Do you want me to be your Daddy?" He had absolutely no idea why he'd said it, but it went through him like fire, alighting pathways up and down his spine into his cock, his balls, his hips, making him know without a doubt he wanted to be with Craig. He was acting on pure instinct.

Craig whimpered, made a loud gasp and clutched Evan's ass tighter against him.

"Get up," Evan ordered.

Evan grasped Craig's hair as he pushed him down onto his knees in front of him. The jasmine scented night was acting like a narcotic. His gaze fell on the purple jacaranda trees surrounding Craig's house swaying and bending and whispering into the breeze. He could hear the distant ocean. It was without a doubt the most erotic moment of his life up until now. He stood above Craig looking down on him and caressed his beautiful face.

"Now take my cock out like a good boy."

Evan closed his eyes and his head shot backwards when he felt Craig tugging at his fly and undoing his belt. He heard the clink of the metal clasp and his zipper being undone and hissed viciously through his teeth, "Good, good."

"Slowly," he commanded him, as he looked down and continued to caress and stroke his face.

Evan felt like the world was literally spinning around him, faster and faster, out of his control, in a blur of scents and images. He couldn't stop this from happening. A part of his mind was feeling guilty—bad for Craig, worried he was taking advantage of him, playing him, or exploiting a weakness. But another part, the stronger part, needed this too much, demanded to experience the sense of power he had over this vulnerable man. The need shot up from his cock and the base of his spine directly into his brain and mouth, forcing him to say the words.

"Take my cock out, Craig. Show me you want it."

Evan exhaled a long, voluptuous sigh as his cock sprang full and hard from his fly, pointed upwards at a steep angle, pulsing its pleasure and need.

On his knees, Craig was trembling. His hands shook and his mouth watered as he looked at the perfect, luscious, virgin cock swollen in front of his eyes. He'd known. From the first gentle touch of the cop's hands, he'd known this would happen. He exhaled in relief and pleasure. He felt safe here, in front of a hard cock, wanting to please. Sex was a safe zone, the one place where he could truly relax and be himself, and Evan was making it so easy. He thrilled to his tenderness, and wondered if Evan was aware of it. He'd never heard any man order him around with such sweetness.

Craig got in a position, knowing exactly what he was doing. His skilled, practiced hands took their time stroking Evan's wide muscular thighs and up his ass until he found his balls and gently caressed them with his fingertips, loving the sharp gasps he heard above him. Yeah, you're not gay . . . he leaned down and his mouth closed on Evan's soft, tender sacs while one hand traveled up to stroke his shaft. Let me see about that . . .

Craig moistened the tender appendages before slurping their rough and salty outer skin into his mouth, caressing them with his warm and soft tongue, just like he imagined doing the first time he laid eyes on him.

It was unexpected, so soon after Jason. But maybe that's why he was so fascinated by Evan, Craig thought, as a twinge of anxiety shot up from his stomach. Evan had just sort of appeared at the right time, like some sort of savior. He hadn't stopped thinking about him all week. It helped him with the horrible emptiness he would otherwise be feeling. His stomach rumbled with gathering anxiety and he focused his concentration even harder on the sweet cock in front of him.

He felt Evan softly stroking his hair and wanted to weep with pleasure. He needed it so badly. He grasped his shaft and jacked him slowly while he teased one nut, then the other, watching, waiting to be given permission to proceed.

Evan stood above him, looking down and watching. Intense, unbearable waves of pleasure were flowing from his balls and into his whole body. His thick shaft was hot and red, the silky skin almost painfully stretched around the aroused muscle. But Evan's gaze was fixed intently on the look of ecstasy on Craig's face. The combination was driving him crazy, opening up something inside him he had no clue existed before this point. He loved the sight of his big pulsing cock next to Craig's eager, submissive mouth. He wanted to completely dominate him and love him at the same time.

"Do you like that? Do you like my cock?" Evan's voice was trembling.

"Yeah. . ." Evan whispered. "You want it . . ."

To Evan's surprise, he wasn't bothered in the least that what has happening was gay. It didn't matter. It was natural, unforced. He was much more shocked at the needs and words pouring out of him towards this man. Craig was the experienced one; it should have been him seducing and leading, but it was the other way around.

Craig's mouth was hovering over the bursting head of his cock, and Evan knew what they both wanted. He lightly grasped Craig's hair, controlling his movements, and pulled his head forward.

"Say please."

"Please," Craig moaned.

Evan fed him the tip, less than an inch, feeling his cock jerk in excitement.

"Tell me what you want," Evan commanded.

"More, please. . ." Craig moaned.

"More?" Evan cooed, as he directed Craig's watering mouth slowly onto his cock head.

"Mmmmm," Craig instantly whimpered, his voice getting stifled by the cock filling him up. "Mmmmm," he groaned in ecstasy.

Evan had never felt such amazing, agonizing pleasure. He looked at his cock, the sign of the pure and unambiguous lust connecting him to Craig, this near stranger, and life became very simple in that moment: his sex uniting two strange men in a need so profound it was beyond all understanding or resistance. Craig's eyes poured his gratitude and pleasure into Evan's own. Evan relaxed his hold on his head to stroke his hair and face as he watched him slowly bob up and down.

"That's good," he whispered, "Take it, suck my cock . . ."

Eventually Evan had to close his eyes and lean his head back, totally lost. He could hear the surf in the distance. Lust, lust, lust the night whispered. So hot, so perfect. Craig was a perfect angel, his sweet, subservient, golden angel sucking him to paradise.

Evan moaned when he felt him take him deeper, and harder, and he had to look. He stroked Craig's manly, chiseled face, and caressed his hair, but would not touch him anywhere else. Craig's mouth spoke his adoration and worship, and Evan rewarded him with whispered words.

"That's good . . . that's good . . . suck it like a good little boy. . ."

Craig could hear Evan's breathing intensifying as his thighs began to tremble. His swelling dick was feeling even larger in his mouth and warned of his impending release. Craig's own needs were becoming just as urgent as the man he wanted to please. He liberated his own throbbing prick and violently stroked it in time with his bobbing head. The pleasure escalated out of control until Evan grunted loudly and bolted both hands onto Craig's head like a vise as he came, holding him still and pumping stream after creamy stream down his throat. The wet splash of Craig's cum landing on his thighs and the distant sound of his gasps could not tear his attention away from his own blinding, shattering orgasm.

It took several long minutes, standing there, stroking Craig, before he calmed down and the world stopped spinning. "What the fuck, what the fuck just happened?" was all he could think. He glanced down and saw Craig—his angel—lap up the last few drops of cum off his softening cock.

"Thank you," he whispered. He didn't have the faintest clue what else to say.

They didn't speak a word as he zipped up. He didn't know what to do. He'd never had an experience like this. He was stunned, and felt the beginnings of guilt and embarrassment and slight panic. What the fuck would Craig expect of him now? He had no idea; his only thought was that he should go.

"Do you mind . . . I, uh . . . think I should get going. Is that . . . ok?"

Craig seemed just as stunned as him. He nodded, still in his own daze.

"I'm sorry . . . I need to think about this, do you mind?"

Craig was expecting something along these lines, but Evan was much less of an asshole about it than some guys he'd been with. Just don't say, "I'll call you," please, Craig was thinking.

"I'll, uh, show myself out." And Evan left.

+++

The next few days Evan kept to his usual routine—work, the gym, the beach, and lounging in his bed, thinking.

Every time he thought of Craig and what had happened, his got hard. He replayed it over and over, from meeting Craig to the party to the blow job, trying to make some sense of it. He spent days pondering it, meanwhile wondering if he was being a total dick. Should he call him? Would it be seen as blowing him off? Did he want to see him? How did gay men handle casual sex like this? Was it casual sex? It hadn't felt like it. Above all he felt embarrassed, and the longer he avoided calling or doing anything, the more embarrassed and confused he got. What the hell would he say if he did see him again?

Was he gay? He had no idea. The party had been an illuminating experience. Evan knew he had no interest in the "crowd" or joining the crowd. Whatever this was, it had to do with Craig, and no one else.

He was blown away. And he'd been blown, better than he ever had in his life. That sex was nothing like he'd had with Amy. That was only gentle and sweet and friendly. But this. This was something totally different. Intense, powerful, and more . . . instinctual. He'd had no control over how he acted, it had just come out of him so naturally. And yet he'd never thought about men. He'd never fantasized about cock, much less kissing a guy. How could this just happen like that without him having known?