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City of Angels

By: Love_Brokers



Evan Malone liked the midnight shift. 12 am to 8 am along a stretch of Pacific Coast Highway right at the border of Malibu. It was never dull, and the arrests and citations were easy and built up his record. Most of the time he was pulling over rich drunk fucks in their BMWs, Porches, and Mercedes. Half the time they had hookers or call girls in the front seat, and when he looked inside he'd catch an unwelcome glimpse of their cocks halfway out of their flies. He pulled over producers who tried to bribe him, trophy wives who tried to seduce him, lawyers high on drugs, famous actors with underage girls or the occasional tranny. He'd often told his ex-girlfriend he could write a bestseller on the sexual intrigues of rich LA. 

The hours between 4 and 8 am were usually quiet, and he'd sit in his cruiser looking up at the lights on the hills, listening to the ocean and planning his future. Sometimes he tuned into the chatter on the police radio, thinking "Better them than me." He'd worked the worst parts of the city for too many years as a rookie and had had enough of it. He was more than happy to babysit the city's elite if it meant he never had to worry about getting shot. 

He hadn't pulled anyone one over for an hour on a beautiful, balmy Friday night when the dusty blue Porsche clocked in at 85 mph. Holy shit. It was brand new, with the dealers' tags still on it, and if he didn't pull it over it would soon be $120,000 of worthless metal wrapped around a telephone pole. He felt adrenaline surge through him as he turned on lights and sirens. Curiosity as well as excitement pumped through his body. What would it be—another actor? A coked up plastic surgeon? 

It took a good minute for the driver to notice him and stop. Evan stepped out of the car, his right hand on his holster. 

He saw the window unrolling as he approached. He checked his radio—it was 4:10 a.m. The hand at the window was manicured, deeply tanned and Evan saw a heavy silver Rolex. His senses heightened, as soon as he got close Evan smelled the alcohol, along with a deep whiff of, what was it, gardenias? There was a bouquet of flowers crumpled in the passenger seat. It was a lush, heavy, and sexy scent—something he was sure he'd smelled once in his ex's apartment.

"License and registration, please."

"Officer," came a slightly slurred voice, "This is a new—"

"You have your paperwork?" Evan interrupted him. "Pink slip?"

"Yes, uh. . ." the man mumbled as he foraged in the glove compartment. 

"I'm going to need you to step out of the car," Evan ordered. At 6'1 or so, the man was several inches taller than Evan, and just as built. 

"Turn around." The man obediently did as he was told and passively held his hands behind him. Well this was different. No resistance, no asshole comments. He acted like he knew he'd done something bad. Evan held onto one strong, warm forearm as he slipped on the cuffs. It wasn't till he heard the click that he glanced up and saw a handsome face with red-rimmed blue eyes, dirty blond hair, and two days thick growth of beard. 

Evan ran the check on the man's information, looking for old tag numbers. Craig Symons, 30, unmarried, address in Malibu, no record, no citations or arrests. Well, he might have both now.

This guy just reeked of money. It wasn't only his car. It was the perfect haircut and teeth, the personal trainer body, the unique cologne, the expensive linen shirt and casually torn jeans. He had everything but the arrogant attitude. On the contrary, he seemed utterly defeated and depressed. Evan wondered if this had been some kind of unconscious suicide run.

As he wrote out the speeding ticket, he suddenly felt like someone was standing behind him—as if a mouth was softly breathing on his neck or some unseen presence was sensing his every thought. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and a familiar trickle of excitement creep down his spine. He recognized that tingling feeling; it could only mean that this guy was gay. Hmmm, he wouldn't have thought so. He was very good-looking, gorgeous even, but nothing in his manner or voice would have suggested it. But Evan knew the meaning of the prickling sensation down his back; he only got that vibe when he was around gay men.

It didn't bother him. Evan had something of a soft spot for gays. He didn't know why. Perhaps because his father was such a homophobe. Perhaps because he hated assholes so much—wife beaters, rapists, thugs, arrogant pricks who thought they were above the law. No, he had no problem with gays. He found it odd that they seemed to affect him in this way, but he didn't think too much of it.

Evan grabbed the portable breathalyzer and got back out of the cruiser. As he approached the man, the vibe got stronger. Electrical sensations emanated from the back of his head and traveled down his whole body. Craig Symons was leaning casually against his car, one leg bent at the knee, his thighs spread, watching him intently. Evan noticed his eyes travel down his body to his thighs and crotch, and back up to his face. 

It was a strangely intimate situation all of a sudden. The mist coming off the ocean was swirling around, it was incredibly quiet, and the odor of gardenias was saturating the air. When he undid the cuffs his hands grazed firm ass cheeks, and something warm and exciting pulsed in his stomach when he touched him. 

"Thanks," Symons said softly. "I didn't realize I was going so fast."

"Could you blow into this for me, please?" Evan ordered him.

"Oh yeah, sure . . . wait, how do I do it?"

Evan gently helped him with the device. Mr. Symons—Craig—was out of it, but Evan didn't think he was that drunk, just mentally lost. "Put your mouth over that and blow. Right." Craig continued to look at him as his mouth covered the disposable tube. Evan was completely unaware of the fact that he gazed into his blue eyes much longer than necessary, though it was not lost on Craig. 

Evan removed the meter and read it. It was just at the edge of the legal limit. The numbers flashed on and off below and then rose up before falling again. 

In any other situation he would have made the arrest, but he didn't. Craig seemed on his last leg and he decided to cut him a break.

"All right Mr. Symons," he said, "I'm citing you for excessive speed and reckless endangerment. Do you mind if I ask what the hurry was?"

"Just . . . had a bad night." No shit. He'd obviously been crying. Evan thought about the crumpled bouquet. Some kind of lover's spat?

"Well try not to make it any worse."

"What about that?"

Evan glanced at the breathalyzer and continued to write. "You're just barely under the legal limit. I'm letting you off with a warning this time. I'm noting it in your record. If it happens again, you'll be arrested."

Craig took the ticket and got ready to leave. 

"Thanks, I really appreciate this, Officer . . .?"

"Malone."

"Where do you work? I mean, what station? Santa Monica?"

"That's right. Now I'd appreciate it if you drove 35 up to Malibu. The whole way."

"Yeah," he sighed. Evan was certain now this has been some kind of act of self-destruction. The idea of going home seemed to fill him with despair. 

As Evan watched the taillights disappear, he decided on impulse to tail him home. The last thing he wanted was to read about a tragic accident the next morning. His thoughts lingered on the stranger, attracted to him in an abstract way. What does someone have to do to get that kind of money? And what could have been so bad to make it all worthless? This was a new one—seeing a gay man's heartbreak up close. What a strange job. 

In the Porsche, Craig Symons saw the cop car following him. It vaguely registered that it was a nice thing to do. Funny it would be a hot cop to stop him on this night of all nights. When he finally pulled into his private driveway he flashed his lights. Thank you, he silently said to himself. You probably saved my life.

+++

A week later, Evan was filling out paperwork at his desk when he got buzzed by the secretary. 

"Evan Malone. How can I help you?

"Officer. This is Craig Symons calling."

"Who?"

"Symons. You pulled me over last week. PCH. Blue Porsche?"

"Ahh, right, right. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I wanted to thank you, again. For, uh . . . not turning me in."

"No need. How'd you find me here?"

"You said you worked in Santa Monica."

"Right. Well . . . thank you. Appreciate the call."

"Wait. I was wondering . . . I just thought I'd mention it . . . I'm having a little party this weekend. I was wondering if you'd like to come. I'd like to thank you in person."

"There's no need for that."

"Well I'd like to extend the invitation in any case. I think you have my address?"

"Yes, but—"

"Good. 8:00 or so, Saturday. Hope to see you."

Evan hung up the phone, perplexed, and got back to work. One day out of the work week he was stuck at his desk filling out reports. It was a Thursday and very quiet. As he filled out form after form on the computer, he found his thoughts drifting back and forth between his ex, Amy, on the one hand, and Craig Symons's invitation on the other. It was strange timing that this should just happen right at this moment. 

He and Amy had split for one reason—because Evan didn't want to commit and get married. Amy had been very very hurt. Devastated. They'd been together for five years, including living together for the last two. Their relationship was great. That wasn't the problem. But things were rolling along, they were both 29, and Amy kept up the pressure, finally giving him an ultimatum. She didn't want to waste any more time on something that didn't have a future, and in the end Evan just had to state bluntly, "I don't think it does." She was crushed, the more so because he couldn't give her a good reason. He didn't even know himself. It was time to settle down and he just didn't want to. It wasn't that he wanted to date other women; he didn't. The only thing he told himself, but not her, was "I want to keep my options open." Open for what? What did he want? Amy had left a month ago, and all he'd done was work out and spend a lot of time at the beach. Or just lie in bed, thinking. 

He thought about his job a lot. Doing what he did, Evan caught glimpses into the vast life of Los Angeles he never would know otherwise. There was so much more out there and he wasn't ready to close it all off for good. He knew it sounded silly. He had nothing more to offer than that—a vague longing, a persistent sense that he wanted something different, at least to experience if not have.

And now, just like that, he gets this invitation out of the blue. It was almost as if he'd been waiting for it, or expecting it to happen. But a gay dude? 

He clicked off the police site and did a little googling. Craig Andrew Symons was an entertainment lawyer in private practice. He couldn't find much more than that he didn't already know, aside from a few pictures of him at studio events looking glamorous. He stared and stared into his computer screen. A magical feeling seemed to emanate from Craig Symons's face in the pictures. He looked happier than Evan had ever remembered being, in a secret, special way that was out of his reach, that he'd never known himself. And then he remembered the devastated man he'd pulled over on PCH. Evan had never known that kind of despair, either. He wondered about it. He felt pulled towards this man's life and he couldn't deny he was intrigued by the invitation. Why not? 

He was still gazing at the handsome blond face on his computer screen when he felt the vibe and eyes on the back of his neck, stronger than ever. He instantly clicked to his desktop and looked guiltily over his shoulder, expecting to see Andy, the only gay cop he knew about. But no one was there. 

After work in the morning he headed to his gym and changed into an old Los Angeles Police Academy t-shirt and sweats. It was a sweaty muscle gym full of men, hardy any women, and known locally as something of a gay meat market. Evan always got the vibe in there, though there was no mystery about it. Male eyes were blatantly checking him out anytime he went in. He didn't mind. It was a great place, and very convenient. 

He was aware of the looks, but he had no idea that he was a major topic of gossip and lust for many regulars. The hot cop who came in every day had a perfect body and a sweet, handsome face with huge brown eyes. There was that allure of power and potential domination, and furthermore his sexuality was a bit of an enigma. Someone figured out he'd had a girlfriend at one point; others swore he was gay. 

Evan would have been surprised and flattered to know how many times he'd been the topic of conversation at clubs and parties. In fact he would take that as a personal point of pride, since he knew how much it would bug his father.

As Evan pounded out five miles on the treadmill, he thought about his dad. Michael Malone was a very high-ranking police captain in the LAPD and as far as Evan was concerned, a fucking asshole. He hated his father. He was the very epitome of an asshole. A real "man's man." He smiled to himself when he wondered what his dad would think of him taking up Craig Symons on his offer. That settled it. He was going. He'd take his motorcycle up and see how the better half lived in Malibu.

+++

Evan set out at 8:30 on Saturday. Los Angeles could be the most hideous, smog-filled wasteland in the daytime, but at times like this, it became the most magical place on earth—timeless, dreamlike and at one with nature. As soon as the sun went down and traffic slowed up, there was an incredible stillness and quiet from the desert. The air was clear and colors seemed brighter, the lights from the valley more sparkling and vibrant. It was still slightly dusk as he zoomed up PCH and the sky was glowing in lavender and turquoise blending into the blue-green ocean. 

Evan loved his bike. It was his one indulgence, his one toy. He fucking loved the sense of power and freedom. He'd had his own bike since the moment he got a license, and going on long solo rides was his greatest pleasure and the best therapy. As a teenager it was how he had escaped his father. He loved the feeling of total control over the massive machine between his legs, the way it responded to his slightest touch. He loved the mobility and independence. It was always how he liked to travel in LA. He flew up PCH zipping in and out of traffic, until he found a little dirt side road that led up a seaside cliff to his destination. He arrived at the glass and chrome house exhilarated and excited.

It was a beautiful place—modernistic, minimal, and transparent to the elements. He saw people milling about inside and outside on a deck with a pool as he pulled up. He was just taking off his helmet when he saw Craig Symons walking towards him.

He'd shaved since the last time he saw him and as he flashed a smile, Evan was struck by that aura of glamor he'd seen in his photos. This was one attractive man. More than handsome, he was simply beautiful, there was no other word for it, with a blend of feminine and masculine features. Anyone would think so. 

Evan was still straddling his bike as Craig touched it. "Nice ride."

"Thanks. You have a nice place here." 

"Ah, yeah, I love it. Glad you could make it . . . Officer . . .?"

Evan smiled and held out his hand, "Evan."

Craig grasped it. "Thanks for coming, Evan. I know this is a little out of the blue."

"No, I'm glad. It's different. Thanks for inviting me."

Craig moved a little closer to him. "Look, I really do want to thank you for the other night."

"No problem. You seem like you're, uh . . . doing better."

Craig averted his eyes and seemed embarrassed. "It was a bad night. But come in. Have a drink, relax."

"Sure."

Walking into the house, Evan felt the light pressure of Craig's hand on his back. It was just the slightest touch, but it was hot and electric. He felt his whole body prickle with excitement.

Craig kept his hand on his lower back as he steered him through the crowd to the bar area. His "little party" was actually huge. There must have been well over fifty people—mostly men, and mostly gay, but some women. One thing for sure, they were all loaded. This was a very rich crowd. Evan felt a bit out of place in his boots and leather jacket. He could see every eye on them as they walked in together, checking him out.

Craig found the bar and drew him close to it. Evan noticed trays of sushi and other catered food. 

"So, a cocktail? What do you like? Or maybe you'd prefer a beer." Craig gave him a tiny wink.

"Uh . . . yeah, beer is fine."

"You got it."

"So what's the occasion?" he asked him. "Anything special?"

"No, not really. Kind of an end of the summer sort of thing. Do you surf?"

"Yeah, actually, I do. I'm pretty much of a beach rat. I grew up in Laguna, so . . . "

"Well maybe we should sometime. We have a few good weeks left. But only if you promise to take me on your bike sometime."

Evan smiled. "You like to ride?"

"Never have. But I've always wanted to. I'd love it if you'd show me."

"All right." What  it about him? Evan felt pulled into his orbit. He had visions of Craig holding him tightly from behind as he took one of his favorite trips, and then spending a whole day together. 

Craig handed him a beer and touched his hand. "Thanks for coming, Evan. I'm glad you could make it."

They exchanged a look, and Evan was just about to say something when a crowd descended on Craig. 

"Symons!" 

It was a loud bunch of guys—Evan knew the type. These were the trust fund babies he pulled over all the time. Rich, arrogant, spoiled, and entitled. They didn't give him the time of day, but pulled Craig into their raucous group.

"You don't mind if we steal him, do you?"

Before he knew it he was standing alone with his beer while Craig became the center of attention of a little mob. Evan couldn't help watching him. He was laughing and entertaining them with some private anecdote. Craig's charisma made everyone around him seem special and exciting. His beauty was riveting. Evan walked around a little bit but couldn't take his eyes off him. 

He had moved towards the doorway leading out to the patio when he overheard voices—gossipy male voices trying to be discrete.

"So who's the hottie in the leather jacket?"

Evan heard a little snort of contempt. "Some cop Craig picked up."

"What's he doing here?"

"What do you think? You know Craig. He always likes to fuck around when he's depressed."

"Oh, that. Jesus—fucking Jason Jones? That arrogant shit?" 

"It's his type, you know that."

"What—unavailable dicks?"

Evan heard the other guy laugh. "Is someone jealous?"

"Everyone knows Jason is a prick. He's fucked half of West Hollywood."

"Yes well our little Craigy really fell for him."

"'Our little Craigy' has major Daddy issues. I can't believe he doesn't see it. He 30. Get over it."

"You just wish it was you."

The other guy sighed. "He looks so hot tonight."

"He always looks hot."

"A fucking cop?!"

Evan moved outside to the patio and stood looking at the gorgeous view, thinking. Something about the overheard conversation chimed within his unconscious and made him even more interested in Craig. A man with "Daddy issues"? The idea burrowed down into his own mind, sending off a rippling explosion. Daddy. Evan then immediately wondered what this Jason dude was like. Was he behind the scene of the other night? 

"It's nice out here, isn't it?"

Evan turned around at the female voice. A pretty blond woman about his age was standing next to him.

"Yeah . . . I enjoyed the ride up here."

"You're the cop, right?"


City of Angels Ch. 02



"Hey Evan." 

Evan Malone looked up from his table. Now that he'd moved to days, he was up at six am every morning to hit the gym. He had showered and was getting one last jolt of caffeine at a little bodega in Venice before heading out when he saw Andy from the station standing in front of him.

"You mind if I join you?"

"Sure, of course. Have a seat."

Andy was his age, cute and openly gay. Evan had a passing friendship with him—nothing more than casual conversation up until now. But perhaps it was good timing, Evan thought. He was glad to see him. 

"So, I hear you've put in for sergeant," Andy said. "That's cool. Should be a lock for you."

"Yeah, I hope so," Evan said. "Thought it was time."

"Oh well it shouldn't be a problem. Everyone knows your record."

Evan paused, not quite knowing how to go forward. 

"Andy, can I ask you something personal . . ."

Andy's eyes sparkled with interest. "Shoot."

"Have you ever run into any problems in the station from, uh . . ." Evan glanced around the coffee shop, " . . . being out?"

Andy, who'd had a crush on Evan for years, was overjoyed. He leaned in towards him. 

"Why do you ask?"

There was a friendly light in Andy's pale green eyes, and his smile was warm and encouraging. 

"Well, I . . ." Evan stammered, hesitating. How to say it? He considered just saying the words. "Andy, I'm gay." It didn't bother him to say it. It didn't bother him if anyone knew. But he couldn't. Or wouldn't. It didn't seem right. He simply could not convey what he was going through with those small words. They did not seem remotely sufficient—neither for Craig, nor for the feelings he had just sitting there with Andy and looking into his eyes.

Instead, he settled on the most honest description of how his life had changed in the past few weeks. "Well I recently started seeing someone. . ."

"Oh," Andy said flatly, and his face fell. "Would this be a male someone?"

"Yes," Evan said. "Yes, it is."

Andy assessed Evan, wondering where he was at. He felt sure this was Evan's first experience with a man. And he could tell that it was a powerful one. He could see it and sense it. He wondered if this was what he'd really wanted to talk about.

"Well, as far as the LAPD goes, I have a lot of insight, shall we say. I'd be happy to discuss it more, whenever you want. Long story short—it's only going to be a problem for you if you want to keep moving up the chain. But . . ."

"Yes?"

"Just—uh—anything you want, Evan. Say the word. I'm all ears."

Evan half whispered, "What about you—do you have a partner, or . . .?"

Andy shook his head, trying not to let his gaze linger on Evan's lips. "No. Nope, completely single at the moment."

Evan stood up. "Alright, well, I have to get going. Andy-thanks."

"Sure. No problem. Anytime, Evan." 

Andy watched him go, saying "Damn! Damn, damn, damn!" to himself and wondering who the hell was the lucky guy.

+++

At the same moment, early in the day, Craig Symons was in downtown LA, in Larry Binder's art studio, clad in nothing but a pair of expensive new underwear underneath a fuzzy bathrobe. Larry was the most successful and famous gay artist in LA, some would say in the whole country, and at the moment he was setting up a photo shoot for an underwear ad—his "bread and butter" he called it. He occasionally did artsy ad shoots for designers that paid him a hell of a lot of money, and this one needed to be good, so he'd roped Craig into posing. 

The idea was to feature actual gay men as principals in the ads, instead of models—men who represented the modern gay world, each portraying a different city. When it came to Los Angeles, Larry never hesitated. Of course it would be Craig. He had an idea to set him up as a heavenly being lying on a cloud, surrounded by angels. His studio was a madhouse with assistants and makeup artists and wardrobe people running around among extras clad in nothing but gold G-strings. 

"I need more cherubs!" Larry's voice boomed through the vast cavern of his studio. 

Larry sauntered over to Craig, exasperated. 

"We have to wait for the fucking dry ice machine. How are you, darling, I haven't seen you in weeks."

Craig smiled. "I'm doing fine. Great, in fact."

Larry immediately shot him a look. "Oh, don't tell me."

"Hmmm?" Craig said.

"You're fucking someone. Who is it?"

But Craig wasn't about to answer him. He wanted to keep that all to himself.

Craig was suddenly slammed into a makeup chair in front of a mirror and primped and pawed and coiffed, and then he was led to a white velvet couch hidden in fake clouds. He was manipulated and maneuvered and posed by unseen hands as Larry yelled from behind a camera and began snapping. 

"You're beautiful, baby! One arm over your head, that's it, that's it. . . spread your legs, a little more, that's it . . ."

Following Larry's orders, Craig lay back, thighs spread, his long soft cock just barely visible through thin white cotton. He didn't smile, only gazed at the camera, thinking about the past month with Evan. He imagined Evan alone looking at him, that it was only Evan he was posing for, and tried to control his hard-on. He looked forward to seeing him that night, and a soft, dreamy, invitingly sensuous look came into his eyes.

Larry was used to seeing gorgeous men through his viewfinder, but what he saw as he looked at Craig now was something different, something indescribably hot. His cock swelled in his pants as he snapped the camera over and over. He zeroed in on Craig's face, intent on capturing the look in his eyes. 

What was so damned mesmerizing about him? It wasn't only Craig's beauty—though he certainly was that. His face was a perfect blend of soft and strong, male and female, dominated by such meltingly beautiful blue eyes. His hair ranged from deepest gold to the palest blond highlights. His body—fantastic. But it wasn't any of those surface things. 

The best models had an ability to just give up and let themselves become objectified. They did not hold back. Something in their nature just flourished under the gaze of the lens. They couldn't help but open up their souls for the world to see. And Craig was a natural. His true personality was completely and totally on display. He projected pure come-fuck-me lust, as intense and focused as a laser, as well as raw, open desire and need, and an achingly sweet vulnerability, with no defense and no protection. 

Somehow, Larry thought, he just embodied homosexuality. He personified it and reveled in it. One look and you knew this was a man who had never been and never would be anything else and had absolutely no desire to be anything else. He was the most fuckable man Larry had ever photographed. If this picture didn't make every gay man in the city rock hard he had failed in his job. 

"Oh, this is a moment. Craigy, this is . . . you're going to be famous . . . this is the best thing I've ever done . . . look at me, right here."

Craig heard the loud snap of the camera and a triumphant shout from Larry, who rushed over to him and gave him a big wet kiss. "Fucking fabulous!"

As Larry watched him go, he considered that his old friend seemed so different. Relaxed. Happy. The look in his eyes. Goddamn it, who was the mystery man? He whipped out his cell phone to call some friends. What was going on with Craig?

+++

Evan headed up to Craig's place around 8:00 that night, eager and excited to see him. It had only been a while, but being with Craig was already changing him. 

He'd spent the rest of his afternoon filling out his formal application for sergeant. He felt fantastic doing it. Not only was it a promotion, with more money and security, but it was also work he was actually looking forward to, since it included teaching a class at the academy and training new cops. He liked the idea of assuming more responsibility and interacting with younger people. It was time. He'd made plans to go see his father the coming weekend to talk it over, and to see how he was doing. It all made him feel like he was growing up and going forward with his life.

His relationship with Craig—at least that's how he thought of it—seemed to light a fire within him. He just wanted to make all of his life more substantial and solid, to commit to it in every way. He had decided to move out of his crappy apartment and was looking into buying a condo—a place Craig might like, and nearer to him. 

Zipping up PCH, he didn't notice the ocean, or the sky, or anything else around him. Craig had texted him that he was on the way, too, and all he could think about was the moment he could hold him in his arms. 

Evan powered up on his bike, getting hard, as images of sex flashed through his head. Whenever he thought of it, at work, at home, with Craig, he felt simultaneously grateful and angry—profoundly grateful that he was finally figuring this out, and furious that he never had before. Why had it taken him so long? Because he knew this was how he was meant to be, there was no question of that. Every moment with Craig was like finding a lost piece of himself—scattered pieces that every kiss, every stroke, every slide into Craig's body, put back together into a coherent picture. Every moment of discovering Craig was a self-discovery as well. When he was away from him, he felt threatened with dissolution and a frustrating confusion and blankness seeped into his mind; when he was with him, it all slid back into place and became perfectly clear. He knew who he was. 

When he arrived at his house he saw Craig's Porsche and instantly felt his pulse quicken. He knew he would never forget this late summer, and the peace and stillness and quiet of this place, with the gentle surf the only sound. His boots crunched on dried laurel leaves as he headed in. Everything, even that, was sexual—the creak of the steps on the way to Craig's door, the glimpse of silver ocean reflecting the setting sun, the dry, hot scent of the desert. And then Craig, opening the door—golden and tanned, barefoot in faded jeans and a yellow shirt.

"Hey."

Still in his uniform, Evan stepped inside, tossing his leather gloves on the counter and reaching for Craig's waist. He pulled his body close to his, already pulsing and swollen, and kissed him deeply on the lips as Craig leaned back on the counter. His hands automatically caressed his hair. Their eyes locked together in mutual lust. 

"I missed you" Evan breathed, pushing his hard cock into Craig's. "I thought about you all day."

Craig smiled a genuine, happy smile. "Me too."

"Yeah? What were you thinking?"

"Just this," Craig whispered, kissing him back, and trailing his lips down his neck. "God I love you in this uniform."

"Oh, well 'Daddy' had a long day," Evan laughed, his eyes glinting at Craig's as he whispered a hint of their "bedroom" talk. "A long, hard day at work thinking about you. I couldn't wait to change to come here and see you."

Craig moved his hands down to Evan's ass, loving the feel of his big, strong body. "I'm so glad you're here. This is, uh . . ." he trailed off into a laugh. 

"Fucking hot? Perfect? Amazing?" Evan whispered, pushing him back against the counter and smiling into his eyes. 

"Yeah, yeah it is." Craig replied. "You know I had an interesting day."

"Tell me."

"I was in that photo shoot I told you about."

"Oh right, right. How was it?"

Craig laughed. "It was fantastic. You know why? I've never dated anyone who wasn't part of the scene. Much less a cop. And I love it. I love that you're not part of it. It's a new thing for me. I thought about you the whole time. And no one knew. Just me."

"It is nice, isn't it?" Evan whispered, wrapping his arms tight around him. "We have our own thing going on, don't we?"

"So what do you want to do for dinner? Same place?"

"Yeah, I'm starving. I want those fish tacos. But let me change."

"Let me just get my shoes, hang on."

For the past month, they'd been scouring the local eateries of Malibu, finding an abundance of little out of the way Mexican or seafood places. They'd settled on a favorite dive close to the ocean with amazing Margaritas. Evan didn't know how many times he'd passed it while on the job, never knowing what fantastic empanadas they had. Every time he went in with Craig he shook his head wondering at the strange turn his life had taken. Not that he was complaining. 

The short Latina lady who owned the placed already knew them, and welcomed them in with a heavy accent. She brought them to the outside patio which looked out directly onto the beach. There was a cool, wet breeze coming in from the ocean, but heat lamps kept them nice and warm.

The waitress brought them the house specialty of guacamole hand made at the table in a heavy stone pestle. She expertly mashed the soft, buttery avocados with a squeeze of lime and a hint of sharp cilantro. The accompanying hand-rolled chips were fresh from the oven. 

"Mmmmm . . . god this is heavenly," Evan said.

"So what's going on with work? How was your day?" Craig asked between sips of his Margarita.

"Good, good. You know, finished the application."

"So where will you be working if it pans out?"

"Well I'll be moving around. A couple of days in Santa Monica, a couple in Elysian Park teaching classes."

Craig suddenly had a picture come into his head of gorgeous young men drooling onto their pens over the hot instructor. He laughed.

"What?"

"What do you mean, 'what'? You. Hot young recruits. I bet they're all in uniform . . ."

Evan laughed. "At the LAPD? You're crazy. Plus. . . I wouldn't notice."

"Oh come on. You think it's not going on? I'd love to be a fly on the wall in those showers. You think there haven't been a few circle jerks in the locker rooms? One thing leads to another. . ."

Evan laughed, shaking his head. "I, uh . . . I wouldn't know."

"I know," said Craig. He contemplated Evan for a second. "So what was high school like for you? What, did you have a girlfriend? A homecoming queen or something?" The idea was totally bizarre, but he thought he'd ask.

"Me? Nah. No. I didn't date at all—well, unless you count senior prom."

"Well then what did you do? Jerk off all the time?"

"No. No. I was angry all the time. I mean, I did, but mostly, I took it out on the football field. And hanging out at the beach. Just me and Chad, really."

"Chad? Who's Chad?" Craig said, immediately intrigued.

Just then the waitress appeared with their entrees. Evan shot Craig a look, laughing. "Ah, just in time."

"Oh fuckkkkk," Evan moaned over the perfectly grilled mahi mahi and spicy pico de gallo wrapped in the most mouth-watering tortillas in existence. "Why have I never had these before?"

"So who's Chad?" pressed Craig.

Evan wiped his mouth before answering. "Chad was my best friend. All through high school."

"Oh? Was he cute?"

"Sure—yeah, I don't know. He played football, too. Actually we grew up together, on the same street. His dad's a cop, too."

"And . . .?"

"What? We were close. You know—two guys, a lot in common. Chad probably knows me better than anyone. Or did, at any rate."

"What happened to him?"

"I don't know exactly. We just drifted apart I guess. He left, after senior year. Football scholarship to Alabama. I saw him a few times afterwards, but . . ."

Actually, it was a painful topic for Evan. He'd made several efforts to contact Chad over the years, with no results. 

"And there was never anything between you?"

"What?! No, no, nothing like that. He was just a friend. A good friend. We liked to surf. Every day that we could. God, we'd spend every weekend at the beach." 

"What did he look like?"

"Oh—blond. Blue eyed. Way more of an athlete than me."

"He sounds dreamy."

Evan laughed and said quietly, "Look, it wasn't like that. I would have known."

Evan reached out to touch Craig's hand. He had grown so used to him over the past month, and more and more comfortable with who he was with him. It was getting to be so natural and easy, to the point where he was beginning to totally forget his life before Craig. 

"It doesn't matter. None of that matters."

"Well, it sounds nice. I wish I had had that. A best friend."

"What—you? What about all those 'boys'?"

"Like I said, it was just sex. Nothing serious. Nothing like you."

Evan found his leg under the table, stroking it with his foot. "I'm glad to hear you say that."

Evan knew Craig well enough by now, through long talks in bed, that he sometimes shut off his emotions. It was like he hit a wall, and didn't want to go any further. He could sense it now.

"What was it like? Your family?" 

Craig shrugged. "Lonely."

"You can talk about it, you know."

Craig balled up his napkin. "I have talked about it. In 'therapy,'" he said with a sound of disgust.

"Look, there's nothing dramatic, nothing horrible," he said, seeing the look of concern on Evan's face. "No one beat the crap out of me or abused me. There's no skeletons in my closet. Just a dysfunctional rich family . . . typical LA story . . ."

"All right." Evan knew Craig was making light of it, and he let it go. He had as much patience as Craig needed.

The waitress came and took their things away and they sat for a while listening to the ocean as candles flickered on the table. Evan continued to hold his hand. 

"Are you staying over tonight?" Craig said quietly.

"Yes, if you want me to."

"Yes!" Craig said, a little too quickly.

"Then let's get out of here."

+++

By the time they arrived back at Craig's house, they were so horny from touching and stroking each other in the car Craig could barely get the keys in the door. They were both laughing as Evan pushed his hard cock into his ass from behind and nuzzled his neck as he pushed him quickly inside and slammed the door shut behind them.

"Mmmm . . .," they moaned and laughed through frantic kisses, making their way to the huge couch in the living room, unable to hold out and get to the bedroom. Evan had Craig's shirt untucked and halfway over his chest and Craig had swiftly undone Evan's belt.

Evan roughly pushed Craig back onto the plush tan pillows, and hurriedly got between his knees, on the floor in front of him. Craig tried to sit up but Evan pushed him back down.

"Oh!" Craig laughed, taken aback. For the past month, he'd always sucked Evan first, for a long time. In fact, Evan had not yet taken his cock in his mouth. 

"Oh," he laughed again, "Oh . . . yeah . . . ok," he sighed, relaxing backwards onto his elbows to watch. He stroked Evan's dark curly hair with interested eyes and looked at himself swelling up under his tight jeans. He kept his thighs spread, thrusting forward, the lust collecting and growing and making him rock hard under Evan's gaze. 

Evan scooted up close to his face and kissed him hard, holding him by the back of his head.

"Stop putting yourself down, alright? There's nothing wrong with 'just sex.' Not the way you do it. Not with what you're doing to me."

Craig stared helplessly into his kind eyes, unable to look away or even breathe. No one had ever talked this way to him before.

"I love your sexuality. I love it. I love how you are. I love what you've done for me. I can't imagine being without you now, ok? You're . . . mmmmm . . ." He leaned down to lick Craig's neck, ". . . so fucking beautiful," he whispered. He looked back into Craig's eyes. "You're beautiful. So let me show you. Let me adore you in the way you were meant to be adored, alright?"

This wasn't natural for Craig, to be the one being coddled. He liked to be the one to please his lover, not the other way around. But for Evan's sake, he willingly obeyed. He said nothing as he lay propped up on his elbows, Evan's voice and manner suddenly making him feel comfortable with this unusual situation. He watched with curiosity as well as pleasure to see what Evan would do.




City of Angels Ch. 02



Evan's brown eyes burned into Craig's, gauging his every reaction as he caressed up one thigh and made a beeline for the magnificent ridge of hard cock inside his jeans. The knowledge that he'd never tasted a penis inflamed him. He was consumed by the pure desire to get the forbidden object in his mouth—but it wasn't just any cock, it was Craig's cock. He was going to get down on his knees and suck his lover off and make him come, and he had never felt such power, as if he had Craig's whole being in his hands

Evan leaned down and kissed his bulge. Kisses turned into licks as his hand crept under Craig's shirt. Craig watched the first tentative steps in awe, happy to do nothing—Evan's expressions of lust underpinned by genuine love, sincere in his inexperienced touch, but discovering a new kind of control. It fascinated him as much as it turned him on. 

Craig grabbed a tousle of hair as he involuntarily thrust his hips upward, mashing his saliva-moistened jeans against Evan's face. He pleaded with his eyes the moment Evan looked up.

"No," Evan ordered, pushing his hands away. 

Evan unzipped Craig's fly agonizingly slowly, teasing him unmercifully, until he finally allowed his beautiful manhood to spill out, fully erect and pulsing with anticipation. For a moment he just looked, struck by the incredible vulnerability of his sex. He could actually see Craig's heartbeat in the tiny veins crisscrossing the throbbing muscle. A natural inclination took over and he cradled it in his hand while lightly kissing the baby soft underside of the shaft. The soft, tender skin practically kissed him back as he slowly worked his way up to the head. Whenever he could, he glanced up at Craig's eyes to see the effects, measuring his own actions against Craig's. 

He swirled his tongue around the first flesh into his mouth, trying to decide how to deal with his size. Craig sensed his dilemma and pulled back slightly, unwilling to force himself on Evan. But Evan chased after him, gulping more of him as he trapped him down hard against the couch and forcing his cock upwards and outwards. 

The feeling of Craig's tender, stiff dick in his mouth was exquisite, its warm, vulnerable flesh a delectable morsel that was meant to be savored. He'd fantasized about the taste and feel of his cock in his mouth, but this was better than he'd imagined. He couldn't have predicted the intense urge to just suck that overtook him, but he kept it tightly in check, expertly guiding his dominant nature for a different goal, to control his own needs and take good care of someone else. He sucked and licked, arousing himself through knowing what it felt like to be Craig. He knew exactly what he had to do to make it perfect for him.

"Oh fuck," Craig uttered as he watched and felt Evan's throat slowly envelop his inches. Evan's eyes never averted as he took him deeper and deeper. Craig could only gasp, enraptured, as he took it in. He embraced his passive position with his entire being, settling into a decadent languor. It felt like his very soul was throbbing in Evan's mouth, and he couldn't help letting out loud whimpers of astonishment at what he was doing. 

Evan took his mouth off him for a brief second. "Shh!" he said in a whisper that was meant to calm and soothe as well as command. 

Evan held his composure for as long as he could, but Craig's size was proving to be more than he was expecting. He quickly pulled his mouth away before he gagged and took a deep breath. As much as he wanted to make it perfect for Craig, he was still new at this. He was working up the will to fill his mouth again and go deeper when he felt a hand gently caress his sweaty hair.

"Take your time," Craig whispered. He couldn't stand to see him in any discomfort. The gentle forgiveness furthered Evan's resolve and he took him in, this time impaling his throat half-way down his shaft, eliciting a gentle moan from Craig. Concentrating on his own breathing, Evan slid up and back down, taking it into him and forcing his throat to tolerate the massive invasion again, and again, a little further each time, loving the command he was beginning to feel over Craig's body. 

Evan gave himself a break by stroking Craig's long, wet shaft while he tasted his balls, pleased with himself that he had taken Craig deep and wanting to do it again. He smiled at his lover, who was almost taken aback by the skill he'd suddenly acquired, and they exchanged an understanding glance, Evan almost telling him with his eyes he now knew what Craig had been doing for him so expertly for weeks. Craig pulled his shirt over his head while Evan tugged on his jeans, stripping them off him in one quick motion, leaving Craig naked and perfect on the couch.

Evan took a deep breath as his feasting eyes took in in the beautiful morsel his hungry mouth was now going to completely devour. He slurped him back in, working his throat onto, down, down until there was no more to take, at the same time snaking one hand up to keep Craig still and stop him from thrusting and squirming. His hands said "You're all mine. Let me do this." Craig relaxed and relaxed, lolling his head back and closing his eyes in ecstasy and allowing himself to just sink into the waves of pure pleasure spreading out from Evan's mouth. He murmured from deep within a private delirium, "Fuck yeah . . . oh that's good . . . take it deeper . . ." 

After he couldn't take anymore, Evan drew his mouth off with a loud, wet gasp, as strings of saliva trailed off from Craig's dick. He had to take a break, so he stroked him—fisting the drenched cock in his hand, pumping the slick shaft and working the head. "I want you to come for me," he gently ordered. "I want to taste you." The knowledge that he had Craig's orgasm entirely in his hands made him harder than anything he had ever done with him, and was only barely equaled by the overwhelming need now to taste his sweet cum. He milked out a large dollop of clear slippery goodness from his cock and swirled it around with his tongue, enjoying the slightly salty addition to his palate, and wondering how his full load was going to taste. The thought made an involuntary grunt escape his mouth and drool seep out the sides of his mouth.

Craig felt his cock disappear yet again inside Evan's mouth, squeezed tight inside his throat, his head swollen to maximum proportion, and he knew it wouldn't be long. He focused on the feeling of Evan's warm, wet, slippery throat, his loving and gentle touch, knowing exactly what Evan was experiencing for the first time at that moment—the genuine need to taste another man's cum. It was too much. "Fuck, fuck!" he whimpered over and over. "Oh fuck, baby," he whined, "I'm gonna come. I'm gonna come!" Not that he wanted to hold back, but it wouldn't have even been in his control. He gave in completely to his own pure need, gasping out the first shuddering onset of his climax.

Evan felt the first pulse of cum rushing up and quickly moved to retreat the bulbous head from his throat to his mouth in order to fully taste the fruit of his labor. The taste of the unbelievably delicious salty, warm cream filling his mouth merged with the thrill of making his sweet boy come and sent him hurtling over the edge right along with him. He stroked his own throbbing and flexing cock, milking his own semen and swallowing the satisfying portions from Craig as fast as they were delivered. 

Craig gasped in explosive, luxurious release. For once, all he had to do was come. Just come, just enjoy. The tears that leaked from his eyes were as much from gratitude as overwhelming pleasure.

Evan crawled up onto Craig, pressing his firm groin against Craig's waning erection and kissing him deeply, sharing the flavor of his juices with him, their lips caressing, tongues entwining. Craig held his head between his hands, ensuring he wouldn't pull away while he enjoyed the aftertaste of his orgasm.

"Was that okay?" Evan asked innocently.

Craig pulled him towards him with an ecstatic laugh, rolling him around to burrow his face and lips in his neck. 

"Are you fucking shitting me?" he moaned, holding Evan tight. Almost immediately they fell into a light doze, snuggled together, sated and spent.

+++

A little later, Craig he was sprawled on his bed with his head on Evan's stomach, gazing down at his softened cock, occasionally reaching down to caress it, and lightly stroke his balls. Evan sat up against the headboard and smoothed his hair and head as they chatted.

"So what's going on with you this weekend?" Evan asked softly. "You know I'll be down in Laguna, right?"

Craig kissed his stomach muscles. "Yeah . . . uhhhhh," he let out a fake whimper. "The whole weekend?"

"Yes . . . I'm going down Saturday morning and I'll probably stay over. I want to see how my dad's doing. Should put in some face time with mom, as well."

"Ugh . . ." Craig groaned again, and kissed him again. "I guess it's just as well. I have some work to do this weekend."

"Oh? You know we haven't talked about your work much. I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's ok. 75 percent of my job is schmoozing and socializing. Not much to tell. That's the whole reason I got into it."

"I can see that. I bet you're great at it."

"I am. I'm good with people."

"I know," Evan said, laughing. "So what's going on?"

"Well . . ." Craig said, "I'm in the middle of brokering a deal with three studios. It's my own idea. It's a big, big thing. If this comes off . . ."

"That's awesome! I'm glad for you!"

"The pay-off on this could be huge, if it pans out. Enough for me to . . ."

"What?" Evan asked. 

"Well let's just say it will be my OWN. My own money. My own LIFE."

"Why didn't you say anything? That's fantastic."

"Because it's making me anxious. Jesus. Either way. If it falls through, which I'm half hoping it does, though I don't think so. And if it goes off . . . that scares me just as much." Craig had never told this about himself to anyone. He usually kept up a confidant front, especially when it came to his work. But with Evan, he just wanted to keep talking and talking.

"Why is that?"

"It would mean a lot. Everything I've been working for, really. And that scares me. I think I'm happier struggling. It's . . ."

"An issue?" Evan laughed. 

"Yes. Success. It makes me just as uneasy as failure."

"So when will you know?"

"Oh not for a while. I'll be working on the proposal the whole weekend, and I have a party to go to on Saturday."

"Where?" said Evan, feeling a hint of jealousy.

"Hollywood Hills."

"You're going alone?"

Craig turned around to smile at him. "Yes, but I'll know a lot of people there. Why—you're worried about me meeting someone else?"

Evan reared up and flipped Craig over and got in a gentle hold on top of him. "Yes."

Craig wiggled to get more comfortable beneath him, wrapping his hips with his thighs, and drawing him close. He leaned up to kiss his lips. "You don't have to worry about that."

"Good," Evan breathed, sinking his mouth down onto his as the blood rushed hard and fast to his cock. "Because Daddy needs you. . ."

"Oh God!" Craig laughed. "Don't stop. . ."

+++

At the last minute, Craig decided to ask his sister Sharon to come with him to the party on Saturday. He'd spent the whole day writing at his computer and wanted some company. 

He sat in his office finishing up late Saturday evening, closed down his computer and saw that his phone had buzzed. It was a text from Evan saying "Have a good night. See you soon."

He smiled and turned it off and headed out to his balcony before getting changed. He took in the incredible view, from the lights at the top of the hills all the way down to the Santa Monica pier. From here he could see the merry-go-round and Ferris wheel lazily spinning, their blinking neon lights reflecting in the ocean. 

He thought of Evan, and a blossoming warmth exploded in his stomach and pressed up through his chest and into his throat. The entire world, especially the night sky full of stars, had never seemed so beautiful. It felt so good he didn't quite know how to process it. For a brief second, just the tiniest moment, he allowed himself to relax and trust it—to feel happy, and good about himself. He thought of Evan's inexperienced mouth loving his body, how amazing it had felt, and it was as if he was turning into gold, as if he was pulsing with light like another star in the sky. He felt a moment of pure joy, so new and strange, believing, for once, that things could finally just be ok. 

For a moment, he felt as if he had never even seen his own city before, as if it was all entirely new and fresh in front of his eyes, a completely unexplored and unknown paradise. He thought of all the places he and Evan had never been, the restaurants yet to be discovered, the beaches and bars and museums he'd passed every day but never visited. He thought of all the trips they could take, the hotels and spas, the things his money could let them do together. Why couldn't every day be wonderful? 

But then just as suddenly as this vision opened up, a window in his mind slammed shut, as if the image was just too beautiful and unreal to be sustained. His life, his real, normal life, came flooding back and for some reason he thought of Jason. Instantly, he felt the warm golden glow in his body evaporate. In its place was shame, confusion and fear. He knew what Jason would think of this hopeful connection to Evan. He felt Jason judging him, sneering at him, and re-experienced the abject humiliation of his rejection. His neck prickled with the sensation of being watched. He could feel Jason's eyes looking at him from behind and almost expected to see him if he turned around. 

He closed the balcony doors, shutting out the moment. It was time to get to work, and do what he had to do. People were expecting Craig Symons to show up at this party. 

It wasn't that he didn't like his job; there were things about it he loved. But the Craig Symons they expected was somehow not the same one falling in love with Evan. He had to put that away. He stood in front of his mirror donning a simple tux, checking his hair, getting ready, as if he were going to a masquerade. 

After changing, he picked up his sister in the Valley. 

"Hey, sweetie," Sharon said as she slid into the Porsche. "Long time no see."

"Yeah . . ." Craig laughed. "I'm sorry. How have you been?"

"I'm fine. Just wondering about you."

As Craig drove up into the hills, winding through tiny curving roads, he started to fill her in on his visit to their father, but she interrupted him.

"Why did you even go see him? I don't know why you torture yourself."

Craig's gripped the steering wheel until they were white. "I don't know. It's like I have to."

"You always come away miserable. He always does that to you."

"I know, I know . . . but he said he needed to see me."

"So tell him to fuck off."

"I can't."

Sharon toned down her voice. "I know. . . I just wish you could see that he doesn't give a shit about us, not really."

"I know he doesn't, I know. I just—"

"Want him to love you. And he doesn't."

They'd finally arrived at the party, and as Craig turned off the car they sat inside for a minute. Craig sighed and leaned back in the seat, looking at his sister.

"Why has it always been so much easier for you, Shar? You've been able to walk away and start your own life. It's like it doesn't bother you."

Sharon took his hand and held it, and brought it up to her mouth to kiss it, and told him the same thing she'd told him many times before. "Because I had you. You're the best brother anyone could ever ask for. I just wish you could see that."

Craig hesitated, not wanting to get out of the car. He wanted to tell her about Evan. He wanted to tell her everything about the past month, but somehow he couldn't. 

"I have something to tell you."

"What, baby?"

"This deal I'm working on. It's big. It's everything. I mean, I could just . . . you know . . . I wouldn't need his money. I wouldn't want it. I could—"

"Do it."

Craig laughed. "What?"

"Do it. Finish it. Be done with it. If that's what you need to walk away, then do it."

"Well it's not a done deal yet. That's why we're here."

"You will. I know you will. You always have."

"I could, Sharon. I could just let go of it finally. Especially if—"

But he stopped himself from saying more. He didn't want to say how much his hopes for Evan were looming in his mind. 

"If what?"

"Nothing. Come on, let's go in."

+++

When Evan pulled into the house on the same Saturday, he noticed only his father's car and when he walked in he found him sitting alone in the living room, in the dark.

"Hey, Dad," Evan said, turning on some lights. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, Evan," Mike Malone said, sounding distracted. "I didn't know you were coming down."

"Yeah . . . where's Mom?"

"Your mother went to the pharmacy to pick up some prescriptions."

"Uh huh . . . yes, so what did the doctor say?"

His dad snorted and grumbled. "Why are all these guys Indian, you ever notice that?"

Evan gritted his teeth and overlooked the comment. "What'd he say? Why is Mom at the pharmacy?"

"Oh I'll let her explain it."

"Just tell me!"

"Nothing, really. Just put me on some blood thinners and called me back for more tests."

"Then why are you sitting here in the dark?"

His dad grumbled and changed the subject. "So how are things going at the station?"

"Good. I told you I'm putting in for a promotion. I'm glad . . . glad you suggested it. It was the right time."

Suddenly an awkward silence descended between them—at least, awkward for Evan. It had been a very long time since he'd just sat with his father and talked one-on-one. The longer it went on, the more Evan felt anxiety flooding through his body. For a brief second he entertained the idea of trying to make amends with his father. To tell him he was sorry. To talk to him. But he absolutely could not do it. He felt petrified with fear. The anxiety and nervousness were so great his heart was pounding in his chest and he was sweating profusely. He didn't even contemplate telling him about Craig. He just wanted to say . . . something, anything. And he couldn't. 

Just then Evan heard his mom pulling up and thankfully found an excuse to leave. He headed outside to help her. She was struggling with bags and groceries when he reached her and took them out of his hands. As soon as he did, she collapsed against his chest in tears. 

"Hey, everything's going to be ok."

"No, no, it's not that. If you hadn't insisted I take him to the ER! Oh my god, Evan!"

"Well you did. Now tell me the real story."

As expected, the news was actually worse than his father had let on. 

"He needs stents put in. We've already scheduled the surgery."

"Well, mom, I'm sure they know what they're doing. There's no reason to get so upset."

"Evan, you know him. He's already insisting he can go back to work. He's more upset about that than anything."

"Look, I'll talk to him. We'll talk to him. Come on."

A little while later he was in the kitchen with his mother, chatting as she made coffee. After a long, exhausting struggle, they'd finally managed to convince his dad it was time to retire, and then they'd sent him to bed early, angry and mumbling about "making a big deal about nothing." But it was clear he wasn't feeling well. His skin was a terrible gray color and his breathing heavy, and Evan could tell he was glad to lie down, despite his protests. He fell instantly asleep. Evan watched him in the doorway for a while before he went back in to see his mother. It was only now, when he was unconscious in front of him, that he could finally find the words he would have wanted to say. But it was too late.




City of Angels Ch. 02



His mother was standing in front of the coffee-maker and Evan came up behind her. He could see that she had been crying again. 

"Mom, don't worry so much. It sounds like a routine thing. He'll be in good hands."

His mother clenched the counter, trying to get control of herself. 

"But what if something goes wrong, or they find something worse? Evan, I don't know what I'd do if something happened to him. I just don't know what I'd do."

Evan wrapped his arms around her from behind, feeling closer to her than he ever had. "Shh. You're making yourself crazy." 

Before he even realized what he was saying, he whispered, "Daddy will be fine." 

His mother laughed, and turned around. "I haven't heard that in a long time. Not since you were little."

Evan had turned beet red. "Just don't let him know."

"I don't know why things got so bad between you."

"I was just thinking the same thing, actually. And I'm not sure, either. You know he can be an asshole sometimes."

"Yes, he can. Even I admit it. But it seemed to come along so suddenly with you, right when you turned 15."

"I don't know, Mom. High school was pretty rough for me."

"Oh! Speaking of which—" she said, going back to the coffee, "Guess who I saw the other day?"

"Hmmm . . . I have no idea?"

"Chad Hanson. Right down the street."

Evan was flabbergasted. "Chad? You saw Chad? Here?"

"Yes. I stopped and talked to him."

"But—" Evan's first thought was to be extremely offended that Chad hadn't called or told him he was in town. "He's here?"

"Yes, he's moved back to LA. I think he's. . . what did he say . . . teaching, I think. Or wait, coaching. At some university."

"No kidding. Wow. Really? And what, he moved in back home?"

"Oh just for a little while, till he finds a place."

Evan truly could not believe it. He thought for a minute of calling him or even just walking down the street, but his resentment stopped him from doing it. 

"All right, well I'm going to bed. You going to be ok? I'll help you tomorrow with the insurance forms."

"Thank you, Evan. I'm really glad you're here. You don't mind sleeping in your old room?"

Evan laughed. "No . . . I can manage."

Lying in his bed, Evan felt the quiet of the house close in on him like a tomb. He wondered what Craig was doing for a minute—probably at his party, meeting men. Thinking about him in this place was truly surreal.

For the millionenth time, Evan whispered to himself, "I'm a gay man." But the words fell flat, as if there wasn't enough oxygen in the room to support the thought bubble over his head. They were as dry and useless as wood shavings, conveying nothing important. Here he was in his old room, his old bed. What had been going on in his mind all those years? Where had he been? Evan knew he hadn't just "turned gay" overnight. No. Getting a stiff throbbing cock down his throat had been challenging physically, but not mentally. It had only felt like coming home. 

Being with Craig he knew without a doubt he was only uncovering desires that had somehow always been there, but entirely hidden from him, for 30 years, or however long it was when he first became a sexual being. It had to. But where had they been? Who had he been? 

His past was a puzzle. He lay in bed picking it over, looking for pieces that didn't fit together. For the first time, he wondered if maybe his anger at his father, his sudden hatred of him, had something to do with it. It was an anomaly, something strange that didn't fit in with how things should have been. Even now, lying in this bed, he could so easily conjure the anger, confusion and frustration of his teenaged years. Perhaps those feelings had found an outlet in hating his father? His dad was a convenient target—there was plenty to dislike. But nothing as extreme as the passion he had felt. 

Evan resolved to spend more time here in the future. He had a feeling the answers to the questions of his life lay in his past, not in, say—West Hollywood. He had absolutely no desire to jump into the gay culture of LA. None at all. Craig was enough. His relationship with him was all the contact he needed or wanted. 

But where would he be without him? The thought was frightening. What if he'd never met him? Equally frightening. He reached down to gently touch his balls and absently stroke himself until he finally fell asleep, to dream once again of his lover.

+++

At the same moment, Craig was working a room in a house in Laurel Canyon. The mansion in the hills was worlds away from Evan. It was an architectural wonder nestled on a cliff overlooking the city. Glass walls gave onto a spectacular three-dimensional view. The most delectable, unbelievable cuisine from the best chefs in LA floated by on the arms of the most gorgeous aspiring starlets in the city. Priceless artwork lined the walls. Women were dressed in designer gowns, the men in tuxes. 

Craig was in his element, making deals with and among the most powerful men, and occasional woman, in the movie business. He went from studio heads to producers to agents, extracting promises, scheduling meetings, cajoling and flattering and charming and saying whatever was necessary to keep his deal in motion. 

Sharon stood by chatting with someone she knew and watching her brother. Even in a room full of beautiful people, he stood out, and Sharon got a kick out of watching how many eyes followed him around the room. Men, women, old, young, single, married, it didn't matter. And he did look good tonight—because she could tell he was happier than she had seen him in a long time. 

One man in particular caught her eye. He'd been watching Craig intently from the minute they got in.

He stood out from the crowd because he wasn't wearing a tux. He had arrived in jeans and a vest over a casual plain t-shirt. He had a shaved head and tattoos and the most amazingly cut, defined body. He was handsome, in a hyper-masculine way that made Sharon shrink up inside herself. She didn't like him, and he was cruising her brother like a predatory shark.

Her heart sunk when she saw the bald man follow Craig when he strolled outside onto the lanai where there were fewer people. But soon they were both lost from her view.

Outside, Craig was checking his phone for a text from Evan. Not seeing one, he slid it back in his pocket and stood taking a breather and thinking. He inhaled deeply the woody scents from the canyon, preferring this wild expanse of live oak and sycamore to the clouds of perfume inside.

Tonight had been very strange. These were his friends, this was his crowd, this was the very reason he'd gotten into this business. He was doing what he's always wanted to do. And yet for the first time ever, he felt . . . bored, and exhausted with the effort of being himself. He was not at home in his own body. For the first time, he felt like he was just playing a role, and that nobody here had any clue who he actually was. A disturbing thought erupted within his unconscious. A second pair of eyes was watching his behavior and not liking it. It was whispering to him that these people were assholes. That there was something completely shallow and fake about all of it. He became shallow and fake moving among them. It was all about money, nothing more. Money and power. Why was he here?

Thinking about Evan in this environment was unreal. It didn't "fit." He didn't fit anymore. Not in the way he was used to fitting in. It was the first time in his life he had ever really asked or wondered, who am I? 

Just then he heard a man next to him clearing his throat.

"Hey Craig."

Craig whipped around at the familiar voice.

He was leaning against the railing close to him, looking sexy as hell in tight jeans and a t-shirt. Jason.

Craig looked at him, startled for a second, as if he'd seen a ghost. How long had he been there? He felt like he'd been caught doing something extremely shameful, as if he'd been caught masturbating. 

He couldn't help his instantaneous reaction to seeing his ex-lover. He found himself stuttering. "Wh. . . what are you doing here?" 

He could not stop his eyes from automatically roaming over Jason's body. He had this way of dressing and being that made him achingly attractive to Craig, and Jason well knew it. Jason shifted his body so his huge bulge was purposefully thrust between them. He'd always known how to use Craig's lust for him like a whip over his head. 

"Oh, I have this script I'm shopping around."

Jason was a successful screenwriter, and moved in the same circles as Craig. It was how he'd initially met him. His success and status had always been a part of Craig's attraction to him. Jason liked to downplay his being part of the Hollywood scene, pretending that it was entirely beneath him, but at the same time never letting anyone forget how much he towered over them. He seemed to exist in this alluring, rarified world of total confidence and self-assuredness. It awed Craig and drew him to him like a moth to a flame, wanting to be part of it. 

Craig noticed Jason taking in his tux.

"Working tonight?" 

Against his will, Craig felt himself sliding back into his slavish, obsequious relation to Jason. Standing there so sexy, so arrogant, so entirely above it all, he epitomized the very thing Craig seemed to be chasing with his chosen profession. His insight that it was all a meaningless game seemed to fly out the window. It was the same kind of hold that he had over him sexually. Jason was the ideal man, the catch. The one man in a world of gay men he could never really have, who knew something about homosexuality even Craig didn't know. In the circle of his power, he found his thoughts of Evan fading.

Of course, Craig thought, Jason would not say one word about what had passed between them. And yet his voice was full of the merest hint of promise. It gave away nothing, but implied everything. It was a torturous combination Craig had never been able to resist. 

He didn't know what to say. He was frozen in place. Despite himself, he found his gaze lingering on Jason's body. He was sliding down an embankment towards his old attraction to him with nothing to stop him.

"I was at Larry's the other day. Saw your photos."

"And?"

"So you're with someone?"

"How did you know?"

"It's obvious. Plus Larry mentioned it. So who is it?"

Craig muttered, "He's no one you know. He's a cop," and then instantly hated himself for saying anything.

Jason scoffed, "Oh, right, I heard about that."

"I doubt it."

Jason moved closer, and touched his arm. Craig felt his body explode with grateful pleasure. 

"Come on. You can't be serious."

Craig could practically hear his own voice coming out of Jason's mouth.

You're kidding yourself. You're deluded. You know no one can love you. 

He felt himself leaning in towards him, closer and closer. 

"I've missed you," Jason said.

Craig was powerless to stop himself from leaning in to Jason's face. At the same time Jason snaked his hand around to Craig's crotch. When his hand found how rock hard he was, his eyes bored into his with triumph and contempt.

"Come on. I know you want it."

Craig moaned lightly, knowing it was true. Oh, he did, he did. He wanted to go back and have Jason fuck his brains out. 

The next thing he knew his lips were pressing against Jason's. For a second, he sunk into it, recalling their sex, and his overwhelming need to please him.

But at the full pressure of Jason's lips, at the intrusion of his aggressive tongue into his mouth, Evan burst into his mind. The taste of Evan's lips. The softness, the kindness, the sweet, loving innocence of his desire. 

With what seemed like a gigantic effort of will, he pulled back from Jason. By some miracle, he was able to see him clearly. He knew exactly what would happen if he didn't have Evan, if the last month hadn't ever happened. Jason would lure him back in dangling promises of a relationship, leading him on as long as he could, gaining his trust and then turning ice cold the minute Craig wanted more. 

Craig saw, as never before, that the only reason it worked was because he wanted it like that. He craved it. He liked flinging himself at men who did not want him, because it made him feel bad about himself. Even now he could feel shame and self-disgust creeping in just being near Jason—that sickening revulsion at his own needs, that grotesque sense of self-betrayal, that sense of being stupid and worthless. It was a horrible, but comfortingly familiar feeling. It's what he knew, what he recognized as how he was supposed to feel when it came to men he loved. It was the way his father made him feel. 

But then he'd never been in a relationship with someone like Evan before. 

Craig somehow managed to gather his thoughts enough to see that if he betrayed Evan, it would be a monumental mistake from which he would never recover. It would be a betrayal of himself on such a deep level. It would be as if he finally accomplished the suicide he'd wanted the last time he left Jason's house. Now, suddenly, that memory surged into his mind with exquisite clarity. If he went home with Jason, he may as well jump straight into the bottomless ravine spreading out from this magnificent mansion. 

He looked at Jason and said, simply, "No, I don't think I do."

Jason was taken aback. "What?"

"No. And Jason—"

He leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Fuck you."

Craig left, intent on finding his sister. He wanted to go home. 

+++

The next day, Craig could barely restrain his eagerness to see Evan. He worked all day on the proposal, tweaking it in light of conversations he'd had the night before. It was all falling into place. He was driven. He had a fire inside him. This was going to work. And it made the day go by so much faster.

He was sitting in his living room doing nothing but waiting anxiously when finally, around dusk, he heard Evan's bike pulling up the gravel drive. He'd never been so glad to see him. 

"Hi," he said, smiling at him when he walked in. 

"Hi," Evan said, giving him a look. "Uh . . . what's up?"

Craig was so overwhelmed with emotion he couldn't speak. He just stood looking at him, taking in his bulky body, his dark hair and eyes, as if seeing him for the first time. He wasn't a ghost, or a dream; he was here and he was real. Craig felt awed by his physical presence, though it was really his dawning feeling of trust that was making him stare at Evan in wonder. 

"What is it?" Evan asked him again. 

"I want you to stay," Craig blurted out. "I mean, move in here." 

"Alright," Evan said, as if he'd merely asked him to stay for lunch, while unzipping his leather jacket. Craig watched his casual ease in making himself at home, loving every gesture. He could feel his heart wrapping around him, leaping towards his strong, solid reality. He moved to go hold him, sliding his hands around his waist and cupping his round ass cheeks, smelling his skin, kissing his neck, thinking his name. 

"What is it?" Evan whispered again, noticing Craig's almost frantic need. Craig clutched him tightly around the chest, rubbing and feeling his muscles, burying his face in Evan's presence. 

"You'll really move in? You want to?" Craig said, still holding him.

"Of course," Evan said. "If that's what you want."

"I do," said Craig, almost disbelieving it could really happen. The idea of having him there, with him, all the time, was almost too good to be true. 

He hugged Evan tighter. "Thank god for your girlfriend."

"What?" said Evan. "Why?"

"For forcing you to make a decision. What if that hadn't happened? What if you'd gotten married?"

For some reason, the comment made Evan think of Chad. He wondered if Chad was married now. Probably.

Craig grasped the back of Evan's neck, looking at him seriously. "What if I'd never met you?"

Evan looked at him sharply, struck by the fear he heard in Craig's voice. It was his own, echoing back to him through Craig's words. 

"I was just asking myself the same question, when I was home. What if Jason hadn't rejected you?"

They looked into each other's eyes for a long time as a mutual understanding seemed to silently pass between them. Their first extended separation, their first immersion back into their old lives, had led them both to the exact same conclusion, which they could read nakedly exposed on the other's face. 

I need you. I don't know who I am without you now. I don't want you to leave.

Craig whispered, "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, baby," Evan whispered back.

"Take me for a ride. Tomorrow. Let's go somewhere."

Evan smiled. Perfect. 

They were departing from their normal lives, in a state of incompletion, flying across an abyss, needing reassurance that they'd find the other's arms in mid-air. Their lives were changing, evolving into something new, because of the other. There was fear, but also exhilaration.

They were suspended over a void, so why not embrace it? 

"I will. I promise. Just you and I. . ."

+++



City of Angels Ch. 03



Author's Note: Thanks so much for sticking with this story. It turned into a chaptered story on the fly, and work and life have intervened time-wise getting it done. There is one more chapter-a conclusion-which will be posting very soon. 

*****

It was the middle of the night. Craig woke up suddenly, scared and disoriented. He'd been having a terrible nightmare. At first, he didn't recognize where he was. The dark wood-paneled walls of the room he found himself in were not his own, and the sheets on the bed were made of silk instead of cotton. He kicked them off in a panic before he heard a voice next to him murmuring, "What's going on?"

Evan. Craig relaxed, though his heart was still pounding in fear.

He rolled over and hugged him tight, thinking how utterly wonderful it was to wake up from one of his nightmares and find him there. He threw one thigh over his as Evan grasped his hands, interlacing his fingers with his, and held them to his chest, whispering, "Go to sleep."

Craig snuggled into his warm body, and calmed himself down by reviewing the previous 24 hours. At the last minute, they'd decided to take a road trip down the coast. They were in The Lodge at Torrey Pines in La Jolla, just north of San Diego, right on the beach. They'd gotten in late last night and dropped off to an early sleep, too tired to have sex. 

Evan, Craig thought, still half asleep and still shaking with lingering fear; he's here, he's with me. His smell, his hair, his waist, his voice, his cock. His strong hands are holding mine. My lover. My boyfriend. The word quelled the uneasy fluttering of his stomach, the traces of panic from the dream he could no longer remember. Everything was fine.

They held each other, spooning, Craig nestling his soft cock in the small of Evan's back, and eventually drifted into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning, Evan awoke to sunlight pouring through the large windows of the California Craftsman style suite in the luxury hotel Craig had booked. It really was a special place. It had a cool 1920's Art Deco style, but was cozy and rustic as well. Outside the window he could see masses of pine trees and beyond that, the gorgeous beach. He yawned and stretched luxuriously before he reached for Craig, planting a trail of kisses across his shoulders and up to his neck, while pushing his hard cock into his thigh.

"Mmmm . . . good morning," Craig laughed, as he felt it.

"Morning," Evan whispered against his lips. He rolled on top of him and kissed him deeply. "How'd you sleep?"

"Uh, great, until I woke up."

"Why?'

"Ah, I had a nightmare."

"Oh? What was it?"

"I don't know. I can't remember. I never remember. I just wake up feeling like I'm falling. It's always like that."

"Really? How long have you had them?"

"Since I was little. God. I used to wake up like that and I'd have to go find my sister and crawl into bed with her."

Evan laughed. "Seriously?"

"Yes—in her pink canopy bed with her stuffed animals. I'd creep down the hallway through the house, in the dark, terrified, and go find her. It was horrible."

"Hey, let me ask you something."

"What?"

"Well you told me you've never been in a long term relationship. I get that. But I mean what about all these boys you were with . . . were you close to any of them?"

"Uh . . . sure . . . yeah," Craig stammered. "Yes, I mean, we'd talk . . ."

"Did you ever tell anyone about your nightmares? Any of your boyfriends?"

"Well, you're getting a little ahead of yourself there."

"What do you mean?"

"If I have to be honest, really honest, I have to say I haven't ever really had a boyfriend. Not a real one. Not really. Not until now."

"Oh, is that what we are?" Evan smiled at him, not missing a beat. "If that's the case, then we're exactly the same, aren't we, because I never have, either."

"Um, I guess so."

"Then that means neither of us really knows what we're doing, doesn't it?" Evan said. 

Beneath him, Craig felt Evan's erection pushing into him. "Do you like that?"

"I do."

"Why?"

"Because," Evan said, kissing his way down his neck, "It makes this even more fucking amazing than it already is. It's like it was meant to be."

"Jesus, Evan. You are so different. From anyone I've ever been with," Craig said, reaching up touch his face. "Just so, so different. I'm not used to this."

"To what, exactly? No wait—tell me later. Let's get up. Let's go do stuff. I want to hit the beach. Do some surfing, and then we can hang out and just . . . talk. I still haven't told you about my trip to Laguna."

"Alright, but what about this?" Craig said, stroking him. 

"'This' can wait. Until tonight," Evan whispered. "Let's have a wonderful day. Let's do something a 'couple' would do. And then we'll come back here. How does that sound?"

"It sounds good. Perfect. In fact . . . if you want to, maybe we can go to a bar," Craig said, a light bulb going off in his brain. "Let's go find a gay bar. I bet you've never been to one, have you?"

"What do you think?"

"What I think is . . you'll like it. I know a lot in San Diego. It's just a quick drive down. You want to?"

"Sure, though I have no idea . . . how to . . .um . . ."

Craig kissed him quickly on the lips. "Well I do. That is one thing I know how to do really well."

"Well then let's go."

+++

A couple of hours later, Evan sat on a sloping sand dune watching Craig take one last final wave before they called it a day. He smiled as he watched—he wasn't as skilled or as practiced as he was, but he was pretty damn good and they had had an absolute blast, as well as a fantastic work-out. This, to Evan, was as close as it got to a perfect day. Sun, sand, and ocean waves. His body loved it. The beach was engraved in his longest memories of being alive. 

Watching Craig's shaky moves on the surfboard, Evan was reminded of his days spent with Chad—an association aided by the fact that Craig looked so much like him. For a minute it was as if the ten or so years between now and then completely faded away, and he was 16, 17, laughing his ass off with his best friend. In fact, Evan realized, that was the last time, the very last time, he remembered being this happy. He hadn't quite realized how much he had missed it, until he had Craig. 

He smiled again, watching him. He adored seeing him so carefree and lighthearted. He would do anything to see him like this every day. "I'm really with him," he thought. "We're together. Two guys."

The ocean waves crashed over and over against the shore. Evan was drawn back and forth between the present and the past, and thinking about the future. 

Something was pushing, pressing, swelling up from within his heart, somewhere in his soul, something he could not fully grasp. Craig. Chad. Being with a man. He felt a strange melancholy along with his happiness, like a dark shadow passing over the sun on this utterly gorgeous day. . . it made him stand up suddenly and run to the shore to wave Craig out. He met him in chest-deep water and wrestled him into a huge, crashing wave, and they spun around holding each other tight, letting the water carry them further down, surrendering to the power of something so much bigger than themselves. They clung together in the clutch of the ocean's grasp until it spit them out wet and gasping on the shore, their bodies heaving and alive, as if newly born. They were so exhausted they could only lie together collapsed in a tangle of limbs, catching their breath. 

"Oh my god!" Craig sputtered, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, oh that was strong!" Evan gasped, getting up on all fours. 

"Come on, here." Craig helped him up, and they righted themselves, with Craig's hands naturally traveling to hold Evan's waist. They both had their wetsuits pulled down off their chests, and the ocean had torn them even lower, almost down past their hips. Their muscles were tensing and pulsing, their breath still hard and fast. They looked at each other as a sharp, intense, and unforeseen wave of lust leaped from one to the other. Perhaps it had been the brief brush with danger, they didn't know, but both felt it. 

He reached out and laid his palm on Evan's wet, flat stomach, while glancing around.

"What are you doing?" Evan breathed.

Seeing no one near, Craig stepped in to kiss Evan while reaching down to touch him. He felt weak on his feet with the sudden intense need to get him inside his body. 

"No one's here. No one can see us."

"Yes, but—"

Craig shut him up with his lips and his hand squeezing his shaft as Evan moaned, "Oh fuck. What are you doing?"

"Come with me. Come on."

Craig led him by the hand, not knowing what he was doing or where he was going, but knowing what he needed to happen. Evan followed him in a trance, his eyes never leaving Craig's perfect ass. His cock pulsed in anticipation and before he knew it he was helping him search for a place. His eyes scanned the rocky shoreline, until they found a tiny cove sheltered by heavy brush and palm trees. They could barely wait until they were hidden for Evan to rip Craig's wetsuit down and push him over, grabbing his hips and spreading his legs as Craig moaned and pushed himself up against the wall. 

Evan slicked the head of his cock with the pre-cum pulsing fast and wet out of the tip, overwhelmed by the need to feel himself inside Craig, hard and deep. His mind was full of nothing but cock and ass. He needed to get close to him, as close as possible. Craig's helpless whimpers of need were reflected in the way his anal ring opened for Evan, relaxed and soft, hungry and receptive. 

"Ohhh, god . . ." Evan slipped inside easily, even though he was so swollen and so thick. "Oh, fuck . . . oh god . . ." he moaned into Craig's back as he held his waist and stayed still inside him, filling him up, pushing gently but deeply, encased in his warm channel. Craig reached back blindly with one arm to grab Evan's head and hold it against his body. They were both shocked at the sudden need, the urgent blind need for each other, but did not question it. Craig pushed his ass back, drawing him in deeper and tighter, wanting to feel his whole length pulsing inside him. He pushed back and groaned as the waves of pleasure started to spread out slowly, slowly, increasing with each small thrust from Evan, who barely drew out, just enough to caress the head of his cock with each deep push. Their bodies were tense and practically motionless except for Evan's stroking. 

"Oh, baby, Daddy's here, Daddy's in your tight ass, ohh fuck . . ." In moments like this Evan absolutely could not control what came out of his mouth. The words spilled forth from some primal core he was powerless to stop or understand. 

Craig whimpered in response, his anal canal exploding in fresh waves of pleasure at Evan's hot, dirty words. His cock grew to painful proportions at the sound of his voice, instantly getting enormously and fully hard, the skin stretching tightly over the blood-swollen flesh as he responded from deep within his own totally open erotic center. 

"I'm going to fuck you so good tonight, baby," Evan moaned, knowing that his climax was near. "Daddy's going to fuck his sweet little boy, I promise, oh fuck—Craig . . ."

Craig used his free arm for leverage to push back and increase the effect of Evan's short, powerful strokes. They rocked tightly together only a few inches back and forth, grinding deeply into each other, riding the crescendo of the lustful wave that had swept them into this close, secret place. Each intimate touch of Evan's pulsing cock head pushed open the expanding spiral of Craig's pleasure, which gripped his entire lower body and turned it into pure liquid. He was opened up as fully as he could be. 

"Touch me!" he begged. "Stroke my cock!"

Evan groaned into his skin as he grabbed his dick and jerked him off while he fucked him with short, violent strokes, pushing him over the edge just as his own orgasm exploded. He felt Craig clench down on his cock with his ass as he spurted inside him, felt the trembling in his hips and thighs, every intimate facet of his orgasm increasing the intensity of his own. 

They stood panting and sweating, astonished, almost embarrassed with each other, as Evan slowly withdrew. They both knew they had only barely satisfied themselves. Evan rubbed Craig's thighs, caressed his hips, soothing his agitated muscles. He kissed his back as he whispered, "Are you ok?"

"Yes. God, Evan!"

"I know. Fuck. Let's, uh . . ." They slowly disentangled themselves and managed to get dressed, glancing around. But the beach near them was deserted.

They stood and hugged for a second, looking at each other, wondering what the hell just happened. "I meant it," Evan said. "About tonight. We'll take our time. In a bed."

As they emerged back into the brilliant sunshine, Evan took Craig's hand and continued to hold it as they walked back to their towels and belongings. They passed people along the way, some glancing at them, but Evan did not let go. 

As they were nearing their spot, Evan saw a small group of guys headed their way, and he stopped, thinking he might recognize one of them. As they approached, he realized he did—it was Andy, from the station.

"Hey, wow—Andy!" he couldn't help blurting out. 

Andy was with three other guys, all decked out in surfing gear. Evan thought he might recognize one or two others from the gym, though he didn't know them.

"Evan, my god, how weird!"

They all stood awkwardly for a moment, Evan still holding Craig's hand. Every other pair of eyes was looking at Craig with intense interest. 

"So, uh . . . what are you doing here?" Andy asked. "Are you staying at the Lodge?"

"Yes! I'm sorry—this is my friend, Craig Symons."

"Oh, we know who he is," said one of Andy's friends. "Mr. LA." His eyes, along with the others, were simply devouring Craig. 

Evan gave them a puzzled look. 

Andy laughed. "Haven't you seen it? The ad? The billboard's up all over the place. And in a few magazines. We were just, uh . . . enjoying at it back at the hotel. Your boyfriend's kind of famous."

"Craig Symons, 30," someone recited from memory. "Of the Symons Development family. Entertainment lawyer, lives in Malibu."

"But it didn't say anything about his hot boyfriend. Hi, I'm Josh," said one of the guys Evan thought he recognized from the gym. He held out his hand. "I've wanted to meet you for the longest time."

Josh had black hair and black eyes and was flashing an adorable smile. "The cop on the treadmill. Every day. I was the one checking you out from the Stairmaster." He glanced at Craig, who was openly staring at him. "Ok, ok, settle down. Soooo happy to meet you and your . . . fantastically gorgeous . . . incredibly hot . . . underwear model boyfriend."

Evan turned to look at Craig. "You didn't tell me it was 'underwear.'"

"Oh, it's nothing," Craig said, embarrassed. "Just something I did for Larry."

"Nothing?" said Josh, now gawking at Craig. "Andy, explain it to them."

"Ok, well there's a huge, gigantic billboard of you on Sunset . . ."

"Larger than life."

"Perfect."

"Dreamy."

"I nearly crashed my car."

Craig couldn't help cracking a smile. "Alright, alright."

"And you two are . . . oh this is too good to be true."

Andy interrupted his friends. "So, anyway, Josh here invited us down. His dad has a membership at the Country Club in La Jolla. And he got us a free space at the Lodge, so we thought we'd just get in some surfing while there's still time. Hey—what are you two doing tonight? Any free time?"

Evan glanced at Craig. "Well we were thinking of going down to San Diego. I guess—hitting a bar?"

"Awesome. Same here. Do you want to meet up, maybe? I mean, if we're not interrupting a romantic weekend together . . ." Andy said, looking at their interlaced hands. 

"No, no, I think—do you want to?" Evan asked Craig.

"Sure. Of course. It'll be fun." Craig smiled at the others. "Evan's never been. To a gay bar, I mean. I was going to take him for his 'first time.'"

"Well fantastic. Why don't we meet in the lobby—say around 9:00?"

"Ok—sounds good. We'll see you then."

"Bye, Craig," someone said. 

"Yeah—bye."

"Nice ad."

"Dreamy."

"Ok, see you later," Andy said, laughing, as they walked away.

As they walked back to their spot, Evan stopped and turned to him. "Are you seriously in underwear?"

"Yes," Craig said, giving him a quick kiss. "You can see my big cock."

"Fuck, don't tell me that!"

"Oh come on. Think how hot it's going to be. Your boyfriend plastered all over Los Angeles."

Evan didn't know quite how he felt about that. "I'd like it if you weren't."

"Too late. Come on, I'm tired."

They stripped off their suits, and pulled on sweats and t-shirts, and settled down onto a very soft, comfortable sand dune on their towels. Craig sat between Evan's legs and leaned back against him, and let the hot sun warm him up. "This is perfect."

Evan stroked his shoulders and rubbed his back, and drew him closer. He massaged his neck, making Craig moan in pleasure.

"'Mr. LA' . . ." Evan murmured. "That is kind of hot. . ."

"Hmmm?" Craig said. 

"It's kind of cool thinking that I have you. That you're my sweet boy," Evan whispered into his neck. "That everyone wants."

Craig laughed and squeezed Evan's thighs. "I fucking love it when you say that!"

"I mean it. I like knowing that you're mine. Are you, baby?"

"Mmmmmm . . . yes . . ." 

"Really?"

Craig laughed and leaned further back. "You need to ask? What were we doing 15 minutes ago?"

"Tell me what you meant, back at the hotel. You said you'd never been with someone like me. That you 'weren't used to this.' Weren't used to what?"

Craig tried to remember their conversation. He thought for a minute. "Oh, yeah. You were telling me something. You said the fact that we're each other's first real boyfriend turned you on."

"Yeah, and what's so special about that?"

Craig didn't want to tell him he was really thinking about Jason. He hadn't breathed a word of what had happened and he never planned to.

"Oh, well, it's just, the guys I dated . . . used to date . . . the ones I fell for . . . would never have thought that was an attractive thing. Just the opposite."

"No?"

"Noooo . . . in fact they'd think having a 'boyfriend' at all was pretty stupid. Corny. Plus . . . look, it was just the type I went for. Very sort of above all that. It was really mostly about the sex, with me always the one wanting more. And feeling like a fucking asshole all the time for wanting it. And then there's you. Not only do you like me wanting a boyfriend, never having had a real boyfriend, it actually turns you on! That's different."

"Ok, so you've been 'in love,' with guys like that, but . . . it was never returned, that's what you're saying. It wasn't mutual."

"It might have been, I don't know, but they never would have said so or admitted it."

"This whole time? That's always been your type?"

"Yes. Usually ending in disaster—at least for me."

"Yes, well, at least you were honest. At least you tried, and put yourself out there. And didn't become like them."

"Huh . . . I guess so . . .you're kind of right. I didn't."

"Because you knew someone like me would come along," Evan laughed.

"No. No I didn't." 

Craig had settled back and had his head ensconced on Evan's stomach, just relaxing and enjoying the sun. His arms gripped his thighs and he stroked them as they were silent for a while.

"So how was Laguna, you didn't tell me."

"Good. Well—weird."

"What?"

"My mother told me something. I couldn't fucking believe it."

"What is it?"

"Remember that guy Chad I told you about? My friend? Or I should say, ex-friend?"




City of Angels Ch. 03



"Yeah, what about him?"

"He's here. He's in LA—well, home. He's moved back here, right down the street."

"Did you go see him?" Craig asked.

"Fuck no! I was too pissed. I'm still pissed. He blew me off. Totally blew me off. Like I'm going to go see him. No."

"Sounds like you really have some history with this guy."

"I didn't have a ton of friends. Just him, really. I wasn't like you—Mr. Popular. And I still don't. I tend to have only one or two really close friends, that's it."

"What about Andy? He seems cool."

"Yeah, he is. You don't mind?"

"What?"

"Me being friends with him . . . I think he sort of likes me, maybe."

"Of course not. It's fine. I have lots of gay friends, you know that."

This was something Evan had noticed about Craig—he did not have a jealous bone in his body. In some ways, he had absolutely no self-confidence, but in this respect he did. 

"You do. I like that about you."

"So how's your dad?"

Evan filled him in, telling him about the surgery coming up, and how he'd have to spend more time down there with him.

"You know it was really strange being there this time. I had a 'moment' with my father."

"What happened?"

"We were sitting alone, in the living room. It was so quiet. Just waiting for my mother to get back. And it got so awkward. I just wanted to get the hell out of there."

"Why?"

Even telling the story Evan felt himself getting anxious again. He could feel the tenseness of that moment and the fear that gripped his body. 

"Well it was so quiet. . . I wanted . . . I guess, to talk to him. You know. Like really talk. I wanted to tell him I was sorry for being such a dick to him all those years. And . . . I don't know . . . I wanted to tell him that I . . ." His words trailed off. He was unable to say it even here, with Craig.

"That you loved him?"

"Yes," Evan exhaled with a huge sigh of relief. "Yes. I did. But I couldn't. I absolutely could not do it. And there's no reason. It's all me. It's not like he'd throw a fit or anything. I can't describe it! I felt absolutely paralyzed, like I had a truck parked on my chest. I was terrified."

"I get it. You don't have to explain."

"Really?"

"Better than you know."

"How's that?"

"That fear you describe? That anxiety? I feel that every single second I'm near my dad. But one time, when I was like 12, maybe 13, I actually did try to talk to him."

"What happened?"

Craig sighed, and Evan felt him tense up. 

"It was . . . I mean, to understand you have to know about my mother."

"Oh? You barely talk about her."

"No. My mother is not 'well,' shall we say. She's a drunk. She's out of it."

"Was she always like that?"

"She was on her way. The alcoholism has gotten worse and worse, but it was always there. The thing is, my mom frightened me. When I was little."

"Frightened you? Why?"

"She just did. First of all she didn't live with us. She lived way out in Topanga Canyon. It was so dark there. I hated going. She wasn't mean or anything like that, just really weird and crazy and fake. I swear to god it was like visiting a lunatic asylum. She was drunk, some of the time, or on drugs, or incoherent. Half the time she was out of it, just zoning out on the couch while me and my sister sat there, and then the other half of the time she was crazy, manic. She'd kiss us and hug us in this over-the-top way. I hated it. I never knew who the fuck I was going to meet."

"She sounds manic-depressive."

"In retrospect, yes. That's exactly right. But I didn't know it then. All I knew is that she scared me and I didn't understand it."

Evan had never heard Craig talk this much about his family. 

"So that's the big secret. It's not much. Like I said, she didn't, you know, beat the crap out of us or anything, she was just . . . crazy. I think she was made crazy by wanting to be a movie star. She was obsessed with it. Spent all this time talking about her 'Hollywood' days. Jesus. I can remember sitting there smelling her breath—the alcohol—being so small, just a little kid, all I wanted to do was play—and she'd sit me and my sister down and go on these long weird rambles about 'acting' and all these men she was with and she'd get drunker and drunker. I hated it."

"And you know—that's when I got those nightmares. It always happened after we'd go see her."

"Sounds horrible."

"It wasn't that bad. It could have been worse."

"Well not to a little kid."

"So anyway, there was that to deal with. And then we'd go 'home.' Fucking shitshow that was. My dad was hardly there. We had a nanny for a little while, then it was just maids. But sometimes, they'd forget to go to the store, or my dad would forget to leave money or whatever the fuck happened, and there'd be no food in the house. There'd be like, a box of cereal. And me and my sister would sit there in this huge mansion eating fucking dry cereal because someone forgot to get the milk."

"Hey," Evan whispered. Craig was getting very agitated. 

"What? I feel like I'm 'whining.' You know—feeling sorry for myself. It wasn't that bad. And we weren't poor. Not by any means."

"Stop apologizing. Just tell me. I want to hear it."

"Well—that's it. That's the gist of it. A crazy mother who scared me to death, and—"

"What?"

"Just . . . being afraid. All the time. And having no one to count on, no one to talk to. I had to be the brother to my sister. I couldn't turn to her. So now, when I get those panic attacks, I'm right back there. That's what it was like. Like I'm falling into a huge black hole."

"So what about your dad?"

"Well, it was like that until I was about 12 or 13, like I said. That's when things really changed for me."

"How's that?"

"Well until then I would say that I loved my dad. Like, insanely. I clung to him—in my mind at least. My mother was crazy, but he wasn't—at least not to me. I lived for his attention, as rare as it was. I thought . . . I thought . . . he was perfect. Like, that's why he wasn't ever around. Because there was this perfect life, this wonderful life, that only he knew about. I believed that. Because if I didn't think that, then there was only my mother. Which was too fucking scary to deal with. So I guess I sort of blew my dad up in my mind, I don't know. I just know I loved him and I wanted to be part of his life."

"So what happened?"

"One night, I had a nightmare. Of course, I'd just come back from seeing my mother. I woke up absolutely petrified. And my sister wasn't there, she was staying over at a friend's. And I knew my dad was home. So I got up. This just reminds me of you . . . what you said . . . being so scared. Terrified to talk to him. But I had to. I mean I just had to. I was having a really bad panic attack. So I knew he was in his study, I could see the light on, and I went down there."

"I had never ever done this before. You know—told him I needed him. I was just as scared as you. I was 12."

"So I knocked on the door. I was crying, I think, a little. He looked up. He was behind his desk. So handsome. My father is a beautiful man. Blond, like me. I look just like him. He stared at me, coldly. He said, 'What is it?'"

"I was so fucking scared—just scared, and scared of him, too—and I just stood there, beginning to cry, sort of stuttering."

"What'd he do?"

"He said, 'What's the matter?'"

"I said, 'I'm scared.'"

"Craig. You're not a little boy. What is it?'"

"I lied. Well, it was kind of true. I said, 'I don't want to see mom anymore.' He looked at me sharply, for a second. I think for once the stupid fuck could tell I was distressed. He actually paid a little bit of attention. Probably because somewhere he felt the capability for guilt, who knows. He knew what she was like, he knew it! And he kept sending us there. So he sort of blinked at me and looked down back at his work and said, 'Fine. You don't have to.'"

"And you know what? In my stupid fucking little peabrained mind, I thought that meant now he and I could have a relationship. That he meant Ok, then I'll be here for you. I actually believed that's what he meant. I smiled, and ran over to him. And pushed myself into his arms and tried to hug him. And just burst into tears. I was blubbering."

"What'd he do, baby?"

"He held me off. Stiffened. Said, in the same tone of voice I knew so well, 'What is this? You're too old for this.' Like I'd ever been that way with him. He didn't exactly push me away, but he certainly let me know it was not welcome. I started crying more, I couldn't help it. I could not catch my breath. I was getting hysterical. He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me hard, and yelled, 'Stop it! Get a hold of yourself!'"

"And in that very second, as he was shaking me, I changed. I grew up. I looked at him, and I realized, finally, that he doesn't want it. He doesn't want me. He wants nothing to do with this. So there I had just cut off my mom and it was like I lost him, too—at least, my hope for him. And I realized I was alone. Totally alone. And I couldn't take it."

"Jesus, Craig, what the fuck's wrong with this guy? I hate him! What a goddamned dick!"

"So I went back to my room like a zombie and lay there comatose, awake, for the whole night. I knew what had happened but I couldn't really process it. And I swear to god, I've been reenacting that moment with him ever since. Every fucking time I see him I am that 12 year old boy."

Craig sighed and leaned back and grasped Evan tighter, needing him more than he ever had. "Evan I've never told anyone that story. Anyone. Not even my sister. Not even a fucking shrink."

"Hey—it's getting late, but I want to know—you said you changed after that. How?"

"I started to make friends. Lots of friends. I became very outgoing in school. I had to. I couldn't stand that feeling of being alone. And that's how things work for me—until, sometimes, they don't."

"Well let's get going. Let's have fun with some new friends."

Evan helped him up and as soon as they were upright Craig pulled him into a fierce hug. Evan felt him simply collapse in his arms and cling to him like he was made of rubbery jell-o. 

"Hey, hey, shh . . . it's ok. . . it's ok," Evan whispered to him. He let Craig hold him, as long as he needed to. "I'm glad you could tell me. Come on. Everything's going to be fine. Let's go back to the hotel."

+++ 

Back in their room, they stripped off and got in the shower.

Evan was hard and so turned on as he soaped up Craig and cleaned him from head to toe. He couldn't stop touching him and kissing him. He'd never felt so close to him. He nuzzled him from behind, with his arms around his waist, and pushed his hard cock into his back. 

"You are so brave. I never could have done what you did. I couldn't talk to my dad last weekend, and you did, and you were only 12. I find that amazing. And my dad's not half the asshole yours is, from the sound of it."

"I want to make you feel safe," Evan whispered. "Totally safe."

Craig turned around to look in his eyes. "You do. I feel completely safe with you. More than I ever have with anyone . . . except maybe my sister."

"You know what I want? Tonight?"

"What, baby?"

"I want to see you happy. I want you to show me how you like to have fun."

"I can do that," Craig laughed.

Evan hugged him and spoke in his ear. "And then, I want to come back here and be with you."

"Mmmmm . . . something to look forward to."

"I'll be thinking about it all night. Every second. I think you still have some things to teach me."

"Oh, that I can do."

A little while later they headed down to the lobby, and met up with their friends. Andy and three guys, including Josh, were waiting eagerly in the luxurious lobby in front of a huge fireplace roaring with a fake gas fire. As soon as Evan and Craig walked up, they heard a chorus of "Hi, Craig!"

"You look great."

"I love that shade of green."

"Really compliments your eyes."

Andy rolled his eyes and began to introduce his friends.

"Evan, Craig—you've met Josh. He's a friend from the gym. So is Joel. And this is Eric Wilson—I don't know if you know him, Evan. He works out of the Hollywood division. We met in the Academy way back when."

Evan couldn't help smiling at this little bit of information and glanced at Craig, who had a blatant "I told you so" expression on his face.

"So, you ready to go?"

They piled into two cars and headed down for the drive to San Diego. They'd settled on a neighborhood bar Andy knew well, with great drinks and a dance floor, but not insanely loud and crowded. They met up again at the entrance. 

Craig walked in first, with both hands behind his back holding Evan's hand, kind of gently leading him on in. He wanted everyone to know he was with him.

Evan's first experience in a gay bar was something he'd never forget. Despite having been with Craig for a while, he was nevertheless nervous, and slightly paranoid, and had no idea what he would think. He felt like he had a giant baseball cap on his head with a neon sign flashing, "I'm GAY!!" And here he was with the hottest guy in town. All eyes were on Craig as they walked in, he could see it. 

Inside, everywhere he looked he saw men, together. Talking, laughing, touching, kissing, loving each other out in the open. He was stunned. He felt it like a physical blow. It blew him away. 

It was beautiful. It was so beautiful. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever beheld. 

He had walked in thinking about being gay. It was so present in his self-awareness. This is a gay bar. I'm really doing it. And yet inside the place, that was the least of his thoughts. The word, the label, crumbled into meaningless. All he saw was love. Pure love and desire. His love and desire for Craig, everywhere, all around him.

His one single thought was the same one nagging him ever since he had met Craig: "How could I not have known? Why was this all hidden from me?"

It was almost like being shell-shocked. The reality of the place, with the lights and laughter and music, only slowly trickled in.

Andy led them over to a table by the bar, and instantly his three friends were demanding to get Craig (and Evan) a drink.

"What do you want Craig—a martini?"

"I'll get it! Something strong?"

"How about a Margarita?" 

Evan found himself rubbing Craig's lower back as they all stood chatting and laughing. He never stopped touching him. His eyes never left his face, and every time he caught his eye they smiled a secret smile at each other.

Craig turned on the charm, and before long had everyone in hysterics. Evan was content to just let him shine, and bask in his reflected aura. He was so at ease, so at home, so accepting of everybody. He made them all love him and like themselves a little bit more. Evan was only happy to be there with him, and for him. After their talk, he felt like he understood him much better, and why he had turned out this way. Craig had managed to take one aspect of himself—this one aspect—and run with it, not looking back, not looking for approval. He embraced his sexuality without any hesitation; it was the lifeline to a self that would otherwise have been totally lost, or destroyed. Craig probably didn't see it, but Evan did. 

Without quite being aware he was going to do it, he leaned closer to him at the table and kissed him softly on the cheek while running one hand down his back to his ass. As he did Craig leaned towards his face and caught his lips with his own, opened his mouth and slipped his tongue inside for everyone to see. Evan was vaguely aware of "Ohhs" and "Ahhs" of approval as he made out openly with Craig, but it only made him kiss him harder and more passionately. He couldn't stop himself. When they finally separated he was rock hard and breathing heavily and they were looking intently at each other, the heat of their lust evident for anyone to see. 

When they finally pulled back from each other, everyone at the table and in the near vicinity was staring at them, open-mouthed and gaping. 

It was Andy who finally broke the tension, gulping first and clearing his throat, "So, uh . . . how did you two meet, anyway?"

Craig's eyes were looking deeply into Evan's. "Evan here saved my life. Right, baby?"

Josh had to chime in at this point. "I knew you were gay! I knew it!"

Evan laughed. "Well then you knew more than me. Why did you think that, anyway?"

"Because you kept coming in. And . . . you were always alone . . . and it's just a thing. A vibe."

"Really? What about you, Andy?"

"I had my suspicions."

"More like dreams," Eric reminded him. "He's been talking about you for a long time. He didn't know. He wanted you to be."

"Well I assure you I had no idea. Not until Craig."

They all gaped at Craig again. "And he was your first. Jesus that's so hot."

"Yeah, it is," Evan murmured, and kissed him again. 

"So who wants to dance?" said Craig, getting up and trying to drag Evan onto the dance floor. 

"Me? No! Noooooo. No way."

"I will!" shouted Joel, jumping up and pushing Eric out of the way. "Come on."

"Go on," Evan said. "I want to watch you. Go have fun."

Eric and Josh went to join them on the dance floor, leaving Evan and Andy alone. A nice fast song came on and Evan watched Craig for a while. He was a good dancer, of course. Sexy. Free. Uninhibited. He saw him laugh as Joel got in front of him and they moved together with Craig's hands on his hips. Evan didn't notice that Andy was looking at him watching Craig.

"He's really cool," Andy said. "And nice. And HOT."

"Thanks," Evan said automatically, before laughing at himself. "I mean, yes, I think so."

"I'm glad we met up here. And I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to talk to me the other day. I've wanted to get to know you better."

"Well so am I. This has been a great night."

"I did notice you at the station. A lot. And at the gym. I always wanted to, I don't know, say something, but I had no idea if you would like it or not. You always seemed a little bit in your own world."

"Did I? I guess I was. Just keeping my head down. Doing my work. Seems like an eternity ago. Things have really changed in the last two months."

"Oh, well, dating the hottest guy on Sunset Strip, yeah I can see how that would change things."

"I guess so. You know, this is the first time we've been out with other guys since we met."

Andy could tell that Evan was completely besotted with Craig. It made him jealous to be near such obvious infatuation. 

"Well I'm glad to find another 'friend' at the station. That place can be pretty uptight."

"I am, too. Honestly. Maybe we could have lunch next week. I want to hear more about your experience there."

"I'd love that. And maybe your boyfriend there can introduce me to some of his amazingly hot friends."

Evan laughed. "Of course. Maybe you'd want to come over for dinner or something."

"I'd love that!" Andy said quickly. "I'll come without the whole gang this time."

"I don't mind them. They're fun to be around. Where did you grow up, by the way? Are you from San Diego?"

"Yep. That's how I know Josh, primarily."

"So how'd you end up in Santa Monica?"

"Eh, I wanted a change. I was dating a cop down here. Same station. Same everything. We had a kind of bad break-up and I just wanted to get away. But LA's so different. I find it harder to meet men."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's pretty intense. The gay scene. Sort of freaks me out. It's so competitive, or something. I never feel like I'm cool enough. Or hot enough."

Evan laughed. "Andy—you're hot. And very nice. I always liked you. I met Craig through a total fluke. I wouldn't have the faintest idea how to start dating in LA myself."

"Ok then get your hot, nice guy to set me up."

"I'll see what I can do. He's definitely 




City of Angels Ch. 03



'connected.'"

"I still can't believe that's who you're with. The model. I mean, holy shit. And he's so nice."

"I can't believe it, either, to be honest."

"Oh, here they come."

Craig and friends came back out of breath, sweating and laughing.

"Thanks, Craig!"

"You're an awesome dancer!"

"Really incredible!"

"You want to go soon?" said Craig, getting behind Evan. "I'm ready."

"Yeah—uh, what about you guys?"

"Oh I think we'll stay," said Andy, seeing the only two lovers in the group wanted to be alone. "The night's still young. You guys go ahead. Have fun."

"Alright, well thanks Andy. Talk soon."

"Bye, everyone," Craig said, flashing them one last smile.

"Bye, Craig!"

"Yeah, bye!"

"You're a great dancer!"

As soon as they got into their rented SUV, Evan pushed Craig back in the driver's seat and kissed him. 

"Thank you. Thank you for suggesting this. And taking me out. That was great. I loved it! We'll have to do it again sometime."

"Of course, if you want to."

"So our weekend with 'just us' didn't turn out quite as we planned."

"Well, it's not over yet."

"No," said Evan, stroking his thigh. "It's not."

Driving back, they did not speak much. Evan glanced over and saw that Craig was hard, the entire way. He was driving very fast. 

The second they got into the hotel room, Evan took Craig over to a large, full-length oval mirror. He held him from behind, looking into his eyes. 

"I want to see you. I want to see us. Every second. I want to see our cocks touching. I want to see us kiss. I want to watch myself make love to a man."

Craig could only groan in response as Evan began to kiss his neck. "Are you mine? Are you Daddy's boy, baby? Are you going to let Daddy fuck you and love you tonight? Is that what my sweet boy wants?"

Evan took Craig's hand and drew it down directly over his hard, throbbing cock. He continued to look in his eyes in the mirror.

"I know we've fucked. A lot. And it's been great. I've sucked your cock. I've tasted your cum. You've taken my cock inside you, you've swallowed my cum so many times. Mmmmm . . . it's all been so amazing. So perfect. But it really wasn't until tonight, being out, being open, being with all those men, that the reality seems to have sunk in. We're two men. Two guys. And I love it."

Craig looked in his eyes, hanging on his every word. 

"I bet none of these other guys have said that to you. The ones that don't want to have a 'boyfriend.' I bet they've fucked you, without ever wanting to acknowledge that that's what they're doing. But I want to. It turns me on. As much as you do. Being a man with another man turns me on. I want to see it. I can't get enough of it."

"Oh Evan," Craig moaned. 

Evan could see Craig's cock swelling and throbbing in his jeans. He could see the ridged head perfectly defined through the denim, straining hard on his thigh. He reached down to gently trace it, slowly and lovingly, his fingertips finding the most intimate details. 

"Take it out for me. I need to see it."

Craig quickly unzipped his jeans, reached in, and pulled his cock out, through the fly, as fast as he could. It burst out, enflamed, rigid, swollen, and slightly curved. 

Evan looked him in the eye in the mirror as he grasped the base with his whole hand, and just held it there for a while—not stroking, not jerking, just gently holding. He then used his fingertips to trace the shaft upwards, delicately feeling every inch as if he was a blind man reading Braille. He kissed Craig's neck as he touched his hardness, and smiled at him as he looked into the mirror. His hands slipped over Craig's smooth, tender sacs and across his thighs. He caressed his whole groin area for a long time, gently arousing Craig, until he moved down in front of the mirror, and got on his knees.

"Now watch me suck your beautiful cock, baby. Watch me do it."

Evan closed his eyes and began to put on a little show. He knew Craig was watching. Every second. Every detail. He could hear his sharp gasps; he could feel the involuntary twitching and jerking of his cock, and it only spurred him on to make it better and hotter. He opened his mouth slowly, deliberately, and held his cock as if feasting on the most succulent delicacy on the planet. He slipped his tongue out so Craig could see it, but held off sucking him inside for a moment. 

Craig's eyes were riveted on the mirror—entranced not only with Evan's face but the image of his own erect penis. He looked at it swelling up for Evan, pulsing with desire, hard and hot, the veins popping, the head red and enflamed at the nearness of Evan's tongue and throat. 

He stroked Evan's face and whispered, "Show me how you love it. Show me that you want me."

Evan pushed himself up and turned sideways to the mirror so Craig could see it all. He greedily slurped at Craig's meat, exaggerating the sounds, getting it really wet and slick, jerking the pre-cum out and swirling it all over, making his cock glisten with cum and saliva, before plunging his head downwards with an ecstatic moan. 

He sucked him hard, bobbing up and down, stretching his mouth and relaxing his throat. Craig watched him do it, whispering, "Easy, Daddy, go easy."

Eventually Craig's words trickled to incoherent moans, the only sounds in the room besides Evan's sucks and gasps and the slick sliding of his mouth and hands. Evan pushed everything else out of his mind except the desire to show Craig his love for his body—his maleness, his hardness, his perfect, beautiful cock. Craig found himself being more aggressive with Evan, something he'd never done before, fucking his mouth hard, driving into his throat, filling him deeply, holding his head and slowly watching his eight inches disappear again and again. 

Craig wanted to watch himself come. He wanted to watch himself spurt into Evan's mouth; he had to. As he got closer, sweating and moaning, he gently pulled Evan's mouth off and whispered, "Jerk me off into your mouth so I can see it."

Evan eagerly complied; turning again so Craig could see it all in the mirror. He jacked him harder, working the head skillfully and caressing his balls, feeling like a porn star. He would be that for him. He would be anything for Craig. He couldn't believe how much it was turning him on to have Craig see it all. He focused on Craig's cock, watching the head, coaxing out his pleasure, wanting him to come for him. He heard Craig's helpless moans growing stronger and ordered him to come. "Now, give it to me. Give me your cum, give it to me."

Evan opened his mouth wide and Craig yelled out hoarsely and sharply as he saw his streams of jizz spurt out in the mirror, into Evan's opened mouth and tongue. He didn't know if he'd ever had a longer, more intense orgasm. It seemed to go on and on the more he watched it. He saw his trembling, shaking cock squirting out its load and the sight drove him crazy, eliciting guttural moans and grunts with each stream. 

Winding down, he was absolutely wiped, but he leaned down to kiss Evan and lick his own taste from his lips, moaning "Oh fuck, oh fuck!"

Evan kissed him back, and they watched themselves share the taste of Craig's hot cum still glistening on Evan's tongue as he fed it back to him. The sight seemed to push Evan over the edge. He got up and went to the divan in the room, grabbed the large, soft cushions from the seat and tossed them on the floor in front of the mirror. He stood in front of Craig and pulled his clothes off until they were both completely naked. He rubbed his raging erection gently over Craig's sweet, soft, spent cock, watching it grow. He took Craig's face in his hands and thrust his tongue into his mouth, devouring his lips, sucking and pulling and nipping with his teeth. He couldn't get enough of him!

"Now you're going to give Daddy that tight, perfect ass. Just like you did to me today, but I'm going to go much slower."

He gently pushed Craig down on the cushions, pulling his thighs apart to spread his cheeks wide. Craig knelt on his elbows and forearms, resting so his head was turned sideways and he could see everything Evan was doing. They were only inches from the mirror. 

Evan took his time feeling him, his hands massaging his beautiful globes, traveling down his thighs and back up to his pink puckered hole. He let his thumb push in gently, slowly, teasing him. Evan's thick cock curved upwards out of his dark bush, his heavy muscular things and full ass looming over Craig's smooth, golden, shaved body. Craig kept his eyes locked onto Evan's face; he could see it suffused with lustful concentration as he explored his crack, his hole, and he relaxed further, giving himself for his perusal and pleasure.

"I love your body," Evan whispered, rounding his hands over each smooth cheek. "I have to . . . see it . . . taste it . . . mmmmmm," Evan moaned as he leaned down, spreading Craig wider and nestling his face closer to his sweet, filthy hole. He'd never done this before with Craig—with anyone. He'd never felt the desire to. But he did now, and he wanted Craig to see him. He flicked his tongue out, slowly, hesitating, growing harder with the distinct and forbidden smells. "Watch me taste you," he whispered, and pulled Craig's hips suddenly forward to bring his ass to his melting tongue. He moaned, his face half-hidden; Craig watched his head of curly dark hair burrow deeply between his thighs and ass, and felt his trembling tongue begin its luxurious exploration. Around and around, licking, savoring, teasing, making Craig cry out and fall forward in delirious pleasure.

Evan made an unhappy moan at losing contact with his tight, perfect hole. He scooted quickly after him and held him tightly this time, as he felt his thighs begin to shake.

Evan couldn't think of anything more intimate, anything more he could do to show Craig his full embrace of their sexual bond, of his love for his body and his willingness to love it all, completely. He held him open for a second before opening him up with his tongue, using the tip to caress his way inside and make love to his ass. He pushed in and in, deeper, as far as he could go. 

"Evan," Craig gasped. "Evan."

Evan groaned out a stifled, muffled moan of pleasure in response, not stopping, not withdrawing, only plunging his tongue in further. At the same time he brought one hand around to Craig's cock and tongued his ass and stroked him at the same time. 

Craig started bucking back on his head with his hips, pushing his ass onto him, shuddering in pleasure. Evan was taking him to another orgasm very quickly, and he didn't want that. 

He whispered, "I want your cock inside me, baby."

Evan reluctantly pulled his face way, dazed. Instinctively, he turned Craig around, onto his back, and got him into a new position they had never done before. He pushed his thighs up, spreading them open towards his chest, and moved up to plant his strong arms on either side of him. He could fuck him missionary this way, and kiss him as he did it. 

Evan was now facing the mirror, and he watched his own upper body trembling with the effort of keeping himself upright. He had Craig's legs up and bent at the knee over his arms, his pink hole open and beckoning and still glistening from his delicious tonguing. 

He whined, beginning to lose control, "I'm gonna make love to you, baby. I'm gonna fuck my sweet angel . . . I'm seeing it . . ."

Evan watched in the mirror his big, hard cock, shiny and wet, pushing open Craig's spread hole, slowly opening him up. Craig followed his eyes, leaning his head backwards to watch as well. They both looked at Evan slowly disappear, getting bigger and fuller and harder as he slowly sunk inwards. The mirror fused them with the image of their love, giving them a representation of it that was so much better, more honest and true to either of them than anything they could say in words. They watched it unfold in wonder, mesmerized by the beauty.

"I'm doing it, baby, I'm inside you . . ." Evan gasped as he sunk in to the base, until Craig could feel his wiry pubes grinding into his soft, tender skin. "I'm in your ass, all the way, oh it's so good. Your tight ass feels so good."

He stared into Craig's eyes as he fucked him, thinking of all the men he'd seen that night, picturing Craig dancing joyfully with another man, thinking how Craig alone had introduced him to all this. He was everything to him! As his fucking got more intense, Craig brought one hand up to clutch Evan's face, the muscles of his forearm tense with strain. Their limbs twisted together into a writhing, sweating knot in front of the mirror as their lust wound tighter and tighter in a wordless spiral, binding them to each other stronger than ever before. Evan's mouth found Craig's and he devoured his lips, sucked his tongue into his mouth, until they rolled over and Craig shifted to get on top of him, never separating, never losing contact. He rode him with spread legs, looking at himself taking Evan deep, and watched as Evan began to fuck up into him harder and harder. His cock swelled back to life and rose beautifully out of his groin in a steep, straining curve. He yelled out loud when Evan reached up to stroke him, forcing out streams of cum which oozed down to moisten his ass for the big cock pushing all the way inside. 

The sight of Craig's pre-cum slathering his invading cock was too much for Evan.

"I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come, I can't stop it!" Evan yelled out suddenly and sharply, seconds before he let out a series of guttural cries, his cock shooting up streams of cum that slipped out of their tight home onto his hips. Craig bucked backwards, plunging downwards onto Evan's spurting cock as his own cum flew up in an arc and splattered all over the mirror. He gasped and cried out as he saw it trickling down the flat surface, blending perfectly with the image of their orgasming bodies.

He fell over on top of Evan, their bodies meshed into one big tangle and dripping with both sweat and cum. They moaned into each other, grasping and clutching, rubbing and touching and caressing until their heartbeats slowly, slowly returned to normal.

They were so tired they immediately curled into a tight spooning position and almost instantly fell into a doze on the cushions. Evan managed to reach up and find a blanket and soon they were curled into a ball, together, warm and content, as they fell into a deep sleep.

+++

A few hours later, Craig awoke with a start. Something had jerked him awake again, but it wasn't a dream this time. He was just dropping off to sleep again when suddenly the bottom dropped out of the room and the building made a violent jerk sideways, shaking back and forth, rocking on its foundations. Craig held his breath, listening, while adrenaline surged through his entire body, for any sign it was going to get worse. He heard tinkling, rattling, and creaking, but no deep, ominous roar. He felt Evan stirring and he held him tighter, waiting, then whispering, "It's ok. It's just a little one." They stayed motionless for a while as the tremors slowly faded away, debating whether or not to get up. But the crisis seemed to have passed. 

+++

Looking back on their trip, through all the long, hot September that followed, both Evan and Crag would remember that small quake. It was as if it had been a sign of the strange and dangerous Indian summer that brought such havoc and upheaval to their city, as well as to their new life together. But that's what it was like to live in SoCal—long periods of peace and tranquility would give way to bursts of intense and unpredictable violence, whether manmade or natural. Their city was built on a fault line. It stood on shaky ground that could shift under their feet at any second, and no one who lived in Los Angeles ever quite forgot it. The knowledge was repressed, but never completely absent. 

Driving back to LA from San Diego they were quiet and reflective. Happy—but they knew they had things to face when they got back. Craig was getting down to decision time with his deal; Evan would be starting a whole new phase of work as well as dealing with his dad. They had decided to put off Evan's moving in (formally) until he didn't need to be in Laguna as much. They knew in the next month or so they would have much less free time to be together, so they headed back with some reluctance. 

Things had changed for them on this trip. They had become much closer, but in a way they hadn't, or couldn't, fully articulate yet. But the knowledge was there. It manifested in their silence, in loving looks, in the way Craig reached for Evan's hand on the road at every stop light, and in the way Evan touched and caressed Craig's shoulders as he drove. 

They had spent another long day at the resort, so by the time they reached Malibu the sun was just setting. It was huge, dark as a blood orange, and isolated painfully alone in an empty sky. It meant that hot weather—very hot, dangerously hot weather—was coming. Of course, that made sense. It was a local legend that this was "earthquake" weather. It wasn't exactly true, but nevertheless everyone believed it. After months and months, nearly a year, with hardly any rainfall, it also meant "fire season." Craig had been through too many near-brushes with disaster living in Malibu not to pay attention. His house bordered old eucalyptus trees and acres of dried brush that would explode in an instant from a spark.

"I hate this weather. Gives me the creeps. So what are your plans this week?"

"Well I'm starting downtown, tomorrow. Fuck of a drive. But maybe I'll take Sunset so I can see you in your underwear everyday," Evan replied. 

Craig laughed. "Anytime, baby, all you have to do is ask."

"And you'll be doing what?"

"Ah . . . meetings, mostly."

"Alright. Maybe we can catch dinner late."

They pulled in to Craig's house, and Evan walked over to his bike. Craig followed.

"Bye. I'll be by tomorrow, around 8:00?"

"Alright," Craig said, wrapping his arms around his waist. 

Evan rested his arms on his shoulders and they held each other for a long, long time, until it was completely dark outside. 

"I gotta go. See you tomorrow."

+++

The next week, like all the rest of September, was oppressively, unrelentingly dry and hot. Day after day, temperatures stayed in the high 90s, sometimes pushing past 100, baking the city and turning the already parched hills into powder kegs ready to explode. On the news they began to speak of forced black-outs and power-rationing. California always seemed to be in dire drought conditions, but it was especially true this time. There was a complete ban on lawn sprinklers; people were encouraged to take less showers and see if they could put up with a dusty car for another more week instead of going to the car wash. The nights brought only the tiniest relief; even at Craig's house in Malibu, the ocean breeze was so mild and weak it could barely be felt. 

Evan arrived at Craig's house every night exhausted and drained. He was finding "teaching" to be quite demanding. 

"It's not like I don't know my stuff. But all those eyes, staring at me! Makes me nervous. I lose track of what I'm saying."

"Aw," Craig said, as they cuddled on his couch. "You'll get better, trust me. Just think of how much I love you in your uniform while you're up there. God it's so hot that you're a 'sergaent.'"

Evan laughed. "I'll try to keep that in mind next time. So what about you? How are things? You seem tense."

"Do I?" Craig avoided his gaze. "Yeah, I guess I am. But there's no reason. Everything's going really well. Should know next Friday."

"Shit. You know I'll be down south. I'll have to be away."

"Don't worry about it. We'll be in touch. I don't want you to be thinking about me. Just, you know, be with your dad. It's ok."




City of Angels Ch. 04



The next week was very busy for both Evan and Craig, and most nights they simply got into bed, exhausted from heat and stress, too tired to do anything but cuddle.

On the Friday he was going to leave for Laguna, Evan left very early in the morning, kissing a sleepy Craig goodbye before getting in his cruiser and heading downtown. 

It was 6:00, and for an hour or so the cool dawn held back the heat. He turned on the radio to listen to the news. All anyone talked about was the threat of more fire. There was no remote chance of rain—the only thing to hope for was that the Santa Anas wouldn't pick up again. 

At the major intersection of Sunset and Fairfax he drew up to a red light, and there was Craig's billboard, in full glory. It was huge. It stood out even among all the other garish signs crowding every available point of view. He'd passed it several times on the way in the past week, and it had always made him smile. There was his boyfriend, floating on a cloud, surrounded by a bevy of gorgeous hunks. Craig looked stunningly beautiful and so seductive. Even disregarding their relationship, Evan thought how powerful a photo it really was, entirely because of Craig. This model wasn't trying to sell you anything, or project an image of unattainable happiness. He looked almost pained, full of longing and desire—all the qualities that had made Evan fall in love with him. 

The traffic light lasted longer than usual, and Evan just sat and stared at "Mr. Los Angeles." He was. He was an image of the world around him—a city so soft, vulnerable, and open, so sprawling and huge but so intimate and tender at the same time.

And yet even now the fires were beginning to smolder again under the rising sun.

The light changed, and he drove on.

+++

As Evan headed down to Laguna after a long day of work, Craig was just leaving the Paramount lot on Melrose Avenue late that afternoon. He was stressed.

He cranked up the AC in his Porsche and drove as he replayed the conversation he had just finished in his head, over and over. 

"Well, Craig, I can't tell you how impressed I am. Very very impressed with the work you've done here."

"Thanks, Mandy. So what's the next step?"

"From my end, it's a go. I have to run this past my boss, of course, but I don't see any problem."

"Ok, so that's . . . good?"

"Craig, it's good. It's VERY good. Why don't you set up a conference call, um . . . next Thursday, with Sony and Universal. You should have your own legal representation there, too. And we can iron out the details then."

"Well, if the city doesn't burn down in the meantime."

"What? Oh, we've never let a little thing like a natural disaster get in the way of doing business in this town. Uh, Craig, let me ask you. You do know what this means, right? I mean, for you?"

"You're talking about my cut."

"Yes. It is going to be substantial. Quite substantial. That, plus being the one to broker this. It's really going to make you a name in this town. I can guarantee your life is going to change. Coming into that can be overwhelming, even for you. I've seen it do terrible things to people. You should think about it, if this is what you really want."

"I have thought about that. And, well, here I am."

"Alright then. Let me be the first to say—unofficially, off the record—congratulations. It has truly been a pleasure."

Driving away, Craig knew he should have been happy, but he wasn't. His stomach felt queasy, he felt this strange buzzing in his head, and he realized he did not want to go home—not to his house, tonight, alone. 

He had told himself, sworn to himself, that if this deal worked out, he was going to sever ties with his dad, once and for all. And now he felt his mind being torn into different directions, like it was splitting into several different pieces. 

Part of him was saying, "You didn't really mean it. You don't have to do anything. It's not a big deal. This doesn't have anything to do with your dad. You can still go see him." 

Another part was racked with guilt, saying, "It's now or never! If you don't make the break now, you never will. You have to! If you don't you're just a weak, spineless, stupid coward!" 

Deep inside, another part was comparing this meeting to the last one he'd had with his father, and seeing in stark contrast the blatant evidence of his success and acceptance against his father's total dismissal of him. But as soon as Craig gave in to feelings of finally being worth something, on his own, he went in the other direction and attacked himself for being self-deluded. His instinctive need for self-protection was battling with genuine happiness and it was cranking up the stress inside to the boiling point.

This he recognized. He'd talked about this battle inside himself many times with therapists, whenever something good happened to him, but it didn't help him the least bit right now.

The only thing he knew could truly help him at this moment was to feel Evan's strong arms around him. But he wasn't here. 

Craig tried; he really tried to hang onto his trust in their newly-expressed love, but his world seemed to be crashing down around him, and now all he could think was Why hadn't Evan asked him to join him? Why hadn't he insisted? Was he ashamed of him, despite saying he wasn't? It didn't matter that it made no sense; he was here working. It was never a question if he'd join him with his family. But the self-doubt crept in, licking around his security in their relationship like tiny tongues of flame. 

He began to drive. Just drive—aimlessly, stupidly, mindlessly. Down Melrose, then Fairfax, then Pico, a right on Wilshire, then down to 18th street in Santa Monica and towards the ocean. As he drove, he gazed at all the normal people in their little stucco houses. He saw fathers pulling into driveways getting back from work; stay-at-home moms pushing their kids in strollers; teenagers playing basketball; girls in tight yoga pants coming back from the gym. Normal, happy life, unrolling in front of his eyes like a movie, or a waking dream. 

He'd always been so alone! In his heart, in his dreams. And now he had achieved it all—the success he'd always wanted. He'd made a name for himself, but he feared it was only going to cut him off and make him even more isolated. 

He drove and drove and drove like a lost man. At one point he stopped at a 7-11 and bought a pint of Ben & Jerry's and a box of powdered doughnuts and ate them as he continued to drive. He drove through LA, up and down, getting on and off the freeway, for hours, until he felt sick. At last, barely even knowing what he was doing or where he was going, he found himself pulling into a driveway in West Hollywood. He knew he'd been here before but he didn't recall who he had come to see. 

He shook his head, and seemed to suddenly wake up, as if he had just lost four hours of his life. With a huge feeling of relief, he realized he had somehow driven himself to Larry's house. Larry. Thank god. Not Jason. Ok. He began to calm down, saying, "I'm at Larry's. A friend. Larry's a friend."

At that moment he heard Larry's loud, sarcastic voice.

"Oh, he's alive! Come to see us at last. Where the hell have you been, Craigy?"

Larry. Troy. Several other guys he recognized. Walking towards him, down the driveway. Craig smoothed his hair in the mirror, put on some shades and stepped out of his car, smiling, and held out his arms.

"Hey guys! Where's the party?"

+++

That same night, Evan found himself alone in the ICU of the Cardiac Wing of the Laguna hospital, keeping watch over his dad. After a long day and night, his mother and sister and her family had gone home to shower and change their clothes, at Evan's insistence. 

His dad had gone in for a routine operation, or so he thought, while he was still at work. But when he arrived at the hospital, expecting to find him sleeping or up in bed, he ran into total chaos—his mom and sister hysterical, doctors running around, nephews and nieces crying. Apparently there had been some complication, and he was still on the operating table, undergoing open heart surgery. The doctors could only say it was very serious, and it was going to be touch and go for a while. So Evan, all thoughts of Craig pushed out of his mind, went into comfort mode for his female relations. He had to be strong, for them. He held his mother and talked his sister out of a fit as they sat and waited, and waited. His dad was in there for hours, with no word from the doctors. 

At last, an exhausted surgeon, his scrubs soaked in sweat, came out to see them.

Captain Malone was ok, if very shaky. They'd had to go in and do a quadruple bypass. His heart had stopped more than once, but he had eventually stabilized. His pressure was good, his breathing normal. 

"I don't want to lie to you, Mrs. Malone, if we hadn't caught this now, your husband would have had a massive heart attack in the next couple of weeks. But we did. Sometimes these kinds of things, you just can't see until something bad happens. It's a damn good thing you brought him in a few weeks ago. A damn lucky thing."

"But it's going to be real rough over the next few weeks. He's not out of the woods, yet."

At this Evan's mom threw herself in Evan's arms and sobbed into his neck. 

"Shh, mom, it's ok. He's going to be alright."

But Evan sounded a lot more sure of it than he actually was, and when, finally, everyone had gone home and he was alone, he sat down at his dad's bedside petrified in fear. His dad looked terrible. He had tubes coming out of his mouth hooked up to IVs and machines. His chest was bandaged and tightly bound. He looked 15 years older and so fragile and weak it scared Evan to death. 

He was mortified. Paralyzed. Unable to think or breathe. He had to stifle the urge to vomit, so violently did his mind want to reject the image before him. The sight of his father's chest made his own burst into pain, so overwhelming he thought he would pass out. It didn't stop aching the whole time he was in the room. The idiotic hospital clock was ticking so loudly, as if life and time was going on as normal, and nothing was normal. Nothing would ever be normal again!

He held his father's weak, lifeless hand as tears welled up in his eyes. He was utterly unprepared for the emotions breaking open in his body, which had been muffled until the moment he was alone. But now it was so quiet, the only sounds his father's slow, labored breath and the ticking of the damn clock. He looked dead. Even if he survived this, Evan knew looking at him that the strong, vibrant man he'd always known as his father was gone forever. He looked as weak and vulnerable as a baby.

Evan continued to hold his hand as he struggled to get a grip on himself. He clenched his teeth together and focused on his breathing, otherwise he felt any second he was going to scream or have a fit.

But he realized this wasn't just about his dad. It was Craig, and everything that had happened in the last two months.

The emotions, the raw, primitive, true emotions, were swirling and churning and boiling inside him, beyond words, beyond understanding. Happiness, amazement, fear, and love, above all love, hitting him like a tidal wave. For Craig, for his father. What a bunch of lies he'd been living his whole life! He did not know himself, he never had. His love for his father burned its way up through his heart, as searing and powerful as the desert, as deep as the ocean. It burst over him now, at this moment, at his bedside, their history forgotten, swallowed up in the tender memories that now flooded his mind. 

"Daddy." He whispered the word to himself. "I don't want you to die." 

Evan sat for a while murmuring to him, comforting him in his sleep, holding his hand, and pushing back his own pain. He could not process it. He only knew that he began to feel weak and fragile himself, dazed and confused. And his love for Craig! Just barely acknowledged, timidly embraced, mysterious and unknown. He had to talk to him, right this second.

He left the hospital room where cell phones were forbidden and went into the waiting area and desperately called Craig's phone, praying that he would answer. But it just rang and rang, which was unusual. When the voicemail finally picked up, he could hardly wait for the beep.

"Hey, it's me. Where are you? I'm at the hospital. I'd really like to talk to you, so when you get this, give me a call, ok? I miss you. . ." Evan let the tape run for a minute, not knowing what else to say. "Just call me. Hope everything's going ok."

He went back to his dad's room and took up his silent vigil. He was only in there a few minutes when he heard a soft knock on the doorframe.

"Evan?"

Evan turned to look, wondering if he was correct in thinking he recognized the voice. He was. It was Chad.

Their eyes locked and they exchanged a long, intense look. They had not seen each other in years, but it was as if they were 15 again. The beach flashed into Evan's memory—watching Chad on the surfboard, laughing as he saw him wipe out. Chad saw an image of Evan on his new bike, proud and defiant, cruising down their street with his long hair flying behind him. High school home room, the football field, the sweaty locker room, and the long hot days of summer with nothing to do. Intimate talks on the beach and drinking beer underneath the pier. 

"Chad," Evan murmured, completely stunned. "What are you . . . what are you doing here?"

He had not changed in ten years. Still in fabulous shape. Perhaps a few wrinkles around the eyes, but otherwise just as cute and blond as before. 

"Hey, I'm sorry if I'm interrupting. I heard about your dad and well, I just thought I'd stop by . . ." He held out some flowers he'd bought in the hospital gift shop. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd be here."

Evan was so absorbed in worrying about his dad he forgot to be mad. He just stared at him and said, "Uh, thanks, you can put them over there."

As Chad stepped into the room, Evan was aware of his every gesture, his every sound. The tension was so great he could hear his heart pounding and was sure Chad could, too. He noticed Chad's large, strong, tanned hands as he put down the bouquet. He remembered them tossing a football, running them through his soft feathered hair. He remembered Chad down to the smallest detail. 

"What are you doing here?" Evan said softly, his voice insinuating much more than he actually said.

"Just came to see your dad. You know how I feel. It's almost like he was my dad, too."

"I didn't mean that," Evan said abruptly. "I meant what are you doing here, back in LA?"

Chad sighed. In a second the past erupted into the room like an exploding volcano. They both knew exactly what Evan meant.

"Evan . . ." Chad said, quietly. "I'm sorry. I've been in town, I just didn't know if you'd want to see me."

"Oh you mean you were actually going to drop by and say hello, after all this time? I'm so honored."

"Evan. I'm sorry. Can we talk?"

"Well as you can see, I'm kind of pre-occupied."

"I know. I mean . . . I lied. I knew you were here. I stopped by your house and Gina told me you were here. I came to see you."

"Oh, I see. It's only been, what—ten fucking years?"

Chad sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. Evan couldn't help noticing his body, as if for the first time. Never, in all the time they were friends, had he ever "checked him out," but now . . . after what he knew, knowing how he was, who he was . . . he noticed, alright. Everything. And it made him feel like a disgusting pervert. He could suck Craig and fuck him in the ass, but only this, noticing Chad's body, made him in the least bit uncomfortable with his homosexuality. Aware of it. Self-conscious in a bad way. 

"Evan, I'd really like to talk to you. There were—there are—reasons. I'd like to explain."

"Are you married?" Evan interrupted him, his head down, refusing to look at Chad's face.

"Am I what?"

"Are you married? I want to know."

"No," Chad almost whispered. "No, I'm not."

The emotional atmosphere in the room thickened. Evan closed his eyes, with a sinking feeling. He knew what was coming. Hadn't he known? Hadn't he always known? But he just could not deal with this right now. And why the fuck hadn't Craig called him back?

"I can't talk to you now, Chad. I just can't. Could you leave, please?"

"Yeah, of course, sure. Maybe later?"

"Fine. You know where to find me."

"Ok. And Evan, I'm sorry about your dad. I'm so sorry. If you need anything—anything at all!—let me know, ok? I'm staying at my house. Same number."

"Fine." Evan just wanted him to leave.

Just then, his phone rang, and he saw Craig's number coming up. 

"Excuse me, I have to take this." He headed out into the hallway as Chad left.

"Hey," Evan said in relief, desperate to hear Craig's voice. But what came through the receiver, so loud it caused the nurses at the check-in station to glare at him, was raucous noise. Blaring dance music, shouts, yells, laughter. 

Extremely irritated, Evan moved into a stairwell. 

"Craig? What's going on?"

Craig's slurred, drunken voice echoed loudly through the concrete stairwell.

"Evan! Baby, how are you?"

"What the fuck's going on? Where are you?"

He heard male voices laughing in the background, and Craig talking off the phone.

"Craig! Jesus Christ!"

"Ho . . . whoah, I'm sorry. Kinda loud in here. Hang on."

Evan clutched the phone getting angrier by the second. Finally Craig came back on.

"Mmmm. . baby why aren't you here?" It was obvious he was extremely drunk.

"I'm in the fucking hospital, Craig, why do you think?"

He thought he actually heard Craig snorting with laughter.

"I'm sorry, babe, sorry. Larry's trying to get me to dance. You ok?"

"No I'm not. Not at all."

"Aw . . . I'm sorry, hon. Too bad you can't get up here. Mmmmmm . . . guess what, baby?"

"What?" said Evan, in the most cynical voice he could muster.

"My deal went through. Today. Yep. Millions of dollars, of my own fucking money, and now . . ." Craig's voice was so slurred and thick Evan could barely understand him. "Now I can tell that ASSHOLE to fuck off and get the fuck out of my life, how about that?"

"Craig. My father is in the next room with tubes coming out of his chest. He could die."

There was silence at the other end of the line.

"Babe, I can't hear you, I'm sorry, can we talk later, I gotta . . . I gotta go, get a drink, or something. Call me."

Evan hung up on him, infuriated. He yelled out "Fuck!!" in the empty stairwell. 

+++

Craig woke up late the next morning, in his own bed, with no recollection of how he'd gotten there. His head was about to explode. He moaned, "Oh, fuck." He had very little memory of the previous day. His last clear thought was leaving the studio. Pico. Driving. Doughnuts. Oh, god, he moaned and rolled over in bed again. He'd eaten doughnuts. He only did that when he was really bad off.

Around his room he saw spilled glasses, bottles of beer, and ashtrays full of cigarette butts. He thought he was still smelling the leftover smoke from the apparent party in his room last night, which he did not recall in the least, until he realized the sharp, acrid scent was real, and wafting in through the open patio doors. He got up, naked—how the hell had that happened?—and padded over to the window. 

"Jesus!" 

Outside, to the northeast and very far away, he could see a huge plume of black smoke. This was real. The tinder box ringing LA had finally exploded, Craig had seen it before. Not close enough to threaten him, but it was bad. He clicked on his phone. The news reports were all over the "firestorm" raging in Ventura county. Thousands of acres. Uncontrolled. Winds picking up. 




City of Angels Ch. 04



Craig wiped his face, feeling the slightly greasy stubble, as parts of the previous day slowly trickled into his memory. Talking to Mandy Grusmann. Then driving. And driving. And driving. He held his aching head and groaned. He had not done that in a long time. Ending up at Larry's. Going out. Dancing. Getting absolutely shit-faced. And that was it. That was all he could remember. The rest was a complete blank.

He wrapped a sheet around his waist and sat down, dialing Evan's number. After a long time, he finally picked up.

"Hello?"

Craig felt like he'd just been slapped in the face. Evan's voice was cold and devoid of his usual happiness at hearing from him. It startled Craig and immediately put him on high alert. His heart thudded loudly in his chest. 

He stammered when he tried to respond. "Evan? Are you ok?"

"What do you think, Craig?"

"I don't understand. What's going on?"

"Jesus, you don't remember, do you? You were too fucking drunk."

"Evan, I'm—I don't know, I'm sorry, I—"

"Where were you last night? What did you do?"

"Uh . . . I went out to a club, I guess."

"Yeah. You know, I have to go. They need me back at the hospital."

"Wait! I don't . . . I can't remember. What happened?"

"I'm sorry, I have to go. Talk to you later."

"No! Don't—"

Craig clutched both hands to the sides of head. It was splitting in two. Evan! He felt like he had just slipped down a deep ravine and he was falling down, down with nothing to grab onto. 

Just then his phone rang. He glanced at it—it was someone from work.

"Yeah?"

"Symons! Glad I caught you. So I heard things went well with Mandy over at Paramount. Glad to hear it!"

Craig felt like his world was spinning out of control. He could not think. What had happened? But he had to focus on this, he had to! He pushed Evan out of his head with a huge effort, and went into work mode.

"Yes, it did. Very positive."

"Awesome. So, I need you to come in bright and early Monday morning. Can you make it?"

Craig closed his eyes. He could not breathe!

"Yes. That's fine."

"Fantastic! Bring those contracts with you. I'd love it if you could write up a little synopsis of your meeting with Mandy, have it ready to present to the studio heads. You up for it? I know it's a bit of short notice."

"Nope, no problem. I'll be ready."

"Great. Great. Fingers crossed, this looks like a done deal. It's the big time, Craig, I hope you're ready."

"Yeah, see you soon."

Craig clicked off the phone, pulled on a pair of sweats, and went downstairs to make himself a Bloody Mary. A strong one.

+++

For the next couple of days, through the week that followed, it was unbelievable to both Evan and Craig that they had just said "I love you" and shared a wonderful intimate weekend together. In the matter of a day, it seemed to have blown up, revealing for the very first time anything less than perfect in their relationship. But they were both so pre-occupied they couldn't really think about it or face it.

The firestorm raged, all around the northern most part of Los Angeles county, as the days continued to blaze into 100 degrees and above. It was hell. An enormous cloud of ash and soot soon drifted over the city proper, hitting Malibu first and making Craig's eyes sting and leak tears. His life was utter insanity. He had to rush out the door early every morning for meetings, then drive to more meetings, then come home to write and work for the next day. He pushed himself and pushed himself. If he stopped for one second to think about what was going on—with Evan, with his life—he knew he'd just collapse, so he just kept working, and drinking himself into a near-stupor every night. 

Evan was either at home with his mom and sister or at the hospital. He didn't see Chad at any point, though he wondered what he was up to. His dad was not doing well. It was beginning to seem like just a matter of time.

After that tense phone call, they had talked very briefly only a few times—not fighting, but maintaining a distance. 

"Evan, I'm so sorry. What do you want? What can I do?" Craig pleaded with him.

"I don't know." He heard Evan sigh. "I'm sorry. I know you have things on your plate, too. I'm sorry. And look, I just don't know when I'll be up there. Not sure. But we'll talk, alright?"

"Alright, alright. I'll see you soon."

Craig seemed to have forgotten about his day of craziness driving around the city as he pushed hard to complete his deal. He went back into "being Craig Symons" mode, as skillful and charming as ever. But he felt completely numb. 

Towards the end of the week, he was in his Porsche at the intersection of Sunset and Fairfax. He'd sent Evan a text more than an hour earlier and it had not been returned. He was checking his phone every two seconds, and each time he saw nothing the panic ratcheted up one more terrifying notch. He saw his own face and body plastered over the skyline, and it almost made him physically nauseous remembering what he was thinking about at the time. It made his stomach swoop up and down, as if he was on an airplane going through terrible turbulence. His own image made him sick. It was so fake. If people only knew what that man was feeling beneath the beautiful façade! 

But somehow he managed to get it together. He simply couldn't think about the little tiff with Evan without massive panic breaking out and he COULD NOT afford that right now. 

Tomorrow was Thursday. If he could only make it that far. Then everything would be settled with his work. And at least he'd know. He could relax at least for a little bit. He clung to that thought, and continued to drive.

+++

Evan had not been ignoring Craig; he just didn't have time or mental energy to answer his text that day. He spent every second at the hospital with his mother and sister. Like Craig, he was just hanging on, trying to get through the days. At night they all went home drained and exhausted. 

He was in emotional free fall. He felt like a totally different person. Grief such as he had never known was turning his world completely upside down, plunging him into hell. He'd been completely blindsided by this storm. 

When he wasn't at the hospital, he was home surrounded by his life. His past. All the memories of his father. He saw his captain's hat hanging on the door—his clothes, his coffee mug, his favorite recliner—and he was pulled down into a pit of quicksand of pain that sunk into his bones, wiped everything else out. It was unthinkable, unimaginable. 

At night, after a quick "Hello, see you soon" to Craig on the phone, he curled up in a ball, doing nothing but aching.

Talking to Craig was strained, but not only because of that night. Evan felt, sensed, the very dynamics of their relationship subtly shifting under his feet. 

He'd always been the strong one. For his mother, his sister, at work, even just being alone. Strong and proud and defiant, just like his father. But the love and pain wracking his body had rendered him weak. He didn't know how to deal with it, and he didn't know how it would be with Craig. This was . . . he couldn't even articulate it to himself. He lay in his bed staring at the walls, lost, drowning, confused beyond expression at the violent emotions roiling within him, most of which he did not understand. 

He needed Craig. He ached for his body in his bed. At the same time, he was aware of anger—boiling, simmering, mystifying rage he had not truly felt since he was a teenager. He knew he was angry with Craig for the phone call, but there was something else, something more, something deeper, and it scared him. He didn't know where it was coming from or what it meant, only that he could trace it to hearing Craig laughing with his friends on the phone. 

On Thursday, he went to the hospital as usual, and they were greeted with good news. His dad was sitting up, and looking better. The doctors said he was finally showing signs of improvement. Evan hugged him before he left. 

Back at the house, he felt the first feeling of relief in nearly a week, and a slight, very slight, easing of pain. In fact, he was feeling so much better he decided to drive up to Malibu and surprise Craig. He knew this was a big day for him and he wanted to be there.

This had been Evan's very first experience with deep grief, and for a week he had barely noticed the world around him. When he stepped outside to get onto his bike, he was shocked at what he saw.

The sky over LA was eerie and otherworldly. The ash from the fires had changed the very chemistry of the clouds, it seemed, setting the sky ablaze with rippled streaks of violent pink and unnaturally intense, flourescent oranges and yellows. A dull haze of smoke smothered the setting sun and settled everywhere, blurring the hills. Evan looked around and noticed a fine layer of ash coating everything in sight, and it was still drifting down like snow all around him. He felt like he was on Mars. The world seemed to have completely changed. 

He was just buckling his pack onto his bike, after wiping it down, when he saw Chad walking towards him. "Great" he thought, with a flaring of his anger. "Just what I don't need."

He stood by his bike as Chad approached, watching him. He felt his gaze being pulled down towards his crotch, noticing the bulge and really being aware of it. This was followed in quick succession by anger, guilt and shame. Chad looked like Craig. His goddamned blond hair and blue eyes reminded him of Craig as well as his open, easy manner. He didn't want to see it. It infuriated him!

"Hi," Chad said, running his hand through his soft, feathered hair in a gesture Evan knew so well. 

"Hey, I'm on my way. Just leaving now."

"Ok, I won't keep you. I just wanted to say hello."

"Ok. Hello."

Chad sighed, and moved closer.

"Evan, please. I'd like to talk to you. I know you must be mad. But can't we please just talk? I want to explain."

"Alright, I'm listening."

Chad stood awkwardly in the driveway, with one hand on Evan's bike. 

He said, quietly, "There's something I want to tell you."

"Ok."

"You asked if I was married. No, I'm not. I never have been. But I was with someone for a long time. Kind of why I came back here. I was coming off a bad break-up, had to get away, and then this job offer came along, and well, that's why I'm here."

"That's what you wanted to tell me?"

"Yes. Well, no, not exactly. I mean, the person I was with, my ex . . . it's a man. I'm gay, Evan. I just thought . . . you might want to know. If you'd only let me explain things."

Evan wasn't exactly surprised. In fact, he felt pretty sure this was coming. But he was surprised at his reaction. He wanted to jump off his bike and strangle him!

"How long?" he said through clenched teeth.

"Huh? How long what?" asked Chad.

"How long were you with this guy?" Evan snapped.

"Six years—why is that important?"

"You've known for six years?"

"No, longer than that. Damn it, Evan, can't we just talk?"

Evan sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, but just—not now, Chad. I'm really beat. And I have somewhere I have to be . . ."

"Well fine, but later? This weekend, maybe?"

"That'll work. I'll be here," Evan said as he gunned the motor on his bike. "It's, uh . . . nice to see you. I gotta go."

Chad sadly watched Evan take off, thinking "It was just like old times." Evan, being angry, avoiding him when he needed to, flying away on his motorcycle. 

It had been almost ten long years since he'd been back here, and it was if nothing had changed. But that was one reason he'd come back—to see Evan, to face him, to deal with it. He needed to, to fully move on with his own life. His break-up with Todd had made that abundantly clear. He'd never forgotten Evan, never truly gotten over him. He needed to know how Evan felt, where he was at. He had to. 

Seeing him in the flesh after all this time had totally knocked Chad on his ass. The old attraction burned just as hot as before—even more so now that he was fully out to himself. No one, not even Todd, got to him like Evan did. And it was strange seeing Evan's personality again, the same as it always was, his fiery temper, his repression, his need to flee—it was all part of the attraction. But he felt pretty sure Evan was still in the closet. He'd never doubted Evan was gay, at least, once he came out. He knew it in his bones. But this put a little twist into things. He thought by now Evan would have realized it. Could he be the one to plant that seed in his mind? What should he say?

He walked back to his house with a heavy heart. If he could only have an hour. Just one hour! Just one hour alone with the love of his life.

+++

Evan zoomed up towards Malibu eager to see Craig and get him in his arms. He wanted to make up and get right back to where they were before this horrible week. More than that, he needed him. Oh, did he need him! His warmth, his smile, his beauty, his softness. Evan felt like he'd just barely been holding it together for days, and he couldn't stand it one more minute. Every second flying up the coast was torture. For the very first time, Evan knew he needed Craig more than, or as much as, Craig needed him. His usual strength had crumbled beneath him, seeing his father so helpless, so frail, and human! He'd held it together for his family and even for himself, alone, but it was eroding second by second, the faster he drove. 

The night was so pitch black! The smoke was obscuring most of the usual illumination, to the point where the brightest spots on the horizon were the fires forming a distant ring to the north. The dry, hot wind burned into his skin as he flew north, towards the heat, towards the flames, towards his love. 

But when he pulled into Craig's driveway, Evan was extremely surprised and irritated to see that Craig was not alone and waiting for him, as he expected. His place was mobbed with expensive cars, and he heard loud drunken laughter and music blasting from his patio. 

He hadn't called; he knew his arrival was going to be a surprise, but nevertheless he felt a flare of intense anger at what he found. Apparently Craig was having a "party."

He parked his bike and took off his helmet and walked to the door, where several men he didn't recognize were standing with drunks in hand, laughing.

"Heyyyy, come on in!"

"Ooooh please!"

"What's going on?" Evan asked.

"Look around!" someone said. "It's the party of the apocalypse baby! Get a drink!"

"Where's Craig?" Evan demanded. 

"Craigy? He's out on the lanai. What's your hurry?"

"I just want to find Craig, that's all."

"Well get in line, cutie."

Evan pushed his way inside, annoyed. He couldn't help thinking of the first party he'd been to at Craig's house. And lo and behold, as soon as he had that thought, he ran into Larry and Troy as soon as got into the kitchen. "Oh, great," he muttered.

"You seen Craig?" he said abruptly to them.

Both Larry and Troy looked at him like he was a little bug. Evan knew from a glance Craig hadn't told them about him. They clearly had no clue who he was—who he was to Craig. It enraged him to even see them here!

"Well he's around somewhere. How do you know him again?"

"None of your fuckin' business," Evan growled as he pushed past them.

He finally found Craig out on his patio. Evan could tell from one glance that he was drunk. He had a martini in hand and he was laughing with some men. 

As he got closer he could overhear the conversation.

"Remember that trip to San Diego, a couple of years ago?" Craig was saying. "The fountain?"

Everybody else erupted into peals of laughter. 

"Those Italian guys? The tourists?"

"Gianni and Luciano? Fuuuuck . . ."

"Here's to Italian men," Craig raised his glass in a toast before tossing back the whole glass. "And just . . . fucking MEN. Oh . . . and here's mine!"

Evan was standing sort of dumbstruck, watching Craig. He'd never seen him quite like this. Craig reached out and pulled him towards him. He was sitting on a ledge and he spread his legs and positioned Evan between them while wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing his neck, not noticing that Evan was standing like a statue. 

"I've missed you. Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

Evan tried to smile and play along, but he was fuming with anger. Craig was wasted. 

Craig smothered him with kisses while running his hands over Evan's stomach and hips. Evan felt himself getting hard despite himself. 

"Mmmm . . . you guys haven't met my boyfriend yet, Evan. He's a cop."

Some of the guys around Craig smiled and were friendly, but most stared at him with hostility. Evan did not feel welcomed into this crowd, and it made him pull away from Craig's hands and mouth.

"Aw, baby, what's wrong?"

"Stop it, Craig. I didn't know there'd be people here."

"Oh, we're just having a little fun. I had to celebrate," Craig yelled, leaning far backwards with his arms held out over the railing and letting the hot wind blow through his silky hair. He yelled "God I love LA!" into the sky.

Evan held tightly to his thighs behind him, and hissed, "Be careful!"

"Oh, it's fine! I'm fine! I'm rich, for fuck's sake. It all happened today, baby. Everything. We're going to have everything we ever wanted! Have some fun!"

"Jesus, Craig, watch it!" Evan had spun around to keep him from falling and they both collapsed together against the railing. For a second, Evan saw the real Craig—his Craig—look at him, and he whispered, "It's me, baby." Craig let out a kind of drunken moan and a bleary "Evan?" before doubling over with laughter. 

"How funny is that? I'm almost as rich as my dad."

"Craig—"

"Yes, Craig Symons SENIOR, of Symons DEVELOPMENT. Fucking bastard if there ever was one. My daddy," Craig spat out with disgust, while Evan glared at him. "Mmmmm, here's my real daddy, right baby?" Craig said, trying to run his hands up towards Evan's crotch. 

Evan roughly pushed him away. "I'm going upstairs, Craig. I need to be alone. When you're done 'having fun,' come and talk."

The party did not stop. Evan sat in Craig's bed—their bed—waiting and waiting, getting angrier by the minute. It was so fucking LOUD. He put pillows over his head but he couldn't drown out the laughter. It was driving him crazy. He tossed and turned, thinking about Chad laughing in gay bars, having sex, being with men . . . six years in a relationship with a man . . . six years he had missed with Craig! More than that—ten years, his whole life, as far as he could remember. 

For the first time Evan felt a wild jealousy for Craig's life without him, before him. And resentment . . . deep, bitter resentment . . . he struggled to understand why . . . Craig. . . if he didn't have him . . . if he didn't have him, he'd have nothing. Nothing! No relationship to his sexuality, and Craig made it all seem so easy and effortless! He couldn't stand the thought of Craig down there enjoying himself with his friends! 

Finally the music and laughter died down, and Evan heard Craig shut the door and the last car drive off. He heard glasses clinking and sounds of cleaning up, then Craig padding up the stairs to the bedroom.

When he came in Evan saw that Craig had his shirt off. He was clad in nothing but a pair of tight jeans and he looked so amazingly hot it took Evan's breath away. 

Evan was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting and watching, saying nothing.

"What's up?" Craig said, casually. He was still drunk, obviously, and Evan had never really seen the full drunk Craig before. He was different. He had a totally different vibe. 

"You have fun down there?" Evan said.

"Yeah, fuck, I needed it. Just had to let off some steam, ya know? It's been a hard week."

"Really. Was it?" Evan said, with barely restrained fury. He moved towards Craig as if he were stalking a piece of prey.




City of Angels Ch. 04



They had moved to Craig's large balcony and were now standing and facing each other. In the distance, the fire had reached its peak. Huge columns of flame emitting showers of sparks were exploding on the horizon. Evan glanced at it, distractedly, thinking it looked a chain of erupting volcanos. He stupidly thought of Mt. Vesuvius and the buried city of Pompeii.

"Did it ever occur to you while you were partying your ass off that I needed you, Craig? Do you have any idea what the last week has been like for me?"

"It's been tough for me, too."

"But—"

Craig held up his hands to ward off the explosion. "I know. I know it's not the same. I know what you went through was worse, but I wasn't just sitting home watching TV! I had a very very difficult week."

"Oh really?" Evan said, the bitter sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Difficult partying with your friends, getting drunk?"

"Evan, you don't know what it's been like for me. Some things . . . happened. Sometimes that's how I need to cope."

Evan seemed not to have heard him. "I come back here tonight needing you, desperate to see you, and I find you laughing your ass off in front of a bunch of assholes."

"I didn't know you were coming up, and those assholes are my friends."

"What—Larry and Troy? The 'West Hollywood' crowd? These people are all so fucking shallow!"

"Why is this bothering you all of a sudden? You never complained before."

"Because . . . I don't appreciate you calling me at my dad's deathbed and hearing you partying, that's why."

"I told you . . . you don't know the whole story . . . of what happened that day, what I went through. What are you really mad about, Evan?"

Evan stopped to look at Craig. It was if he had read his mind. 

Evan sputtered. "I . . . I . . . I needed you! And you weren't there for me."

"Is that it? Or are you mad at me for having gay friends?"

"No! When have I ever implied that?"

"You are right now."

"That's not it. That's not fair."

"It seems like it, to me. You're angry about something, and I don't think it's what you're saying it is."

Evan moved closer to him. "These are the people you call your 'friends?' These stupid, shallow idiots?"

"I can't help it that you're so in the closet, Evan."

"WHAT?"

"I can't help that I've been out so much longer than you. I have a lot of gay friends."

"Oh—really? The same gay friends who are too scared to want a boyfriend? The same ones who just want to fuck you? Or be some kind of . . . boy toy or something? You are really hot, after all."

"They're not all like that! They're GAY. They're OUT. They're part of my life, part of who I am," Craig nearly shouted.

Evan was standing so close to Craig. They were staring at each other and breathing heavily. 

"They're 'gay.' Really. What do you know about it, Craig, I mean, really know about it?"

Now it was Craig's turn to sputter. "Excuse me? Mr. 'I just had my first kiss?'"

The anger that had flashed up between them seemed to come out of nowhere, out of the dark night, like a flash fire, suddenly and totally unexpected but gathering heat. They both wondered why but were totally swept up in it. 

"Yes, what do you know about it, Mr. 'Never been in a real relationship?' What do you know about love?"

"And you do?" Craig shouted back.

Evan grabbed Craig by both sides of his face, staring fiercely into his eyes. 

"What do you really know about loving a man? About loving a man so much it tears your heart right out of your chest to see him in pain? I'm not talking about a crush, or a little fuck, or . . . or . . . chasing after some unavailable asshole. I mean LOVING a man. With a love that is as much pain as happiness. So that when he leaves you . . ." Evan eyes began to fill with tears and his voice broke, "When he leaves you, he takes your soul with him. He takes everything, and you may never recover. What the fuck do you know about that? Can your 'friends' understand that?"

Craig pushed Evan's hands off his face and started pacing. Evan just watched him.

Craig finally faced him. "Do you know what I went through? Why I started drinking? Because I did it. I DID it. I just scored the biggest fucking deal to go down in this town in a long time. Me. It's all ME. And you know what I did? I drove like a complete psycho all over Los Angeles, for hours and hours, like a crazy person, and you know why? Because YOU WEREN'T THERE. Because you didn't want me to be with you. Because you were preoccupied. Because this means absolutely nothing without you. I nearly had a fucking heart attack when you didn't answer my texts. That's why I threw this party. Because if I didn't, I'd probably be lying in a ditch somewhere. So don't tell me I don't fucking love you."

Evan was taken aback. "What do you mean, 'Because I didn't want you to be with me?'"

"Well you didn't exactly ask me to join you in Laguna, did you?"

"But—" Evan sputtered again. "That's where I live. I mean, that's where I'm from. My family . . ."

"Yeah, and what? You don't want them to meet your homo boyfriend?"

"No! I—I—you were busy!"

"Oh, so now you understand me being busy with my own life?"

"No, I—Jesus, Craig, why are you laying this on me now? I can't—I haven't—I haven't told any of them. You're making too big a deal about it."

This time Craig came up and held Evan's face in his hands. "When are you going to face being gay, baby?"

Craig couldn't have predicted he would say this. It just came out, because of his relaxed inhibitions. It wasn't even until he said it that he realized he'd been thinking it all along.

"I have!" Evan stuttered. "It . . . took me a while. I'm not denying it. And what about our trip? That wasn't gay enough for you?"

"It was . . ." Craig said softly. He put one hand on Evan's chest, right over his heart. "But there's something missing. In here. Deep inside here, where no one can see it. Only you."

Evan gazed at Craig, only barely understanding what he meant. 

He only knew he loved him, more than ever, and in a second his anger was gone.

Evan grasped his head in his hands and kissed him hard on the lips. He began pushing him towards the bed, murmuring, "What happened to you, baby? Why didn't you call me! I would have come up from Laguna that day."

"Oh, fuck, let's not talk about that now!" Craig exclaimed, as he frantically pulled up Evan's shirt.

Craig hurriedly undressed him, free with drunken lust, and pushed Evan flat on his back on his bed. 

"Lie back," he ordered him.

Evan was enthralled with the change in Craig's demeanor. He didn't know he was about to be masterfully seduced by an experienced man intent on seducing him. 

Craig was still quite drunk, but he knew what he wanted. And he knew what Evan needed and wanted. 

He straddled Evan's chest, and brought his mouth close to Evan's full, sensuous lips. 

"I made millions today. I did it. And I'm letting myself feel good about it. Just tonight. Just tonight, I can have whatever I want, be whatever I want. And I. Want. You. I want you, baby." He slowly brought his lips closer to Evan's. "Open your mouth," he whispered. Evan opened his mouth and Craig teased him, refusing to fully kiss him. He hovered over him, his lips barely grazing him, gently tracing and nipping, while he continued to keep Evan's hands above his head.

"You really never thought about men? Never, hmmmm?"

Evan whimpered helplessly beneath him, feeling his cock swell up and push against Craig's cheeks. 

"You never dreamed of the taste of a man's lips . . .?" Craig said, as he finally kissed him, pressing his warm, soft mouth onto his. 

Evan moaned in needy pleasure, overwhelmed and on fire. 

"Remember what you said the first time you kissed me? Right down there on my lanai?"

"You were so fucking hot that night. When I saw you pull up on your bike I thought I would pass out. You were so strong and confident, so sure of yourself, but so nice. I didn't know . . . I wasn't sure . . . but when you agreed to stay, oh then I knew . . ."

"I knew, baby . . . and I wanted it. I thought about you, watched you, every single second until we were alone."

Evan whimpered beneath him, desperate to get his hands free and run them over Craig's ass, but Craig held him tight to the bed.

"Remember what you said?' Craig whispered. "I could feel that beautiful cock of yours so hard—so hard—against my thigh. You were pushing it into me, letting me feel it, wanting me to feel it, as you said 'No, I'm not gay.'"

"I'm not gay," Craig whispered again, so seductively. "No . . . I've never wanted to fuck a man, or love a man, or come in a man's mouth. . ."

"No . . . " he whispered over and over as his lips opened Evan's, slowly, hotly, lazily, refusing to give him his tongue.

Evan was moaning and sweating, all traces of the past week forgotten, his worries and pain about his father pushed from his mind. There was nothing in the world now but Craig, the night, and the fires burning out of control.

"Tell me again," Craig whispered, just touching the tip of his tongue into Evan's mouth. He snaked it partway in, licking his bottom lip, dancing it around the opening.

"But this time, be honest."

Evan whined, whispering hoarsely words Craig could barely understand. 

"I want you," Evan gasped. "I want you, Craig, I want you, I want you. . ."

Craig stilled his nearly incoherent babbling with his mouth, opening his lips wide and drawing Evan's tongue into his, sucking on it, swirling around it, sensuously licking and tasting as he freed one hand and let it snake down to Evan's raging hard erection. 

Evan couldn't stand it one second longer. He used his powerful arms and legs to flip Craig over and pull him into a tight, frantic embrace.

+++

The night was long and hot. In their bed, Evan and Craig made passionate love—hotter, better, sweeter, more intimate than anything they had experienced yet.

Evan remembered it later only through flashes, like lightning strikes in a dark room. Craig's tongue, Craig's wonderful, masterful, experienced mouth evoking shouts and moans as Evan crushed his hair in his hands, sweating, begging him not to stop.

Sweat oozing down Craig's back onto soaked sheets as Evan fucked him, seemingly able to go forever, not wanting it to end. 

Slippery hands pumping and squeezing hard muscle, edging each other, teasing, releasing at the last moment, only to suck and touch each other towards another peak.

His sweet boy, so different. Aggressive, eager, supremely confidant, enflaming Evan's cock again and again. They wrestled each other, flipping roles and positions, Evan for the first time letting himself be passive and controlled by Craig's hands and mouth, letting him set the pace. 

Evan coming, both of them coming together, as their fingers tightly interlaced and Evan crushed Craig's palms with his own.

Their love, denied for more than a week, threatened, tested, made them inexhaustible with each other. 

Their hearts and minds twisted together, knotted around an erotic core, as tightly as their bodies, never letting go, only growing closer and closer. 

Evan felt like he was making love with his own gay self.

Craig forgot entirely about pleasing another person. He stepped fully into his truest being as a god of sex, burning with unapologetic lust, strong and powerful in joyful abandon, leading the way, showing Evan how much more there was to learn and feel and experience. Evan was absolutely in awe of him. 

When they finally flopped onto their backs, their hearts pounding, drenched in sweat, unable to go again, the sun was just coming up. 

They drifted off to sleep holding hands. No words were necessary. They knew they had done it. Their love was stronger, consecrated with sweat and cum, blessed by wild cries. They knew they were more devoted to each other than ever, and that they could face whatever challenges tomorrow held. 

+++

The next morning, lying in bed, spooned tightly together, Craig murmured, "You feel that?"

The slightest breeze was wafting in through the window, but it was cool and moist. The ocean was awakening, finally pushing back the heat.

"Yeah," Evan said. "Smells like rain."

+++

Hours later, at dusk, they were sitting on Craig's lanai enjoying the cool-down. They'd gone out for a late brunch at a Malibu diner, feasting on huge plates of huevos rancheros. They knew they had things to talk about, but they kept their conversation light—Craig filled Evan in on all the mundane details of his work while Evan told him about his visit home. But they smiled a lot and touched and held hands more than usual, conveying to each other a new and comfortable intimacy. They spent the rest of a lazy Sunday afternoon drinking coffee and talking and relaxing. Now they were sacked out on deck chairs, completely sated and happy.

"So I was thinking . . ." Evan said, reaching out to touch Craig's thigh. "I'd like to invite a friend over."

Craig smiled. "Good idea. Are you talking about that guy from the station—Andy?"

"Yes. He told me he wants you to introduce him to 'some of your friends.'"

"Sure. Anytime. But I think I'm kind of partied out at the moment."

"Well why don't we just have him over for drinks?" 

"Of course. Next weekend, maybe?"

"Or sooner. I have the whole week off. Maybe he's free."

Craig rolled over on his side to face Evan, smiling into his brown eyes. "I think that's a fantastic idea."

Evan smiled back at him. "Alright, then, I'll give him a call."

In bed, later, after another session of lovemaking, Craig lay nestled against Evan's arms and they talked quietly in the dimly-lit room. The intensity of their argument and the things they had yelled were on their minds.

Craig said, "So who were you talking about?"

Evan knew what he meant, but he didn't say anything.

"At first I thought you meant your dad, but . . . it wasn't just him, was it?"

Evan let out a tense sigh. He didn't want to go there, but he knew he had to. He ran his hand through his dark curly hair. "Yeah . . ."

"It's . . . Chad, isn't it? That guy, your friend? Did you see him last week?" 

"Yes. He came by, two times, wanting to talk." Evan held back the detail of Chad informing him he was gay.

Craig rubbed Evan's strong arms, which were holding him so closely.

"You have to face it, babe."

"I know, and I don't want to . . . which I guess makes me a hypocrite, lecturing you about love . . ."

"Are you still in love with him?" Craig asked.

Evan was amazed that Craig could be so blasé and accepting about it. He did not sound threatened or worried in the least.

"No. . . I don't think so . . . I was never consciously aware of anything like that . . ."

"Well you need to find out."

"But Craig, it doesn't bother you?"

"Yes and no. I guess there's a remote chance you could fall into each other's arms. But I think it's something different. I just have a feeling. I think it's what you need to do, for yourself."

Evan hugged him tighter. "No. I'd be doing it for us. If you think this will make us closer."

"I do. I know so. Because Evan, it will get to be a strain. I can't be everything to you. I can't be your only path to who you are. I just can't. It will start to stifle me."

"You're right," Evan whispered. "I think that's why, one reason why, I was angry with you."

"It's ok. It's ok."

Craig's voice had changed, and he seemed to be thinking of something else entirely.

"What is it?" Evan asked him.

"Nothing. I just got this feeling. I think I may be ready to face my dad."

"Well that's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Whew," Craig said, shaking his head as if he just couldn't believe it.

"I'm a little surprised." Craig said. "I thought I'd feel so different. That day, when you weren't there, when I first got any real confirmation, I fell apart. I totally fell apart. I thought that's what would happen again, and it almost did. But . . . I'm not. I'm ok. I'm doing ok. "

He turned to face Evan. He looked at him, and caressed his face, as if seeing him for the first time.

"It's all because of you. I can, because this is real. We're real." 

"Yes, we are."

"And I love you."

Evan kissed him softly on the lips. "I love you, too. And I know you can do it. Whatever it is you need to do."

"I love you," Craig whispered, holding him tighter.

He could hear Evan speaking quietly against his shoulder. 

"It's a good idea. Because I might not always be there for you, baby. I might not always be able to be the strong one."

"I know" Craig said, through a few tears. He held Evan tighter. "As long as you'll always be my daddy."

Evan spoke closely into his ear. "I'll always be that. No matter what happens."

+++

The next few days were quiet, in their house and all over the city, which was slowly recovering from the massive firestorms. 

Evan called down to Laguna and heard good news about his father; he was awake and alert and talking. He made plans to go down there over the weekend. He had the week off, so spent every day with Craig. 

With not much going on, they fell into a rhythm of taking walks on the beach in the morning and going out to eat at night, searching out Japanese and Thai restaurants. Then they'd go home and make love. Each day was perfect, falling asleep and waking up in each other's arms and never being that far from a caress or a touch or a kiss. 

Towards the end of the week Craig decided to visit his sister in the valley, while Evan and Andy had made plans. He was just getting ready to leave when Andy knocked on the door. 

"Heeeyy," said Craig, as he welcomed him in. "Nice to see you!"

"Hi, Craig. Thanks for having me over."

"Of course. Evan's out on the lanai. I was going to fix you guys some drinks before I headed out. Sorry I can't stay."

"Oh, that's ok."

Craig took a moment to really look at Andy. He was very cute, in a boy next door kind of way, with warm hazel eyes and soft brown hair. But his body was really the main draw. He was amazingly ripped, tight, and beefed up—which was somewhat at odds with his gentle demeanor and looks but together they made a luscious combination. Craig could see a rippling six pack under his khaki t-shirt, which was tucked into cargo shorts. He slid one hand up his strong, powerful forearm and up to his bulging biceps.

"What do you do? You lift weights?" 

Andy blushed. "I spend a lot of time at the gym. Blowing off steam, I guess."

"Come on, Evan's out here."

Craig kept up the flirtatious touching, wanting him to feel completely relaxed. He noticed Andy was immaculately shaved and groomed, as if he'd spent hours getting ready. What a doll, he thought, as he racked his mind thinking for someone to introduce him to.

Andy took a seat sitting backwards with legs spread around a chair as he chatted with Evan about work, mostly discussing all the assholes they knew, while Craig fixed their drinks. When he came back out he set the tray down and immediately said, "So Evan tells me you're single and want to meet someone."

"Jesus, Craig, a little subtlety, perhaps?" Evan exclaimed.

"What? I just want to help."

"It's ok!" Andy practically shouted. "I don't mind."

"Alright well let me think about it. Have fun you guys. I have to get going." Craig leaned down to kiss Evan before he left. "Bye baby. I'll see you soon," he whispered. 

Andy simply could not help staring at them, drinking in the tenderness they expressed towards each other. He was really quite envious.

"So what do you want to do? You hungry?" Evan asked.

"Actually, yes. You want to catch lunch somewhere?"

"I'd love to. You like seafood? Craig and I go to this little place down on the beach."

"Well I don't have too much time. Why don't we go to the Getty? It's like two minutes from here. I know they have a great restaurant."




City of Angels



And Evan had to admit it wasn't just the sex. He had feelings for him. He'd felt this strange tenderness and protectiveness for Craig. Where the fuck was this all coming from? And he still felt extremely curious and attracted. He wanted to see him again. He wanted to talk to him and find out more. He'd only begun to ask him what he wanted to know. But what if those two guys were right—what if he was just some random hook-up Craig was using to get over some other guy? Evan was just a cop. He had no part of Craig's world.

Days went by. Several times, sitting in his car on the highway late at night, he'd been tempted to call. Instead he'd driven up the coast and cruised by his house. Once he saw lights on and had to fight the urge to just drive up and let himself in at the gate. But what if he had another man there? He couldn't do it.

After a week, he started giving in to the temptation to stroke himself as he thought about Craig. He'd avoided that, feeling it was just too gay. But he couldn't stop himself. One morning he was in the shower. He'd woken up hard, as he had ever since the encounter. What had happened was so quick and intense; he found himself slowing it down and replaying it like a film in his mind, focusing on the image of Craig kneeling in front of him and re-experiencing the incredible feel of his lips on his cock. He'd had a man suck his dick! It had felt so indescribably amazing, but now he slowed it down and really concentrated on that fact. Oh fuck it turned him on that a man would want to do that for him. He loved it. His fantasy dwelled on Craig's face--his eyes, his open mouth, his obvious pleasure in being on his knees. He re-experienced the sense of power and control, and jerked himself harder and faster as he remembered pumping his cum into Craig's mouth. 

He had to steady himself, getting light-headed in the steamy shower, as he got closer to coming, thinking about fisting Craig's hair, holding his head and fucking his mouth deeper and harder. When he came, his orgasm was entirely focused on the image of Craig eagerly swallowing his load while his blue eyes looked up and begged him for it.

"Fuck!!" Evan groaned out in the shower. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!!" His climax shook him from head to toe, his swollen dick jerking and pulsing and spurting in his hand. He found himself thinking "The next time. The next time. There has to be a next time." He wanted Craig to open his mouth. He wanted to hold his head while he jerked his cock himself and gave him his sweet cum, like a gift. 

+++

Craig Symons was having a bad week. 

The day after the party, he'd gotten a voicemail from his father, summoning him to his offices in Century City. It was so typical. No "Hi, how are you?" No "Hey, it's Dad." Just a curt message telling him he needed to see Craig about some "family business." 

His nerves were on edge all week, the closer it got to seeing him. He rarely saw his father, and when he did it was with a combination of dread and eager anticipation, followed by self-contempt. No matter how old he got or how well he knew his father, he couldn't change. He looked forward to these visits like a lover, hopeful and full of pleasure, and left disappointed and panicked. He hated himself for it. But that was the cycle. It had always been the same. 

His dad was the youngest of five brothers, and the most handsome, confident and magnetic. He was currently on his fourth marriage. Craig and his sister were products of the first one to a crazy, beautiful, "aspiring actress" named Candace. His parents had split when he was five; his mom had been too drunk or drugged up to deal with them so they stayed with his father, though he was never around. Their childhood was very unstable, split between strange visits to his whacked-out mom in Topanga Canyon and the quiet, huge mansion in Beverly Hills. His dad came and went, in between his many affairs and short-lived marriages, while Craig became a surrogate parent to his younger sister. 

Craig Sr. should never have been a father. He had no concept of parenthood, and looked on himself and his sister as a burden. But then, Craig thought, that's how it was in most rich families. Their relationship now was cool and distanced and fake, exactly how it was supposed to be, exactly how it had been with Craig Sr. and his father. There was really nothing "different" about it in his family's social circle. 

But it had bothered Craig tremendously growing up. His teenaged years especially had been hell, with a lot of fights and violent arguments. That was when Craig had been to see a therapist for the first time. 

He thought about that as he drove to Century City. It had never done any good. He still suffered from severe anxiety and panic attacks. He'd had several small breakdowns. But he'd never learned a damn thing from therapy. 

His father's office was in the penthouse suite of the nicest building in the futuristic office complex. When he got to the plush reception area, the secretary, Karen, said "He'll be with you in a minute, Craig." Typical. He was just another appointment in his busy schedule. On the walls were maps of Los Angeles. His father had started this whole enterprise himself—"Symons Development"—soon after he'd split from Craig's mother. His little "sideline" was now the second biggest moneymaker in the extended family. His father had worked constantly when he and his sister were growing up, so they were taken care of by nannies while "Daddy" did his business. They'd had every advantage, every material thing they could want. And just like every rich kid he knew, no love or real family structure. The advantages of being a Symons were supposed to more than make up for that.

Craig waited and waited, checking messages on his phone, getting more and more nervous. If he wasn't careful he'd hit rush hour on the way home and that was a very bad thing.

At last, after keeping him waiting an hour, the intercom buzzed and Karen said, "You can go in, now."

He was there, sitting erect behind his big desk, with a fresh legal pad in front of him, tapping a pen. As always, Craig felt his father's presence like a physical blow. Craig knew he wasn't being prejudiced when he said his father was the most seductively attractive man he'd ever known. It was just a simple fact. He had a blend of features and qualities that made him maddeningly sexy to men and women alike. He was brilliant and dominant and severe in his public life and in his business, but completely sensuous and lustful in his private. He had the total confidence of a very successful man, yet he knew how to charm with sweetness. He was 55, and the years had only added to his attractiveness. He was tanned and blond and blue-eyed, just like him, though his hair was cut perfectly and he had some gray at the temples. He liked to dress well, and today he had on an expensive dark blue pin-striped suit and paisley tie. 

Craig simply could not squash the warm and instinctive pleasure he felt in being in his presence—until he spoke.

"Thanks for coming, have a seat."

And there it was—the "tone." Businesslike, cold, and uninviting. 

"What is it?" Craig sighed with impatience. 

His father stared at him. "I've had your trust redone. I need you to sign it."

"Redone? By whom?"

"I had my lawyers do it."

"Your lawyers. And what am I?"

His dad held up his palms immediately, as if to ward off an argument. "I wanted someone with financial expertise, that's all."

"I'm sure," Craig mumbled, as he looked over the document. He took his time, while his father checked his watch.

"What is this?" Craig said, tossing it on the desk. "You're cutting the account?" He saw his trust principal had nearly been halved.

"It's just a temporary thing. I'm going through some restructuring here, and—"

"Re-structuring?" Craig didn't believe it. He could tell something else was up.

He gestured to the paper. "I don't give a fuck about the money, but I would appreciate some honesty. What's this really about?"

Craig's father's face got red and he averted his eyes. 

"Tell me, I think I have a right to know."

"Jeannie's pregnant." Jeannie was his 33-yr old wife.

Craig shook his head, as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard. Aside from himself and his sister, there were no other children. And now after all this time?

He just blurted out the first thing that popped into his head. "Oh, you can't. You can't do that to another kid. Are you fucking crazy?" The idea of him becoming a father again turned his stomach.

"It is what it is, Craig. Things are going to have to change, financially speaking."

"Christ. You're cutting my trust fund to keep paying your alimony, that's what's really happening. Why don't you try staying in a relationship for a change? And having a child?! What do you think you're doing? You think you're going to be different this time? Are you going to let this one to grow up by themselves, too?"

"Stop it, Craig, right there, if you're bringing up this 'abandonment' crap again," his father sneered, with vicious contempt in his voice.

Craig felt a wave of nausea hit him and he had to get out of there. The fact that he was even there talking to him made him sick.

He scribbled his name on the paper and flung it at him. "Here. That's all you want, right? Well, you got it." 

He stormed out of the building and by the time he made it to his car, he was hyper-ventilating. He wanted to throw up. His own behavior made him sick. He yelled out "Fuck!" and slammed his hand so hard on the steering wheel he cut it. Blood spurted out all over the beautiful blue interior. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

He felt embarrassed, humiliated and furious with himself. Every single time he saw him he went through the same bait and switch, and yet he always came back. It never sunk through his head that he'd never get what he wanted from him. Ever. He had to have his nose rubbed in the fact over and over again. And here he was, sitting in a car he'd paid for with fucking "family" money. 

He didn't give a fuck about the money, that was true. But burning underneath was the knowledge that the second his father needed to "cut back," he, Craig, was the first to go. He was expendable to him, he couldn't have made that any clearer. And now he'd have to make these trips less often, and then there was the kid. A baby! His dad would be totally taken up with that. Craig loathed himself for the way his stomach swooped up and down with uncontrollable anxiety at the thought of "losing" what little contact he had with his father. He absolutely hated himself. He looked down at the blood and was glad to see it.

He peeled out of the garage and started to head home, but at the last minute decided to take a cruise up through the Hollywood Hills, past Jason's house. 

His hands were shaking as he drove slowly by, hoping he'd see Jason taking out the trash, and replaying that humiliating last night. He'd shown up at his door with fucking flowers. He thought about it and thought about it, berating himself, telling himself how pathetic he was—first for the silly flowers and then for stalking him. The longer he lingered, the worse and more pathetic he felt.

It wasn't until later, driving home at sunset, that the real anxiety hit.

"Oh no, oh no," Craig said to himself. Instantly, he checked the traffic in front and behind. Ohhh, he had to get out of here!!

He felt the back of his calves shaking. It always started there, then traveled up his spine to his stomach, heart and chest. He felt panic on top of panic. If he just got home, he might be able to deal with it, but if he got stuck in this traffic now he'd have a full-blown panic attack, which made him panic even more. Noooo . . . already he felt the terror creep upwards. His car was going to explode, or fall apart, right here! He could feel it! He could feel the tiny little bolts and screws holding it together coming loose. He could hear something hissing and leaking, about to catch fire. He had to do something! 

Up ahead he saw an open side street, and he began to calm down a bit. Ok, ok. Three blocks, two, one. He pulled over into the parking lot of a seafood restaurant and opened the window, breathing deeply. That was so close. He glanced over to the highway. He'd have to wait here, perhaps an hour, but he'd be all right, he'd be all right. 

He whipped out his phone and found his sister's number. Oh please, please be there, please . . .

"Craig?"

"Sharon."

His sister immediately heard the anguish in his voice. She'd been through this many times. "It's ok. It's ok. Just breathe. I'm here. Breathe, that's good. There you go."

Craig's hand was white from clutching the phone so hard. He listened and listened, letting his little sister whisper in his ear. Tears were pouring down his cheeks.

"What's wrong with me?" he cried to her. "What's wrong?"

"You're having an attack, baby, that's all. You're all right."

"Sharon," Craig moaned, "I can't go on like this."

"You're all right. You're doing fine. What are you doing tonight? Do you want me to come over?"

Craig pictured his huge, gorgeous house, and the lonely, empty night in front of him. That's what was waiting for him. That's why he'd really panicked. The emptiness and quiet waiting like a monster to swallow him up in his own house. He couldn't stand to be alone sometimes. But he felt like such a pathetic baby calling his sister. She was out in the valley, he couldn't ask her to come babysit him.

"No, no, it's ok, I'll, uh . . . uh . . . cook some dinner and uh . . . do some work . . ." 

He finally pulled in an hour and a half later, and immediately went inside and curled up on his couch, trembling. As he was falling asleep, and the anxiety drained away, leaving him in peace, he let his mind drift to Evan and the soft touch of his hands on his head as he sucked his sweet cock. He'd been so stressed out all week he hadn't had much time to think about him, though he certainly hadn't forgotten. When he did now, he felt blessed relief, and yearning pain, wondering if he'd ever see him again. He didn't think so. He probably freaked him out. He was much too nice—and normal—to want anything to do with someone like him. 

+++

Craig was awoken hours later by a noise. It was dark. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep. 

He listened carefully. It was a knock on his door. He heard a soft tapping and padded over, puzzled. When he looked out the window, he saw Evan. He was leaning against the door and it looked like he'd been there a while. He was wearing his black uniform. 

Craig felt the most amazing sense of relief. What was he, his guardian angel? Always appearing at the right moment, when he needed him? Because he needed him tonight. He didn't even know how much he needed him until he saw him. 

He opened the door and Evan just stood there, looking sexy and leaning against the doorframe. He said "Hey."

Evan took one look at Craig and knew right away this was not the same guy from the party. This was the guy he'd met on that first night. His face was haggard and sad, and he was just looking at him with this desperate, pained expression.

"Is this not a good time? I'm sorry, I should have called or—"

But Craig took Evan by the hand and pulled him inside. He shut the door and turned around to face him, leaning back and looking at him invitingly, still holding his wrist. "Stay, please." 

God. Evan had never seen such naked need on anyone's face. His tone was pleading, not commanding. Again Evan felt that pure instinct come over him. He moved very close to Craig and reached up, putting one big, warm hand on his cheek. "You all right?" Craig reached up and touched his arm. "Please stay," he said again. 

Evan knew otherwise, but he still found it hard to believe that someone as beautiful (and rich) as Craig had any problems at all. He dragged his thumb across his lips, gazing at his mouth. He had such nice lips and perfect white teeth. He couldn't help moving closer, widening his stance, and getting comfortable as he looked at him. He felt both of Craig's hands move down to his waist, and he thrust his hips closer.

"What's happening here?" Evan whispered. "I don't . . . I've never . . . I'm . . . mmmmmm" he stopped mumbling as he leaned in to kiss him. 

"Oh, fuck . . ." Evan whispered into his mouth. "I don't know what you do to me, Craig, I—"

"It's ok," Craig whispered against his lips. "Just please stay with me."

"I, uh . . . drove by your house a few times before I came up. Felt like a stalker."

Evan had stalked him? Craig smiled. "Lot of that going around." He pulled Evan closer so that his hips reached his, and they could both feel their mutual arousal. Their hard cocks touched through their clothes. 

Craig ran his hands over Evan's thighs and hips until he reached his heavy belt and tugged at it. 

"Aren't you on duty?"

"Yeah," Evan whispered, "Yeah, I am . . ." and then his mouth found Craig's. "Oh fuck . . ." he felt so good. Soft and warm and receptive. He loved kissing him. His hands reached up to hold his head tightly as he pushed his cock into him and widened his mouth with his, opening his lips and finding his tongue. 

They both groaned when Evan's teeth found Craig's tongue and pulled and bit and nipped at it, drawing it into his mouth and sucking hard and deep. He opened his mouth wider and for several minutes they swirled and sucked and licked each other's tongues. Finally Craig had to break away in a gasp. He reached for Evan's shirt and started pulling it out of his waistband. 

"You have a bedroom?" Evan said, before getting embarrassed at his own question.

"Yeah," Craig laughed. "Follow me."

He walked to a curving, hanging staircase leading up to the second floor. Evan trailed behind, his dick throbbing, watching Craig's ass move in front of him. He was shaking and trembling as he hastily unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, tossing it down onto the living room floor. His hands automatically went for his belt as he followed him into his spare, minimalist bedroom. A big, wide window was open to the night sky. Out here you could see stars and the lights on the hills, and hear the surf. The sharp, medicinal scent of eucalyptus blew in with the curtains, and palm trees rustled in the wind. There was a low, king-sized platform bed, and Craig was already lying back on his elbows, watching Evan as he walked in. Craig whispered "Oh shit," under his breath. Evan had a wonderful body. He wasn't pumped up with muscles, but he was solid and compact, and exuded a sense of latent rather than overwhelming power and strength. Craig took in his red nipples and the soft trail of dark hair leading into his pants. His thighs and ass were nice and full. 

Evan stood over him, looking down as he pulled off his heavy belt with all its attachments. They both heard the radio crackle.

Evan glanced at it and said, "I can't stay long."

"It's all right. I'm just glad you came," said Craig. 

Evan hesitated for a second at the buttons to his pants. He stared at Craig with his hands clenching and unclenching. Again that lust for dominance came over him. Craig was so completely luscious—passive, gentle, awaiting his move. Even though he was the one undressing, it was clear Craig was his object, his to do with as he wanted. It was why he'd come here. As if on cue, Craig shifted on the bed, widening one leg and lifting one hand over his head. 

That was it. Evan pulled off his uniformed trousers and ripped off his briefs in one second, so eager to get to the blond god lying so seductively on the bed. He crawled to him on all fours, his cock free and unencumbered and curved in a beautiful arc from a small dark bush at the base of his flat abs. Oh, this was nice. It felt so good, so natural, to be naked with him! Any doubt he'd had was erased, and all he could wonder was what had taken him so long.




City of Angels



He hovered over Craig's face using his powerful arms for leverage, looking into his eyes. Craig was watching him with awe and expectation, and Evan leaned down to kiss him, hard and forcefully, his arms and mouth shaking with uncontrolled, new-found lust. Craig ran his hands down to Evan's lush, round ass and held him tightly, trying to calm him down. He whispered "It's ok, take your time." He loved that Evan was new to this. He was giving him nothing but pure desire untainted by any bullshit.

Evan moaned as he kissed and licked his way down Craig's neck, smelling and savoring the taste and feel of his salty skin, "That's the one thing I don't have tonight." He could have stayed at his lips forever, but he continued to devour him, tenderly kissing down his chest as he undid each button, amazed at how strangely erotic it was unveiling Craig's smooth, flat chest. Images, memories, of breasts flashed in his head for a second. Small and cute and firm. Huge and soft and heaving. He didn't miss them. He'd never felt such lust for another person's flesh as he did now. He bit each male nipple lightly before swirling his tongue around and sucking the tiny nubs into his mouth as he heard Craig gasp. "I only want you," Evan thought, teasing the sensitive points, "I want you."

Evan's hands spread Craig's shirt open slowly, leading down to his crotch. He couldn't help kissing and sucking every inch of hot, tanned skin he exposed on his journey downward. He licked everywhere, noticing there was no hair whatsoever. It was all perfect.

When his lips got as far as the tight waistband of Craig's jeans he yanked at it and seemed unable to go any further. He glanced up to Craig with his dark eyes, giving him a silent but unmistakable directive to do it himself. He shifted downward onto his elbows as Craig raised his ass, thrusting his bursting crotch upwards and reaching down to undo his button-fly jeans. His cock was so full and hard he had a difficult time getting the buttons undone. Evan watched in heart-pounding anticipation. 

Evan pulled back on this knees as Craig was finally able to kick off his jeans. He wasn't wearing any underwear and his golden, smooth, bare cock and balls sprang into view. Evan had never seen anything more absolutely beautiful in his life. He simply stared for a second at the glorious, perfect, long and ridged member while his own cock throbbed with pleasure. Craig lay back again, with one hand behind his head, on display, beautiful, reveling in his objecthood. He looked to Evan like nothing less than a classical sculpture—an angelic muse whose sweet passivity penetrated to the deepest core of Evan's unknown, unsuspected sensuality. 

Evan roughly pushed Craig's knees apart and got between them, spreading them wide and holding them open with his own muscular, massive thighs and instinctively grabbing his own hard, swollen rod. This was strange. They were in a sort of missionary position, he had his primed cock ready to fuck, but . . . it was a guy. The subliminal knowledge of where they could go from here pushed at some kind of wall in his mind. He couldn't do it. Instead he gazed down at Craig's face, Craig's body, and began to stroke himself, his breath coming harsh and ragged. He watched Craig's sweet cock rising and swelling and throbbing directly beneath his own, and bent down to touch them together. He felt the first pre cum begin to erupt to the surface and slowly stroked it out onto the beautiful cock head beneath him.

Craig watched Evan's clear fluid dribble onto him, mixing with his own. He took as much as he could between his fingers and slathered it back onto Evan, pushing his fist out of the way to take over for him, working the slippery head with his fingers.

Evan put his hands behind his back and watched for the first time a man's hand gradually work its way down his shaft, tugging and pushing, arousing him to maximum rigidity, solid and ripe. "Ohh fuck," he hissed as Craig began to jerk him faster.

Craig grabbed the base of his own cock and bent it toward Evan, slipping it behind his sacks and touching the tender skin of his ass. As he snuggled it up under his balls he thrust slowly into his hairy appendages, gently nudging his tender orbs around with his head.

Evan breathed louder, squeezing his hands together behind his back, holding still for a long time as Craig worked his magic.

He was so close. As he felt it coming he scrambled forward so he was straddling Craig's chest, towering over him, and could look into his eyes while his strong body pinned his shoulders tightly to the bed. His meaty cock was about to explode. He felt so powerful, so dominant; they had fallen into these positions so naturally and as he looked down he knew Craig was loving where he was. His eyes were full of worshipful lust for the man risen above him. 

"Ohhh . . ." Evan groaned, in between clenched teeth. It was so fast, sharp, and explosive. He was gonna come, he was gonna come!

"Oh god! Oh fuck," he moaned as the uncontrollable wave burst up from his balls in shudders of painful ecstasy.

"Take it, take it, oh fuck, take it, Craig, take it, take my fucking cum!!!" Evan yelled as he watched sprays of semen jet out in long arcs onto Craig's neck, face and opened mouth. The pleasure was so intense Evan thought he would simply go crazy. Over and over his aroused cock pulsed, spitting out ropes of thick jizz under Craig's enraptured gaze. He saw it land on his lips just as he felt Craig come at the same time, and Evan impulsively leaned down to kiss his wet, open lips, sucking on them, and licking and tasting himself as Craig moaned and cried into his mouth. 

Evan lay dazed for several minutes, his chest mashed against Craig's, their hearts pounding close together, the taste of cum in both of their mouths. Evan reached up to stroke and clutch Craig's hair. He caressed his head tenderly, almost like an apology. 

After a minute he rolled off, and they both lay there breathing heavily, overwhelmed. 

"Fuck, I gotta go," Evan said in one exhaled breath. 

He wiped his face on the bed sheets and got up to get dressed. While Craig cleaned himself up he went down to retrieve his shirt and by the time he came back he was in full uniform.

Craig watched him from his bed, wondering what he'd do this time. He was still blissed out from his own fantastic climax. He felt completely at peace for the first time in many days. He didn't quite know what to make of Evan yet; this was certainly a wonderful, hot thing—and surprising—but not exactly unique in his experience. Any moment he was expecting him to flake out and disappear like many guys had before. 

But then Evan did something unexpected. He came over, leaned down, put his hand on the back of Craig's head and kissed him sweetly on the lips. There was something so fucking hot in the way he did it—like he was a husband possessively kissing his wife or lover before he left for work. Craig felt his attachment and interest in him kick up to a whole new level. 

Evan stood at the bed a bit awkwardly, hesitating before he spoke. 

"So, uh . . . you still interested in that ride? Would you like to?"

Craig smiled at him. "Yes, I would."

"All right. I'm going to be working a lot this week, and I have to take a trip down to Laguna sometime, but maybe this weekend?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Good. I'll come by Saturday morning? Maybe we could hit the beach?"

"It's a date."

"All right, I'll see you soon, then. Good night."

"Evan."

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you came."

+++

As his police cruiser floated down the Pacific Coast Highway on the way home, Evan marveled at the strange beauty of his native city. The dawn was blossoming like a lazily budding flower over the horizon, sending pools of pink light into the midnight blue sky still studded with stars. The moon shone down on the white classical columns of the Getty Museum, so high up on the cliffs they seemed to float in the sky. The fog and clouds obscured everything but the glimmering lights of the hills sweeping down to the majestic ocean. In less than an hour, this same stretch of highway would be bumper to bumper with stressed out drivers, the towering cliffs would reveal their glaring billboards, and the coastline would give way to mini-marts and cheap snack shacks. But not now. Now, it could be anywhere, anytime. Evan liked to imagine it was ancient Greece—Athens, perhaps, nestled in the inlets and isles of the Aegean Sea. 

He leaned back and enjoyed the ride, taking his time, his body still pulsing in post-orgasmic bliss. He adjusted his posture as he felt his cock swelling yet again thinking about Craig. 

Evan had had no idea he was going to stop by Craig's that night. He just did it. He'd stood outside for 20 minutes, knocking softly every couple of minutes, unwilling to leave, but reluctant to pound on the door. He just had to see him. And when he did, he was surprised that the attraction he felt was even stronger than the first two times. These brief encounters at night were like something out of a fairy tale. 

He was deep in thought, pondering the sadness he'd seen on Craig's face, when he suddenly slammed on the brakes, nearly spinning off the road into the cliffs. The harsh glare of his headlights revealed the glowing eyes of a family of coyotes picking their way lazily across the road. They stared at the lights and noise for a minute before trotting back up the embankment. This had happened before. He'd seen coyotes, bears, rabbits, even wolves. The second largest metropolis in North America co-existed with a wilderness that was always there, threatening to swallow the valley back into his primitive grasp. 

An hour or so later, by the time Evan checked in his cruiser at the Santa Monica police station and picked up his own car, the magic had evaporated along with the night. It was going to be another shit kicking, hot smoggy day in LA. The beauty of the city, the lust of the evening, the memory of his orgasm, crumbled into dust in the face of early morning garbage trucks, weary maintenance men, junkies and scrawny dogs, and the endless gray urban sprawl. Here and there a bougainvillea bush remained the sole reminder of the night's glory. Evan closed the door on his small one-bedroom and instantly crashed into a dreamless sleep. 

+++

Evan looked forward to his day with Craig all week. He was hoping they could actually keep their clothes on and talk this time. He had a lot to say, a lot to ask him. He thought about a little trip. Maybe they could go as far as Santa Barbara. He wanted to make it fun for Craig. He found himself thinking about him a lot. He felt such protectiveness for him. He just wanted to whisk him away on a little adventure, away from LA for a day. 

The week was busy. When it got really hot like this, crime increased, people were in bad moods, he made many more little arrests. The searing heat, while dry, was a killer during the day. It wasn't so much the actual temperature as the relentless power of the sun. It turned LA into a prison of ugly 70's-style architecture with its fading aqua and pink facades, peeling, flaking concrete walls, and dull brown palm trees. Evan preferred to sleep for most of the day, looking forward to the quick desert cool down at dusk.

He made a few trips to the gym in Venice, where he lived, as he always had. But he was seeing it through new eyes. When he walked in, he was intensely aware of the men who immediately looked at him, and followed his movements on the way to the locker room. The same old usual place seemed to come alive for him with scents, sounds and images—the grunts and groans, the smell of sweat, the quick glimpses of muscles, tank tops, hands, thighs, and sometimes, bulging mounds in thin shorts. Above all the glances. Had he really, seriously, not ever noticed before? 

He saw Craig in every man. Felt him. Remembered him. Compared everyone to him. Bits and pieces of their nights together broke free into his daytime thoughts—a flash of an image of cum on open lip; the sight of a spurting cock; kissing Craig's smooth chest. They intertwined with the smell of jasmine and eucalyptus, the feel of the ocean breeze, and the long, slow trip up to Malibu, lining his mundane days. 

Close to the weekend, he had to make the trek down to Laguna. It was his parents' 25th wedding anniversary and he'd promised to show up at the big party. As usual, he dreaded it. But he had promised. His sister, aunts and uncles, and relatives would all be there.

Powering down on his bike in the opposite direction of Malibu, he had the feeling he was going back in time. Not only to his past, but to an older way of life. His parents were conservative, to put it mildly. He'd actually been born in Simi Valley, that haven for cops, before they moved to a bigger house in Laguna when he was two. His mother's large, extended Italian family was rooted here. They were all "solid," middle class, religious people. Life revolved around family vacations, backyard barbecues, holidays, sports, and the police department. His mother's father had also been a captain. It was how she'd originally met Michael Malone. 

Evan stopped at a florist shop to pick up the bouquet of roses he'd ordered for his mother before heading to the party. As he pulled in to the house where he'd grown up, he instinctively looked for his dad's SUV. He wasn't there yet. 

He smiled when he saw a gorgeous dark-haired girl holding a beer in the driveway. 

"Well, well, well," she said, smiling. "The prodigal son returns."

"Only for a while, Gina." His sister was two years older and lived with her husband and kids in the same neighborhood. She was married to a cop.

"The captain's not here yet?"

"He'll be here, don't worry."

They went inside, where Evan was mobbed with hugs from various relatives. He went over to his mother and kissed her on the cheek. 

"These are for you, mom."

"Oh, thank you, honey. My favorite."

"Where's dad?"

"Oh, he's coming. Probably picking up my present at the last minute."

"Well I hope it's something nice," Evan said, kissing her again. "You deserve it."

"Evan, I have a favor to ask. Be good to your father today. He hasn't been feeling well."

"When have I ever not been?"

She looked at him. "Please, Evan. He's been under a lot of stress lately."

"I'll try, Mom."

As Evan wandered around the old place, his thoughts dwelled on Craig almost to the point of obsession. What was he doing? Who was he with? Was he hanging out with Larry? He knew he had a lot of gay friends—was he with them now, brunching in West Hollywood? He felt more anxious than ever to get some alone time with him. Being in the old place was bringing back that restless feeling that had plagued him recently, but which really went back to high school. That was when his conflict with his father had begun. It was all part of some big rebellion and anger he began to feel at that time. He hated coming back here because he felt it closing in on him again, and threatening his new experience. He couldn't stop wondering what Craig was doing with all his friends—friends who were much more "out" . . . who were much more gay. Jesus. Even thinking that word here made him look over his shoulder. You'd never know, living in this town, that there was a big city to the north where people like Craig Symons existed. Here Los Angeles meant the LAPD, and not much more.

He was standing in the kitchen nursing a beer when he heard the door open and a flutter of voices. He felt his stomach clench. He could feel his father's presence from in here. His Daddy. He laughed to himself. It's what he'd called him when he was little. His Daddy the big strong policeman. How he'd waited for him every night to come home! He could still remember that feeling. The late afternoons turning to dusk, in his room playing with cars, wondering if he'd left work yet, if he was on the road, if he was almost there. His mother cooking dinner, his sister in her room. All of them waiting expectantly for the man with the booming voice and kisses for everyone. Coming back in his black uniform, tossing his hat on the couch, and smiling as he picked up his son and threw him giggling in the air. Evan remembered all of it.

He felt like an alien, now. The people were older, the hair a lot grayer, but really everything was the same—except him. He couldn't remember why, exactly, but at some point he'd become thoroughly disenchanted with his father's charm. He began to see him as a big phony. A pretender. A bullshitter. A narcissist. Now he could barely stand the sight of him.

His dad came into the kitchen, dark and handsome as always, and when straight to his mother. He put a hand on the back of her head and kissed her on the lips. It was his ritual. He saw his mother smile and thrill to his touch. 

As his dad looked up, he saw Evan standing there and his eyes widened. He nodded curtly. "Evan."

Evan nodded back.

"Glad you could make it."

"25th. Wouldn't miss it," Evan said, lifting his beer.

"Well I'm sure your mother appreciates it."

"Was traffic bad?"

"Fuck yes. Got stuck on Chimichanga coming down from the valley."

"Cahuenga," Evan corrected him. "The Cahuenga Pass. You've lived in this city for 30 years."

He dad looked at him. He made a point of mispronouncing Spanish names—his not so subtle way of denigrating half the population of Los Angeles.

"So, how's work?" he said, changing the subject. "You off PCH yet?"

"No," Evan said, gritting his teeth. "I told you, I like it there. I like Malibu."

"You move to Orange County, it's one step up to sergeant."

His dad never stopped trying to get him to transfer to Orange County. He could not understand why Evan chose to stay in the city proper, why he'd ever chosen it to begin with. 

"I can make sergeant this way, too."

"Takes a lot longer."

Maybe, Evan thought, but the fact was he preferred it. He liked the diversity, the mix of people, the insight into various lifestyles. It was how he'd met Craig, wasn't it? Would he ever have, any other way?

The thought of Craig while he stood talking to his father made him unaccountably angry and he moved away. Everything about him just irritated him! His close-minded conservativeness, his stubborn conviction he was right about everything, his confidence to the point of smugness, his success. 

He wandered through the party in the backyard, feeling alone among all the people he'd grown up with. His dad was the center of all it, holding it all together. He stood with everyone else toasting the happy couple, watching them kiss. 25 years of a good, solid marriage. It made Evan claustrophobic to the point of screaming. 

He made some quick goodbyes and was walking to his bike when his dad caught up with him. He was extremely red in the face and sweating and breathing heavily. Too many beers, Evan thought. 

"Look, I know you don't want my help, but anytime, just say the word." He leaned in conspiratorially. "All I have to do is pass the word along! Make a few calls, call in a few favors. What are you doing, handing out speeding tickets? Let me help you," he insisted.

Evan looked at him. He knew he was right. It was like he was handing him the keys to the city—at least the city he knew, from his viewpoint at Parker Center. But all Evan could feel was a stifling sense of imprisonment. He felt the same restless dissatisfaction that made him break it off with Amy. No.

He revved up his motorcycle and kicked up the stand.

"Thanks, but no thanks. Congrats on the anniversary." And he took off.

+++

Two days later, he packed a little bag and headed up the coast to Craig's.

It was a gorgeous day. Overnight, the ocean air had finally beat back the searing heat of the desert, and it was a cool 79, with moisture in the air. Perfect beach weather. On the way there, he noticed red banners lining all the lampposts along PCH. They were advertisements for a new show at the Getty entitled "Gods of Love." He saw the word "Eros" flash by on the edges of his vision, along with reproduced male nudes. To his left, the ocean was pure cobalt blue, edged with white waves amid patches of deep emerald. His leather jacket kept him snug and warm in the rush of exhilarating wind. 




City of Angels



He pulled up to Craig's and as he walked towards him, Evan realized it was the first time he was seeing him in the full light of day. And damn was it nice. He looked like the chosen child of Los Angeles in a bright yellow shirt and tight jeans, with his blond hair and turquoise eyes catching the sun. He looked happy and rested.

He thought it might have been awkward, but they both smiled into each other's eyes at the same time, almost with a little smirk. 

"You ready?" Evan said.

"You gonna show me how to get on this thing?" said Craig, as he put on sunglasses and helmet.

"Just hop on."

Craig got behind him, straddling his legs wide and nudging forward tightly against Evan's ass. 

"You all set? Got your feet up?"

Evan reached back and helped him get his boots in the straps, and adjusted his warm hands around his waist.

"Let's roll."

It was a glorious ride up the 101, hugging the coastline the whole way. Once they got past the city limits, the shoreline on the left gave way to steep, dramatic cliffs, while the water changed to a deep, rich sapphire. Houses and other signs of civilization vanished one by one until it was nothing but speed, sky and sun accompanying them on their ride. Sitting behind Evan Craig felt all his worries, his whole life, drop away in the pure enjoyment of hugging Evan's vibrating body and letting him take him away, farther and faster. He laughed into the wind, and shouted "This is fantastic!" at the top of his lungs. Evan yelled back, "I told you!" At the few stop lights, Evan leaned back into Craig's arms and gently pushed his ass into his crotch. At times he knew they were both hard; he could feel Craig behind him, swelling up and pushing towards him. 

They finally pulled into the parking lot of a beach in Santa Barbara an hour or so later, laughing and breathing hard as they got shakily onto solid ground, their bodies still vibrating. 

"That was fucking amazing!" 

"You liked? This is probably my favorite trip. Man, there's nothing like it," Evan said, catching his breath. He didn't even glance around over his shoulder as he reached for Craig and pulled him close. Neither did Craig as he leaned in and kissed Evan on the neck. They were in a little park area with picnicking families, but they didn't care. They pulled back and looked into each other's eyes with a serious expression, the wild exhilaration of the road turning into sudden intimacy. 

"Will you come back to my place later?" Craig asked, pushing his body forward.

Evan flashed a warm smile and nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, I was kinda hoping that. You know . . ."

"What?" said Craig. 

"Nothing, it's . . . good to see you smile. You have a great smile."

Craig actually blushed. Goddamn he was adorable. 

"Does that embarrass you?" Evan asked, ducking his head to find Craig's eyes.

"No . . it's just not usual that . . ."

"What? Tell me," said Evan.

"Well, that a great fuck turns into . . . this."

"No? What's 'this'?"

"An awesome fucking ride?" laughed Craig, avoiding the question.

"Well maybe I'm curious about what 'this' is. Kinda why I wanted to get you up here."

"Yeah?" said Craig, happy to hear him say it.

"Yes. Let's go. I want to show you the beach I like. I brought some stuff, let me get it here. . ." He leaned over to grab his pack and Craig watched him, absolutely smitten with the way he'd obviously planned their day. 

"Show the way," he said. "I'm all yours."

They headed down to the beach. It was late in the summer so the water was still warm. They'd both worn suits under their jeans so they stripped off and headed in. 

"Oh, fuck, this is perfect!" Craig shouted, ducking his head under. "Can't remember the last time I got in the ocean just for the hell of it."

"Yeah, this is a great beach."

They swam and laughed and played in the water for a while. 

"So how'd you find this place?" Craig yelled.

"Just taking one of my rides. Me and my ex used to come here a lot."

"Oh, are we talking ex's already?" Craig said, wrestling Evan into a big wave. "On such a gorgeous day?"

"You asked," Evan said, floating on his back and treading water and soaking up the warm sun. 

"All right," Craig responded, "Let me guess."

"Go for it."

"Her name was Beth, and you met her in the Police Academy. You were both training at the same time. She was 'cute,' athletic. You first noticed her on a run or in the gym."

Evan shot him a glance. "Obstacle course. And her name was Amy. But other than that you got it about right."

Evan laughed, but the fact was he felt deep shame roiling in his stomach.

"You got along. Both on the same career path. You had nice, pleasant sex. Never fought."

"Right again."

Craig floated closer to him in the water. "But then she wanted to get married. She was pushing you to make a commitment. You didn't know why, but you just didn't want to. You wanted something else, something different."

Evan was definitely feeling shame now—shame, instead of that feeling of being watched. It was like Craig was the voice of his conscience speaking to him on the outside, in human form. He felt extremely stupid. 

"Am I that big of a cliché?" he said, shooting Craig a hurt, angry look. How had this happened so quickly? What was happening? Yes, he was here . . . yes, he was interested . . . but how had it moved so quickly from a kiss to this? Evan had a brief flash of insight into his own mind. He realized his consciousness had only grasped a very small part of the current connecting him to Craig. He knew it had a name—"being gay"—but that was nothing compared to the vast power surrounding them, within which he was just a tiny object. It was obvious Craig was much more comfortable and experienced in these waters.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Craig said immediately. "No, no . . . hey . . ."

He swam after Evan, who was heading back onto the shore.

"Would you come back here?" he demanded. 

"It's time to get out anyway," Evan grumbled, toweling himself off.

Craig stood dripping in front of him. "Would you talk to me?"

"Look, I think this was a mistake. I don't think I'm what you're looking for. I don't know anything about this. I'm not . . . Jason Jones, I'm just--"

"Perfect," Craig finished for him. "You're perfect."

"No, I'm not. I don't know anything about you, your world."

"My 'world'? Well I hate to tell you this, but I think it's your world, too."

"No it's not. I don't know anything about it!"

Craig laughed outright. "Oh, you do."

"What do you mean?" said Evan angrily.

"No one can have sex like you do and not be part of this 'world.' Trust me, I know."

That shut Evan up. 

"You liked it?" he asked. 

"Yes, liked it. I fucking loved it."

"I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know why I say what I say . . . or . . . be that way."

Craig stood closer and leaned in and kissed him. "I love what you 'say' and how you 'are.' Fuck I love it. So would you calm down?"

"Yeah," Evan whispered. "Ok."

They stretched out on their towels, Craig in his back with his shades on and Evan on his side, looking at him, propped up on one elbow. 

"Fuck this feels good. Mmmm," Craig moaned, getting comfortable in the hot sun. Evan smiled. What a diva. He knew Craig was well aware of how hot he was. He watched him stretch out, one leg slightly spread, his arms comfortably behind his head. Evan gazed at the sunlight glinting off his nipples and drying the drops of salty water on his skin and had to stop himself from licking it off. 

"So you've been with guys like me before?" he asked him.

"Yes. A lot." 

Evan could believe it. Not only was he gorgeous, he was just so . . . alluringly gay. In a way that made Evan want to be, too. 

"I don't know," Craig said, stretching luxuriously. "I've been a lot of guys' first experience. I seem to attract it."

"And it doesn't—turn you off?"

Craig looked at him like he was crazy. "Uhhhhhh, no." He laughed. "No. Just the opposite."

"I never had any idea . . ." Evan felt so fucking stupid saying it. And ashamed and embarrassed. 

"No? Seriously?"

"No. How could that be? I mean . . . I'm ok with it . . . never had issues with gay guys. . . never a problem. So how could this never have happened before?"

"Does it matter? You're here now, aren't you?"

"Yes. I am," Evan said, looking at him. 

He continued, "My dad's pretty homophobic."

"Huh. Maybe that has something to do with it," Craig mused.

"With what?"

"With why you're not out."

"How so?"

"I'm not sure. Just a thought. That's one thing about my old man."

"What? He knows?"

"Sure. It's the one thing he does get about me."

"Oh wait, he's not gay is he?"

Craig scoffed. "Noooooo. As fucking straight as they come."

"Then how—?"

"He's a very sexual guy. It's the one thing he understands about people. The ONE thing."

"How did you tell him?"

"I didn't. I just starting bringing boys home. It was never a big deal."

Evan found this utterly fascinating and exotic. Intoxicating, really. Never in a million years could he imagine such a thing.

"When did you have your first boyfriend?"

"Well I wouldn't call it a 'boyfriend' . . . it was in prep school. We were all fucking and sucking each other."

Evan felt his jaw literally drop. "What?! You mean those guys from the party?"

"Some of them, sure. In the showers, at home. It wasn't a big deal."

"So you've always . . . known."

"Yep. Never been with a woman. Never wanted to. Can't see that ever happening."

"So why are you alone now?"

"Oh . . . I guess you could say I have issues," he said evasively.

"'Issues?'"

"Everyone in LA has 'issues.' You want to get into the 'issues' talk today, too?"

"Uh . . ." Evan had very little idea what he was talking about. 

Craig turned to face him, also curling up on one elbow.

"Sooo . . . you've never known . . . I'm seriously your first? That's fascinating."

"No, it's not."

"Yes it is. I can't imagine."

"Well what about you? Prep school? That's fascinating."

Craig shrugged. "It's just sex."

"Yes, but . . ." Evan found it hard to articulate what he wanted to say. "It isn't to me."

"Yes," said Craig, gazing at him. "I know."

They got quiet for a minute, staring at each other. 

Evan asked Craig, "What about for you? What is 'this' for you? Is it just sex?"

Craig looked into his dark eyes. They were so utterly honest, open, pure and transparent. He'd seen that look before, on many guys' faces, especially new guys like Evan. It was the look of someone who had never been deeply hurt, who'd never had their heart broken. On the one hand, he wanted to melt into it. Give into it immediately. Give himself to him. On the other, he wanted to run from it, as far away as possible. He didn't feel worthy of that adoration. 

"No," said Craig honestly. "No, it's not. I thought it might have been, at first, but . . . Jesus, Evan—"

"Yeah?"

He whispered. "I'm not what you think. I'm pretty fucked up. I mean I think you saw. . ."

"Yeah, so? It's why I like you. One reason."

"Are you crazy? Because I am. Just ask my sister."

"You fascinate me. Everything about you. Your life. Your 'issues.' I want to know. I want to know everything."

Craig looked at him. "Why?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

"It's different. So different from me. I feel like I was born on another planet. Closed, conservative. No one has issues. I'm so boring. I want to know . . . I don't think I've ever really been in love. You have."

"I like 'boring.'"

"What do you mean?"

"I bet you come from one of those families . . . holidays, barbecues . . . "

Evan rolled his eyes. "Yes, sort of."

"Let me guess, your dad was a cop, too."

"Captain."

"Well I find that fascinating. I wish I had had that. You have no idea."

Evan suddenly pushed himself up on his hands and got above Craig. He was hard, overcome by sudden lust. "Well maybe I'm just what you're looking for."

Craig reached up and caressed his face. "That would be nice, wouldn't it? But I thought you said you weren't? That this was a mistake?"

Evan brushed it off. "Let me play the guessing game now."

"Shoot."

"Craig Symons, poor little rich boy. Hung up on his father. Dad is sexy and charismatic and powerful, but never around. Too busy fucking women. Emotionally abandons his children; throws money at them instead." 

"All right, keep going."

Evan moved in closer and spoke quietly. "Sex is easy for him, but love is not. He's never been in a stable relationship. He craves a strong man in his life, but always chases after replacement fathers who end up abandoning him."

"Too easy."

Evan whispered against his shoulder. "I like that about you."

Craig pulled back abruptly to stare at him as if to say "What are you, fucking nuts?"

"I love it. It's beautiful. It's hot. It's so . . . gay." In the most beautiful way, Evan thought. He was in love with it. He was in love with Craig's homosexuality. Nothing could possibly be wrong with any of it.

"It's fucking twisted."

"No, it's not. Only the guys you choose are twisted. There's nothing twisted about what you want."

Craig leaned closer to him. He felt his heart doing back flips and the world starting to spin around him, as it did when he was beginning to fall in love.

"Thanks for taking me up here today."

"Oh, we're not done yet. There's this great little Mexican restaurant I know—"

Craig impulsively kissed him.

He whispered. "Let's go back . . . Do you mind?"

"What about the rest of the day?"

"Fuck it. I want to go home. Take me home and . . . be with me. Will you?"

Evan knew exactly what he was asking for, and he wanted it just as much, though he felt a surge of nerves clutch at his back, into his thighs and hips and a fluttering of fear in his stomach. 

He stared at Craig. "Yeah, let's go back."

+++

Evan was so hard and turned on driving back he thought the vibrating power of the bike was going to make him orgasm on the road. He drove as fast as he possibly could, as if he was scared his courage would somehow magically evaporate before he got Craig home, alone and in his bed.

Among many reasons why Craig was so amazing, was the effect he had on him. Evan never knew what he was going to say, didn't even know what he had in his mind before he spoke. He felt like every moment he was with him he was being born, a new person, full of a wisdom he had no idea he had. He flew on his bike, as eager to meet this new Evan as Craig was, afraid if he didn't go fast enough to meet him he'd just tumble into a void. Or worse, back into that stifling sense of dissatisfaction. Anything but that.

Huge white cumulus clouds filled the sky. He was racing towards the sun with an angel. He didn't want to look back and find he'd disappeared.

+++

As soon as they got into Craig's bedroom, Evan gently pushed him on the bed and got on top of him. His hand found his neck, lightly holding it and tracing his jaw. He held his face as he looked into his eyes. 

"There's nothing wrong with wanting a Daddy."

Craig winced, embarrassed.

"I so want to fuckin' be that for you. Will you let me? Will you let me take care of you?"

Craig felt himself melting, opening up, wanting to give in to terrible needs that he couldn't seem to control, once he let them out. 

"Are you just saying that? You don't know me, really, Evan. You don't know."

Evan grabbed him more firmly by the jaw. "Look at me. Yes, I do."

Evan spoke. "Do you think I understand what's going on here? I don't. I'm not as experienced as you. I'm not 'in the club.' But I know how you make me feel. I know how I respond. I know you because of what you evoke in me."

Craig could only gaze at him, unable to speak, but he wrapped his legs around Evan's on top of him, drawing him closer.

"Tell me what you want," Evan whispered. "Tell me why you wanted me to bring you back here." 

Evan took his arms and brought them over his head and pinned them there. They were poised in a tense configuration, looking into each other's eyes, Evan pinning his arms and Craig beneath using his legs to keep Evan close. 

"Tell me, Craig."

Craig stared deeply into his eyes. "I want you to fuck me . . . please, Evan . . ." he whispered.

"Yeah," Evan breathed, stroking Craig's hair, his cheeks, looking at him tenderly. "You do." 

"Come here." He pulled Craig up off the bed and they got into his luxurious master bath. It was dark and sexy, with black tiles and a huge, glass-enclosed shower. Craig leaned back on the expensive marble sink, still dressed, waiting for Evan to touch him. He was reminded of the first night they met, leaning back on his Porsche, transfixed by the sight of Evan in his uniform, and the strangely sweet manner in which he'd cuffed him. 

Evan's dark eyes locked into Craig's blue ones as he approached. Every moment, every step towards him felt like he was sloughing off an old self, a persona he no longer wanted, and stepping into a new one. 

He felt confidence coursing through him—a fountain of confidence and pride pushing up from his cock, into his whole body. He felt like a god who could do no wrong. 

He stepped towards Craig, planting himself firmly between his spread thighs, his hips and cock jutted forward. Craig's hands gently slid to his waist and stayed there as Evan took his face in his hands and kissed him, hard and forcefully and possessively. He wrapped one arm around his head and bent him back, owning him, making him his, forcing his mouth open and ravaging it with his tongue. He breathed deeply into his neck, loving the taste and smell, and licking his skin as his hands began to roam over his chest and back. They fell into passionate kissing as Evan clutched Craig tightly to him, squeezing and pressing and fondling his beautiful shoulders and back, his flesh becoming more familiar to him by the second. He inhaled his smells, memorizing his body with his hands, knowing he was going to be with this body for a long time.

"Evan," Craig whispered into his neck, holding him and loving his solidity and strength. He didn't want him to ever leave.

Evan pulled back, grasping Craig's hair, looking at him. "How could anyone ever give you up? They're fuckin' nuts."

"Stay with me. Be with me. Please," Craig whispered.

"I'm not going anywhere, are you kidding?" 

Desperately wanting to get closer to him, Evan pulled at his clothes, needing his warm body, wanting to undress him. He pulled his shirt over his head, kissing him again once he got it off. He couldn't stop caressing his skin. 

"Is this normal?" asked Evan, stroking his neck, shoulders, and face. "Does this happen to you all the time?" They really didn't know each other that well.

Craig shook his head. No, this was different. He'd been with a lot of men. But rarely was this kind of intimacy and tenderness, this perfect lust, there right from the beginning. 

"Not even with 'new guys?'"

"No," Craig said, holding onto his forearms. "I don't get it, either. But . . . don't question it . . ." he murmured, kissing him, and reaching for his belt. "Just go with it . . ."

"Oh fuck, yes," Evan gasped, as Craig found his cock and stroked it, rubbing it from the outside of his jeans, cupping his balls and feeling his mound pressing obscenely through his clothes. 

"Mmmm," Evan moaned a deep growl in his throat. He frantically unzipped his pants, pushing them down, and thrust his cock towards Craig's skillful hand. "Oh fuck you turn me on!" He reached for Craig, finding his dick and moaning as he rubbed him at the same time, kissing him deeply as they aroused each other, their hands actively working each other's dicks outside their briefs, knowing exactly what to do. Evan felt his lust gaining, growing and directing itself towards Craig's sweet body. He hurriedly stepped out of his jeans, kicked off his underwear and freed Craig from his. They immediately embraced, kissing as their cocks naturally pushed and pressed and rubbed together.