ANGEL: When Angels Cry (6 page)

Gabe pulled him back up then dropped onto his
back so Cole was riding him again. His rock hard erection smacked
against Gabe’s rippled abs as he bounced on the man’s cock with
urgency, clutching Gabe’s chest again. The bed knocked loudly
against the wall, rattling shit on the night stand, threatening to
toss the lamp to the floor. Cole didn’t give a fuck. The entire
fucking house could crash down around them at that moment and it
wouldn’t faze him as he fucked his lover to a forceful orgasm.

“Fuu-uuck!!”
Gabe yelled, choking on the wail
spiraling up his throat. He fucked Cole harder, ass lifting off the
bed as he burst inside him. His fingers pinched Cole’s hips
fiercely and his thrusts turned erratic.

Cole’s mind squeezed and threatened to crack
as cum began to squirt from his cock head, a little at first then
his full load.
“Fuuuck! Uuuhh!!”
Gabe grabbed his dick and pumped
him furiously, working out his orgasm.
“Shit! Fuck, Gabe!
Yes…oh my god…oh
fuck…that feels so fucking good…” He gasped for air as his body
remained locked, tense, as Gabe’s perfect hand slid up and down his
shaft until he began to relax a little and soften in his fist.
“Holy shit.” Cole fell onto the bed next to Gabe, hand plastered on
his heaving chest, sucking for air.

“So…” Gabe panted hard, exhaustion weighing
his eyelids. “About Dane…”

Cole chuckled and sucked in a deep breath,
releasing it with force. “I think he’s afraid to admit he’s falling
for Angel.” He released another hard breath and looked at Gabe. “I
just don’t know why.”

Grinning, Gabe rubbed the back of his fingers
down Cole’s damp, hot cheek. “Me neither.” He breathed hard. “Being
in love is fucking
great
.”

***

The clock above the bar read 5:36 a.m.

The club was silent, most of the lights
turned out, the front doors locked. Dane grabbed himself a beer and
sat on a stool, his back to the bar as he stared distantly at the
stage. Behind his eyes, he saw Ricky and Angel up there, going
through the motions. In these quiet, dark hours of the morning, he
was able to admit to himself that his
animosity
towards Ricky was
misplaced. The guy could only teach Angel what he knew, but it
twisted Dane’s guts with nausea to watch Angel dance that way. He
didn’t know why–they all did to some degree. They were strippers,
for fuck’s sake. Their dance wasn’t supposed to be
clean
.

So why–when Caleb had performed–had Dane
merely found it exciting and hot? But when Angel began to dance
with the same moves…he wanted to drag him off the stage and hide
him away?

He thought about Cole’s words, his suggestion
for Dane to teach Angel a more sensual style of dancing. He wanted
to, he couldn’t deny that anymore. But that
something
was still there, holding
him back. He didn’t understand what it was, but felt like he should
know. Yet when he reached for it, tried to analyze it–it evaded his
touch and hid in the shadows of his mind. Sometimes it felt ominous
and filled his heart with an irrational fear. Other times, it
formulated an ache so fierce and painful he wanted to cry and
scream. And still, he didn’t understand it. Didn’t know from where
it stemmed.

Or why it flared up each and every time Angel
looked in his eyes.

It almost felt as if…he didn’t believe he
deserved
to
be loved by the boy.

The back door clicked and opened, then closed
again. Dane glanced towards the rear entryway. Quiet footsteps
walked down the narrow hall then Max appeared in the doorway,
clearly startled to see Dane at the bar.

“You’re here awful early.” Max came over to
the bar.

Dane twisted back around and set the beer
bottle on the bar top. “Actually,” he murmured. “I’m here awful
late
.”

Frowning, Max took the stool next to him.
“You’ve been here all night?” Dane nodded. Max shook his head.
“Why?”

“Didn’t feel like going home.” He licked his
lips and let out a slow breath, then looked at the older man. “Ever
feel that way? Like there’s nothing to go home to?”

Dragging his hand over his mouth, Max nodded
slowly and whispered, “Every damn night.”

Dane twisted the bottle on the bar, eyes
blank. “Do
you
think I should give Angel dance lessons?” he
asked quietly, distantly.

Max sighed and stood up, slid his arm across
Dane’s shoulder and kissed his cheek. “I think you should listen to
your heart.” He murmured, then walked away towards his office.

Twisting his head around, Dane watched him
go.
Maybe you
should take your own advice, boss.

In The Shadows of Hell

He couldn’t decide if the mild shock on Max’s
face was a
good
shock or a bad one. “Horatio.”

Horatio closed the office door behind him. He
had said he would try to comply with Max’s wishes, and stay away.
But he’d also told him he wasn’t making any promises. And what Max
truly wished for wasn’t the things he spoke aloud.

“I thought you were…overseas.” Max remained
seated behind his desk as if it served as a barrier to keep Horatio
at bay. His eyes were evasive and rarely met Horatio’s gaze for
more than seconds at a time.

“I was.” Horatio sat down on the sofa and
poured himself a drink. “And now I’m back.”

“Why are you…
here?
” Max asked anxiously.

Shrugging, Horatio sipped the drink. “Just
thought I’d check in and see how things were going with your
boy.”

Max frowned, momentarily puzzled, then
nodded. “Caleb? Things…seem to be going well.” He finally stood up
and came out from behind the desk. “And, again, thank you for your
help.”

Clearing his throat, Horatio nodded absently.
“My pleasure.” He murmured and touched the glass to his lips again.
“It’s nice to be of some use now and then, have a purpose, even if
it’s only temporary.”

“What’re talking about?” Max walked over as
Horatio poured him a drink and handed it to him. “You do a lot of
good, for a lot of people. You contribute to numerous
important
charities. And
you’re generous with your money. That’s actually a rare
quality.”

Horatio glanced up as Max remained standing.
“I could help you more.” He said quietly, then smiled, “Buy you a
nice big house, stock it with servants…”

Max chuckled. “What do I need with all that?
I only have
me
to take care of. I don’t need servants for that.”
He walked around the glass coffee table and sat in the chair.
“Besides, you already helped me plenty. If it wasn’t for your
backing, this club would have never gotten on its feet.”

“Yeah.” Horatio murmured and downed his
drink, gaze distant. When Max had left him all those years ago, it
had taken him close to five years to find him again. At that time,
the Phoenix had just been an idea in Max’s head. But it was an idea
that had been simmering for a long time. Horatio knew–because he
had been the one to initially plant the seed. He looked at Max. “Do
you remember…that this was originally
my
idea?”

“What?”

“Opening a gay strip club.” He smiled wryly.
“We would lay out under the stars, buck naked, staring at the night
sky and talking about our dreams, what we wanted to do with our
lives.” He laughed softly. “You thought I was insane when I said we
should open a strip club.”

His lips tight, Max smiled and nodded. “I
remember.”

“Do you remember what put the idea in my
mind?”

Max stared blankly at his glass, his
fingertips tapping the edge. He nodded silently.

“We danced so well together.” Horatio
murmured, an ache squeezing his throat. “We were…in perfect sync.
And you…god, you were so fucking sexy. I’d never seen a body move
like yours could.” He licked his lips slowly and glanced away.
“When I saw Abel on stage…it was like watching you all over again.”
He swallowed thickly and looked at Max. “I always wanted to see you
dance on stage.” He smiled softly. “With me as your only audience,
of course.”

Max rubbed his mouth and sniffed, then met
Horatio’s gaze, eyes damp. “Is there a point to this
conversation?”

“Just reminiscing.” Horatio offered quietly
and leaned back against the sofa. “It’s all I have left. Can’t you
give me that much? Sit with me now and then and…” His eyes stung
and he looked away. “And take a moment to remember when things were
good and perfect between us?”

“What’s the good in remembering, Horatio?”
Max whispered, tears forming. “Where is the comfort in it? The
memories only…” he shook his head, his throat working. He set his
glass down a bit too hard and stood up, running his hand through
his hair. “The memories only make this reality hurt more. Sometimes
I wish…I could erase them all. Just forget that…” His words trailed
off as he turned his back to Horatio, gripping the nape of his neck
fiercely.

“Just forget that we ever loved each other?”
Horatio finished for him, voice thick with emotion. He stood up.
“Is that really what you wish? That you…” His vision blurred. “That
you had no memories of me at all? No memories of…
us?
”

Max nodded slowly without looking at him.
“Sometimes,” he whispered thickly, voice tight with tears. “I
do.”

“Fine.” Horatio murmured, hurt squeezing his
heart. “Then give them to me and you can forget I ever fucking
existed. I’ll keep the memories, because I’d rather spend my time
remembering the boy who used to love me–than the man too fucking
afraid of his own feelings.”

“That isn’t fair!” Max turned suddenly, eyes
burning with tears and pain. He jabbed a finger at Horatio. “That
isn’t
fucking
fair, and you know it, Horatio! This isn’t
about me being scared to love someone and you
fucking know it!
” he shook his
head, tears thick in his eyes, face pinched tight. “You think I
wouldn’t be with you in a
fucking heartbeat
if I could? You think I like going
home to a cold, empty house
every fucking night?
And suffering through
the fucking dreams that won’t go away!” His chin trembled as the
tears ran free, sliding down his face. “I don’t want the memories,
Horatio,” he cried, “because they hurt
too fucking much
.”

The man blurred and shimmered before him. Max
had never been this open and honest before, always hiding from the
truth of what all this was doing to him. “Max…” Horatio said
thickly.

Max turned away again and cold reality hit
him full force; him coming around was putting Max in torment. The
man wasn’t capable of feeling free to be with Horatio…and he never
would.

Do you love him enough to let him go? To just go
away and leave him in peace? Ease his suffering?

He licked his lips slowly and felt the warm
tears on his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Max.” he whispered. “I’ve…I’ve
been very selfish. I won’t…” He licked his lips again and tasted
his own tears. “I won’t be coming around anymore.” His legs felt
weighted as he walked unsteadily to the door and gripped the
handle. “Please forgive me.” Then he was gone.

***

Max had remained holed up in his office
nearly all day; mere random, sparse appearances the only indication
he was still at the club. And when Horatio Kaplan walked through
the club entrance at around seven that evening – Dane anticipated
emotional turmoil. He didn’t believe Kaplan was there to fuck with
Max and twist up his heart purposely, but that the man simply
didn’t possess the strength of will to stay away.

The raised voices coming out of Max’s office
hadn’t been lost on Dane. He had half expected one of the two men
to storm out of there in a rage. But when Horatio Kaplan had
emerged, it wasn’t in a flurry of anger. In fact, the guy walked
out subdued, looking like an unbearable weight had been suddenly
dropped on his shoulders. There was no fight in him, just pain–as
was evident in the tears wetting his face. Something monumental had
just gone down between him and Max, and Dane suspected his boss
wasn’t in much better condition.

He glanced at the office door to see if Max
would step out, possibly go after Kaplan. But the door remained
closed tight and silence reigned on the other side; no cursing or
objects breaking. Nothing to indicate the man was in a rage. But
the
quiet
was more unsettling. When one went silent, it usually meant they
were pulling their pain inward rather than releasing it. And that
was never a good thing.

When Kaplan left the club, Dane walked to the
office door and knocked quietly. “Max?”

No answer.

Dane twisted the knob and opened the door
slowly then stepped inside, closing it behind him. His heart broke
when he saw Max sitting on the sofa, head in his hands–crying. Max
was one of the strongest minded men Dane had ever met. It took a
lot to break a man like that. But here he sat…
broken
.

Remaining silent, Dane went to him and sank
to one knee. He cupped his head and kissed his hair, then gently
stroked the back of his neck. The man trembled and shook. Whatever
he’d been holding back for so long was finally breaking loose–and
it was more than he could handle.

“Come on.” Dane murmured. “Let me take you
home. You don’t need to be here right now.”

Max said nothing as he slowly stood up. He
didn’t look at Dane, just stared blankly at the floor. Whatever had
happened had left him an empty shell. Temporarily at least. Dane
hoped not permanently.

They left through the rear entrance and got
into Dane’s car. He didn’t know if he could do anything to help the
man, but he was damn well going to try.