Patrick and Angel: Reunion
Patrick thought a lot about the encounter with Angel. He even caught himself looking around for the angelic face, especially in the evenings.
After two weeks he scolded himself for acting like a love-sick puppy. Sure, Angel had been pretty, no, beautiful, no wait—he'd been more than beautiful. Words eluded Patrick to describe Angel sufficiently. He wasn't merely drawn to the angel, with the fascinating companion, because of his physical appearance. There had been more, a certain vibe that had sparked between them, which now caused Patrick to pine for the man.
“Get over yourself,” he muttered to himself one evening.
Mr. Toffee, his large cat greeted him at the door as soon as he inserted the key in the lock. Patrick frowned. Mr. Toffee didn't usually greet him except on the rare occasions Patrick forgot to feed him in the mornings. He was sure he'd filled the cat's bowls this morning, so why was Mr. Toffee meowing?
Patrick cracked the door open, pushed Mr. Toffee back into the house and eventually squeezed himself inside. The cat weaved through his legs, bumping his head firmly against Patrick's shins. He bent down to pet Mr. Toffee and talked to him. When the cat was satisfied he ambled toward the living room, jumped on the ledge of the large window and hissed.
Patrick rolled his eyes, hung up his jacket, exchanged his shoes for comfortable slippers and pulled his shirt from his pants. Flipping on the lights as he went, he walked to the kitchen where he put the kettle on. Even over the boiling water he heard Mr. Toffee hiss and snarl almost constantly.
“Hey, Mr. Toffee! What is it? A big bird? Want me to let you out so you can chase it?”
The cat hissed again, sounding even sharper and more annoyed than before. Intrigued, Patrick walked into the living room. Mr. Toffee stood on the ledge and arched his back. Patrick had never seen his cat this agitated before. He came closer and peered through the window.
A large shadow jumped against the window, causing a new hissing fit from Mr. Toffee while Patrick stumbled backward a few steps. One of his hands covered his erratically beating heart as he gaped outside.
“What the hell?” he asked.
The shadow pressed his large head against the windowpane, showing off a red-glowing eye. Cautiously, Patrick walked back to the window. He picked Mr. Toffee up and stared. He remembered this... thing, er, hell-hound.
“What's he doing here?” Patrick asked himself. Loudly he said, “I don't have any fries.”
The beast let out a howl and stepped back from the window. Patrick's gaze followed the beast. The hell-hound trudged over to the fence with his tail tucked between his hind legs. On the fence sat Angel.
Patrick sucked in a breath. It really was Angel, balancing precariously on a small fence post, his legs swinging back and forth. He held out both arms for the hell-hound. The beast hauled himself up on his big hind legs and laid both forepaws on Angel's shoulder. He nuzzled Angel's face and Patrick couldn't decide whether he was disgusted by the side of Angel cuddling the beast or if he wanted to exclaim a heartfelt “awww”.
After setting Mr. Toffee on the floor, Patrick ventured out through the back door. Slowly, he walked up to Angel and the beast. He cleared his throat when neither of them seemed to notice his presence.
The hell-hound directed his glowing red eyes at him, his tail swishing side to side. Patrick asked, “Is he excited to see me or does he expect me to get him some fries?”
King Kong gave one single bark, which sounded like a whole pack of hounds barking at once. Patrick started at the sound, and quickly looked around to see if one of the neighbors stuck out their head to see what's going on.
“Shh, King Kong,” Angel admonished his pet. The beast immediately lowered himself to the ground and sat there primly, waiting for his master's next command.
“He's... very well trained,” Patrick offered.
“Of course he is. I trained him myself.”
Patrick rolled his eyes before asking, “So, what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
Angel's face lit up as he smiled broadly at Patrick. Swallowing heavily at the unexpected rush of lust flooding through his veins, Patrick stared at the other man. However, Angel's next words served as a cold shower.
“I'm here to collect my reward. I told you I'd find you and that you'd obey me.”
Patrick refrained from rolling his eyes again. “Ah, right. I didn't expect you to wait outside in my garden, I have to admit.”
Angel exhaled a long sigh. “I would have waited inside your house, of course, but I'd have to leave King Kong outside and he'd cry the whole time.”
“That's... very inconvenient.”
“It is! Just because he's a hell-hound by nature means the owner of the house has to invite him in. I can walk anywhere I want but he has to be invited because of some ooooooold rules.” Angel shook his head disapprovingly.
He hopped down from the fence, one wing wrapped securely around him, covering all the interesting parts of his physique while the other wing was neatly tucked up on his back.
“I demand of you to invite King Kong into your house,” Angel declared.
Oh, here we go again! “Do you now?”
Irritated, Angel replied, “Yes, I do. Now do as you're told.”
With great effort Patrick managed to suppress his laughter. Calmly, he said, “No.”
Angel's mouth fell open and his eyes widened. “What?”
“I said no. I suppose it's not a word you hear often, am I right?”
“You can't say no! I demand of you--” Angel broke off, when Patrick stepped closer with his right hand lifted.
“If you ask me instead of demand, I might, emphasis lying on might, think about it.”
Angel's cheeks colored. He scowled at Patrick, which only fueled Patrick's desire to hug the man—right after putting him over his knees.
“Ah!” Patrick said.
Angel stamped his left foot on the ground and yelled, “I'm an angel! I don't ask, I demand! And I demand of you--”
Patrick stepped even closer. Angel pushed himself off the ground, both wings flapping and revealing his finely toned body as well as his crotch. Patrick grinned up at the flushed angel and asked, “What was it you wanted to ask?”
“I did not want to ask! King Kong, come up here. We're done.”
Patrick shrugged, waved and walked back to his house. When he reached the back door, he heard wings sweeping through the air, twirling up old leaves in their wake.
“Wait!” Angel called.
He landed behind Patrick, then brushed the tip of one wing over Patrick's neck. The soft touch elicited a gasp and shiver from Patrick. He turned around to face the angel. King Kong landed next to his master with a reverberating thunk. Patrick raised an eyebrow in amusement while Angel grimaced.
“He's not the most graceful creature,” Angel stated. He immediately scratched the beast behind his ears, adding, “but he has other qualities.”
“I'm sure he has.”
Patrick waited while Angel petted King Kong. He caught the angel darting glances at him now and then but stopped himself from making it easy for Angel. His patience paid off in the end. Angel stared at the top of his beast's head and mumbled, “Would you please invite King Kong into your house?”
“See, that wasn't so hard,” Patrick praised. “Now try it again while looking at me.”
Angel's head shot up. “You want me to look at you while I beg you to... No! That's ridiculous. Invite him in! Now! I demand of you—”
“I swear if you're going to use the phrase I demand of you or even just the word demand one more time, I'll put you over my knee.”
Angel gazed at him in confusion. “Why would you do that? Is that a good position for me to be in to receive my reward?”
Patrick couldn't help it—he laughed. Angel kept staring at him in bewilderment until Patrick calmed down again. Still chuckling, he asked, “Have you never heard the term I'll put you over my knees before?”
“No? What does it mean?”
“It means, you'll be lying across my lap and I'll spank your lovely bottom.”
Angel jumped back a step. He opened and closed his mouth several times while his eyes grew bigger and bigger. Patrick watched Angel's wings turn pink before he glanced at the angel's crotch. The arousal was visible and Patrick smirked.
“Th-That's not what I had in m-mind,” Angel stuttered. “It doesn't sound very r-rewarding to me.”
“No? It does to me.”
“But wouldn't it hurt me?”
Patrick laughed again. “Of course it would. That's the whole point of it so you'd remember your manners the next time you want something from me or anyone else.”
Angel took another two steps back. A pout formed on his face and he said, “You're not worth my attention.”
He whirled around and quickly crossed Patrick's lawn. King Kong stared from Patrick to Angel, then heaved a sigh and trotted after his master. To Patrick's astonishment he felt a sharp pang of loss at seeing Angel walking away from him.
“Some people like to get spanked. It turns them on sexually,” he called after Angel.
Angel glanced over his shoulder. “I'm not some people. I'm an angel.”
“Suit yourself,” Patrick murmured.
He opened the door and slipped inside the house. For a moment he stood in his living room, not sure what to do with himself. Eventually, he shook himself and forced his feet to go to the kitchen to fix something for dinner.
He brewed some tea before he rummaged through his fridge. The knock at his kitchen window caused him to hit his head pretty badly at the top of the fridge. Rubbing his head he stared at the window.
Sighing, he opened it and asked, “What is it now?”
“You are supposed to come after me! I told you that much the last time we met! You're not doing this right!” Angel told him, his voice holding so much indignation that Patrick had to smile.
“You need to learn some manners. Now, if you'd excuse me, I'd like to prepare dinner.”
Patrick was about to close the window when Angel grabbed his wrist, sending an electrical tingle through his whole body. He heard Angel moan and sluggishly lifted his eyes to gaze at the angel. All sluggishness left him as he caught sight of Angel. The man glowed, a soft golden halo shimmering around him while his clear blue eyes sparkled.
“Angel?” Patrick asked softly.
Angel slowly withdrew his hand, then held it in front of his eyes, scrutinizing it. Patrick watched the angel's chest heave up and down, a fine flush covering his skin until Angel dropped his hand.
When Angel looked at him again Patrick's breath hitched. God, he had it bad! His cock throbbed painfully in the confinement of his jeans. Before Patrick could react, Angel had squeezed himself through the kitchen window and now crouched on the counter top, his wings draped securely around him.
King Kong put his huge paws on the window sill and barked. If it had sounded like a pack of hounds earlier it sounded now like a dozen of packs.
“Tell him to stop!” Patrick shouted.
“He won't listen. He wants to be with me.”
“Then go back to him!”
“What?” Patrick felt the first beads of sweat trickling down his back.
“No. I want to be where you are.”
Patrick wrapped his arms around Angel, intent on lifting him off his counter and carrying him to the back door but as soon as he had Angel in his arms he changed his mind. Warmth flooded him, pooled in his gut and spread out from there. Angel uncurled his wings to push closer to Patrick and both men moaned when Patrick rubbed his hands over Angel's bare skin.
“Invite him in?”
“If this is a ploy to get what you want, your lovely bottom will pay the price,” Patrick warned.
Angel looked him directly in the eyes, before pleading, “Please, Patrick?”
Patrick didn't know whether it was the word please or the use of his name but he relented. “King Kong, please come in.”
The beast yipped in delight and hauled himself up on the window sill. He tried squeezing his bulk through the window but grew frustrated when his wings got stuck. Mr. Toffee chose this moment to make an appearance and jumped on the counter. Nonchalantly he walked up to King Kong and sniffed at him.
“Oh-oh,” Patrick said.
Seconds later Mr. Toffee jumped from the counter in triumph. King Kong howled while Angel screeched in outrage. “Your cat scratched my pet! How dare it! I demand--”
Despite the bizarreness of the situation Patrick did what he'd promised Angel earlier. He pulled him into his arms, carried him over to a chair and put him over his knees. Angel let everything happen to him almost docilely—right to the point when Patrick's hand slapped down on his ass for the first time.
Angel screamed, King Kong barked and Mr. Toffee trundled back into the kitchen, wanting to know what the commotion was all about.
“I told you not to use the word demand again,” Patrick said, all the while bringing his hand down on Angel's ass. He didn't use much force but Angel screamed as if he was getting skinned. King Kong's bark worsened to the point where Patrick shouted, “Quiet!”
King Kong stopped instantly. He stared at Patrick and whimpered. The whimper was piercing, like a cacophony of whistles. Patrick cringed while Mr. Toffee whizzed out of the room.
“I said quiet, understood?”
King Kong simply stared at him but remained silent. Angel did no such thing. He screamed, kicked his legs, flapped his wings and wiggled on Patrick's lap. It was like holding on to a slippery eel—almost impossible.
Angel pushed his left wing into Patrick's face, hissing and sputtering. Patrick had long stopped spanking, hell he hadn't gotten more than a few smacks in, but Angel kept screeching. No matter what Patrick said nothing seemed to get through to the angel. In the end, he held Angel as securely as he could and waited.
Angel's struggle ceased after a while. On a sudden impulse, Patrick rubbed his face against Angel's left wing and dropped kisses on the soft feathers. Angel gasped loudly. He also calmed down in an instant.
“So, that's how to calm you down, hm?” Patrick murmured into the feathers.
Angel's wings turned pink, even a bit red at the tip of them. Patrick bit his lower lip and slowly loosened his grasp on Angel. “I'm helping you up now.”
Patrick set Angel on his feet, curious to see Angel's face. Angel hid behind a curtain of blond curls while he reached around to feel his ass. “Y-You... you... smacked my bottom. Again.”
Angel's voice broke and Patrick's heart stumbled a beat. Had he gone too far? “I told you I'd spank you if you used the word demand again, didn't I?”
Angel lifted his face, a few tears trickling down his cheeks. “B-But it hurts. This is not how it's supposed to go. Nothing is going as it should since I met you. Nothing. I'm an angel! You are supposed to show me your respect and worship me and-and do what I say. What is wrong with you?”
“My poor Angel, all confused.”
“Your angel?” Angel whispered softly.
“Freudian slip,” Patrick wheedled.
“Who is Freudian and why did he slip? What has that got to do with me being your angel?”
“Freud not Freudian and he was--” Patrick cut himself off. “Forget it. Turn around and let me have a look.”
Angel wiped the tears off his cheeks, turned around and slowly withdrew his hands. Patrick's eyes widened at the sight. He saw his hand prints all over Angel's ass. Tentatively he stroked over Angel's flesh, eliciting a moan from the angel.
“Your skin seems very sensitive because I know I did not slap all that hard.”
“All angels have a sensitive skin. Last time you smacked my bottom your hand prints were visible for three days. It was so embarrassing, especially because father said I was to visit you again.”
“Your father?” Patrick repeated. “I thought... oh, never mind. Okay, I'll keep your sensitive skin in mind the next time I smack you.”
Angel whirled around, both hands covering his behind. “Next time? There will be no next time!”
Patrick looked from Angel's face to his crotch. To Patrick's astonishment he found Angel was fully erect. A kinky angel? Patrick wasn't sure how he felt about this but reached out nonetheless, giving Angel's erection one long stroke. Angel whimpered at the sensation.
When Patrick pulled away he said, “I d--, I-I mean, will you pleasure me now?”
“You mean suck you?”
“Why would you suck at me?” Angel replied confused.
“Suck at you? No, I mean blow you.”
“Why would you blow me?”
Patrick put his hands on his hips, a frown on his face. “What exactly entails pleasuring for you?”
Angel blushed. It took him a couple of tries to get out the words. “I've heard other angels talk about it. I only know you have to kneel in front of me.”
Patrick sat back heavily on the chair he'd just vacated. Despite his attitude Angel was still completely innocent. Patrick wasn't sure he was the right man for this. Angel walked up to him, asking, “Are you sick?”
Patrick smiled weakly, then patted on his right thigh. When Angel didn't get his meaning, he snatched Angel's hand and pulled him on his lap. Angel hissed and squirmed, his wings flapping and rustling. Patrick grabbed a fistful of feathers and dropped kisses onto them. Angel's squirming stopped immediately. He snuggled closer to Patrick, all the while staring at him in awe.
“This is an erogenous zone none of my former lovers ever had,” Patrick muttered.
“I'm special, very special,” Angel declared. “You aren't going to pleasure me, are you?”
“No. At least not right now.”
“Not even if I say please?”
Patrick smiled and trailed his fingers along the ridges of Angel's left wing. “No, not even then.”
“Why? Your love-stick seems to be in need of pleasure itself.”
“Love-stick?” Patrick chortled. “You've got a lot to learn, my angel.”
Angel beamed at Patrick. “You said my angel again.”
“I guess I did.”
“Good. I dem--”
“Oops,” Angel grinned at him. “I wish you to kiss me.”
Patrick cupped the angelic face in his hands, brushed his thumbs over the high cheekbones and gently pressed his lips to Angel's. He tasted so sweet, so right, so incredible.
When they came up for air, they were both panting. “Are you sure you don't want to pleasure me?”
Laughing, Patrick tucked some of the golden ringlets behind Angel's left ear. “We'll get there in time. You have to be patient.”
“But why? I'm an angel, I always get everything I desire instantly.”
“Not when you stay with me.”
Angel pouted, which caused Patrick to grin even more than before. The angel blew out a long breath when he concluded his pout wouldn't get him the result he wanted.
“You're a very difficult man,” Angel complained. “Are all men like you? Maybe I could ask someone else to plea--”
Angel broke off mid-sentence when Patrick flipped him back over his lap. Patrick gave Angel's ass a light tap while he struggled to keep hold on Angel's flailing arms and wings. “Was this a serious question or did you just want to provoke me? Be careful with your answer, little angel.”
Angel glanced over his shoulder at Patrick, a sheepish smile on his face. “Provoke you.”
Patrick brought his hand down sharply on Angel's sit spot as he said, “Don't.”
Angel screeched, mostly in outrage but agreed anyway. “I won't!”
“Good.” Patrick put him upright again, then ushered him to the backdoor. “Get your hell-hound inside.”
“What about the pleasure?”
Patrick groaned. How was he supposed to survive the rest of the evening? What the hell had he gotten himself into?
But that, ladies and gentleman, will be explored in the next installment. ;-)