Leo

The phone buzzes next to my head; waking me from a shallow, uncomfortable sleep. Through bleary eyes, I check the time: five a.m. Who the hell is texting me at five a.m.? I’m dead tired. I didn’t sleep a wink last night. An awful combo of new surroundings, sleeping on the floor, and being so exhausted, I sped past tired to awake again.

My body aches in places I didn’t know it could ache. Me and Ky busted our asses moving every single thing we own across town and into this new apartment over the weekend. Told her it’s because our old apartment was so bad, but that’s only partly true. Truthfully, I just can’t wait to see Angel every day. Pretty sure she’s on to me. I’m about as subtle as a brick through a glass window. 

I check the text and bolt upright from the floor. All traces of tiredness are gone in a flash. I gawk open mouthed at my phone and rub my eyes to make sure I’m not still dreaming. It’s a positively sinful photo from Angel.

He’s lying in his bed on his side, tired eyes gazing into the camera and teeth biting that plump lower lip. Covered by fluffy blankets and surrounded by a million pillows, he’s hugging a deep blue velvet one that has ‘Bitch Please’ stitched on it in silver thread. He’s buried one half of his face into the pillow and his hair is a sleep tousled halo around his head. He’s rumpled and sleepy and adorable and I get light-headed when all the blood drains from my brain right down to my cock. A second text pops up.

I need to stop and take some steadying breaths before I continue texting. Just the suggestion of being in a nest of cosiness, with him wrapped up in my arms, makes my heart race. The things we’d do and the sounds he’d make. Lord help me. My face and chest flush as I think about it. I throw off the blankets to cool down. I better change the subject before I nut in my boxers like an overeager teenager.

While my brain is on standby, all my thinking hijacked by my other head, my phone buzzes again. It’s a video. Curiosity burns through me. What’s he sending me now? After that picture, I’m almost afraid for my blood pressure to watch it. I take another deep steadying breath, and with shaky hands, tap to start the video.

Angel is close up to the phone camera, setting it on something to keep it upright. Once he’s set it up where he wants it, he backs into the room away from the camera. I think he’s in his bedroom? There’s soft grey morning light filtering in from the window, landing on the light green wall next to him. A chaotic patchwork of differently sized framed artwork and photos covers the wall. He speaks quietly, bent over and looking directly into the camera. 

His voice is husky, and with a sleepy smile he says, “Mornin’ handsome. Yes, I do yoga daily, right after I wake up. I’ll prove it to you.”

He straightens up and steps his bare feet onto a yoga mat lying on the floor. He’s wearing the smallest softest looking sleep shorts imaginable, and a slouchy, oversized, cotton sweater that keeps slipping off his shoulder. My god, that shoulder, I want to bite it. I want to breathe in his decadent scent from the gentle curve of his neck. He does a series of movements, transitioning smoothly between them while breathing deep, even breaths, his body flowing like water.

In contrast, I’m holding my breath, my heartbeat at a gallop. My already perked up cock is painfully hard now and I’m enthralled. I cannot pry my eyes away from him. He finishes the poses he’s doing, turns and gives the camera a shy smile, and a wave.

“See ya later today. I’ve got to finish getting ready. Go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you so early. Bye.” He steps back over to the camera and the video stops. 

My brain has melted and dribbled out my ears. I watch the video again. Then for a third time. I very much want to beat myself off while I watch this video. But that feels disrespectful to Angel, and it wasn’t his intent on sending it to me, so it’d be a pretty shitty thing to do without his permission. I’ve gotta get up and have a cold shower, cause I don’t have the willpower to resist if I keep laying here, and post nut clarity is gonna slap me like a real bitch. I haul myself up from the floor, untangling from the blankets, and shuffle to the bathroom. Angel really is tryin’ to kill me. 

A couple hours later, I’m standing over the sink eating my cereal, my mind a million miles away or possibly I’m just sleeping with my eyes open, when Ky punches me in the shoulder. The bowl goes flying out of my hand and crashes into the sink, milk splashing everywhere. I turn and glare at her. 

“What was that for ya buttmonkey? I was eatin’ that!” I grab a cloth and wipe up the milk.

“I thought you heard me. I said your name like a thousand times and I wasn’t bein’ quiet, douchenozzle! And ya weren’t eating it, you were off somewhere in your head, probably daydreamin’ about Chi.” She pauses for a second, a disgusted look taking over her features. Then she turns her head and pretends to vomit. “Oh gross, I hear it now. I get why you still call him Angel.” She does a dramatic, full body shudder. “I mean, I love ya dude, and I know we’re from the boonies, but I ain’t into that shit, man.” She wanders off and starts searching through half empty boxes. “Where the fuck are all the bowls?” I roll my eyes at her turned back. 

“Besides the fact that you’re my sister and that’s all kinds of messed up, I’m also gay, remember? The bowls are in that box there.” I point at a box across the room on the kitchen table. “Did ya sleep ok last night? Can you do some unpacking while I’m at work today?” She stops digging through the box and tilts her head to the side, considering. 

“True, you are gay…but technically, I’ve got the right parts. And yeah, I slept fine. No neighbours fuckin’ or fightin’ through the walls, so that’s a plus.”

She goes back to digging through the box. I assess her profile, not sure how to respond. She does this sometimes, referring to her assigned gender with morbid humour. I don’t wanna say the wrong thing, but I also don’t wanna leave it hanging there awkwardly in the air between us. I take the leap.

“Yeah, well, you’re still a girl no matter what parts you got and you’re still my little sister, so gross. I don’t know how we ended up on this topic. Are ya gonna do some unpackin’ while I’m at work? And don’t blow off studying today. You didn’t do any all weekend.” She rolls her eyes and sighs heavily, looking at the ceiling in supplication.

“Who’s fault is that? But yes, course I will. To both, before ya go naggin’ me to death, damn mother hen.”

She pulls out a bowl in triumph, then sits down at the kitchen island, hooking her ankles around the stool legs, and grabs the cereal box. As she pours herself a bowl, she smirks at me with a devious glint in her eye. I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her. She’s up to something, the brat. 

I narrow my eyes at her and ask, “What’re ya up to, huh? I can see the gears in your head turnin’ and I don’t like it.”

She puts her hand to her throat in mock surprise and lets out an indigent shout.

“Hey! Ya don’t trust me? I’m hurt!”

I purse my lips and wave my hand at her. 

“Out with it, ya hooligan.” Head down, she grumbles something into her cereal bowl that I can’t hear. My aggravation at her cagey attitude is growing, so I raise my voice and repeat, “Stop mumblin’ and out with it.”

She lifts her head and glares up at me with a huff. 

“I was just gonna, maybe, study in the cafe today, that’s all…” 

Rolling my eyes at her, I reply, “That’s fine. You didn’t need to make a big deal out of it. Just don’t go botherin’ Angel or Autumn. They’ve gotta work, so you can’t bug them.”

Her lips pull up into a big grin.

“Don’t worry, I’ll behave, promise.” She sticks out her little finger for a pinky promise. I’m pretty sure she’s lying, and absolutely will bother them the whole day, but I hook my finger with hers and break into a chuckle. 

“Okay, I’m gonna grab a coffee from Angel and get to work or I’ll be late. Meetin’ clients today, so it’ll be a long one. Probably won’t be back till seven at the earliest. You can get somethin’ delivered for supper if ya want.” I ruffle her hair as I pass her on my way to the door. “See ya later. Be good.” 

I pull on my high-vis vest as I’m taking the stairs down to the cafe. I’m irked that I’ve got to work late tonight. This is my only opportunity to see Angel all day. There are a few people ahead of me in line. Which isn’t surprising at 8:45 on a Monday morning. I don’t have to meet the client until 9:30. That means I have a bit of time if traffic isn’t terrible. As I’m waiting, I zone out, going over my work to-do list in my head, drumming my fingers on the hard hat in my hands. Meet clients, take lumber orders, finish cabinet install, start stair railings… 

There’s a sharp gasp and I whip my head up to see what’s wrong. While lost in thought, the line crept up to the counter, and now I’m at the front of the queue. Angel’s eyes are wide, his eyebrows raised, and his mouth is a little round o. I look around, curious about what startled him, but there’s no one behind me and nothing unusual happening. I beam a smile at him, set my hard hat down on the countertop, and lean across it to get closer. It’s so good to see him. Being close settles all my nervous energy and puts me at peace. I pitch my voice low to avoid being overheard.

“Hi Angel. The picture you sent? And that video?” I purr low in my throat. “So. Damn. Sexy. You had me distracted all mornin.”

His breath hitches, his wide eyes darting between mine and my lips. One of his curls has escaped his bandana, so I reach up and tuck it behind his ear, my finger caressing his jaw as I pull away.

He bites down on his lip, a blush creeping up his cheeks, and croaks, “H-hi.” He clears his throat and tries again. “Sorry. Hi. I didn’t mean to be distracting. It was just a little teasing, because you insisted on seeing me first thing, not realising I wake up at five most days. And, you didn’t believe me when I said I do yoga. I know I’m not as skinny, as flexible, or as strong as most practitioners. I do it for balance and keeping centred more than anything else.” He’s fiddling with his fingers and looking down. I reach out again and lift his chin with my finger. 

“So. Damn. Sexy. Thanks for sending them to me. And I believed ya. It just blew my mind, thinkin’ of you in all those bendy positions.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him and go on, changing the subject because he seems self-conscious. “Can I get a coffee to go? I gotta get to work. Ky was planning on studyin’ in the cafe later, that okay?” He nods his head and turns to make the coffee. 

Glancing at me from the corner of his eye, he says, “Yeah, that’s fine. I don’t mind. We offer free Wi-Fi for customers, so she can study down here if it doesn’t distract her.” He pauses, clears his throat again, then asks, “So, um, what do you do for work, anyway?”

I glance down at my usual work clothes. A t-shirt covered with a hi-vis vest, varnish-stained jeans, a tool belt low on my hips and beat up steel toe boots. My hard hat is still sitting on the countertop. Turnabout is fair play, so with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, I go ahead and tease him back.

“Can’t ya guess?”

He shakes his head at me, chuckling and rolling his eyes.

“I assume some sort of construction work? But how should I know? Maybe you’re the drummer for a Village People tribute band?”

My smile broadens. I love his sense of humour.

“The second one. How d’ya know?”

He’s outright laughing now. It’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. He’s so beautiful when he laughs, his face just lights up. My pulse quickens, and I wish for the thousandth time that I could stay with him all day. Setting down the finished cup of coffee, he leans over and swats my arm. 

“Jerk. It was a legitimate question! I don’t want to assume anything.” 

I grab his hand and bring it up to my lips, kissing his knuckles.

“You’re right Angel, I’m bein’ a jerk. Forgive me?” I press small soft kisses to his palm and inner wrist between words. “I’m a carpenter-joiner with a contracting firm. We create bespoke woodwork, then install it in rich folks’ houses for a shitton of money.” 

He breathes out a sigh and places his hand on the side of my face, teasing his fingers through my short beard. “Oh.” he whispers. I don’t think he realises that he’s swaying closer to me. I wish I could capture his lips with mine and kiss him silly. But I won’t. Yet. When I kiss him, I want to savour it. I want to take my time until he comes entirely undone. And since I need to keep my job, I give his palm one last kiss and force myself to straighten up. 

I grab the coffee off the countertop, smile, and ask, “How much do I owe ya? As much as I don’t wanna, I’ve gotta go.” 

He peeks up at me from under his long lashes, sticks his lower lip out and full on pouts. “Okay, I guess I’ll see you later? Have a great day and don’t worry about the coffee.”

I bark out a laugh at his adorableness, raising my hand and covering my eyes.

“Oh Angel, you gotta stop. Put away the big guns or I’ll never be able to leave.” He giggles. I force my legs to move and we wave goodbye to each other as I back out the door.