Tucker moaned, and Angel was lost in the sound, lost in the vision of Tucker’s body, naked and exposed, while Tucker stroked his own erect cock in a long-fingered fist.
Would one hand be on his chest? Angel was fascinated by his chest, by the dark hair against the pale skin, by the nipples that were such a delicate pink. Would he be pinching his nipples? Would he tease himself?
His moans escalated, and so did Angel’s imagination. Would he cup his testicles? Angel had been a voyeur more than once in this place, and even Ruth had stumbled upon some sexually charged artifacts. Angel had seen men do this, had seen them roll the tender balls delicately under the skin of the scrotum. Would Tucker touch himself underneath? Would he—
Another moan, this one deep and soul-ripping, and Angel let out a little moan of his own, closing his eyes and appearing on Tucker’s dresser. He kept his head, stayed invisible, but he saw, and it was just as he’d imagined, except he hadn’t thought of the sweat shining from Tucker’s flushed skin or the scent of semen and perspiration that saturated the air.
Or what it would do to Angel to see Tucker’s legs spread lewdly while he tried to penetrate himself with a spit-slickened finger.
“Oh yes!” Tucker cried out, and Angel took another breath, disappearing again and reappearing on the kitchen floor, close enough to hear Tucker scream, “Oh hells yeah!” but not in the room, not seeing him spurt seed all over his hand and his abdomen and chest.
But he imagined it. And he wrapped his imaginary arms around his imaginary knees, rocking back and forth and wishing, wishing, oh, wishing…
For that part of being human he’d assumed he could never have.
HE WAITED another half an hour and then went back to sitting on top of the dresser.
Tucker had turned out the lights in the kitchen and the bedroom by the time Angel got there, and had visited the tiny adjoining washroom as well. But he hadn’t bothered to put on pajamas, and in spite of the blanket wrapped securely around his shoulders, Angel had no doubt that he slept naked. Angel watched him for a while, picturing every sweep of skin, every mole, every imperfection under the bedclothes, until he realized that he’d started timing the breaths of his imaginary body to the breaths of Tucker’s real one.
He finally conceded to exhaustion and closed his mental eyes to sleep.
When he awoke, Tucker was already up and dressed. He’d left the sheets in a predictable tumble on the bed, but he’d cleaned up in the bathroom after he shaved. He’d shoved his clothes in the drawers, but the suitcases were still standing open in the middle of the floor.
Angel narrowed his eyes and sighed. He’d rather suspected Tucker wasn’t the kind to clean up after himself—but then, if he was waking up with someone new a lot, why would he get into the habit?
“Angel!” Tucker called from the kitchen. Angel appeared before the echoes of his name stopped ringing through the house.
“Yes?”
The pan Tucker had been holding clattered into the sink. Breakfast had been french toast this morning—Angel thought of Tucker eating french toast with that sort of decadent enjoyment he poured into everything and regretted not waking up sooner.
“You startled me!” Tucker laughed. “Look—someone is going to come pick me up so I can buy his truck—”
“I beg your pardon?” Fast! So fast! Ruth’s time had been so much slower, but Tucker, born to this time, in a city not that far away, seemed to move so quickly.
“I looked him up this morning, told him I’d just moved in, and he said that was fine. Computers, Angel—they really do make the world go faster.”
Angel clearly remembered Ruth getting internet. At first Angel had worried that the strange metallurgy of Daisy Place would render the entire operation moot, but apparently Daisy Place had the best internet in the hills. Go figure. And he had to admit, he’d made frequent use of it, even before she’d passed away.
“You should say a prayer of thanks to your aunt,” Angel muttered, remembering an entire day spent trying to convince the old woman that it would be a pointless expense. No, Angel’s grasp of the future had always been a little weak for a supernatural being. Ruth had accused him of being an old man in a beautiful ghost’s clothing, an insult that had provoked Angel to dress in neon clothes and sequins for the next month.
He and Ruth had really enjoyed irritating the crap out of each other. He missed her so.
“I will, just as soon as I get my hands on a truck and get to the nearest home improvement store.”
“There’s an Ace in town for the basics,” Angel supplied, hoping that’s all they would need.
“Excellent. If I need anything bigger, I’ll go to Auburn.” Tucker frowned. “After that, an animal shelter. I need a kitten.”
Angel felt his eyes go wide and his eyebrows go up, and Tucker suddenly noticed him.
“Your eyes are still green,” he muttered. “And still the same shape. But your hair is sort of reddish—your entire face has changed.” Tucker pulled in a big breath. “And Angel, your chest is broad as a barn!”
Angel looked down at himself in shock. “I, uh….”
“You have stubble! Oh my God, do you have stubble on purpose?”
Angel tried desperately to remember what he’d been thinking when he’d pulled power from the aether around the house and surged. Tucker had been deep into his own pleasure, and Angel had….
Oh Lord.
Angel had wanted to inflict that pleasure upon him.
And this form he was wearing—apparently, he’d thought that would be the perfect form to pleasure Tucker in.
“Do you find this form pleasing?” Angel asked, his mortification complete.
“I usually like my guys a little skinnier,” Tucker said, shrugging. “But it’s the person inside the body first, okay?”
Angel nodded helplessly. “I shall await your return,” he said, dispirited. He’d wanted to spend more time with Tucker this morning.
You wanted to see if he’d touch himself again.
Yeah, that, but Angel wouldn’t admit it!
“You could come with me,” Tucker said with a wink; then he frowned. “Right? I mean, you met me at Dakota’s house—”
“I’m bound to the house and to you. Yes, I could definitely accompany you.” For a moment, Angel perked up, but then Tucker sort of deflated.
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be able to talk to you in public, and that would be rude.”
Angel swallowed—even though it was something he didn’t have to do, his mouth and throat worked in concert like that. Living people do these things. What is happening to me?
“Maybe after you get the truck. Why a truck, though?”
Tucker ran his hands through his messy hair. “Usually I walk. It’s why I took the train to Colfax and then a bus here. I get… well, sometimes I need to stop and eat or have a drink on my way home. It’s hard to explain.” He scowled and then took a deep breath and seemed to let something go. “Anyway it’s easier when I’m walking. But up here, it’s all so spread out. I figure if I’m going to be renovating the place, I’ll need to haul stuff. So yeah. Truck, supplies, kitten. If I’m stuck here like Aunt Ruth, I might as well enjoy it.” He grinned and then turned his head, responding to a honk from the front of the house. “Gotta go, Angel. See you in the evening!”