My Lord's Judgment (4 page)

The normal internal struggle started. Should
I stay or should I go? Would he want me to help? Would he hurt me
if I tried? Finally, he decided that he would want someone to wake
him up and be there for him if he was stuck in a nightmare.
Gathering his courage, he stood and carefully maneuvered his way to
the room.

Samael was tossing and turning, groaning and
murmuring nonsense. Bran put a hand on the arm closest to him and
shook it gently. “Hey, Sammy. Hey, wake up.”

Then déjà vu’, he was on his back and the
heavy weight of Sam was on top of him.

“Whoa, it’s ok. It’s just me.” He tried to
look up into the man’s face, but it was too dark to see much except
shadows. “It’s Brandon…remember, you’re in my house. I got you out
of the alley?” He was rambling, but he didn’t know if the guy would
recognize him or instead pummel him in his half-awake state.

“Brandon?” A gruff voice came out of the
dark.

“Yeah, it’s me. You were having a bad dream,
I think.”

Before he knew it, he was wrapped up in
Sammy’s arms, with the man’s face wedged in his neck. “Hey, it’s
alright.” He was patting the guy’s shoulder, stupidly, but he
didn’t know what else to do.

“I dreamt…I dreamt…”

The big man blew out a hard breath and then
continued in a whisper. “Half of it was real, and half was not, but
all of it was bad.”

Bran had suspected that the man had gone
through some rotten shit before he met him, but the verification of
it had his chest hurting in sympathy. Maybe they could help each
other.

“You want to tell me about it?

Samael shook the head still wedged in the
crook of Brandon’s neck. “Just…stay with me.” It was a statement
and a question rolled into one, and Bran could hear the
vulnerability in it.

“Okay.” They each shifted until Sammy was
spooning him. The strong arms around him drew him in close. Once
his butt was wedged in just the right spot, Bran had second
thoughts. How was he going to keep from getting hard this way? What
would Samael say if he discovered it?

Almost immediately, the soft, steady
breathing ruffling his hair put him at ease, and within a few
minutes, he’d fallen into a nice, dreamless sleep.

Samael was warm, almost too much so, but he
was comfortable and didn’t want to move. There was a delicious
scent tickling his nose, and he felt absorbed into the mattress. He
hadn’t slept that well in ages.

He squeezed his arms tight around the pillow
he held, and the thing moved and let out a low groan. Frozen, he
tried to remember what happened the previous night. It took him a
moment, but he recalled the nightmare and Brandon coming into the
room.

Last night, the only thing that had concerned
him was keeping the man beside him safe. He had dreamt of his fall,
of Gadreel finding him, and hurting Brandon. It was so vivid, and
so horrifying, that he’d just wanted to stay together. Then, if
something came at them, he could fight it. In the light of morning,
however, it was somewhat strange…but not in a bad way.

Samael had never lain with a man before,
neither in a sexual nor nonsexual context. It was not uncomfortable
though. In fact, he found he liked it. Perhaps too much. There was
a trembling in his lower stomach and his morning erection was
trapped between the cheeks of Bran’s rear. Even with clothes on, it
seemed to want to wedge itself there. Actually, it felt really
good, especially when Brandon started to move. The friction was
wonderful, and he didn’t want it to stop.

He thrust his hips, searching for more of
that feeling. Bran moaned, murmuring something before pushing back
on him.
Oh, yes. Just right.
Before he knew it, he was
panting and wanting something he couldn’t explain.

It wasn’t that angels didn’t have sex. They
married their mates, and had children, just the same as humans.
However, no one had wanted him. As Death, others looked upon him
with fear and revulsion, not lust. On the rare occasion he had
need, he’d taken care of himself. But this. This felt
different.

He changed the position of his hands to pull
the body closer, to get more contact. Brandon’s cock bumped his
arm; rock hard through his sleepwear. Brandon had come awake at
some point, and groaned, “Don’t stop,” while dragging Sam’s hand
further down, placing it on the warm erection. Feeling the damp
spot on the front of the pants had Samael moaning again and he
grunted out, “So good.”

He squeezed the bulge in his hand and
rhythmically snapped his hips, loving what was happening inside of
him. His balls tingled, and his need was growing stronger with
every movement.

“Hold on a sec.” He growled low in his chest
as Bran pulled away. With a chuckle, Brandon removed his clothing
and grabbed that bottle of clear fluid out of the bedside drawer,
before returning to his place. He reached behind him to tug
Samael’s shorts down under his balls. Sam heard a snick, and then
he was rubbing something onto his lower back and in his butt
crack.

“Now.” Bran said, wiggling backwards.

When he’d taken up his post again and begun
to move, Sam almost jumped out of his skin. The slick substance
Bran had applied made movement easy and the friction was even more
exquisite than before. Without the pants as a barrier, he was
wedged between the lush cheeks completely, nearly surrounded by
flesh. The sensations were amazing, building, doubling by the
minute. He hissed his pleasure, thrusting into the warm
crevice.

Brandon applied more of the goop to Sam’s
hand, and again urged him downward. He wrapped his slippery fingers
around the man’s cock and heard their moans in stereo.

“Oh God! Yes. Faster Sammy, faster.” But he
couldn’t concentrate on moving his hand with the need that had
enveloped him, so he let Brandon do that for him.

Bran was moving backwards against him, and
then forward into his hand, over and over. Again and again. He’d
never been this aroused before, so when he heard a gasping whimper,
he lost all control.

Animal instinct. That was all that was left
of him. There was no thought process left, only sensation. He
pushed the man almost to his belly, with just enough room left for
his arm to fit –because he couldn’t let go of that hot erection in
his hand. Threw his knee over the man’s hip and thrust against him
as hard and fast as he could, in turn pushing Bran more firmly into
his fist.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Chasing clouds. Chasing dreams.
Chasing heaven.

Sweat was dripping off him and onto the body
beneath, making everything slick. He licked Brandon’s neck, tasting
him, smelling that compelling scent that had been in his nose
earlier. He couldn’t say much, he was too overwhelmed to complete
words. Nothing had ever been like this.

“Oh, God! Oh God, Samael please!” At the
shouted plea, he tightened his fingers and nipped gently at Bran’s
shoulder, while rubbing and pushing and pumping. He heard Brandon
cry out and felt him spill onto the bed, penis pulsing and
twitching in his hand. It was so unbelievably exciting, that he
followed him into bliss.

Brandon’s bones were liquefied and he
couldn’t move. Samael had collapsed on top of him, so he wasn’t
going anywhere anyway, not even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t.
They lay there a few minutes, panting and recovering, until Sam
finally rolled over onto his back.

“Well, that was…unexpected.”

Bran couldn’t help but laugh at the awe in
the man’s voice. “Yeah, and a good morning to you too.”

He turned to admire his companion, grinning
so hard his cheeks hurt.
Damn, what a sexy man.

Samael reclined on the pillow, one knee bent.
His perfect uncut package rested on a thick, fuzzy thigh, still
glistening with release. A big hand propped up on his forehead,
bicep bulging, elbow pointed to the sky. Indigo eyes stared into
space, and his mouth turned up in a strange half-smile. He looked
like some sex god, all sated, relaxed … and amazed.

“I’ve never done anything like that before.”
Sam looked at him and gave a smile full of wonder. “I never
knew…”

Bran couldn’t say the same, but he hadn’t
expected doing it this morning. After the man had gone all Crazy
McHottie on him last night, he figured he would need to avoid him
at all cost; but Sam had been so repentant, seemed so guilty for
scaring him - quietly talking him down - he decided to give him
another chance. All night, Samael had reached for him. If he turned
in his sleep, before long, he was pulled back into a warm embrace
again. It had been so long since he had felt anything like it. He’d
greatly enjoyed the cuddles, and wasn’t scared anymore.

So, this morning when Sam had started humping
his butt, his cock all hard and warm…well, come on. He was so hot,
and Bran was only human after all.

Samael seemed to be searching Brandon’s face.
He didn’t know what was on it, or what the guy saw, but all of a
sudden, the wonder transformed into what looked like pain,
affection, and something else that Bran couldn’t name, before he
finally glanced away again.

“No one has ever looked at me like you do.”
Sam’s voice was a heavy rasp.

“How do I look at you?” Bran whispered back.
He knew he had a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve, and his
face was very expressive. That was why he’d originally cut his hair
so he could hide behind it. He hoped he wasn’t showing too
much.

“With lust and affection, you look at me like
you want me, Little Raven.”

Yep, he was showing too much.
Crap!
He
knew it was too soon to feel anything for this man, but he did. It
wasn’t the L-word, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it
was something. The guy was perfect. If he could create his dream
man, Samael would be it.

He
had to
nip it in the bud, wall it
up, and hold back. He just wasn’t ready to put himself out there
after what Chris had done to him. Already, he trusted Samael too
much for his own good. If he allowed it, Sam could really hurt
him.

Pull away. Put on the brakes.

“Come on.” Brandon sat up on the bed and
threw his legs over the side. “You can’t tell me people don’t throw
themselves at you. You’re smokin’. Definitely could be a model
without even trying, just by walking down the street.”

As Bran was going to get up and leave the
bed, he was pulled backward into a solid chest and warm breath
tickled his ear. “No one but you, Little Raven.”

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe
through the ache in his chest.
Shit, this was not good.
“What does that mean? Little Raven?”

He felt the man smile into his neck. “It’s
your name.”

“My name?”

Samael pulled back to grin at him. “Yes. In
Gaelic, Brandon means Little Raven, among other things. I think it
suits you.” Sam touched his black hair with gentle fingers and
smoothed it back. Bran just lowered his chin and shook his head,
forcing his bangs into place again, as he felt heat burning his
cheeks.

Sam chuckled.

Time to change the subject!

Brandon moved away, and pulled his sleep
pants back into place as he stood. “So…umm… I’m going to jump in
the shower. I’ll make sure to leave you some hot water. Then we can
get outta here and get you some stuff.” He roamed around the room,
gathering fresh clothing, trying not to give away how uncomfortable
and confused he was. For the duration, he was hyperaware of the
fact that he was not alone in the room.

Not gonna look back, not gonna look back, not
gonna look back, not gonna….shit!

Bran glanced at the bed, where Sam was
watching him intently, eyebrows arched in question. He had to get
out of there. He practically ran to the door. “Be right out.”

Samael felt
ridiculous. He was still clothed in the snug shorts from the night
before, paired with a black t-shirt so tight, that if he raised his
arm to scratch his nose, he heard it tear. Even with his arms down,
a line of his stomach showed, because the damn thing wasn’t long
enough to cover him completely.

If that wasn’t enough to spark his
embarrassment to an all-time high, he was wearing sandals that Bran
had called ‘flip flops’, which covered slightly more than half of
the bottom of his foot. The ridiculous shoes cut into his arch
every time he took a step. Which meant he had to hobble instead of
walk.

He felt like a giant wearing midget’s
clothes.

Brandon had insisted he wear them though,
saying most stores had a policy that their customers must have on a
shirt and shoes. There was no other option either. They’d spent
over an hour going through everything the man owned, and this was
the only thing that worked. If one could call it that.

At one point, Samael was ready to turn the
sheets into a toga, but Bran wouldn’t allow it.

At least Brandon looked better. In fact he
was far too cheerful, snickering and snorting every time he glanced
Sam’s way, trying to rein in his amusement but failing, miserably.
He had laughed so hard when Samael had come out of the bathroom in
his borrowed attire, there were tears rolling down his face and he
was nearly blue from not being able to breathe.

It took him a full ten minutes to be able to
talk.

Bastard!

Samael was glad to see the color back in
Brandon’s cheeks though. Before he’d left the bedroom for the
shower, he’d paled considerably and his eyes had widened with fear.
One minute Bran was looking at him as if he was an oasis in the
desert. The next, he was afraid, and wearing the same expression,
Sam had seen too many times, on too many faces. There was no way to
know what set him off. So much was going on; it could be any of it.
They were basically strangers to each other, but Samael couldn’t
help but feel a connection to him.