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He knows the chemical compositions of nebulae, the speed of the dancing twin suns of Alpha Centauri, how many stars comprise his galaxy, but he never thought he’d discover where the center of the universe is….
*
Anthony Crowley has never been so suave in his whole life as he was in those few seconds during that exchange on the street in front of the bookshop.
Usually he is just the slightly awkward guy hiding in dark clothes, too enthusiastic about his plants or his stars to fit in with normal crowds. Grumpy in the morning before coffee (especially back when he smoked). Happy alone, driving in the country with the music turned up too loud and a telescope safely tucked into the boot. Sometimes achingly lonely for reasons he cannot quite understand, sitting on a park bench feeding the ducks and wondering what it would be like to have a little plot of earth to dig up. Wondering what it would be like to have somebody to share it with....
“I’ll wait for you. Where are we having dinner?” The words had flowed from his mouth like pickup lines were second nature. As if he’d ever used any to any avail.
And he had waited. Then, after their dinner he’d attempted to kiss Asa at the door of the little flat over the bookshop. For a moment his heart had nearly beat out of his chest at the way the other man ducked his lips. He panicked, chiding himself and his stupid eagerness that might have just scared the man off. He’d started rambling apologies immediately.
Then Asa had taken his hand, and kissed him. A soft, chaste press just at the corner of his lips.
“I want to go slow. I want to savor this,” Asa had told him with a worried blush, as if asking for time was going to make Anthony change he his mind about him.
“I’ll wait for you,” he repeated the promise from earlier as relief swept through his limbs at not being rejected. Indeed, at being something somebody wanted to savor. He’d seen Asa savor his dinner, and that was certainly something he could happily take time to anticipate.
And there was that smile, the one he’d been counting all night. The one that put glitter in the man’s eyes and crinkles beside them. Somebody, but that smile sent his heart straight to the moon.
Thankfully, it didn’t feel like waiting, either. It was learning, and Anthony loves learning. Over the following weeks, being together was like slowly slipping into a warm bath after spending his entire existence out in the cold. Anthony thinks he’d been in love before, but it had never felt like this. So easy. They simply fit together like fingers interlocking.
He’d figured out he was falling- totally smitten- after only date number four. They got caught in a rain storm, of all ridiculous and clichéd things, on the way to lunch. Taking shelter under an awning from the cold droplets clinging to their hair, Anthony had looked over at the bookseller and felt it hit him like a ton of space rock. When Asa met his eyes, he bit the inside of his cheek, trying to not stare at the man’s lips. They were so close.
Then, Asa’s hands were crumpling the lapels of his damp coat and pulling him into a kiss just like the one he had imagined giving Asa. It had him spiraling to the outer arm of the galaxy and back again.
It’s love, he’s sure of it, stronger than any he’s ever felt. It clogged his throat in that moment it was so powerful. His eyes stung with it and his arms pulled and hands gripped and lips worked like he was trying to merge them into one being. The draw was like gravity, so strong it was nearly insane. Impossible to resist. The term “love” felt so insufficient. He couldn’t find words for it.
*
Asa had cut his hair the day before, and the humidity of May has it curling like lamb’s wool. Anthony has wanted to sink his fingers into it since the moment he saw it, skin yearning to know what it feels like.
Not even an hour ago, he got to find out….
The handful of times Anthony has been in the flat it has been brief, a few minutes here and there while Asa finished preparing for their outings. He always took the couch, but this time it is covered in a pile of books. Asa is apparently reorganizing a shelf and his usual perch is needed for safe storage. The flat had nearly as many books as the shop below. He’d chucked the first time he’d seen it. His own little book collection at home is tidy and perfectly filed. He’s always been a bit of a minimalist, and what he does have is well organized. It’s shocking how the chaos of Asa’s flat doesn’t bother him. It has an aura to it that engulfs him in a feeling of belonging. The smell of old books and dust and bergamot. Despite the clutter, he feels peace here.
“Take the armchair, dear,” Asa suggests. “I’ll be back in two shakes.”
Anthony watches him go as he disappears down the hall towards the loo.
There has been a certain energy between them tonight.
In deference to Asa’s request to go slow, Anthony had not been making their dates particularly intimate or romantic. He tried to keep things light. No dark theaters yet. Nowhere completely alone. A café. A picnic. Shakespeare in the park (Asa is partial to Hamlet, but Anthony whinged and admits to preferring the funny ones. They’d settled on The Tempest with a rather camp Caliban).
Not overly romantic, until today, that is. The Ritz was full when he called, but the Criterion had a reservation drop last minute, and Anthony snatched it up faster than a comet.
Maybe it was the live piano and tinkling of glasses like bells. Maybe it was the candles and the wine. Maybe it was how they both dressed up especially for the occasion. Anthony even dug out a pair of designer, oiled black jeans he hadn’t worn since college but couldn’t bare getting rid of, and was delighted to discover that they still fit. A bloody miracle. There might have been an extra swing to his hips because of it.
Tonight, their regular banter has a flirtatious edge to it. He saw a certain sparkle to Asa’s eye as he glanced over Anthony from head to foot when he arrived to pick him up, and it’s had his guts flaring with an anticipatory heat all night long.
He lounges back into the chair, removing his glasses and slinging a leg over the arm in an attempt at painting an appealing picture, and watches the direction Asa will return from.
He’d never had a tremendous interest in sex before. As far as he could tell this wasn’t caused by some sort of early trauma, but other people simply….didn’t feel right? He’d tried to fake it a few times, but eventually his lack of sexual enthusiasm was enough to end any relationship he started for the last thirty years.
For whatever reason, this isn’t an issue now. It’s as if Asa, this often silly and unassuming, bookish middle aged man, has somehow hit a kind of switch on Anthony’s libido as well as his heart. It feels tied to this need to be closer. He thinks of it like their molecules are from the same star gone supernova, and they desperately want to come back together.
When Asa reappears, Anthony can’t help but sit up a little, hiked leg drifting back down from the arm.
Asa doesn’t say anything, but his evening jacket is gone, the little bow tie hanging loose at his collar. Anthony’s mouth goes dry when Asa kneels in front of the chair, still without a word, and looks up at him from under pale lashes.
“Here I was thinking you’re all sweet ‘n’ innocent,” he mutters to himself in awe. “Shoulda known from the sounds you make while having desert.”
“Does it bother you?” The bookseller’s playful expression briefly flickers with concern, but his hands still curve around Anthony’s shins and drift upward.
Anthony’s answering grin is mischievous, masking his own nerves. “Not at all,” he croons. “Love a front row to you enjoying a treat, me.”
There’s that look in Asa’s eye again and it sends a shiver up his spine. Suddenly his jeans don’t fit as well as they did a minute ago as those strong hands slide over his knees and squeeze gently before pushing his thighs farther apart.
“These trousers look indecently tight. I might need a hand getting them open.”
Anthony swallows, unbuttons the jeans and manages to get the zip down before wiggling them over his arse. Asa looks delighted at the speedy compliance. He grips the belt loops and pulls them to Anthony’s knees before reaching for the waistband of the dark boxer briefs beneath.
He hadn’t had a mouth on him in ages, and it had never had such instant and powerful results. An embarrassing noise involuntarily escaped his throat, but it only caused Asa’s attention to become more ardent. This is going to be over too fast…but it could happen again, couldn’t it? They were together, there would be other times.
And there before him are the curls he’s been wanting to touch all night. As his toes curl in pleasure inside his boots, he reaches out his left hand. His fingers slip into the thick curls as Asa’s mouth sinks over his cock again, lips pushing back the foreskin, tip of a soft tongue playing around the crown. Anthony’s hips flex before he can stop them, grip tightening.
“Yess,” the word comes out half whine – half growl, and Asa takes the opportunity of his rising hips to get his fingers under his arse cheeks and squeeze.
The encouragement is all Anthony needs. As his release begins to gather and burn inside, he allows himself to slowly buck up into the welcoming warmth of Asa’s willing mouth. He cups the man’s jaw with one hand as the other continues to alternated between petting and twisting in his hair and the pressure builds at the base of his spine. It feels so good he wants to cry, wants it to last forever. But he also wants to kiss Asa, the yearning to do so causing a little counter point of pain in his chest to the pleasure between his legs.
Then Asa takes him deep, and Anthony is sliding into his throat and being swallowed around and it’s over. He releases with a wordless shout, orgasm rushing up in spine and through his limbs, cock twitching and spending into the tight, wet heat.
As soon as he can move again, he’s scrambling to pull Asa up enough to kiss him. He’s still trembling, skin still tingling, but nothing matters as much as this. The armchair is pushed back so he can slither half boneless onto his knees on the floor, hands clutching the front of Asa’s shirt as he crashes into him.
Asa is surprised at first, but when the desperation is clear, he meets Anthony’s starving kiss, sharing the taste of him. His arms cradle his shoulders, pulling him in tight.
Close. Closer.
I’ve missed you so much. They both hear it, somewhere in their souls. The words simultaneously theirs and not, but the truest they have ever heard.
The burning need calmed, their mouths gentle against each other.
*
Asa is practically dancing in the kitchen as he makes tea. Anthony watches, cleaned and tucked back into the armchair again, leg slung over the arm as before, brain in a state of bliss as he melts into the cushions.
Smiling now in his post-orgasmic high, Anthony notices his left hand resting of his knee and how the light from one of the windows is lighting just his fingers up gold. Little dust motes float above them, catching the sun and sparkling.
Like I dipped my hand in stardust, his dopey brain observes. Or fairy dust, the romantic corner suggests.
Or dust from an angel’s halo, a voice from his subconscious suggests. That thought felt a little odd. He wonders where it came from. It felt like his thought and not quite his voice at the same time. But the idea also feels perfect.
“Angel dust,” he whispered to himself, flicking his long fingers to make the dust motes spin and glitter.
Asa returns from the kitchen with a pair of teacups and a smile like the cat that got the cream half hidden under a pink blush.
“You’re an angel,” Anthony drawls, taking the teacup and placing it on the side table.
“I don’t think angels do what I just did,” Asa giggles at this new pet name as Anthony sits up, arms spreading wide to beckon him into his lap.
“Maybe I’m just that much of a tempting devil?” Anthony suggests as they get comfortable. There isn’t quite room enough in the arm chair. Neither of them care.
Asa nuzzles his nose and gives a wiggle. “Avaunt! Get thee behind me, foul fiend,” he intones in a deeper, more theatrical voice.
Anthony makes a face of exaggerated offense, but it goes sly a second later. “Gonna need to give me a few more minutes recovery time for that,” he says with an eyebrow waggle. “But I’ll be happy to oblige.”
Asa laughs again, and there’s that beaming smile, and it holds the whole world.
Anthony tips his forehead against Asa’s. “Not to alarm you,” he says, voice gone low and serious in the small space between them, left hand drifting up to slide back into those curls. “But I believe I’m in love.”
At first, shock registers in those blue-grey eyes, as if being loved is something inconceivable.
Crowley bites down on his cheek, terrified he’s just said the wrong thing. More terrified that the man in his lap doesn’t feel the same ineffable pull as him. His heart is beating in his throat.
But the shock turns to the purest, happiness expression Anthony has ever seen on a human face.
“I don’t think there’s a single universe where I could resist loving you, Anthony Crowley. And I would never want to.”
*
Astrophysicist Anthony Crowley might not know where the center of our universe is, but he knows where his is. And from that day forward, he calls it Angel. The only true angel in existence.