A flash fiction bit from Sean Michael
Grant flopped onto his back next to Angel, panting hard. He felt rung out, boneless, breathless, and utterly spent. Which was kind of what you wanted out of an orgasm. He patted Angel’s belly, smearing the cooling come that was pooled there. Not even that was enough to bring him to reality.
“You good?” he asked. It would suck if Angel didn’t feel the same way.
“God, yes.” Angel laughed and turned onto his side. Grant could feel those pretty brown eyes looking at him.
He managed to turn too, because sharing this post-orgasmic feeling made it that much better. He pushed Angel’s hair off his face and smiled. Angel smiled back.
Grant held onto the feeling for as long as he could, but eventually his body cooled, the breeze from the window growing colder, and he became aware of the noise of construction coming in along with the wind. And there was a ticking coming from somewhere. His alarm clock maybe or possibly the fridge.
No, no, he wasn’t ready to let go of this yet, but it was too late. Angel’s smile made him a promise, and then Grant blinked and Angel was gone.
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