The kiss was fast.
Brutal.
Lips crashing like two grown-up strangers who knew better—but didn't care.
The bottle of wine that the man was offering Angel hit the floor with a dull thud.
It didn’t shatter.
Neither did they.
Instead, the contents spilled.
The aroma of wine filled the air, it made him feel drunk.
And somewhere in that chaos, their teeth clashed—hard, uncoordinated, desperate.
Then Angel tasted blood.
Salty.
Coppery.
‘The stranger’s?’
No—his own.
His own lips were stinging.
Didn't matter.
They kissed like they were starving.
Clothes came off in frantic pulls.
Shirts peeled.
Skin exposed.
All the while not breaking the kiss.
If you could still call it that.
Angel’s body felt hot.
Like he had caught a fever.
Cool afternoon air hit his bare torso, chasing goosebumps down his arms.
The tiny hairs on his body stood on end.
His back touched the soft cold bed…
‘Wait—I’m already lying down? When the hell did that even happen?’
One thing was for sure, the stranger was a veteran!
At
