Happy Valentine's Day!

Candid Shots: Army Ranger Colonel Tyler Morgan

I am a soldier of The Castle.

I am a warrior and a member of a team.

I serve the people of the United States and live the Army values.

I will always place my mission first.

I will never accept defeat.

I will never quit.

I will never leave a fallen comrade.

I am disciplined, physically and mentally 

tough, trained and proficient in my warrior

tasks and skills. I always maintain my arms,

my equipment and myself.

I am an expert and I am a professional.

I stand ready to deploy, engage and destroy

the enemies of the United States of America

in close combat.

I am the guardian of freedom.

I am a soldier of The Castle.

Call of Duty

The night was even longer than I had expected. Between the MEs taking the remains, detectives questioning us and grilling – then processing - Malik’s accomplices, and doing the paperwork, Tony and I didn’t get off shift until sometime around 4am. We were both dog-tired and headed down the street to Martino’s Coffee Shop for something to eat.

Martino’s is a 24-hour establishment – one of those greasy spoons that always pop up around a precinct; the food isn’t that great, but the servings are large and the prices are cheap. Some other uniforms were there and the two of us headed to the back of the place for some privacy.

We sat down and a waitress bustled away after she took our orders.

“I’m glad you listened to me this time and didn’t say anything about Marchosias. The less you talk about him, the better.”

Tony McLaren still looked shaken. Spooked would have been a more relevant term. My partner was still a baby cop, so his reaction was not considered out of the ordinary; in fact, seeing the gore and gnawed bones of Malik Freeman even had some of the detectives puking in the alley. The difference was that he was reacting to being in the presence of a 7-foot-tall demon and not the remains of his snack – and that little factoid remained on a strictly need-to-know basis. He reached across for the bottle of ketchup and I could see his arm still trembling.

I put a hand lightly around his wrist. “Relax, Tony. It’s over.”

“Charlie, how can you be so fucking calm?” His voice was loud. Some heads turned. I squeezed hard and he gasped from the pressure. His voice lowered. “I saw a fucking demon! And I was about to be his next Chicken McNugget!” Well at least he believed me now. 

 “And who’s this ‘Carrow’ you mentioned?”

Me and my big mouth. “Carreau. He’s a … a friend. Lookit, Tony … if you think of angels as cops, and demons as perps, Carreau is sort of an ex-cop turned freelance private investigator…”

Someone cleared their throat. A deep, sexy voice began to speak. “It’s quite simple, Officer MClaren – you see, Charlie Hawke is one of the preeminent agents of vast, vast Demonic Powers. You know ... consorting with the Forces of Darkness... Cavorting at night with Diabolic Intelligences from the Other Side – rousing them from their ancient slumber to wreak havoc and take over the world sort of thing … Charlie, I never heard my role put quite that way before … and I like it… I like it a lot…”

Carreau had materialized at the table next to us. His dark hair tumbled over his russet forehead and small bone-colored horns. Jewel-bright golden brown eyes sparkled as his sensuous lips curled into a broad grin surrounded by his neatly cut black goatee. He leaned over to Tony.

“BOO!”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Tony leapt from his chair and nearly fell down trying to get his gun out. He shakily pointed it at the demon prince.

Chuckling, Carreau got up and stood behind me. He was wearing a dark leather shirt stretched tightly across his powerful chest. The sleeves strained to contain his well-developed guns and a tight pair of black jeans stretched obscenely over powerful legs and considerable bulge. He put his hands on my shoulders and gave the top of my head a kiss. I shivered as gloved fingers stroked my neck. He sighed. “Officer McClaren, I don’t bite. Really. Unless you count when I’m sucking dick.  And then I only do it really, really gently…” 

He pulled over a chair backwards and sat down next to me. “Excitable, isn’t he?”

I gave him a sour look. “We’ve had a bad night. One of your buddies showed up and we were nearly his second midnight snack.”

At that point, I realized that time had stopped. The diner had become deathly quiet; people were frozen in mid-bite; even coffee being poured into a cup had frozen into an unmoving, umber cascade. A split second later, so did Tony.

“Holy shit …”

Carreau had picked up my partner’s overturned chair. “Have a seat, Officer.” Tony put away his Glock and cautiously sat down. The demon prince patted his muscled thigh. At once, he visibly relaxed. I smiled to myself; I’m quite familiar with the feeling when Carreau touches someone.

“You ... you’re not gonna eat me?”

Carreau dazzled Tony with a smouldering glance and a wicked chuckle. He leaned over to give him a soft kiss on the lips and at the same time massaged his crotch. My partner’s package was swollen with excitement or fear, or perhaps a combination of both. Mine was too. But I was just plain excited. Damn. Mattie is going to be really sore when I get home.

“As far as eating you goes, of course not. Now fucking you … that's a different story altogether..." He raised a dark brow. "Mmm-mmm-mmm … I do love guys with cock rings...” The fallen angel then gave me a hard look. “And Charlie, Marchosias is NOT my buddy…”

“Sorry, Carreau.” The demon prince moved closer to my partner.

Tony leaned into Carreau; the fallen angel snaked an arm around him and began stroking his hair the same way someone would caress a pet that has just snuggled into your lap.

“I heard someone let the Marquis out. March even paid me a visit and he was mightily impressed with,  Quote. That extraordinary human servant of yours. Unquote.”

I blushed.

“My stature went up several notches as well. Not that it means anything to me. He’s got the same … um … *issue* as I do, but he’s very old-school about some things. Sex with mortals is a major guilt trip with him. Sort of like the lord of the manor fucking the help. He’ll eventually do it when he can’t control it any longer, but feels horribly culpable about it.”

“He said that he ate the guy that summoned him.”

Carreau continued to stroke Tony’s head. “Sounds like him. He doesn’t suffer fools gladly. Although the fact that he wasn’t Dismissed and returned to the Abyss on his own means he’s got an open ticket to come back here to Earth whenever he feels like it.”

“Fuck…”

“Exactly. I’ll be right back.” Carreau stood up and went over to the counter. He spoke over his shoulder. “At least he doesn’t believe in chomping down on the virtuous. So they’ll be a few less weeds in the Garden of Life from time to time.”

Tony shook himself out of Carreau’s enchantment and stared hungrily at the immortal’s powerful physique. He turned to me. “He’s really a demon?”

“Fallen angel. Sort of. He’s in charge of incubi – sex demons. As well as some other things. All fallen angels can be considered demons, but not all demons are fallen angels.”

Carreau ambled back to us holding a plate of pastries and three coffee mugs. I noticed that despite the fact they were swinging vertically in his grip, they were full and steaming; an incredibly delicious aroma filled the air as he set them down.

“Have some. Kuchen from Munich… and coffee from Brazil...” He took a sip of his coffee.

“Charlie, it’s important that you two thank Felipe – and Tomas – for saving your lives in that alley.” He took a bite out of a pastry. “In fact, it’s very important that you do it two nights from now right here no later than 6:15pm.” He wrote down an address and a little map with an “X” on it on my patrol pad.   “Dress down, show off your ink, and use Fobus holsters in the small of your backs.” He arched ebon brows.  “Clear?”

After the jet incident, when Carreau is this specific about something, I listen. “Crystal, sir.”

“Good. You’ll need these too.” He put a box of ammo on the table and popped the remainder of the tart into his mouth. Then he gave Tony’s crotch another squeeze. The fallen angel picked up his coffee cup, stood, and gave us a salacious wink. “I’ll see you two around …” and vanished. Time unfroze and again we were surrounded with the regular sounds of ordinary life.

* * *

The private room was cheerful, and well furnished – one could almost not realize it was in a hospital, save for a few machines bleeping quietly, monitoring vital signs. The old woman looked terribly small in the hospital bed, her skin paper-thin and stretched tightly over frail bones. Wispy, grey-white hair was brushed neatly back and her chest rose and fell in gentle rhythm.

The door to the room opened, quickly leaving a bright gash of light on the carpeted floor as two figures entered quickly and closed it behind them.

The man in scrubs spoke quietly. The green fabric did little to hide the powerful, muscular frame and the bald head glistened in the subdued lighting. “I made sure I was assigned to the nurse’s station, Tomas. Nobody’s gonna bother you while you’re here.”

“Thanks Felipe. I don’t know how to thank you for this…” Tomas DeJesus gave him a quick embrace. The leader of the Los Brazos gang looked at the supine figure. “She’s not doing well, is she?”

The medic shook his head. “They’re keeping her comfortable, Tomas … that’s all they can do. I’m sorry … I’ll be outside if you need me.” Felipe gave the gang boss a soft kiss and left the room.

DeJesus pulled up a chair to the side of the bed. He took a frail hand in his own. “Nana … nana … wake up. It’s Dax…”

* * *

We arrived at our stop and Tony and I got off of the subway. We had been drawing a number of looks – some of them furtive, but most of them downright wanton – and we returned them with smiles and winks. As Carreau told us, we had dressed down for the occasion and no one would have thought either of us were cops in a million years. The best way to hide something is always in plain sight.

Tony was in faded blue Levis cutoffs that almost showed the jockstrap beneath them, with a pair of Timberland boots and slouchy red socks. A  small gold hoop was threaded in his right ear with a plain gold cross dangling from it. A faded red “Coca-Cola” tee was struggling valiantly to envelop his slabbed pecs and muscular back while his pierced nips made an obvious impression through the thin fabric in the icy car. It had the sleeves ripped out to show off his inked biceps and triceps and was just long and loose enough in the waist area to completely cover the Fobus holster at his back. Those Israelis make good stuff.

I was in a similarly cut pair of black leather shorts with a leather jock beneath and a thin, deep blue sleeveless hoodie stretched obscenely across my torso. I had on a pair of Corcoran boots with white socks peeking above the openings and leather gauntlets encircled both my wrists.

To further add to the urban camouflage, I had also applied a small bit of black eyeliner to both of us. Not at the Jack Sparrow level, but more along the lines of Captain Hook in “Once Upon a Time” – it gave us a very definite “don’t fuck with me” dangerous look. We had both gotten haircuts as well – me, a very tight fade and Tony a short Caesar complete with shiny hair gel.

The hot, humid air on the platform hit us like a wet rag when we left the train, making our skin gleam with sweat like molten bronze. I looked at my watch embedded into one of the gauntlets. I grabbed his belt buckle and pulled him to me. People streamed around us. More camouflage. My lips brushed his ear and I gave the arch a delicate lick. “It’s 5:30pm and we have about half a mile to cover – we need to take it slow so we don’t raise the wrong type of attention.”

He grinned at me and gave my back a delicate stroke. His hand traveled down my ass and nestled into the back pocket. The eyeliner really did set off his eyes and there was a profound new sense of confidence about him. If I wasn’t engaged to Mattie, I’d have definitely wanted him in a marathon suck-and-fuck session. I think I created a monster.

A faint whisper chuckled in my mind. “Nah … I did. All he needed was a little encouragement after you went home…”

* * *

Rheumy eyes fluttered open and focused blearily on the heavily muscled and tattooed thug beside her. There was a sharp intake of breath as she looked at the shiny bald head, inked on both sides, and the steel caps of the metal mohawk gleaming in the dim light. Her free hand reached wildly for the call button.

“Nana, it’s me …”

Eliza Griffin looked at the dark latino face and into the pale brown eyes and suddenly, the pieces snapped into place. She reached up with a shaky hand and stroked the side of his face.

“Oh, Dax … my sweet baby … what happened to you … ?”

He took the hand and held it. “I had to hide out when they had accused me of killing Stan Pennington. I joined a latin street gang and they kept me incognito until I was able to avenge myself. I’m … I’m not the man I was, Nana … I’ve done my share of terrible things since then – even murder – but the life I had as a law-abiding citizen is nothing compared to what I have now. Dax Griffin *is* dead. My name is Tomas DeJesus now. When I heard you got sick, I made sure you got the best of care and I had to see you.”

Eliza closed her eyes for a moment. “All that beautiful blonde hair … gone. And all those tattoos … and those dark brows … you look like a completely different man. What are those things on your head?”

A smile quirked his sensuous lips. “Steel button caps. They screw into my scalp. I normally wear spikes, but these are a bit more subdued. I didn’t think even I could sneak into the hospital wearing those.”

“Tell me everything, sweetheart. From the beginning.”

Tomas drew the chair closer and began to speak.

* * *

5:45pm

Tony was leaning against a wall when he pulled me to him. His thumbs were making a soft massage on my obliques as he nuzzled my neck, but his eyes never stopped watching the action on the street. “Not much around here, Charlie … what should we do?” he whispered to me.

Tony was right. We were on an ordinary street with some light foot traffic. A bodega. A bar. A CVS. Two apartment buildings. Some shops. A parking lot. A couple of restaurants. A newsstand. I felt a wrongness in the air – a feeling of some type of incipient something. And that something was not good.

I kneaded his muscular ass through the thin material, making sure that I didn’t go near the holster. “If Carreau gave us bullets, that’s gotta mean we have to shoot something – or someone. Eyes up, down and around – let’s look for something out of place.”

I pushed off the wall and we started our patrol.

* * *

6:01pm

Tony caught it first. “Apartment house. Third floor. Second window on the right.” My partner was getting nearly as good as me in using storefront glass as a mirror. At that moment a plane flew low overhead, giving me a chance to look up. I caught sight of the barrel of a sniper rifle as the curtains moved in the breeze. We continued our watch.

A car pulled up ahead of us and parked. But the motor was still running. My partner and I continued to walk towards the vehicle and when I reached the passenger side, I knocked on the window. It rolled down to reveal a hard-looking, stocky Latino at the wheel. And he was nervous as hell. I noticed two things – one, he quickly shoved a large frame handgun beneath the newspaper next to him and two, I could see the collar of a bulletproof vest beneath his faded shirt. Fuck.

I flexed as I bent down and gave him a wide smile. “Excuse me, but do you know where Olympic Pita is? We’re supposed to be meeting friends there but my phone died.”

The would-be killer looked taken aback. I know the effect my smile has on people and I'm not afraid to use it; but given the way I was dressed, that probably magnified it tenfold. “Uh, sorry man … maybe the guy over there … ?” He pointed to the parking lot.

“Okay … thanks anyway.” I straightened up and walked over to Tony. I shook my head. “Body armor and a Taurus. Probably a PT92. Let’s walk towards the parking lot.”

I could feel the driver’s eyes on us as we sauntered towards the lot attendant’s shack. A movement down the street caught my eye. I swallowed hard. Two bald Latino guys were walking towards us. One was Felipe – dressed in hospital scrubs – and the other had to be Tomas. He was over six feet tall and easily 200 pounds of solid muscle; both arms had intricate blackwork sleeves and there were elaborate tats on both sides of his head. Steel buttons on his head gleamed in the sunlight.

“Showtime, Tony … you take the guy in the car, I’ll get the one across the street. GO!”

* * *

Tomas spoke about Noel, his new family and the gang. He spoke of how Pennington’s email from the grave gave him the opportunity to bring Parker Hastings to justice – his cold and bloody version of it anyway. With some reluctance, he also spoke of the men he had maimed and killed in protecting Los Brazos turf; he also spoke of the unexpected relationships he had with the local police.

“You’ve become a hard man, Dax.” Eliza sighed. “Just like your grandfather Thomas. He was a gangster, too, you know. Of course, no one spoke about that … it wasn’t something ever said in polite company. I knew there was a good reason we gave you that middle name.”

Tomas kissed her on the forehead. “Rest up, Nana … I’ll be back when I can.”

Her eyes filled with unshed tears. “I’m so happy you came …”

He squeezed her hand and quietly left the room.

* * *

6:15pm

“FELIPE! TOMAS! GET DOWN!” I yelled as I pulled my Glock out of the holster and took aim at the upper window. I saw the rifle barrel and pulled off two shots in rapid succession, but not before I saw it cough once. I definitely hit my target; several windows blew out as gouts of flame appeared and the body of the shooter – with the rifle – flew out of the apartment and bounced onto the concrete pavement below.

* * *

“DROP THE GUN! OUT OF THE CAR! NOW!” Tony McLaren yelled as he held his Glock in a two-handed grip. He had run back to the car as the second shooter gaped at the holocaust across the street. He stood in the street aiming at the perp. The Latino cursed as he floored the accelerator and sped away. McLaren fired five shots after the speeding vehicle. One shattered the back windshield and at least one other found it’s mark – the car swerved down the street, jumped the curb and wrapped itself around a light pole. Before the patrolman could draw another breath, the car burst into flames.

The young officer ran to his partner and the other two men.

* * *

Felipe pulled Tomas down when the shooting started. He looked up to see the guy that yelled firing across the street and the explosion that followed. The shock wave knocked the two Los Brazos members flat onto the concrete. Felipe’s ears were ringing when he heard additional shots being fired at a speeding car by another guy and saw the vehicle crash and explode.

“You alright?” The first shooter loped over to them and squatted down. He was about six feet tall with his ebon hair in a tight fade and the deepest blue eyes the medic had ever seen. The black leather shorts did nothing but accentuate the muscled ass and the thick bulge at his crotch. Powerful legs ended in shiny dark boots with the tanned skin gleaming with sweat. There were elaborate tattoos on each well-developed arm – an alpha-omega on one side and a highly stylized lion on the other.

“Thanks for saving our lives, man…” The other shooter tucked his gun into his back as he approached. He was more powerfully built than the first one; elaborate ink on both arms – a demon and a dagger with the Stars and Stripes -- with short, black hair slicked down in a Caesar cut. He could see the outline of a huge cock and balls through the faded material of the shorts and the snowy whiteness of a jock peeped out of a leg.

“Just returning the favor, Felipe … damn  … Tomas, you’re hit.” The gang leader’s shirt was damp with blood.

“Huh?”

The first shooter gave him a tight grin. “Three months ago. In the alley. You saved me and my partner here.”

“Who in the hell are you?” Tomas’ voice was a deep tenor, with hard overtones. Charlie could tell he was in pain.

Comprehension dawned on the medic’s face. “The cops! You two are the baby cops!” He returned the smile. “Jeez, papi – you guys clean up fuckin' HOT …” Dios, I could drown in those angel blue eyes.

At that point, Tony joined the group and knelt down next to his partner. “Uh-huh, we wouldn’t be alive if it hadn’t been for you. Thanks for the compliments, stud, but we should get the fuck out of here. NOW. I hear sirens...”

* * *
Tomas winced as we got him to his feet and the four of us moved out of the vicinity. We got about a block away when the first ambulances and fire trucks began to arrive at the scene. Felipe was on his cell speaking in rapid-fire Spanish. I made out something about getting a room ready, but that was about it.

Tony was supporting Tomas. To the untrained eye, it looked like the four of us were taking a casual walk and the gang boss and my partner were more than intimate. It was fortunate that Tony decided to wear that shirt since the blood tended to blend in with the mottled red tee. He was basically supporting all of Tomas’ upper body weight as we walked to the gang’s safe house.

Felipe put away the phone. “Charlie, you and your partner obviously ain’t on duty dressed like that…” The medic grinned as he gave me another carnal once-over as we walked; and damn, that slight accent of his was definitely getting me aroused. “…so why were you here? I’m glad you were, ‘cause Tomas and me would have been fuckin’ dead meat without you.”

“Tony and I wanted to thank you for saving our lives, bud. I guess Fate has a way of bringing things full-circle.”

“But how’d you know where to come? Tanito tell you we were coming from the hospital?”

“Who?”

“Tanner. Mi Corazon. Captain Morgan. That’s one of the things I love about him. Real good manners and siempre gracious. My mama loves that about him too.”

I had had a sneaking suspicion about some type of relationship between Cap and Felipe before; now it was confirmed - they made a good match. I was spared giving an answer as we arrived at a large, slightly dilapidated house. The heavy front door was thrown open, and another bald Latino helped Tony get Tomas into the house. Felipe and I followed and the door closed quickly behind us.

* * *
I was impressed. The inside of the house completely belied the slightly seedy exterior. Tony and the other gang member (he also had tats on his head – this one with ‘Violador’ on one side) carried him into a room right off the entrance. It was a well-appointed and very modern examining room.

Felipe wasted no time in getting him stripped to the waist and beginning the exam. It looked like the bullet creased the skin from one side of a slabbed pectoral and down past the ribs. Fuck, if that had been over just a little more, it would have gone right through his heart.

The medic pulled on some rubber gloves and began cleaning the wound. Tomas yelped as the peroxide began to foam. “Goddammit, Felipe!”

“It’s gonna hurt a lot more when I start stitching you up, boss …”

The gang leader gritted his teeth as Felipe threaded the suture and began sewing up the wound.

The other inked gang member was vibrating with fury. “Cielito, who the fuck did this?”

I spoke up. “The guy in the car had a tat on his left hand. It was a chain with a hook. Went from his wrist to the first knuckle.”

The gang leader turned his head to the other man. “Ask Binki– he should know or at least have a good idea …” Tomas cursed in Spanish under his breath  as Felipe sutured past one of his ribs. He squeezed the other Latino's hand. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot, Noel – and it won’t be the last. But you can thank these two for saving our lives. They blasted the fuckers off the face of the earth.”

The guy named Noel gave us a long, hard look.  It was one part anger, one part suspicion and two parts lust.

“Who are you guys?”

“Cuarenta y unos … these are the baby cops I saved in the alley a few months ago.” Felipe looked up as he finished fastening the last of the thick gauze pads over Tomas’ wounds. “That’s Charlie, and the machote in the red shirt is Tony.”

The medic straightened up and turned to my partner. “Gimme your shirt, guapo. I’ll get the blood washed out of it for you.”

Tony pulled the tee over his head and there was an indrawn rush of breath from the gang members in the room when they saw his pierced nips.

Noel moved over to my partner and gently fondled the gold cross in his ear. His entire demeanor changed as he stroked the pebbled nips with their captive bead rings. The gang member's hands slid down and rested on his trim waist.

“Cock ring, too?” he asked in a husky voice.

Tony nodded. “Yes, sir.”

My partner put his head down in submission. Noel gently tipped his head back up. "Look at me, guapo."

He was held captive by Noel’s dark eyes. The only time I had seen Tony this submissive was off-duty with Jamie - and that was understandable since he was his boy.

The room had gone silent. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew that something important had just happened.

“Who's sponsoring you?"

“My sergeant, sir.”

“And him?” He nodded over to me.

“He’s a Top, sir. He’s engaged. His lover’s named Mateo.”

Felipe broke the spell. “Now that you’re all stitched up, Tomas, I’m gonna give you something for the pain. Then you’re going to rest a bit. Tony – help me get him to the couch.”

The two helped the gang leader out of the room. Noel turned to me and gave me a wide smile. “Stay for dinner, chulo… we gotta thank both of you properly for what you’ve done here tonight.”

* * *

"Dinner" was Chinese takeout ... and the best I ever tasted. Perhaps it was the after-effects of the adrenaline rush, or the guys around me, or maybe a combination of the two. One thing that became very obvious to me was that every hard and hard-muscled member of the Los Brazos gang was gay - the first indicator I had had was Felipe's admission about Cap; then the way Noel was reacting to Tomas' injuries. Tony and I were given strong hugs and caresses ... and some no-so-chaste kisses from the gang members there that night - about twelve in all. Obviously, everyone's gaydar was working very well. As Felipe mentioned those months ago in the alley, the gang made sure it never injured a cop and the guys in our precinct - "cuarenta y unos" - were given extra-special consideration. Speaking with Noel, the two groups shared a lot of habits as well - orgy-type initiations, wearing cockrings and keeping smooth. The gang went a bit further with being completely hairless with the exception of brows and lashes.

Tony and I were talking with a Latino bodybuilder and were engaged in a mutual admiration of our tattoos. He was fascinated with the metallic inks on my alpha-omega and lion, and Tony was running fingers down the beautifully detailed Technicolor sleeve on his mocha skin. A gentle hand touched my shoulder and I turned to see Noel.

" 'scuse me ... Charlie, can I talk to you for a moment?" He nodded to me to follow him into the kitchen. He closed the door quietly behind him.

"I wanna apologize for acting the way I did when you brought Tomas in ..." I held up my hand, but he waved it aside. "I was upset seeing him shot and I took it out on you and Tony. My bad."

He continued. "Your captain's gotta trust you with everything to ask you to come up here undercover with armor-piercing bullets and fucking blow away those guys. But then Tanner ain't no ordinary cop ... and obviously neither are you two."

I hated to lie - even by omission - but I let Noel continue.

"Your information on that tat design was good too - it was one of the Latin Kings. Once Tomas feels better, we gonna set up plans to take them out ... I'll let you know when and where so you can make sure none of you guys are around to get hurt."

He grabbed his thin sweater and pulled it over his head and off his torso. He stepped closer to me and gently massaged my obliques peeking above the edge of the leather shorts and knelt down and began to lick my crotch. I pulled back.

"Noel ... no ... please ... you don't have to do this..."

He looked down for a moment, and then back up at me. There were unshed tears in his eyes.

"Please, papi ... please don't make me beg ... what wouldn't you do for the man that saved your lover's life, huh? Let me show you how much what you did means to me."

He leaned his smooth head against my thigh. I reached down to stroke his face and then I tilted up his face so our eyes met.

"Okay..."

I leaned back against the counter and he unsnapped the shorts. It took a bit of effort to get them down since they were tight to begin with and his dark, expressive brows rose as he saw the massive mound straining against the leather of the posing pouch.

"Madre de Dios...." he breathed as he pulled down the pouch and saw my smooth, thick manhood surrounded by a heavy a heavy steel cockring. He gave the weeping slit a delicate lick.

He grinned up at me. "You taste like orange beef, chulo ..." He began to nibble at the skin right below the head. I squirmed in pleasure and widened my stance.

He opened his mouth and took the glans, licking it and wetting it with his spit, then swallowed my meat slowly, feeling its hardness, till he had about two thirds in his mouth.

Then I pushed his head forward, and Noel gagged as my horsecock went all the way in, till he felt his nose touch the silvery cockring and the tip of my dick in his throat. He inhaled deeply, finding he could accommodate it, and felt more and more excited, and started to suck it, moving his mouth along the thick meat, ever more eagerly. He was feeling a sense of exhilaration, sucking on my dick, tasting it, smelling it, massaging it with his tongue.

The sensation of having my cock wet and sucked by that warm mouth was amazing, and looking down and seeing that inked Latino hunk servicing me was almost more than I could bear ... I had to grit my teeth not to come.

Noel was a maestro when it came to cocksucking. He kept up a steady rhythm and I was panting through clenched teeth to prolong the agony and ecstasy. Finally, he decided it was time for me to come. The underboss of the Los Brazos gang stabbed his fingers into my hole and I jerked and screamed, hot cum flooding his mouth. He swallowed, drinking as much of it down as he could. Then he sat back on his heels, spent.

"Hey Noel! Tell Charlie to stop fucking you and bring in the ice cream!" Someone yelled from the other room.

He pushed himself off the floor as I grabbed a paper towel to clean myself off and get myself presentable. He opened the freezer and turned to me.

"Lessee ... we got peanut butter chocolate, mango and vanilla. What you feel like, papi?"

I grinned at him. "Peanut butter chocolate. I don't think any of us are vanilla types, do you?"

* * *
I can't tell you how good it feels to start writing again! Due to a lot of factors, I haven't been feeling myself for a few months and had very little interest in doing any mask-, fetish- or rubber- related activities.

The character of Charlie Hawke continues to be a favorite of mine, and this story is sort of an "interlude" between his first meeting with Carreau in the alley and his wedding.

Carreau ... another character that has blossomed in my secondary world. The fallen angel is deliciously wicked, but not evil ... I like to think of him somewhat like "Q" in the later "Star Trek" series - a nearly all-powerful being that has a soft spot for humans, but still enjoys tweaking their noses from time to time.

This entry also finishes up the story "The Chase." In a moment of weariness, Charlie lets slip his demonic knowledge to his partner and our favorite Lord of the Incubi shows up. Of course, there are certain events that Carreau wishes to shape and it falls to Officers Hawke and McLaren to carry out his wishes. I wanted to get a closer relationship going between the Los Brazos gang and Tanner's cops and this was the perfect vehicle to get peoples' imaginations going!

I do have some non-Charlie story ideas in the works and I'll be starting to write them starting next month.

Thanks again readers for putting up with the semi-dry spell!