Shadow of Wishes

By inkdancing

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Length: 25,686 words
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Taylish is a brilliant man, a prodigy in his youth, he's settled into life as a detective in Los Angeles. The son of a preacher, he didn't ask to be gay. Now he's lonely and devoted to his work.

Daniel has been raised a prisoner in Hong Kong. He's a beautiful man, plotting his freedom.

When they meet, they may not have a shadow of a wish to find love and happiness, but they'll do their best.


When the voice spoke it was sing-songy with a slight Chinese accent and perfect English, “'Hello, Angel. I saw you come in and I thought, 'here is a man who is an angel.' Are you an angry angel?”

No voice had ever reached into Taylish and swirled his soul around like he had sparkling stars dancing in his belly. “Maybe,” he said, words scattered among the stars. “Maybe I was just looking for you.”

Such light touches swirled around a nipple, so slow, and  he could feel the tingles as it tightened, and then the other hand soothed down his belly, over the waist band of his pants, and Taylish closed his eyes as the other man's hand cupped his hardness, rubbing through the leather.

Confident fingers sought out below his hardness, to cup balls through the defending leather. “You can't have been looking for me,” the voice whispered. “I can't even find myself.”

Taylish pressed back against the knee between his legs as the song wrapped them in an aloneness that only a slow song can do. It didn't make sense to suddenly have someone so deep inside his boundaries, so intimate, but Taylish reached back for the man's face, wanting to 'see' him with his fingers. He found jelled waves, softer at the roots, strong hungry lips that kissed his hand, that sucked a finger into a warm mouth and held it, tongue circling, suckling, and he groaned.

The gap of aloneness that had kept him aloof and untouched for so many years felt so far away as this man's teeth gently held his finger. It was as if this man knew him, knew him in all his soul, and accepted and loved him, and Taylish knew it couldn't be. He knew things like that didn't even happen in books, let alone gangster infested gothic nightclubs.

 “Who are you?” Taylish asked, now trying to turn in the man's arms, but finding himself easily pinned against the leg between his, the hands massaging nipple and crotch.

“I'm no one,” the voice said, sad, a sweet, heart breaking song of a voice, “I am no one. I existed only in this moment because I fell in love with you when I saw you. I'm nothing but a painting with no light, and for this moment you were my light. Angel, I hope you get what you came for here.”

Already he could feel the man withdrawing, the touch was lighter, softer, and Taylish spun. Arms went around the slender man he found there with flame red hair and one blue streak that curled around by his eye. Taylish sank his fingers into that hair, his other hand at the back of the man's head, and he kissed him. It was a clumsy kiss, lips to lips, like a teenager's first attempt, but Taylish put all the light he could find in his soul into it.

The little demon in his arms returned the kiss, teasing his lips open with a fast flickering tongue. Heat radiated into Taylish, throbbed in his manhood that he really had some idea of what that was for now, holding this man in his arms. The stranger's tongue took his mouth, tasting, painting an entire relationship into one kiss, knowing every spot, every nerve, until Taylish pulled away, gasping for breath.

Tears trailed down over the blush on the man's cheeks. Taylish reached to touch them, to wipe them away, maybe to make sure he was real, that this was not some drugged dream.

“Can I fall in love with you?” Taylish asked, an innocence in him still that no vice cop should have.

“No,” the man whispered, music, violent and banging, throbbing around them again. “No one can love a stained glass window.”

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