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Before the End of the World	By : QueenB Category: Angel the Series > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2803 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Angel: The Series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Disclaimer: This belongs to the great and powerful Joss and the usual gang of idi…uh, geniuses
Feedback: Do your worst—it can’t compare to my worst ;)
Pairing: Angel/Doyle
Notes: This story is a continuation of Joey’s two short stories “A Man of the World” and “All the Time in
the World.” They can be found at http://www.thinveil.org/angelslash/fics Thank you, Joey, for your gracious permission. This is in honor of Glenn Quinn who died far too young.
Thoughts are shown in italics.

Why’d I turn him down? Doyle couldn’t help it. Ever since he’d kissed Angel (and he had kissed him—rather thoroughly too, as long as he was being honest), visions of the vampire would pop up to distract him in the middle of work—not that there was a lot of work. That was a shame. Maybe work would have distracted him from thinking about Angel.
Other things would pop up, too, and Doyle shifted uncomfortably in order to hide his rising erection. For one of the rare times in his life, he envied women. Mus’ be great to feel arousal and be able to hide it. Wonder if Angel has this trouble? He shifted again, glad the desk was covering up his boner.
He started as he realized Cordelia was asking him something. “Wha? What is it, princess, I wasn’ listening.”
Cordelia huffed in exasperation. “Well, obviously. Honestly, I’ve got to get a girlfriend in this town. Talking to you two guys is like talking to the walls. You never pay attention!”
Doyle flashed her one of his cheeky grins, the kind that had been known to melt women in their shoes. “Aw, Cordy, you know I’m always here for ya. No cause to go turning to women to soothe ya when there’s a perfectly willin’ male right on your doorstep.”
The dark-haired woman flipped her hair over her shoulder in irritation. “Ha ha, very funny. Denis Leary had better watch out for his laurels. I only said that I was going to a screening party this evening and wondered if Angel would care to come with me.”
Doyle leaned forward over the desk. “Why can’t I come? I’d be just as good company as Angel. Better, in fact. You know how withdrawn he gets in crowds.”
Cordelia scanned him with a critical eye. “Maybe so, but Angel cleans up better. A lot better. You dress like you’ve been rummaging in the reject bin at Goodwill.”
Doyle wasn’t hurt by Cordelia’s assessment; he knew he wasn’t the snappiest dresser. What could anyone expect on the little salary they made? “Then it looks like you’re goin’ alone, princess, ‘cause I don’ think Angel’d agree…”
“Agree to what?” came the quiet question from the doorway.
Cordelia jumped and yelped, “God, Angel, would you wear a bell or something? It’s majorly creepy when you sneak up on people like that.”
Angel raised an eyebrow at the familiar rebuke. What did Cordelia expect from him? Two centuries of moving around like a predator meant that he didn’t make a lot of noise. Cordelia obviously didn’t expect a response because she rambled on with her question. “I was just telling Doyle about a screening party for the latest Jackie Chan flick and wondered if you’d like to accompany me—you know, as an escort.”
Angel’s stare held more than a hint of trepidation. “You mean, an escort-date or an escort-gigolo?”
The woman rolled her eyes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were telling a joke. Which is impossible, of course. It’s not quite either; you’d be more of a male version of an arm bracelet.”
“Very flattering,” Angel dryly replied. “I’m no good in social situations, Cordelia. I think you’re better off taking Doyle.”
“See, that’s jus’ what I was tellin’ her!” the short Irishman answered.
Cordelia protested, “No way, Angel, not the way he dresses! Please, please, please, please, please take me instead?”
Angel considered the problem for a moment. “Look, Cordelia, how about I take Doyle shopping? I’ve saved up a little over the years; I can shell out something for him. Does he need to wear a tux?”
Cordelia’s brows furrowed as she looked between the two men. Angel could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. She thought him the better-looking prospect but knew that Doyle had the more appealing personality. Seeing Doyle’s hopeful look, she finally relented.
“All right, Angel. If you can dress him up properly before eight, he can come. Oh, and there’s no need for a tux. Ordinary formalwear is okay; something nice in Armani oughta do it.” She picked up her purse and opened the door.
“Hey, princess, where ya going? It’s only 4:30 in the afternoon.”
“Boy, you don’t know much about women, Doyle. I’m going to need at least an hour just to get my hair done. Pick me up at 7 p.m. Ciao!” Throwing a breezy hand into the air as farewell, she flounced out of the office.
In the wake of her departure, the two men were left gazing at each other. Angel headed towards the elevator. “I’ll just get the cash and we’ll be on our way.”
Doyle thought of something. “Wait a minute, it’s broad daylight outside. Where can ya go at this time o’ day?”
“There’s an underground mall I go to whenever I need new clothes. Don’t worry.” Then, just as the elevator began to descend, “We’ll probably need to get you fitted.”
Fitted? As in him stripped and some strange guy brushing his hands up and down his body? Unbidden, a vision of Angel’s large hands roaming caressingly over him sprang into his mind and Doyle rested his head on the table, groaning. What had he gotten himself into?
__________
The actual purchase wasn’t quite as intimate as that. In the end, Angel settled for getting something off the rack—the $500-and-up rack. Doyle had never worn anything this expensive in his life and protested the expenditure. He pointed out that he was probably never going to wear it again; it was an extravagant waste of money.
Angel waved away his arguments. “Cordelia is going to be attending a lot of these parties and she’ll need another escort, if she doesn’t get a steady boyfriend. If you impress her this time, maybe you’ll be the lucky guy. In either case, you’ll definitely need the suit.”
The argument was a good one. He certainly wanted to charm the fair Cordelia and dressing well was the first step. He couldn’t help but silently marvel at Angel’s generosity. The vampire still wanted him; Doyle had caught Angel eyeing his slight frame more than once since that torrid kiss they’d shared. But, true to his word, he hadn’t pressured Doyle in any way since then.
The problem was Doyle found himself thinking about the brunette vamp far more often than he thought of Cordy. But how could he tell Angel that after rejecting him so firmly?
Doyle squirmed, trying to loosen the collar of the jacket. It certainly fitted him well, the small shoulder pads giving the illusion of build while tapering nicely over his hips, but the collar itched like the devil. He swiveled his head to see Angel arguing quietly with the salesman. “I really think the gentleman should go with beige; it’s a nice neutral color. The green is far too striking.”
Angel smiled. “How about the customer is always right? The green brings out his eyes and it’s my money.”
A tight smile appeared on the salesman’s face. “Of course. We have a lovely selection right here.” He whisked off a shimmering dark green silk shirt from the rack and displayed it with a flourish.
Angel fingered the sleeve and slowly nodded his approval. He held it up just under Doyle’s chin and met the half-demon’s gaze. Their eyes locked and held and Doyle suddenly felt as if all the air had gone out of the room. Angel was giving him the barest of touches as his knuckles grazed the smaller man’s chin but Doyle could feel it burn all the way down to his toes. He clutched the shirt to his chest and gulped.
“I-I’ll just go into the changing room and—change.” With this lame exit line, he half-stumbled, half-ran into the adjacent small enclosure.
Aw crap, what the hell am I doin’? I’m about to go out on my first date—well, escort duty—with the fair Cordelia who I’ve been fantasizing about for months and all I can think of is the tall, dark, gorgeous, brooding vamp standing just outside with his fathomless eyes, big hands, broad chest, looks to die for and… all right, m’lad, that’s it! Get a grip on yourself!
“Doyle? Are you all right in there?”
Doyle nodded his head frantically and then realized that Angel couldn’t see it. “Yeah, I’m jus’ fine. Give me a sec, will ya?”
Angel started to move away and then sniffed. There was a faint odor in the air, one he knew all too well from his days as a ruthless hunter. Angelus had been famous for playing with his food, tormenting humans into a state of terror before he drained them or simply taking them during times when they’d achieved happiness. He’d delighted in robbing humans of their lives just as they were about to know earthly joy.
But sometimes even he had wearied of that game and settled for the simpler role of the seducer. His seraphic looks had drawn many a woman and man into his snare when he went for easy kills. A smoldering stare, a few well-chosen words and his victims would practically fall into his lap, begging to be taken. He was very familiar with the odor of sexual excitement and that’s what he was detecting now.
For a moment, he entertained the hope that the feeling was for him but then he realized that Doyle was probably thinking about his big date with Cordelia. Yeah, that had to be it. The seer had made it clear to Angel that he loved him but he was in love with her. Doyle hadn’t said nor done anything after that to indicate whether Angel was ever the object of his desires. But since they’d kissed, Angel had been detecting that odor often—sometimes when the statuesque woman was nowhere in the vicinity.
Angel was tempted to let it go. But his yearning for Doyle hadn’t lessened in the days following that embrace and he wanted him as much as ever. Dammit, Cordelia wasn’t even interested in Doyle! Why shouldn’t he fight for him?
The vampire gave a casual glance around the immediate area. The salesman had conveniently disappeared. All throughout the sale, he’d given Angel and Doyle significant little glances as if he thought they were a couple. Doyle had completely missed those signals but Angel had seen and understood. He’d done nothing to correct that impression and now he was glad. The man was discreetly giving them time alone and that was how he wanted it.
He placed his hand on the door and remarked quietly, “Are you sure green’s the color you want? We could always get the beige if you prefer. That would look equally good on you.”
Doyle jumped and backed off until he was pressed against the wall. Angel’s voice sounded so close and Doyle was dismayed to realize that only a thin partition separated him from the big man on the other side. “No, it’s fine, really it is.”
The vampire brushed his fingernails along the door, making a slight scraping sound. “I think about those eyes of yours sometimes, Doyle. The way they shift color depending on what you’re wearing. Did you know vampires are attracted to bright colors?”
Doyle swallowed hard. He was finding it hard to speak. “N-no, I didn’t know that.”
Angel brushed his fingernails back again. “Yes, we are. It brings out the predator in us. We’re drawn after prey that wears them. When I lie in my bed awake during the early daylight hours, I think of those eyes of yours, those loud awful clothes you wear. I want to stalk after you, pull them from your skin, run my teeth all over you and sink into your flesh. I think of all the things I want to do to that fine body of yours.”
He paused and sniffed again. There it was, the smell of arousal, now so much stronger than it had been. He scraped his fingernails again, a little louder this time. Doyle couldn’t see him and he knew the scratching noise would send a little frisson along his nerves as he tried to imagine where Angel was standing and what he was doing.
“I’ve been thinking about you since that kiss, Doyle. What you were dressed in, the sound of your voice, how you tasted, how you felt. I’ve been—dreaming about you. A lot.”
Angel could sense the need of the other now. The tension in the air was almost palpable, the pungent scent of male desire too much to resist. And now there was a sound coming from the chamber to match that scent. Human ears wouldn’t have heard it but Angel’s detected it easily. It was the steady slap of flesh on flesh.
Doyle was jerking off. The half-demon had been driven nearly insane listening to Angel whisper how much he wanted him. He’d been partially undressed already when Angel stepped up to the door. It had been too easy to yield to the urge to touch himself. He leaned his head back against the wall and moved his hand up and down his dick in firm slow strokes. “What do ya imagine yourself doin’ ta me, Angel?”
“I’d start off with a kiss. That’s what I remember and I want more of it. I’d kiss you hard until you couldn’t breathe any more and you got light-headed.” Angel leaned closer and let his voice deepen. A hint of the brogue that had long disappeared from his speech crept into it. “I’d run me hands down your back ‘til I was holding that delightful arse. I’d pull ya up against me ‘til that hard cock of yours was rubbing against me own.”
Doyle’s eyes drifted shut. He whispered quietly as his hand stroked faster. “And then what? What’d ya do next?”
Angel silently opened the door and ghosted next to the shorter man almost crumpled into the corner. “I say the time fer talkin’ is past.” He cupped Doyle’s face tenderly in his hands and brought his mouth down over the other Irishman’s.
Doyle tensed a little but he was too far-gone to stop this now. Angel’s tongue trailed out to lap against the shorter man’s lips. Those strong, sure hands skimmed down over Doyle’s back and seized his arse in a solid grasp. Doyle gasped and his opened mouth allowed the vampire’s tongue entry. In moments, they were lurching together, their mouths locked, as they tasted each other. Angel’s tongue was so cool, bathing every corner of Doyle’s mouth with its chill.
The taller man continued clutching and swirling his hands around Doyle’s cloth-covered bottom. The pants were open at the front but he resisted the temptation to touch the naked member pressed between their two bodies. It could keep. He continued kissing Doyle passionately, then slid his large hands inside the trousers.
Doyle arched into the large body covering his own as he felt his bare arse being pinched and rubbed. Angel was still kissing him and Doyle was rapidly losing his bearings for lack of air. Angel pulled back and saw how the other’s mouth fell open as he sucked in swift puffs of air. “I was right,” the vamp whispered.
Doyle gasped, “Right? A-about wha?”
“That is a good color for you,” Angel smirked and then lowered his head to suck at a nipple through the silk.
Doyle moaned as the blunt teeth worried at his flesh. He sank his fingers into Angel’s surprisingly soft hair and held him close. One hand left his buttock to rub the sensual silk all over his other nubbin. The sleek texture of the material was tantalizing, almost like skin. It felt as if Angel was already naked against him. I wonder if that’s why he wears it. The odd thought flew through his mind and was gone, lost in the endless sensations of the moment.
The immortal parted the silk at last and brushed his nose over the hairy chest to the quivering stomach in front of him. The potent, not-quite-human smell of the little man rose to tickle his nostrils and Angel growled as he inhaled it. Doyle shivered at that sound. His eyes opened and he watched in fascination as Angel’s head lowered over his straining erection.
The vamp let his tongue flutter around the cockhead. The other man’s hips rocked forward at that tentative first touch and Angel sucked at the heated length. He pulled hard, allowing the cock to slide down his throat then let it slip almost entirely out. The shaft with its velvety skin concealing the taut muscles beneath flexed and jumped in his throat as if it possessed a life of its own.
He licked up the pulsing length. Taking his cue from the rhythmic moans coming from above him, Angel brought all his considerable years of experience to bear. He alternated short sucks with long ones and ran his fingers around the wrinkled sac behind just the way he liked to be touched. The vampire could feel Doyle’s nuts drawing up against his body and knew the moment of his crisis was fast approaching.
“Oh, sweet Jaysus,” Doyle breathed. The handsome demon he’d been daydreaming about was down on his knees, giving him the best blowjob he’d ever had, in the changing room of a men’s department store. He couldn’t past the impossibility of it; the squeezing sensations meant he could barely think at all. His hips rocked forward, harder and deeper with each motion, as he sought to bury himself in all that cool suction. His eyes rolled up as his head fell back against the wall again and that’s when he saw it.
The camera was carefully set in a little recess in the wall, no doubt to catch shoplifters in the act, and he blushed crimson when he realized the storeowners could see everything that was happening. “Christ, Angel. Stop, get up!”
“Hmmmmm?” came the distracted reply and the humming around his dick was nearly enough to do him in.
Doyle clenched his teeth and tugged agitatedly at Angel’s hair. “Angel, ya gotta stop! There’s a bloody camera in here!”
At that, Angel let the other man’s shaft slide out of his mouth with a loud slurp and came to his feet in one fluid motion. He swiftly tucked Doyle back into his pants and stepped back to the door. “I guess we’re finished in here, then. Take off the suit and get ready to go. I’ll just have a wee chat with the salesman.” Without another word, he stepped through the door and was gone.
The seer gaped after him in shock. It had all happened so quickly and Angel had left without the slightest tremor in his voice to indicate that anything out of the ordinary had just occurred. Doyle was left sporting a massive hard-on and it was all he could do to keep from kicking the walls in frustration. Now he had the whole night ahead to think about what had almost happened to him.
He came out from the changing room to see Angel looming over the salesman. The latter had a smug, pleased expression on his face that pissed off Doyle no end. His effusive appeals to Angel to “come again, anytime” were incomprehensible and the half-demon turned to his companion as soon as they left and hissed, “All right, out wit’ it.”
“Out with what?” Angel replied innocently.
“Don’ give me that! What did that son o’ bitch say to ya? I know he was watchin’ us; I could tell by that smarmy look he had on his face.”
“He wasn’t watching us, Doyle. He had other customers to attend to. He may have been listening a little; you weren’t exactly quiet, you know.”
Doyle flushed and saw the other’s amused look. Dammit, he’s enjoying this! He snapped in irritation, “So why does he look like the proverbial cat that ate the canary?”
Angel shrugged. He handed Doyle $50 in tens and fives. “Take the rest of the afternoon off. Get yourself ready and pick up Cordy in a taxi. She’s probably expecting a limo but, hey, that’s for the second date.”
The demon halfbreed felt like shaking him. Angel was hiding something; he just knew it. “What about that damn salesman, Angel?”
“He was probably just pleased at the best sale he’s made all day. That and the extra $100 I gave him for the videotape.” A dreamy expression settled over Angel’s features. “It’ll give me something to watch while you and Cordelia are enjoying yourselves at the screening party.”
Doyle stared at him and felt the blood rush to his groin. Jaysus, Mary and Joseph, the man had him hard again and now he had to imagine not only what they’d just done but what Angel was going to do while he was watching that tape.
Shit, it was going to be a long night.
__________
It was a good video. It was of much better quality than the grainy ones you saw in corner grocery stores. There was color for one thing. Too bad there was no sound but then most thieves didn’t state out loud their intention to steal.
The first part was a nice little teaser. Doyle was alone and the camera captured his cock in all its glory right before he began handling it. It showed his face, too: the concentrated look, the corded muscles in his neck as his head tipped backwards while his fingers tightened around his member. Angel took careful note of that—he wanted to see exactly how Doyle liked being touched so he could repeat it.
Then he saw his own large body enter the frame and he fast-forwarded. He’d effectively blocked the smaller man so that now he couldn’t see anything except Doyle’s hands reaching up to grip his shoulders.
Ah, this was much better. He was kneeling in this portion, drawing Doyle’s length into his mouth. The other man’s hands were in his hair; he could see his Adam’s-apple bobbing while the half-demon swallowed hard. Those lips were parted as Doyle gasped and groaned. A lovely sex flush had coursed all the way up the hairy chest right to his forehead. Then he saw the look of panic sweep over Doyle’s face as he noticed the camera and Angel had to stop what he was doing.
Angel had known about the camera, of course. After all, he shopped there all the time. The plan had been to cut things short just before Doyle reached his orgasm. Angel had meant to pretend that he’d heard the salesman. But the camera had provided the perfect excuse.
Because he wanted the half-demon horny and frustrated so he’d be thinking about him all during the coming hours. Angel preferred the other man to be sure he wanted what the vampire was offering, to make a conscious choice between him and Cordelia. He needed Doyle to be on fire for him; he wanted to hear him beg. After all the days of making Angel wait, he would know what it was like to be on the receiving end.
He wasn’t afraid of losing his soul. The first time with Buffy, he hadn’t known about the gypsy clause. It had taken him completely unprepared. Now there were too many pain-filled memories, too much fear of the repercussions for there to be even the remotest chance of perfect happiness. No, the most he was hoping for here was some shared closeness with another being. He wanted to recapture some of the joy from that first encounter with Doyle’s ancestor.
The vampire shifted around a little on the couch. He was erect, too—had been ever since he’d stepped into the changing room. But he didn’t want to cum yet. Not until he had Doyle in his arms. Angel rewound the tape and prepared to watch it again for the sixth time.
__________

To the Irish halfbreed, the screening party seemed to last forever. He forced himself to exchange witty banter with and display his winning charm to everybody he met. He told himself to do it for Cordelia. She wanted to make a good impression on people like this; it would help her career.
In the new suit Angel had bought him, he looked suave and sophisticated. At least, those had been Cordelia’s words. Judging by the way women kept hovering over him, she wasn’t alone in her opinion. Time and again, some picture-perfect beauty would stroke his lapel and gush over his Irish accent. He should have been in hog heaven.
But memories of a certain souled vampire kept intruding in his mind. In the middle of conversation, he’d once more see Angel kneeling on the floor in front of him, taking his cock in his mouth, and “little Doyle” would stiffen uncontrollably.
His condition hadn’t gone unnoticed, either. The women would glance down and their eyes would fasten on the distinct bulge in his trousers. Some had been appalled; a few had been delighted, no doubt believing they were the cause of his ardor. More than one lady had slipped her phone number into his pocket.
Doyle could stand it no longer. He’d been to the toilet twice to jerk off and he was still feeling the strain. He sidled up to Cordelia who was deep in animated conversation with some second-tier director. “Cordy,” he hissed. She ignored him and edged closer to Ilan Vincent-What’s-His-Name. “Cordy, I’m supposed to be your date. Coulda pay a little attention here?”
The willowy brunette flashed the man a brilliant smile and grabbed Doyle by the arm, dragging him away. “What is your damage, bub? Couldn’t you see I was talking?”
“Yeah, I noticed. What about me being your escort?”
“That’s just a cover story, mister, so don’t get any ideas. Besides, I didn’t pester you when you were flirting with all those women, did I?”
He grinned a little. “What’s the matter, princess? Jealous?”
Cordelia snorted. “As if. I was just glad you were keeping from underfoot. It would have been great if you’d just stayed that way. That guy was telling me about his next movie and he says there’s a part in it that’s perfect for me!”
Doyle gave the man a narrow-eyed glance. “I don’ know, Cordy. Are ya sure this guy’s on the level and not another Russell Winters?”
“Oh, please. How many bloodsucking evil directors can there be in L.A.?” At Doyle’s dubious look she reconsidered her own question. “Okay, what are the chances I’ll run into two of them in the same year?”
Doyle sighed. “Look, Cordy, if this all pans out for ya, that’s great ‘n all. But we’ve been here almost four hours. There’s only so much avocado dip I can consume and my feet are killin’ me.”
“Well, why don’t you try the prosciutto and melon?”
The Irishman shuddered exaggeratedly. “Are ya kiddin’ me? Who got the idea of wrapping pig around fruit, anyway? And people think the Irish have lousy cuisine.”
“The sushi—”
“Raw fish ain’t a meal, Cordy. It’s a practical joke.”
Cordelia looked around and waved at the director who raised a glass of wine in her direction. “Just one more hour, Doyle. Besides, what do you know about aching feet? Try schmoozing around in high heels sometime and you’ll know from pain.”
__________
At last, the ordeal was over. They hailed a taxi and Doyle sat in distant silence while Cordelia prattled on and on about whom was at the party, all the famous and almost-famous people she’d met. She was ecstatic; she was on cloud nine. This was why she’d come to L.A. in the first place and, listening to her, Doyle realized that he’d never be a part of her glamorous world. Sure, it had been fun, but he hadn’t connected to any of those women he’d met tonight.
In a way, they were all a little like Cordelia. Desperate to get ahead, eager to make a name for themselves, no matter how fleeting, obsessed with fame, success and money. These were “the beautiful people” and none of them would accept the other face he wore, the one that would send women shrieking in the other direction. How could any of them ever understand what he did, how he, Angel and Cordelia put their lives on the line every day at the beck and call of mysterious powers?
As he came out of his introspection, he realized the taxi had halted in front of Cordelia’s flat. She was eyeing him nervously and he understood that she was debating whether or not to ask him up. He looked back at her and all at once he knew.
He wasn’t interested. Throughout the entire evening, his heart hadn’t raced once at being in her company. It had been all he’d longed for and he hadn’t cared simply because he could only think about being with a certain vampire with deep, soulful eyes. He cleared his throat.
“Cordelia, I—”
“Doyle, would you—”
“No, you first.”
“Oh, please, you were saying something, Doyle.”
“Uh, ladies first and all tha’.”
Cordelia fiddled with her tiny little handbag. It was so small the man wondered what she could carry in it besides her credit cards and keys. “Well—would you like to come up? For a nightcap, I mean.”
He lifted his eyes to meet hers and smiled gently. “Naw, I’m tired, princess. Best be heading home. You have a nice sleep and dream of hunky movie stars, all right?”
The smile she flashed him was radiant. She was obviously relieved to be rid of him so easily. Any other night this casual dismissal would have hurt him deeply.
But not tonight. He saw her walk up to her door and made sure she got in safely. Then he settled back in the taxi.
“Where to, buddy?”
He jerked his head around at the driver. “Wha?”
“Where ya headed?” Doyle barely stopped to consider before he gave the address.

TBC
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Before the End of the World