Delicious Sinn

by Adrianna Dane

  "Find it?" Will asked. Sinn awoke from his stupor.

  "Oh, yeah." He grabbed some liquid soap and smeared it over his hands. He went to Will, and parted his ass cheeks. He slid his hand beneath, tickling Will's balls with two fingers, before slide his hand back up the curve to the little puckered hole.

  "Mmm," Will uttered on a drawn out breath. "Yeah. That's it, just like that," he encouraged.

  Sinn circled Will's entrance. Pressed first his middle finger into the tight hole, testing. Will's anus sucked at the soapy finger and the tip disappeared inside. Wet heat and soft tissue surrounded Sinn's finger. He brought his other hand around to surround Will's cock.

  "How much longer is this water going to hold out?" Sinn asked as he deepened the penetration.

  "Long enough," Will said, then groaned. "I've got a big water tank.

  "Good," Sinn said as he pulled the finger out, then added a second finger to the first and began to stretch Will's opening, screwing them in. Twisting shallowly at first, then deeper and deeper.

  "Ahh, yes," Will said. He shoved his hips back. Sinn's fingers ground into him, screwing back and forth, Will's flesh giving way, yet sucking at him as well.

  Sinn couldn't wait any longer. Not another second. He had to be inside Will. Had to feel that tight hole bearing down on him. They both needed to jump off that edge one more time.

  Take your time. Make it good for him just the way he did for you.

  Yeah, he wanted this to be good for Will. Another consideration he'd never thought about before. In quick, out fast. Relief and nothing more. Not this time. He pressed the head of his prick to Will's opening and slowly pressed forward. God how he just wanted to burying himself inside this man. To bury his prick and to stay there, melded to Will forever. His cockhead popped through the anal ring.

  "Fuck, you feel good," he said. He'd never taken the time to actually appreciate a man's body the way he did Will's. Maybe if he had, things might have been different. Will had been taught differently and it showed.

  Sinn kissed Will's shoulder blade as he nudged deeper inside, Will’s tight ass gripping him so snugly. It felt amazing. He went deeper, deeper still until finally he was fully embedded inside Will. Will still gripped the steel bar but every line of his body seemed tense, poised at the edge. For once, Sinn thought of someone else, not just himself. Slowly he began to ride Will. He rolled his hips, screwed and dipped. Will thrust back meeting the rhythm.

  As Sinn drew closer to his climax, he reached up for one of Will's hands, drew it down and curled his fingers around Will's prick.

  "You come with me. We ride this crest together."

  Will nodded, his eyes were closed. Sinn humped in earnest, he shoved deep, held his breath, and then groaned as he spurted his seed. Will shuddered against him, his anus gripped Sinn, as he orgasmed. Sinn wrapped his arms around Will, stitching himself tightly to his lover.

  That's when he felt the first lyrics of the song fill his mind. There was moisture on his face, but he put it down to the shower. At last his world was filled with song once more.

  He felt cleansed and renewed and alive. Alive in a way he'd never felt before. He pulled free of Will and dropped to all fours overcome by the emotion and the music filling his head. Will spun around and dropped behind him, wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. Sinn twisted around and hugged Will. And he was certain he'd never let him go. For he knew as certain as he'd ever known anything in his life that Will Keyser, the boy grown into a man, had claimed him heart and soul.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Will threw on a pair of black running pants and slipped up to his loft on the top floor of the once-abandoned manufacturing building. The top floor had also been renovated. He was starving and he knew when Sinn finally woke up he'd be starving as well. Another skill that Will had perfected was cooking.

  After the extended shower, and toweling each other dry, Will had coaxed Sinn onto the king-sized bed and given him a massage with the special lotion he had spoken of. And then they had curled up together among the black satin sheets, both men falling into an exhausted sleep.

  It had been an amazing night and when Will woke up after such a deep sleep, he'd thought he'd find the whole night had just been a dream. But he was delighted to find Sinn's warmth still nestled against him tangled in black satin. His wavy blond hair was spread across the pillow, highlighted like spun gold silk upon satin. Will studied Sinn's features in repose. The lines softened by sleep, he seemed much the same as the sexy would-be rocker who had left Reverie behind all those years ago.

  His hand hovered just above the pale brow, Will's attraction to the man once more eagerly arising. But Will had to wonder, would a refreshing sleep and the span of a new day change everything once again? Would the afterglow have faded and Sinn once more assume the mantle of a jaded rocker set on using others and abusing himself, hiding the passions that lay hidden beneath the surface?

  Last night he'd been laid bare and Will knew that the infatuation he'd experienced as a boy for a wild young man going by the name of David Garner, had exploded into the fiery passion, and devoted love, for a jaded rocker with the persona of Sinn Midnite.

  Will put together something relatively light to eat. Croissants, homemade blackberry jam, whipped butter, fresh-squeezed orange juice, and an assortment of fruits. He also prepared fresh coffee and poured that into a carafe, and pulled down two ceramic coffee mugs. He could do something more substantial later. If Sinn stayed around and didn't just opt out. There was still that very real possibility. Will put everything on a tray, set the tray into the dumb waiter he’d had installed and lowered it to the playroom level.

  He had cleaned up the playroom earlier, had cleaned and folded Sinn’s clothes. When he entered the bedroom from the playroom, carrying the tray, he noticed Sinn was sitting cross-legged upon the bed, still bare. Notebook papers were strewn across the bed and he was frantically writing. Will set the tray on the drafting table, poured coffee into each of the mugs, then walked across the room and held out a mug to Sinn.

  Sinn glanced up. He grinned and then accepted the coffee. "Great. I'm starved, but I need caffeine more. I can't believe this. I've pushed so hard, for so long and finally the words are there. I thought they were gone forever."

  Will settled carefully onto the edge of the bed. He took a sip of his coffee, watched Sinn as he scribbled some more.

  "A new song?" Will asked.

  "Damn," Sinn said as he scratched out a line. "Not right. It can be better. I wish I had my guitar."

  "I have a folk guitar in the closet."

  Sinn's head shot up. "You do? Do you play?"

  Will shrugged. "I toy around with it some. Not a lot."

  "Yeah, that would help. I compose better when I can fiddle around with the chords. It helps to center me. Not that there's been a lot of that in recent years. Everything I've written has seemed like garbage. But this, not this."

  Will got up and walked to the closet. He hadn't had the guitar out in a while. When he'd gone down to Spain on assignment, one of the men he'd interviewed, and then dated, had given it to him as a gift before he left. He'd shown him a few things on it, but it really wasn't Will's thing. He handed it to Sinn.

  Sinn smoothed a hand over the satiny wood. "Nice." He fiddled with the strings for a bit, tuned it to his ear, then turned back to the lyrics.

  Will grabbed the tray from the drafting table and carried it over to the bed. Then he turned away to pick up his camera. Quietly, and from different angles he starting taking photos of Sinn while he worked.

  Sinn grabbed a croissant and absently tore it apart and stuffed pieces into his mouth as he turned to composing. Will caught one shot of him when his eyes lit up with a triumphant expression. Another in focused and deep concentration. Several as he strummed the guitar, his focus more internal than external.

  Will was fascinated. He lost track of time until finally Sinn glanced up, he set the guitar aside, his eyes focused on Will.

&
nbsp; "This is your fault," he said.

  "Mine?" Will set his camera aside.

  "I've struggled with the words for so long, but now they're just there, like they used to be a long time ago."

  "But you've written in recent years. Your last album–the lyrics were yours."

  "Did you listen to them?" Sinn asked quietly. "Did you read them?"

  Will nodded. "Yes. 'Lost in LA' is the one that got me digging into your past. It was about you, wasn't it."

  "I thought it would help if I got it out. But it didn't. All it did was open the past and made me even more frustrated and bitter."

  "Is that when you wrote 'Cut You Deep'?" Will had felt the anger pulsing in those songs. Just listening to them, the jarring impact, the hate emanating from them. He knew it was personal.

  "I couldn't seem to write anything else. Every time I tried to put words down the only emotion that came out was hate. But it was never enough to drain it, only to fuel more of it."

  "And the song you just wrote down?"

  "It's different. Nothing like that last album. I don't know what you did to me, but I'm free. Not fractured anymore."

  Will couldn't help it, the hope flared in his heart. He went to Sinn, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm glad. You have a gift Sinn, it shouldn't be wasted."

  Sinn looked up at him, a strange expression on his face, a growing tension in his demeanor. "Are you going to sell those pictures you took?"

  Shocked, Will stepped back and stared at Sinn in open astonishment. Sinn's question had blind-sided him. "Sell them?"

  A certain jaded look came back into Sinn's eyes. The same look Will had seen the night before at the club. Was it all over with then? He had hoped, but maybe there was no going back. Nor forward either.

  Suddenly, Will lost it. "Damn you! After everything we’ve shared, you ask me that. No. They're not for sale. If you want, I’ll wipe the card clean right now if that's what you think. I won't ever take another picture of you again. But I'd hope you'd know you could trust me. Especially after last night."

  He picked up the camera, ripped opened the side panel, and yanked out the card, then strode back to the bed. Sinn's arm shot out and he covered Will's hand with his own. He knelt up on the bed, papers scattering, and he kissed Will. All the anger melted away at the touch of Sinn's lips on his.

  * * *

  Sinn had come so close to falling back into the easy, yet suspicious mold he grooved for himself over the last few years. But Will didn't fit into any mold and he should have realized that. It was hard to accept that things had changed. One night, between one day and the next, had altered everything. One man had changed everything.

  "I don't want you to destroy them. I don't know who you see through your lens and maybe I'm afraid to find out. You have a gift–more than one. Yours seems gentler than mine in some ways. Even the way I let you dominate me. It's not the same as anything I've ever experienced before. You make me want to be a better man–a different man. But I don't know–it scares me. All of this emotion that's inside me now–I'm not used to it and I don't know what to do with it."

  "You just did something with it, didn't you?" Will glanced off to the scattered papers on the bed.

  "Yeah, I guess I did. Somehow I've got clarity back."

  He looked back at Will, directly into his eyes, searching–but he wasn't quite sure what he was searching for. What answer he expected to find. He felt a certain tenseness in Will.

  "What is it?" he asked.

  "Is this a one-night stand to you?" Will asked. He stepped away from Sinn and turned his back. "Are you leaving now, never looking back? Are you going to treat this all just like any other fanboy interlude?"

  "Do you want more?" Sinn asked. "I don't know what I'm capable of. I'm not that kid from Reverie anymore."

  Will swiveled around. "You're the rock star. Do you need a different guy in your bed every night? Is that what helps you keep your edge on stage?" He swung an arm out and pointed. "Like some smorgasbord of boys, I'll take that one tonight? Am I just the flavor of last night?"

  Sinn heard the anger in his voice, saw it in his stance.

  "What is it you want from me? I haven't got a fucking clue if I've got staying power. I haven't trusted anyone–not since Bobby. Not before, not after. I don't know if I can." Sinn climbed off the bed. "I want what you're offering. I want this to be more than just one night. I don't know if I can follow through with that sort of...commitment. Sometimes the music–it does things to me."

  "Do they satisfy you? Can any one of those boys give you a taste of what you had with me last night?"

  To be honest, none of them had ever come close. Sinn wanted every night to be like last night. But could it be considering the life he led? Or that Will led for that matter?

  "You and I are different." Even Sinn knew that was a lame excuse.

  "Are we so different?” Will asked. “We both have careers that take us all over the world. We meet a lot of different people. You think I can't find a warm bed in any corner of the world I go to? But I don't accept every invitation. I don't accept half. I don’t need them." He stepped toward Sinn. "And I don't really want any of them—except for you. I'm not a hanger's on, Sinn. I don't accept second place." He straightened. "You tasted what I can offer, now you have to decide–but for me, it's all or nothing. It has to be."

  "You play or you wouldn't have this place. Are you going to give it all up for a worn-out rocker eight years older than you?"

  "Is that what you're afraid of? That I’m too young for you? That eventually I'll walk out on you once you start using a walker?"

  And there it was, exactly what he was afraid of. Last night he'd given all his power over to Will and enjoyed every moment of it. But could he give his heart in the same way, trusting that Will would have a care for it. He knew he'd never be able to survive being ripped and savaged like he'd been in LA. Did he dare reach for what Will offered?

  "Fuck you." he said. "Where the hell are my clothes?"

  Will strode across the room and picked up the folded clothes he'd taken care of earlier while Sinn slept. He turned around and held them out to Sinn. "Yours," he said.

  Sinn stared at the folded pile, then back at Will. "If you left me the way Bobby did–walked out of my life. If I gave you–what you wanted and you kicked me to the curb because you found out I wasn't what you thought I was. I'm not staying around to find out. I can't give you what you want."

  "You do realize I'd be doing the same." Will licked his lips. "In my world–the one I've chosen to live in–there's negotiation. If you–if you wanted to bring someone else–home–on occasion. We could talk about it."

  Sinn felt a shock course through him at Will's offer. "You'd do that?"

  "If you were honest. I'll admit, I don't share well. I don't want to share you. But if that's what it takes, I guess I'd be willing to make accommodation for your needs–for your lifestyle."

  "Why?"

  "Davy–Sinn, I've been in love with you my whole life. My whole life. If there's no chance for us, then do me a favor, and get dressed and just leave. I'll find a way to get over it. But if there's a chance–any chance that we can make a go of it. Even with our different lifestyles, I'm willing to put my heart out on the line because I care that much.

  Sinn was humbled. Will wasn't talking about sex–an encounter that simply took the edge off a rough day, something that cut the stress. He was talking about something real. Something that went far deeper. It was something that Sinn had caught glimpses of for other people, two of the guys in the band were married, but he’d never thought it could ever apply to him. Could they make it work?

  "How do we do this?"

  Will set the clothes aside. "We could try starting in that bed behind you."

  "With handcuffs or without?"

  Will cocked an eyebrow. "Without. For now. It's as good a place as any to seal a deal."

  Sinn grinned. "Yeah, it is." Will Keyser was obviously a patient man, Sinn ha
d to wonder if some of that would grow on him. But maybe not just at the moment. Will came to him and took him in his arms. Then to Sinn's surprise he shoved him back against the bed and then tossed him onto it, crawling over him.

  "There are still a few surprises to show you, babe." He tacked Sinn's arms to the rumpled bed. “I have a toy box like you wouldn’t believe.” Sinn gazed up at him. Got lost in his sky-blue eyes. And he realized that no matter where he went or what he did or who he met, this place, beneath this man was exactly where he wanted to be for the rest of his life. Finally, he'd found home.

  "Delicious Sinn, you are all mine," Will said.

  Sinn felt a new sort of emotion overwhelm him. He cleared it as he stared up at the man who had brought him back to life. "Every part of me is all yours." A light flared in Will's eyes as he slowly leaned down to claim a soul-deep kiss.

  Sinn yielded himself to the persuasive power of the man pinning him to the bed. He felt that seductive exchange of sexual power flowing through him and into Will. Will and the feelings he evoked inside Sinn, made it easy coming to the only conclusion possible. Destiny will have its way and there’s no eluding it. Everyone stood at crossroads in their lives, life was meant to be lived, and loving Will Keyser would never be dull and most decidedly worth the risk.

  ~ 0 ~

  Author Bio

  Adrianna Dane has been putting pen to paper since the age of ten. She currently resides in the state of Washington. She has a great fondness for using a fountain pen when writing her first drafts. Hobby interests are varied, including photography and traveling.

  The first defining love story Adrianna read back in junior high school was "Wuthering Heights" by Emily Bronte, and that set her on the road to her long-standing love affair with books of all genres. Her inspiration in writing often can be found by listening to song lyrics, from hard rock to classical, and reading poetry by such poets as Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Edgar Allen Poe, and Ranier Maria Rilke. But finding inspiration for her stories truly has no boundaries for Adrianna.