by Cari Z
“You told me not to see you.”
“Not you,” Devon said to Steven. “Rio.”
“I’m getting a picture,” Rio assured him.
Devon unbuttoned his pants and stepped out of them, revealing a garter belt, thigh-high violet stockings and a thong that would double as a makeshift gaff, complete with a tasteful black satin button in the front. Devon tucked his equipment up and back, adjusted the thong for extra support, then pulled the lacy sheathe down to ride his hips, just low enough to obscure things if the thong slipped and fancy enough to look like a deliberate fashion choice. No shoes, but if he walked on the balls of his feet he seriously doubted anyone would notice. He could always claim Steven had a foot fetish.
It took about thirty seconds to apply the makeup, which mostly consisted of lipstick and eye shadow. All told, the entire transformation took about three minutes. Devon looked down at his body critically. It wasn’t his best work, but it would take more than a casual grope to figure out he was anything other than a gorgeous, if somewhat androgynous, girl.
“Okay, you can look.”
“Better be good,” Steven said as he began to turn, and then he stopped speaking entirely. Devon pouted winsomely and twirled on his toes, hands on his hips.
“What do you think?” he asked, adding a sultry lilt to his voice and lifting it half an octave. He sounded like an alto now—a sexy, sexy alto, if he did say so himself. A hint of his allure brought a shine to his eyes and lips that no makeup could improve on. His new look clearly did it for Steven, who put a hand down on his crotch and pushed down firmly.
“Fuck me, you’re gorgeous.”
“Why thank you.” Devon preened, running his hands up his narrow waist and cupping the bra. “I do clean up nicely, when I put some effort into it. Now.” He stepped over to Steven’s side and smiled at him. “How about you get us into that back room, baby?”
“I can…yeah. I can do that, yeah.”
“You’ve struck him dumb,” Rio remarked. He sounded amused.
“I have this effect on almost everyone, you just haven’t noticed,” Devon told him quietly.
“Focus on the mission, boys,” Maria said, speaking up for the first time. “Less chatter, more action.”
“Spoilsport,” Devon hummed. He watched as Steven input the code, one he might need to remember himself. The door clicked open, and they exchanged a glance. “Ready?” he asked Steven.
“As ever.” Arm in arm, they walked back into Infinite’s depths.
This was a very different place from the Pearly Gates. There was none of the blatant use of power on display here. Try as he might, even with his enhanced senses, Devon didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary. The hallway opened into a large, dimly-lit room designed for elegance and comfort. Couches and chaise lounges clustered here and there on the crimson carpet, and the back wall was taken up with a bar, all mahogany and crystal. Men were sprawled on various pieces of furniture, each one attended by a lady, or in some cases, two. And in the very back of the room was their elusive quarry Porter Grey, sitting next to a statuesque blonde with, like Steven had said, long hair, big tits and admittedly killer heels.
That was the corner that Devon wanted to keep an eye on. He just had to position himself and Steven right so that he could get a view of them through the camera at his throat. Somewhere that they could sit down and relax and make out covertly. Or not so covertly; one of the men on the couch, older and accompanied by two female companions, was in the process of coming as noisily as the girls would let him.
This place, it wasn’t really about sex, Devon knew. Not this room, not like the ones back in the hallway that were actually equipped with beds. This room was about power, and how different people put that power on display. Porter Grey, because he had the attention of the most beautiful woman in the room, had the most power, and because of that he didn’t seem to feel the need for any more personal services, although several other young women were flitting around the pair, refreshing their drinks and serving unobtrusively. The other man, the one who was now gasping through the dregs of his orgasm, he might have had two girls but he was desperate for more, too desperate to keep control of himself. He wasn’t even close to being the top dog in a place that valued control as much as it did sensuality.
They hadn’t attracted much attention with their entrance, but they would soon if they didn’t move away from the door. “Where to?” Steven whispered, and Devon led him smoothly over to a wide leather recliner a few yards in, pushed back against the wall with the closest light coming from a candelabra halfway to the ceiling that cast heavy shadows on their features. Devon crawled onto Steven’s lap, then twisted his choker so that the jewel pointed toward Grey and his entourage without Devon having to turn and face them himself.
“You can’t be bloody serious,” Steven choked out. The light was dim, but Devon could feel the heat in his face, and the strain of his body. “We can’t sit like this or I’ll go off like a champagne cork.”
“No you won’t,” Devon promised him. “But you will come, if you want to. Rio, can you see them?”
“I’ve got a decent picture, but can you get any closer? You’re too far away to get any audio.”
“I’ll get it another way,” Devon said, and leaned in against Steven, pressing their chests together. Steven shut his eyes with a shudder.
“Let me have you tonight,” Devon murmured. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while. You won’t even mess up your pretty new suit.”
“Don’t care about the suit, tonight I’m yours,” Steven swore, running his hands along Devon’s back. Devon arched into the touch like a cat, purring as he slipped one hand between and beneath them and pressed his fingers firmly against Steven’s perineum.
“When’s the last time you had a dry orgasm?” he asked, enjoying Steven’s little jump.
“When I was seventeen and got myself off five times one night,” Steven said. “I had nothin’ left by the fourth but I couldn’t stop. Why, you planning on getting me off that many times?”
“Maybe. But I promise you won’t spill a drop.” Devon leaned in and kissed Steven, loosening his control on his allure, and just a few moments later, when Steven bucked and began to come, Devon pressed in hard, stopping the semen from flowing past the pressure. It left Steven shivering, and Devon fed off of his excess energy, absorbing it into himself and rerouting it into his sense of hearing.
Devon had gotten the idea from what Lynlis had done to him, actually, using the loss of one sense to sharpen another. By the end of their impromptu stay with his dads, Devon had been able to hear Rio’s heartbeat from anywhere in the house. Now he was using the energy of Steven’s orgasm to feed his auditory acuity, and already he could hear so much more that it was almost dizzying. He could hear Steven’s blood moving through his carotid artery, and pressed a kiss to the thin skin above it. He could hear the rushing whoosh of Steven’s lungs, millions of alveoli opening and closing in thoughtless obedience. He could even hear the movement of Steven’s eye lashes against his cheek when he blinked, but Devon still couldn’t hear what Grey was saying yet.
“Are you okay, lover?” he asked, making sure his voice was a low, sexy alto instead of his normal tenor. It was really just a matter of pitch.
“Fuck.”
“Care to go again?” Devon nipped his lips. “Because I could use a little extra boost.”
“You’re tellin’ me that my getting off is what’s gonna make this trick work?” Steven pulled back and grinned up at Devon. “Not seein’ a downside, luv.”
“Glad to hear it.” Devon pulled his hand back and ran it over the thin, smooth cloth covering Steven’s cock, enjoying the heady surge of lust he felt from Steven when he did. It set Devon’s nerves on fire, and he tilted his head back and moaned softly as Steven palmed his ass and pulled him tighter.
Devon was keeping his allure under strict control, directing it at Steven and Steven only, but something about someone else getting off
seemed to put more people in the mood, because quiet murmurs were expanding into louder noises, rather more heartfelt.
Now that he’d done it once, it was easier to direct the flow of Steven’s energy the second time around. Devon didn’t need to use his hand to stop Steven from ejaculating, he just adjusted the pressure of his allure, and gently, slowly eased Steven into another orgasm, one that left the man gasping quietly into Devon’s wonderful imitation of cleavage and feeding energy steadily into Devon until the problem wasn’t being able to hear what was going on, but hearing too much. Devon grimaced and let himself come as well, bleeding a little of the sharpness off in a delightful wave of pleasure, until it was just enough. Some cambion couldn’t control their own orgasms like that, helpless to the pleasure instead, but that was another thing that had been drilled into Devon at a young age: control wasn’t optional. You either had it or someone else took it from you. He could come all night and never make a mess if he didn’t want to, never even let an observer know what he was doing. It was an ability that had been surprisingly handy over the years.
About a dozen different people were speaking, but Devon honed in on Porter Grey’s voice and blocked his perception of the others.
“You know the timing isn’t up to me, Penelope.”
“I run a business,” the woman next to him said tartly. She had a rich voice with a strong Italian accent that probably sounded amazing when she was trying to be seductive, but that wasn’t the vibe she was giving off. “And your presence is stifling that business.”
“You’re welcome to lodge a complaint with management.”
“Not amusing, Porter.” There was a delicate pause that probably meant they were speaking with their eyes, and Devon would have loved to have seen the exchange, but he had to keep his face averted as much as possible. “Are any of them yours?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“He doesn’t keep anything from me,” Porter said, his tone thick with smugness. “I’m sorry you don’t feel you can say the same. But, if any of them were mine, I would gratefully offer them up for the cause. You should be happy.”
“I would be happier if you were gone.” Devon detected the faintest of static noises, possibly a voice on a phone too soft for him to make out. “And it looks like you can be gone, now. I will get her for you.” She got up and walked away, and for a while all Devon could hear was Porter Grey’s breathing, a faint whistle through his aristocratic nose as he sipped at his drink. Devon leaned into Steven and kissed his cheek, then his lips, gentle and sweet.
“You’re doing so well,” he murmured.
“Are you getting what you need?” Steven asked, his breath hitching a little and trailing off breathlessly at the end.
“I’m getting something,” Devon said with a little smile. “How about you?”
“That’s only two so far, luv. We’re not about to outdo my sordid little history here.”
“But it’s not always quantity, darling,” Devon whispered, pressing closer and mouthing his way down Steven’s neck. “It’s about quality.” What the hell, Steven’s pants were dark. He could always change later.
Devon opened up the zipper and reached his hand into Steven’s fly, slipping past silk briefs and around skin that was just as silky and smooth and far more satisfying to touch. Devon could feel Steven tense and stifled whatever noise he was going to make as he stroked him tight, once, twice, let it build a few times and then let Steven come, slow, so slow, the orgasm oozing out of him along with a slow stream of semen.
“God, fuck.” The words were practically subsonic, barely audible against Devon’s lips, but they were utterly heartfelt. “God, god…” Devon let the energy resonate through him, perfect heady lust, vibrating back and forth between them until it dissipated but left both of their pulses pounding
Devon pulled back just in time to hear Porter say, “Good evening, Cassie. Are you ready to go?”
“Yes sir,” a softer, younger voice said.
“Don’t be reckless,” Penelope told them as Porter stood, drawing the other woman under his arm. She sounded genuinely distressed.
“Don’t be presumptuous,” Porter replied. They headed for the door, and Devon dialed back his hearing until it was normal again. He turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse of pale blonde hair flowing like a wave down a woman’s back, and then they were gone.
“They’re coming out, Rio,” Devon said, adjusting his choker so that the camera faced forward again, looking down on Steven’s blissed-out face.
“Then we should follow as soon as possible.”
“Got it.” He kissed Steven one last time, and then pulled his hand free, brought it up to his face and licked it clean. “Ready to go?” he asked.
“Mmfgh.”
“Oh come on, I didn’t exhaust you,” Devon teased. “And you need to be the one to lead us out of here.” He glanced over to the side. “The owner of the establishment has gone and made herself scarce.” Actually she was at the bar, taking control of a very expensive bottle of scotch. Apparently her evening required a lot of booze to make it palatable after that experience. “Now’s a good time to leave.”
“Mm…kay.”
“We’re coming, Rio.”
Now they just had to get out of this place without drawing any extra attention. Hopefully Steven’s mind whammy lasted longer than a couple of minutes, but if it didn’t…
“We might be running,” Devon added. “So keep the engine hot.”
Chapter Twenty
“Sanitation workers.” Steven looked down at his overalls and grimaced. “Kind of a comedown from playboys in Calvin Klein. You sure about this, mate?”
“These two were more than happy to take five hundred bucks and the night off,” Rio said, looking them both over. “You guys don’t look anything like them, but we’re not going to be here long enough for it to matter.”
“And what about you?” Devon asked, his eyes bright and shining after what had been, for him, a very productive evening. He looked intensely alive, almost glowing with it—the aftereffects of feeding his allure. “How are you going to get up to the top of the building?”
“In the hamper.” He gestured towards the industrial-sized laundry basket on wheels. “It’ll be a tight fit, but I’m willing to take one for the team. Plus I can fit all of my equipment in there.”
“Read: guns,” Devon laughed, but Steven frowned.
“You don’t think the sub-machine gun is a little much?” he asked. “I mean, what do you really need a hundred rounds for, then?”
“I’d rather have them and not need them than the other way around,” Rio said. “Besides, we can’t all pull guns out of our bodies.”
“I hid a gun in my body once,” Devon volunteered. “It was not fun at all.”
“Riiiight…you’ve officially killed the afterglow now, luv, thanks for that.” Steven shook his head. “Honestly, was the club bit worth it? I mean, what did you two really get out of it? Apart from knowin’ when Grey left, and you coulda got that just by waiting around outside.”
“Are you complaining?” Devon asked archly.
“Not at all, just…curious.”
Rio could appreciate a certain amount of curiosity; too much got people killed, but just enough kept them alive. Steven had done right by them so far, so he answered him. “We got intel on another possible summoner for future ops, we got pictures of some very shady characters to monitor, and most importantly, we got to see your skills in action while under pressure.” He smiled coolly at Steven. “It was as good a way as any to make sure you can actually do what you said you could.”
Steven frowned. “Testing me?”
“And giving you outrageously good orgasms all at the same time. You’re welcome,” Devon said, then turned to Rio. “Now, into the laundry basket, flyboy!”
“Don’t abuse Star Wars like that.” Rio did get into the hamper though, folding his long body until he was low enough that, with a fe
w towels placed over the top of him, the hamper looked full.
“Won’t someone wonder why we’re bringin’ a heaping pile of dirty knickers upstairs instead of down?” Steven asked as he and Devon got behind the hamper and started to push. Devon’s keycard got them into the ground floor’s loading bay entrance, and they headed for the service elevator.
“Not if we don’t give them the chance to ask,” Devon replied. “Just keep your head down and keep moving.”
It was a decent enough plan to get them up to the top floor. Rio couldn’t tell exactly, given that he was buried under a mound of laundry, but the few people they passed didn’t say anything, and they got into the elevator and up to the top floor without incident. Devon helped Rio out of the hamper and they left it in the elevator, a little distraction for anyone who might want to come up that way while they took care of the guards in the hall.
“Just one guy,” Devon said softly. They were out of sight around the corner from Porter Grey’s penthouse, but Devon could parse out a human presence with his allure without being too obvious.
“Should be easy then.” Rio turned to Steven, who had pulled his mohawk back into a ponytail. The sides of his scalp were covered in short blond fuzz, and beneath the hair Rio could make out the rough outline of a different tattoo on either side. He wondered what was so important Steven needed to embed it in his scalp but refrained from asking. He could find out later. “Keep him functioning, if you can. I’d rather have him lead us into the suite than go in not knowing what we’re stepping into.”
“See what I can do.” Steven cracked his knuckles, then turned and headed down the hall, whistling what Rio guessed was “God Save The Queen.”
As they waited, Devon moved closer to him until he could lay his head against Rio’s chest. His eyes were still dark and dramatic from the makeup he’d put on earlier, and the glance he cast up at Rio through his eyelashes was beautifully wicked. Strangely moved, Rio bent over enough to press a kiss to the top of Devon’s head. Devon smiled at him, not wickedly but sweetly now, and Rio had to tear his eyes away and refocus on the mission; they were too close for him to be distracted by his ever-increasing attraction to Devon. There would be plenty of time to act on that once they had this job wrapped up and Porter Grey in custody.