by Willa Okati
Praise for the writing of Willa Okati
The Brotherhood: Amour Magique
What an intriguing story to start a series with! Ms. Okati has come up with a novel idea of an incubus who needs friends and wants to help them. But I’m not surprised, her stories are always creative and unique. I can’t wait for the next book.
-- Joyfully Reviewed
With a unique plot and a host of sexy characters, The Brotherhood: Amour Magique is a winner... From humor to intrigue, to sexual sophistication, this is a first-class read.
-- Nancy Jackson, Coffee Time Romance
The Brotherhood 2: Bite Me
Tie me up, tie me down, do whatever you want as long as I enjoy it as much I enjoyed The Brotherhood 2: Bite Me. The writing is fabulous, with thought processes that are just funny as hell, and when the characters start talking to themselves it’s damn hilarious.
-- Sin St. Luke, Just Erotic Romance Reviews
The Brotherhood 3: The Dragon’s Tongue
I'd have read this in one sitting if real life hadn't intruded. Ms. Okati knows how to draw in a reader and keep them engrossed. Collin is very lovable. You will find yourself rooting for him to find love, and have a few giggles along the way.
-- Astraea, Enchanted Ramblings
Amour Magique, Bite Me, and The Dragon’s Tongue are now available from Loose Id.
THE BROTHERHOOD 8:
UNDER HILL AND OVER THE BAR
Willa Okati
www.loose-id.com
Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
* * * * *
This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable (homoerotic sex).
The Brotherhood 8: Under Hill and Over the Bar
Willa Okati
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by
Loose Id LLC
1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924
Carson City NV 89701-1215
www.loose-id.com
Copyright © August 2006 by Willa Okati
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.
ISBN 978-1-59632-283-7
Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader
Printed in the United States of America
Editor: Olivia Wong
Cover Artist: Skyewolf
Dedication
To Gillo. God save the Queen!
Prologue
This isn’t a dance club -- it’s an insane asylum. You could get arrested for doing that in public in, oh, I don’t know, how many states?
Pressed tightly against the wall of Amour Magique’s dance floor, Laurence couldn’t help admiring the way tight leather trousers were put together on a pair of dancers, lacing up the sides of either leg with long thongs. He watched wide-eyed as the two men, undulating to the driving rhythm of the music, stripped off their pants without once losing the beat, strips of leather now slithering loose like snakes. He also really couldn’t help seeing and admiring the fact that neither dancer wore anything underneath but their bare skin.
So? He was male, and gay. As were they. Very much of the gay persuasion, if the visual was anything to go by. Naked and erect, the two gyrated chest to chest and kissed each other as if they wanted to drink one another’s essence from the mouth down. They were a sight to make any artist weep, both tall and thin, brown as nuts, corded with runner’s muscles, and with nearly identical cocks pressed up against one another’s stomachs.
And no one else around looked like they noticed a damn thing!
Well, no, that wasn’t exactly true. The two got a few looks -- of admiration. Envy. Desire. But no one was jumping in there to tell them to get their pants back on, oh, no.
Laurence felt as though he should look away but couldn’t seem to make himself. If, however, one of those men happened to turn around, and ... oh. Oh, wow. Yep, face about and present -- bending over to grasp his bent knees, ass in the air, a look of utter abandon and excitement written across his face. The man’s partner spread those ass cheeks that were already shiny with some sort of lubricant and rubbed deep inside the cleft. The dancer’s mouth fell open with a wanton sort of lust.
So did Laurence’s.
Male! Gay! Free show! Hello?
Leaning down to press a score of kisses to his lover’s bowed spine, the dominant man began to thrust himself inside what must feel like a wet, silken iron fist. Laurence breathed in deeply as the man seated himself with short, sharp thrusts, not stopping until his balls slapped his partner’s ass. The look on the other man’s face made something twist up and ache in Laurence’s stomach. God, but it had been so long since he’d ...
As the two men began to have sex in earnest, Laurence forced himself to look away and walk on, out of earshot of their exclamations of pleasure. Free porn was all well and good, but when it brought home the truth that you weren’t getting any and hadn’t had any for a few years, the feeling of being an outsider cut too sharply.
Yeah, he hadn’t had sex since the nasty breakup with his last partner, a man whom he’d loved not wisely but too well. The bastard hadn’t respected Laurence’s wish to keep their relationship quiet, and he’d gotten Laurence fired from his job. Oh, sure, people said you couldn’t lose your employment for being gay, but it still happened. And then the jerk had had the nerve to blame Laurence for being too uptight! From there, things had only gone further downhill. He would have sued for palimony, but he just wanted to get as far away from a hostile ex-lover as possible. Anyway, once Laurence got to Charleston and had sought legal advice, Simon had advised against it.
He shook his maudlin thoughts away.
All the eye candy aside, he was a man, and he had a mission: get out. Amour Magique was weirder than Liam, and that was saying a lot.
As he walked, Laurence kept his back against and clung tightly to the walls of the dance club, easing his way past the throng of gyrating men on the main floor, feeling behind him with his hands for a way out. Wall, wall, wall, wall -- uh oh, not wall --
“Oh, um, sorry about that. I, uh, I ...” Laurence’s voice trailed off as he looked up, then up some more, at the pile of muscles vaguely shaped like a man, dressed up in tusks and a piggish snout as if it were Halloween. He swallowed hard. “What the hell?”
The man’s companion, a slim, almost lissome type, painted a pale blue all over with a head full of quills instead of hair, giggled. He was the one Laurence had groped without meaning to, but he kind of thought Mr. Pig objected more. Quills just giggled and oozed closer to the heaps of man he seemed to be attached to.
“Quigley,” the gropee crooned, “aren’t you going to do something? Defend my honor?”
Quigley -- and wasn’t that a cute name for someone who could bench-press The Rock? -- growled around his tusks and took a step toward Laurence, balling his hands into fists.
“Hmm.” Quills tossed his head with a slightly clashing sound, like window blinds coming together. “He doesn’t seem properly sorry, Quiggy. Hit him one for me. One good punch for your little prickly-bear?”
Quiggy let loose with another ominous rumble.
Laurence panicked. “Holy shit, it’s Batman!” he blurted, pointing over the couple’s shoulders. When, of all things, they actually turned to look, Laurence took the low road out and rushed past another crowd of dancers. Once he had cleared them, he looked back but couldn’t see the pair.
Letting out a huge breath of relief, Laurence leaned against a patch of wall he was sure was wall, and wiped a hand across his forehead. Like I said, insane asylum. From the moment he’d stepped through the door, he had pegged Amour Magique as a nuthouse, and he wasn’t inclined to change his mind now that he’d gotten close to yet another pair of its more colorful clubbies.
Of course, seeing his friends, Liam included, seemingly vanish in puffs of smoke the moment they walked inside hadn’t helped. As Laurence had stood by himself on the edge of a dance floor he could have sworn hadn’t been there a few moments before, staring at it owlishly, he’d received his first threat from an absurdly tall, thin man with really big fists who’d asked what he thought he was looking at.
Damn Liam for not telling him this was masquerade night, or whatever. Everywhere Laurence turned, he saw strange thing after stranger thing, most of them on two legs, sometimes three, acting as if they were having the time of their lives. Most of them bristled when they caught Laurence staring and made various threats, most of which he’d been able to talk his way out of ... though his ear still rang from where a beefy type had smacked him upside the head.
He’d been against the idea of coming to Amour Magique from the beginning. No way could Laurence afford to be outed -- again -- not when he taught elementary school. As it was already, rumors were bad enough; being spotted here would kill his teaching career.
Running one hand over the goatee and mustache he’d grown at David’s suggestion to disguise himself a little, Laurence shook his head. A Darth Vader mask would have done the job better in a crowd like this.
Getting the hell out of Dodge would have been ideal, but for some reason, Laurence couldn’t seem to find the exit -- and he’d circled the dance floor three times. If he were superstitious, he’d swear the club wanted to keep him there. If he were claustrophobic, he’d have begun to panic about the walls closing in. Being Laurence, he was becoming desperate for a bar and a drink. Away from the madding crowd, if at all possible.
And there, like a beacon of light out of the darkness, a way opened up and shone before him. A short hallway. Didn’t look to be an exit from the club itself, but any port in a freak-show storm was a welcome sight. Laurence made as quick a beeline for the warmly lit corridor as he could, narrowly missing another couple of bizarre types and bypassing, with effort, one man down on his knees, eagerly swallowing a tall blond’s cock while kneading his lover’s thighs like a giant cat.
Laurence might even have looked twice at them.
Then, he was out of the crush, in the hallway and, oh, yes, blessed be, there looked to be a bar at the end of it. He could smell the beer. Sweet beer!
Laurence all but raced to get there and didn’t give a damn about how desperate he must look. If the shoe fit, right?
One, two, buckle my ...
Chapter One
“Harder! Fuck him harder!” Eager, Nerys raised up on her dais of silver silk. One slim hand tattooed the soft fabric in a rhythm closely matching a heartbeat -- or the timing of a man’s thrusts into another warm, willing body. “I have twenty gold wagered on your riding ability!”
Keelan stopped for a moment, dragging an arm across his sweating forehead. “Nerys, a little less commentary, please?”
“You need the encouragement.”
“I need nothing but this sweet piece of ass.” Keelan slapped his fellow elf’s flank. “Eremand, do you want some more? Nerys seems to think we shouldn’t stop yet.”
Eremand hissed. “Yes, you bastard. Close, so close, and you stop now?” The elf was on his hands and knees, grasping his hands together hard enough to make the knuckles turn pale, his ass raised for Keelan’s pleasure, and Keelan was taking every advantage of his fellow’s position. All the same, Eremand was proving stubborn. “You won’t make me cry out, though. I swear it on the air and darkness. Just move!”
“Since you ask so nicely,” Keelan said with a trace of mockery, then turned to his business at hand, namely that of fucking Eremand until he screamed. Or so the bet went: if Keelan could get Eremand to yell with passion, Keelan would be the winner. Nerys had suggested the game and put her money where her mouth was.
Well, the Fey had whiled away many a night in a less amusing manner. Especially these two, plus their so-far-silent companion, Black Malice, who lurked and brooded on her own dais of black satin. With eyes like hers, silver and red shot through with cruelty and filled with wicked thoughts, a man ought not be able to perform, but Keelan thought he was up to the challenge.
Bending to his task with a will, Keelan slid in and out of Eremand’s eager, grasping hole, aiming for the sweet spot that they shared with mortal men. Every time he felt the tip of his cock brushing over it, Eremand let out a breathy sound, but refused to cry out.
Time for more drastic measures.
Pulling all the way out of Ereman’s silken white ass, Keelan relished the sight of his own cock, hard and straight, gleaming with lubricant. Then he reached into the pocket of his own trews, only pulled down instead of torn off, and retrieved a small blue plastic plug. He reached for the slippery liquid they had used, paused, and with a whispered thought, secretly summoned another bottle to him. It looked innocent, small, made of blue glass, but he knew different.
Hopefully, no one else would.
Keelan anointed the sex toy with the new liquid, slick and clear, and admired the sight of the gleaming curves for a moment. If this didn’t do the trick ...
“Keelan, what are you doing?” Eremand tried to twist around to see. “Get on with things, man!”
“One could say your words win me the bet right now,” Keelan said, teasing Eremand’s tight hole with a finger, circling it round and round. “Nerys, Malice, what say you?”
“Yes, yes!” Nerys exclaimed, while at the same time, Malice shook her head and drew back into herself, a huddled lump of burning darkness.
Keelan sighed. It had been worth a try, but a draw did him no good. Or rather, it did him all the good in the world. Lazily tracing around Eremand’s pucker one last time, he placed the tip of the plug against the other elf’s hole and pushed slightly.
“What is -- what are you doing?”
“Oh, nothing,” Keelan drawled. He thrust the toy, with its curved tip, deep inside Eremand. “And everything.”
Eremand drew in a strangled breath, almost crying out, but stopped himself at the last minute. “You bastard,” he said in a choked voice. “You’re cheating.”
“No one said I couldn’t get a little help.” Keelan slapped Eremand’s ass again. “Now, let’s see how you like this.” He tilted the toy to rub hard against the elf’s prostate, moving it back and forth like a cat kneading its paws, claws out. Eremand writhed and bucked at the intrusion but kept his lips firmly sealed shut.
When Keelan finally let up, Eremand turned his head to look at him, taunt him. “Are you saying you’re not man enough without a little trinket to help you along? The wager was for you to make me lose control, not a bauble. Do you admit defeat?”
“Never so.” Keelan rotated the blue cylinder around and around, coating Eremand’s inner
muscles with the substance from his vial, then pulled it out with a sudden pop and a wicked grin. As he did, Eremand hunched and bucked forward, breath choking in his lungs in a way that told Keelan he had almost won his bet right there and then.
No matter. Eremand would be ready for him now. Keelan lined his cock up to Eremand’s waiting hole, and thrust, plunging deep without waiting, no easing his way in. Eremand spasmed again, scrabbling at his own wrists. Still, he remained stubbornly silent save for the heavy gusts of his breaths, harsh rasps huffing in and out.
“Does this feel good?” Keelan demanded, dragging his cock nearly out, then slamming back inside. “Do you feel me, even when I’m gone? Do you hunger to have me back again?”
No sound. Not even a groan. Keelan firmed his lips. He would just have to try harder, that was all -- and nothing said that he couldn’t give himself another unfair edge.
Eremand’s cock, ignored until now, became Keelan’s secondary focus as he plunged in and out, hard thrusts that rocked both elves off their balance. It was not the done thing to pleasure another while you took your own joy, and Keelan was banking on Eremand not expecting him to “play like a human.”
More fool him.
Keelan reached between the other elf’s legs and gave his ball sac a firm tug, then rolled the testicles between his fingers. Eremand almost gave in then, stifling all but the slightest whimper. Ah, but Keelan knew he had his prey in his sights at that moment, and needed only a the tiniest bit more. Such as a hand going around the front and taking Eremand’s elegant erection into his own long-fingered grip, grasping the heated velvet of his skin and pumping his cock in a long, smooth stroke. Keelan redoubled his efforts, watching Eremand begin to writhe and almost dance, then because he knew all Fey liked a dose of pain with their pleasure, went for the gold by pressing his thumbnail against the slit of his partner’s dick.