by Sierra Riley
Jon chuckled. “Recognition on the streets: it never gets old, man,” he told Gabriel. “And even five years from now, even if you drop out of the spotlight, someone here or there will recognize you. Better not go to any sleazy dive bars and get caught picking up a—”
“We agreed not to talk about him,” Paulo snorted, leaning forward. “Can we not?”
Briar quirked his brow. That had to be Benjamin J.J., an up-and-coming model who’d been caught with a male escort. Not that it was a big deal in their industry, but he’d been photographed with his hand in the guy’s pants in public. Not good for their image.
Paulo had dated him? God, there was a mistake.
The taxi pulled up at their hotel, and Paulo and Jon pulled away from Gabriel with slaps to his back and shoulder—and ass—to leave him with Julius and Briar.
“Up to my room,” Briar told them both.
All three of them were silent for the elevator ride.
23
Gabriel
He was in such big shit.
Gabriel stayed cool and kept his hands in his pockets as the elevator smoothly glided up to the top floor. Briar stepped out first and led the way down the hall, while Julius stayed behind Gabriel as if to ensure he didn’t sneak off before his scolding.
Once Briar pushed open his room door, he held it for both the other men, his intense eyes casting over Gabriel for a moment in passing.
Gabriel tried not to react, but brushing past the man and having him look at him like that was wildly tempting.
Julius sat on the dresser, his hands in his pockets, probably in an attempt to be more casual and approachable. “So, there was a little tension there.”
Gabriel’s cheeks flushed and he opened his mouth to defend himself. Should he say that Briar treated him like any other model? Or that nothing had happened?
“You’ve always been stubborn with photographers,” Briar added in that deep rumble, wandering past Gabriel to sit on the edge of the bed. “It’s going to give you a reputation.”
“Oh?” Gabriel played with a lock of his hair, trying to pretend he hadn’t completely misinterpreted that statement. Of course Julius meant Hayes, not Briar. He leaned against the wall near the bed.
Briar nodded. “I’ve seen a lot of guys do well, and a lot more go down in history as unemployable.”
Gabriel stiffened, his heart starting to race. “Is that a threat?”
“No,” Julius jumped in, sliding off the dresser. “Not at all. It’s advice from a couple guys who’ve been there and done that.”
The buddy-buddy tone rubbed Gabe a little wrong; he’d rather have been given a professional warning than a friendly lecture on all the things he was fucking up.
He hated that. Never fuckin’ again.
“Right,” Gabriel nodded, his shoulders tense. “Suck up to the idiots. ”
Briar paused, then glanced at Julius. “You can head to bed. Long day tomorrow.”
Julius nodded sharply and shook Briar’s hand on the way past, patting his shoulder and leaning in to murmur something. Briar nodded and responded, then saw Julius out.
Gabriel stepped back to let the two pass, nodding a good night to Julius when his agent raised a hand in a good-night wave.
Then the door swung shut and Briar turned on his heel to look Gabriel up and down again.
It was incredible how fast the chemistry could build between them. Seconds of being alone was all it took before they couldn’t tear their eyes off each other. Gabriel felt the magnetic pull toward Briar, like he was the inescapable mass at the centre of Gabe’s orbit.
It took all he had not to push himself away from the wall and saunter up to him, but Briar saved him the trouble by approaching him instead.
Gabriel pushed his shoulder blades into the wall a little more and crossed his ankles, his body angled with his hips further away from the wall. He pressed his hands against the wall behind himself, casually running his finger along the wallpaper near his hip.
As Briar approached, Gabriel pulled back, letting him push him up until he was standing straight and flat against the wall. He never dropped his gaze, maintaining his defiant pout until the last moment before turning his face away slightly.
“You’re a cocky little thing,” Briar murmured, his voice a bare, quiet whisper. It rasped, cutting through the silence in the room alongside Gabriel’s heavier breathing.
Briar’s knee slid between his, and his chest pressed flat against Gabriel’s. Delicate, strong fingers laced with Gabriel’s, lifting his hands above his head as Briar pressed his groin into his hip.
The hottest images were running through Gabriel’s head: Briar pinning him down and grinding against his hip, rutting like an insatiable animal too impatient to even get their clothes off.
He groaned softly at the feeling of Briar’s thigh against his own cock, relaxing into the wall as much as it was physically possible. Briar’s breath was hot on his cheek as he brushed his lips softly against Gabriel’s jaw.
Gabriel twitched with need, his fingers convulsively tightening around Briar’s.
That was all it took for him to grind against Briar, breaking the moment of defiance versus dominance. He turned his face back toward Briar’s to catch his lips in a quick, heated kiss.
Briar kissed him hard and open-mouthed, grinding slowly and steadily against him in little circles of his hips.
Gabriel’s legs were weakening, all the blood rushing to his cock. He was hard in his pants and Briar felt it, judging by the way he pressed his thigh even harder into the length.
Briar’s lips were insistent as he pressed their lips together in a series of quick, panting kisses, then sucked the tip of Gabriel’s tongue sensually.
“C’mon,” Gabriel panted, his voice a flat moan of need. “Please.”
Briar smirked, then caught Gabriel’s lower lip and flicked his tongue along it before he pulled back to let Gabriel breathe for a second. “You’re hot up against a wall.”
Gabriel had just done a shoot last week. One of the final images was him leaning up against a wall, his hand above himself.
Was Briar following his projects that closely?
“You’ve been waiting long enough to get me here. You’ve been liking what you see, haven’t you?” Gabriel teased. He jutted out one hip, raising his hands a little higher above his head.
“It’s been fuckin’ weeks,” Briar whispered. His lips were red and wet from kissing Gabriel, his blue eyes focused completely on Gabriel’s. Then, Briar let go of Gabriel’s hands to unfasten his jeans in quick, jerky movements. He hauled them down, then his own.
Gabriel moaned when that thick cock slotted up against his own, both their erections pressed tightly between their stomachs. Briar was practically crushing him against the wall again. Briar hooked his thumb and pinky around Gabe’s wrists to keep them together, then pinned his hands hard against the wall.
His other hand fell to Gabriel’s hip to keep him in place as he thrust at a slow, sensual pace. The lengths of their cocks rubbed against one another’s, sensitive skin sliding against skin.
Gabriel stared as Briar licked his palm, then squeezed his hand between them and stroked their cocks. The wet touch made their slow grinding even more pleasurable.
Christ, Briar was hot.
Gabriel’s fingers tingled, maybe from the blood rushing down, and he hardly had his balance. His head spun from arousal and need. His weight was utterly supported by Briar’s body pushing him up against the wall. Briar’s scent was all he could smell, the taste of Briar was all that was on his lips…
God, Briar wasn’t planning to make him come like this, was he?
“You gonna fuck me?” Gabriel whispered hoarsely, then moaned and rolled his head back against the wall as Briar’s lips found his throat.
“Yeah,” Briar growled back, his hand closing around both their cocks. “I don’t have to be in you to have you.”
Gabriel couldn’t argue with the logic when the rush of pl
easure hit him and Briar’s lips found the sensitive spot near his pulse point. Briar gently sucked on it until Gabriel buckled and slid further down the wall with a breathless whimper.
Briar jammed his knee between Gabriel’s, Gabriel’s balls brushing the hair dusting his upper thigh. “Don’t faint on me.” Then, he kissed behind Gabriel’s ear.
Gabriel just moaned, his fingers curling hard into his palms. He rolled his head to the side to let Briar tease him even more as heat rushed through him. Even his nipples were sensitive to every press and grind of Briar’s chest against him.
The tight ring of fingers around the top of his cock were pleasing enough, but the sensitive underside of his cock being crushed against his CEO’s thick, throbbing length was ten times better.
He thrust hard into Briar’s hand, his muscles so damn tense, his mind spinning.
Stroke after stroke brought him closer to the edge, and he squeezed his eyes shut hard as he hit that final plateau and, all at once, spilled over.
“Briar!” Gabriel groaned, completely forgetting to be at all discreet. In a flood of heat, he came hard and fast. His chest heaved for breath while his muscles clenched and released and he slid down the wall again. Briar let go of his wrists to grab his shoulder and keep him up against the wall.
And then Briar was surging forward, his stomach tensing and breath catching in a quick, rough growl. Heat that wasn’t his own coated Gabriel’s cock and he shuddered, his hands sliding down the wall. He rubbed his own hair and face, trying to ground himself.
Then Briar let go of their cocks and stepped back, leaving both their shirts and cocks sticky.
“Christ,” Gabriel cursed, swiping his fingers along his shirt. He pushed himself to his feet again, then strode to the bathroom to get the shirt clean before the stain set.
Briar smirked, unbuttoning and pulling his own shirt off. “Cold water from the inside and soap.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I know.”
“Not your first time at the rodeo, cowboy?” Briar slapped Gabriel’s ass. “Look at you.”
Gabriel flicked the bathroom light on and glanced in the mirror as he turned the cold water on. Was that jealousy hidden under friendly ribbing? “I’m not fucking my way around the globe.”
“I did,” Briar shrugged. “I’m just saying.”
“Is that why you’re pissed off?” Gabriel twisted the fabric to rinse the inside, shivering as cold water droplets hit his stomach. He scrubbed quickly to get the spot out, then ran a hand along his soft shaft to clean himself up while Briar leaned against the wall behind him.
Briar raised his eyebrow. “Back to that?”
“I don’t need your fuckin’ Miss Manners lectures,” Gabriel informed him. “Not if you’re just jealous.”
Briar snorted, then laughed. “Whatever you say. You lose work, you’ll only have yourself to blame later.”
Gabriel swayed on the spot for a moment. For a moment, it wasn’t Briar leaning there and telling him he was going to fuck up his life by fucking boys. He pushed his t-shirt into his jeans and buttoned them up, then pushed past Briar. “Fuck off. I’ll worry about that, fuckin’ thanks very much.”
He didn’t look back at Briar as he yanked the hotel room door open, his heart still pounding.
Briar couldn’t have known how much he hated the phrase—and being lectured in general. He probably didn’t have shitty parents like Gabe had had, and it probably wasn’t fair to take out his gut reaction on him.
But he’d worry about that when he got to the bottom of the vodka bottle with his name on it.
“I thought that guy was gonna piss himself!”
Paulo was laughing so hard he almost couldn’t stand up—or maybe that was the champagne talking. Gabriel kept his arm around Paulo’s waist as they staggered down the sidewalk from the steakhouse to the ritzy cocktail club they’d haunted for the last week.
The restaurant manager had been pissed at how loud and drunk they were, and nothing the waiters said could break through the haze of alcohol that made everything so goddamn hilarious right now.
Gabriel almost couldn’t breathe for laughing. “Fucking good thing this is our last night here! We’d have to find another place to eat tomorrow otherwise.”
Jon, on Paulo’s other side, hiccupped and snorted with laughter. “Come on, in this way. And look sober.”
They all straightened up and let go of each other, still walking close together down the sidewalk. Once they rounded the corner to the club, they headed straight for the entrance and skipped the line.
Gabriel could see the Euro signs lighting up in the door supervisor’s eyes. With fashion week, the city of Milan was full of guys who’d want to get in and dance here now that they were around, and their own booze sales probably added up to a quarter of the bar’s profits in a night.
Most of that was Paulo—he fucking loved buying rounds for the bar, and he only drank the three most expensive drinks on the menu in any given place.
It was good advice. In the last month, Gabriel had tasted more good drinks than he’d ever thought existed back when he drank shitty, cheap beer.
Paulo was a riot to be around. He got smashed fast, probably because they were all eating nearly nothing that week. Once he was drunk, he had an attitude the size of Milan itself.
“C’mon!” Paulo told Gabriel, looping his arm around Gabe’s neck and sauntering past the cover charge booth along with Jon. Nobody was going to stop them, after all.
The three men headed to the bar and ordered a couple rounds of shots to start off with while Gabriel relaxed in the upscale environment. Everyone here was dressed well—really well—and hot as fuck.
Gabriel felt the eyes on him. If they were bold, one or two might try to get their hands on him, too, but he always turned them down.
Unlike what Briar seemed to think, the asshole.
Anyway, he had better shit to do.
He slammed back the second shot, then clapped Paulo’s shoulder and called over the music, “Dance?”
“I’m fucking wiped,” Paulo groaned.
Standing, walking, and posing took a lot more toll on the muscles and joints than anyone realized. It was one of the things all models loved to bitch about: the public didn’t appreciate how much work they put in.
“Come on,” Gabriel coaxed, nudging Paulo’s side. “For a few minutes.”
“This place is laaaame,” Paulo slurred, but pushed himself to his feet. “Fine, bitch.”
“Bitch,” Gabriel snickered and slapped Paulo’s shoulder, steering him to the floor and grabbing Jon’s hand to tow him along to the dance floor, too.
The music was thumping, pulsating through them already as they stumbled onto the brightly-lit floor to start swaying until they picked up the beat.
Gabriel was easily the best dancer, if he did say so himself. Paulo was all right, with a little natural swish to his hips, and Jon seemed to only know how to grind or do some weird-ass cha-cha that always cracked them up.
The lights shifted colors and flicked around randomly, the LEDs underfoot shifting rapidly from color to color in time with the beat of the music.
The three of them took up a lot of space on the floor, dancing like nobody else was there. Gabriel threw his head back, moved his arms, and stomped without care, his heart and spirits lifting easily. Just moving his body did a world of good for him.
He didn’t know how long it was before Paulo hauled them off the floor for a couple more shots, then drunkenly slurred a suggestion about going back to his room. Jon wouldn’t stop giggling at that even when Gabriel cuffed the back of his head.
It was hard to tell up from down even when they reached the cooler air outside and stumbled past the line, arm in arm and ignoring the wolf-whistles and a couple photo flashes from the line. No doubt from other guys here for the shows who knew them.
It was pretty easy to adjust to being spotted on the streets. Gabriel didn’t usually engage with fans unless they weren’t holding c
ameras and looked genuinely overwhelmed in a sweet kind of way. The kind of fashion bloggers who had camera phones out already recording him as they yelled to him… well, Julius didn’t want him talking to them, and Gabe was inclined to agree. They were the crazy ones.
Gabriel didn’t even remember getting through the hotel lobby to the elevator, they were laughing so much about the three of them heading to one of their rooms. Thank God Paulo already had a couple of liquor bottles stashed away, so they didn’t have to try to make a run for more at this hour.
The hotel room door slammed behind them as Paulo let go of them to go bend over and rummage through his suitcase for the booze.
Jon slapped his ass on the way to the bed, then crashed on his front. “Ooooh. Fuck, I’m at the bed-spinning stage.”
Gabriel laughed and sat on the edge of the bed, glancing around the room. It was already a mess—a bedsheet discarded, several empty booze bottles lying around, the TV on the floor, clothes strewn across the chair and desk, and empty salad and pizza boxes. Salads for him, pizzas for… well, his guests. Red wine stains on the carpet and a couple of broken glasses against one wall. Shit, something had happened earlier.
“Puke it back up,” Paulo shrugged casually, pretending to toss the bottle at him.
Jon squeaked and rolled over in an ineffective flail to catch it before he realized what Paulo had done and kicked him. “Fucking dickweed.”
Paulo snorted with laughter and rubbed his face, looking around until he spotted glasses to pour each of them a couple shots of vodka. Then he shoved glasses into each of their hands and crawled onto the bed.
“You ever get the fuckin’ maids in here?” Gabriel shook his head.
“No. They’ll steal my shit.”
Jon snorted. “I still think it was that intern you fucked that weekend.”
“Wha—?” Gabriel exclaimed. “What? Tell me the story.” The two of them had great stories from the last couple of years. It killed Gabriel with laughter every time.
“He lost some shit last time he was in Milan. A couple shirts—”