What's his Passion?

by Bailey Bradford, Ethan Stone, T. A. Chase, Sean Michael, L. M. Somerton, Morticia Knight

Kyle nodded. “That’s right.”

  “You should have told me the truth from the start, Kyle, but I have to admit, I’m intrigued.”

  Brock was silent for a while as he reflected on what he had learned. Kyle was one of the good guys. That meant that lust at first sight was not such a bad thing. This could turn in to an amazing adventure in more ways than one.

  “I should be absolutely furious at how you’ve deceived me,” Brock said quietly.

  “Should?” Kyle sounded hopeful.

  “I don’t even have any way of knowing that you’re telling me the truth.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “But I believe you. Whatever shadowy organization you work for seriously needs to work on its contractor engagement policies though.” Brock’s lips quirked up slightly into half a smile.

  “I’ll pass that back to management,” Kyle said with a straight face. He gazed intently at Brock. “So you’ll do it?”

  Brock grinned. “Yes, I’ll do it. I’ll take your pictures because they will do some good and because there are probably only two other photographers in the world with the skills needed to do this.”

  “There’s a big adrenaline junkie hidden inside that beautiful body, isn’t there?”

  Brock ducked his head. “Nobody else will ever get the chance to take pictures like these.”

  “There’ll be no recognition. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “That’s not why I take pictures, Kyle. Sure, I make a good living, but the satisfaction comes from capturing the perfect shot—freezing a moment in time that will never be repeated.” Brock looked up from beneath his lashes.

  “I’m glad you know the truth, but we still have to maintain the illusion that you are an unwilling participant in all this. Until we are tucked away in a safe house, I’ll have to treat you like a hostage,” Kyle said blandly.

  Brock’s face heated. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” he mumbled.

  “I think there are some very interesting fantasies dancing around inside that pretty head of yours, Lysander. You and I are going to get along just fine.”

  I really hope so, Brock thought hopefully.

  While Brock fetched his bag from the bedroom, Kyle cleaned up the kitchen. When Brock returned, Kyle looked at his watch. “Okay, time to go. It’s best you don’t know where we’re going, so you’ll be blindfolded once we’re in the car.”

  Brock waited in the hall while Kyle took their coats and Kyle’s bag to a waiting car. Kyle returned and escorted him down the drive and into a low, black saloon with deeply tinted windows. There was a driver in the front and a blackened screen between them. Kyle clicked the locks shut and turned to Brock. “This compartment is soundproof. The driver can’t hear us, so it’s okay to ask me questions, though I’d rather you wait until we get to the safe house. I’m going to blindfold you now.” He produced a length of dark cloth and made to tie it around Brock’s eyes but Brock flinched away.

  “Hey, it’s okay to be nervous. I’m not going to hurt you, but this is non-negotiable,” Kyle said, his voice soothing.

  Brock held still as the cloth went around his eyes and was knotted tightly behind his head.

  Resigned, Brock leaned back against the seat and breathed in the scent of polished leather, only to jump out of his skin as Kyle rested his hand on Brock’s thigh and began to stroke.

  Brock tried to push Kyle away, but his hand was immovable.

  “Consider this a training exercise in self-control, Lysander. You’re going to have to follow my orders on this mission, so let’s see how you manage with a simple one.” Kyle brushed against the hardening bulge in Brock’s trousers. “Keep nice and quiet.”

  * * * *

  A long car journey in total darkness was not the best experience Brock had ever had. As soon as his mind wandered into thoughts of whether or not he could really trust Kyle, he would be jerked back to reality by a new assault as Kyle traced the ridge of his cock or rubbed his thigh. Every time Brock moved his hands protectively into his lap, they were unceremoniously shoved aside. He sat in silence, bearing the delicious torment as best he could, muscles rigid with tension. His every involuntary reaction got a low chuckle or satisfied murmur from Kyle. Brock bit down hard on his lip and fought back the urge to curse.

  When the car finally rolled to a halt, Kyle immediately got out. Brock heaved a sigh of relief as the locks clicked down, leaving him alone. He hadn’t been able to relax for a minute of the journey and now he had to deal with his achingly hard dick and a desperate need to come. Lack of sight magnified his other senses and though he hated to admit it, he loved the feeling of being powerless.

  Brock guessed that ten minutes passed before the door opened and cool air washed into the interior of the car. It was awkward to climb out with his eyes covered and he struggled until a firm grip clasped his biceps and pulled him forwards. The grip did not release, but guided him along a path of some kind. He could hear the rustle of leaves in the breeze and Brock sensed that large trees surrounded him. There was no traffic noise or any identifiable sounds, other than those of birds and the distant bleating of sheep, all of which was cut off as they entered a building and the door shut behind him. He flinched at the sound of locks clicking and heavy bolts sliding into place.

  When his hair was stroked, Brock nuzzled against the palm.

  “You look very pretty in a blindfold, I’m loath to remove it, but I suppose I must.”

  Kyle unknotted the strip of cloth and pulled it away from Brock’s face. Brock blinked a few times while his eyes adjusted to the light. He took in his surroundings. They stood in a narrow corridor and a set of stairs rose in front of them. To the side was a single door, suggesting that they were in a small cottage of some kind. Kyle opened it and beckoned Brock into a cozy lounge-diner with a wood burner well alight in the fireplace. The soft lighting came from small lamps as heavy external shutters covered the window. There was a decent TV, a DVD player and a bookshelf carrying a selection of recent thrillers and fantasy novels.

  “As you can see, there are films and books to keep us amused—I hope your taste is similar to mine,” Kyle said. “A few days here won’t kill us. I just need you off the radar for a while. In a moment, you can ring your mother and let her know that you are taking a short trip with friends. Don’t tell her anything that may give away what we’re doing, Brock—that’s in all our interests.

  Kyle handed him a cheap mobile phone and watched while he dialed the number.

  Brock imagined his mother cleaning flour from her hands before picking up the phone at the other end. She was often up to her ears in baking.

  “Hi, Mum.”

  “Lysander, sweetie, how lovely to hear from you. Is everything okay?”

  As he heard her voice, Brock’s hands began to shake and he couldn’t prevent the slight tremble in his voice as he answered.

  “I’m fine, getting ready for the trip, you know. I had a bad reaction to the jabs, but a day in bed seems to have sorted it. I’m just ringing to let you know that I’ll be out of contact for a while. I’m going climbing with a few friends, as I won’t see them for a while after I go to Columbia.”

  “Sounds lovely, dear. You be careful. No taking silly risks.”

  “Of course not, Mum, I may not be able to get in touch from Columbia, so it could be a while before we speak again. Give my love to Dad.” After a few more exchanges, he said goodbye and handed the phone back to Kyle, whose expression was carefully neutral.

  “That was harder than I thought it would be.”

  Kyle smiled at him sympathetically. “Unfortunately, in my world, lies are a necessity. My parents think I’m a security consultant.”

  Brock sat on the edge of the sofa and put his head in his hands.

  “This is starting to feel unreal. Perhaps I’m still reacting to those jabs. I’ll wake up soon and you’ll be gone.”

  “And there was I thinking that I was the man of your dreams.”

  Brock felt a spi
ke of desire and took a deep, ragged breath. He didn’t want Kyle to see him as weak and emotional. He steeled himself to look up and met a gaze that spoke of understanding and sympathy.

  “I’m not an unfeeling monster. I do understand what you’re going through.” Kyle’s words were barely audible and he turned away quickly.

  “Come on, I’ll show you upstairs then we’ll have some lunch.”

  Two bedrooms and a bathroom made up the first floor. One bedroom was a small single. It contained the kind of bed that Brock decided would have fitted well in a very dated hospital—one with a green metal frame and a thin mattress covered by a frayed sheet. In addition to the external shutters, the window was barred. There was no bulb in the light socket and no door.

  “Mine, I presume?” Brock stared into the unfriendly space and grimaced.

  “Well. It would have been.” Kyle grinned.

  The other bedroom was much larger, dominated by a double bed with a metal scrollwork headboard and luxurious covers. There was a wardrobe and a small linen press along one wall, and Brock’s bag sat in a corner.

  “The choice is yours—you can either sleep in here with me or in the other room. I won’t force you to share a bed with me, though I won’t pretend that I don’t want you to.”

  Brock flushed.

  “You could order me to sleep in here, couldn’t you?”

  “I could, but I won’t. It’s your decision. Of course, once you’re in here with me, there will definitely be orders to follow.”

  Brock swallowed and changed the subject. “I’m hungry.”

  “Mmm. Me too.”

  The diversionary tactic hadn’t worked, as Kyle was clearly not thinking about food. His eyes were fixed on Brock’s as he moved closer. He placed his hands deliberately around Brock’s body and pressed his thumbs into the groove at the top of his hipbones. A butterfly pinned to a display board couldn’t have felt more trapped than Brock did at that moment. He tried to pull away, but Kyle was very strong and held him easily in place, grinding his thumbs in harder. Brock could feel his cock swelling and his temperature rising. He wanted to resist, but Kyle had pressed the switch in his brain that responded to control. It felt so good to be held by strong hands, to know that Kyle could take him by force if he wanted to.

  Kyle patted Brock’s perfect arse and let him go. He’d made his point. Brock fled down the stairs. Kyle watched him go with a smile. Brock’s responses turned him on in a way that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Brock was so pretty—part of Kyle wanted to bury his head in that soft blond hair and whisper words of comfort, the other part wanted to tie Brock down, tear his clothes off and hammer his arse until he screamed. Intuition told Kyle that Brock would enjoy the second option more.

  Kyle waited a few moments for his iron erection to subside a little then followed Brock downstairs. His quarry was curled into the corner of the sofa with his head buried in a book, blond waves falling forwards to conceal his face. Kyle didn’t bait him any further but went into the kitchen to prepare some lunch. He returned about fifteen minutes later with bowls of steaming soup, warm crusty bread and mugs of tea.

  “I hope this is okay.”

  He put the tray down on the coffee table and picked up one of the bowls. It smelled delicious and the savory aroma broke down Brock’s resistance quickly. He put his book on the floor and picked up the other bowl. “Thank you. Is this homemade?”

  “Yes. I find cooking therapeutic. There’s a freezer full of soups. Feel free to help yourself.”

  “This is amazing.” Brock dipped a chunk of bread into his bowl and ate it with relish.

  “I did lunch—you can cook dinner.”

  “You might regret that decision.”

  Kyle gave a short laugh, “As long as you manage not to burn anything, I’m sure it will be fine. It’s difficult to go wrong with pasta and there are homemade sauces in the freezer you can choose from.”

  “Okay, it’s a deal.”

  Brock ate the rest of his lunch in contented silence then glanced over at Kyle.

  “I’ve been patient and you have my word that I will get you the best pictures I can. But I want to know more.”

  Kyle looked at him thoughtfully. He cleared the dishes away then returned from the kitchen and sat next to him on the sofa.

  “I’ll tell you more soon, I promise. I have orders to follow too. My bosses know that you are now a willing participant, but they still have to be cautious.”

  Kyle slipped off his boots and socks and swung his legs up so that he was leaning against the opposite arm of the sofa, knees bent so that black denim hugged the curve of his arse tightly. He pushed his toes underneath Brock’s thigh and wiggled them into a comfortable position.

  “You look tired. Are you still feeling the effects of the jabs?”

  “I feel weak and I have a headache, nothing serious. I’m tired because I didn’t sleep well for some reason.” The sarcasm was evident in his voice.

  “Then you need to rest. Come here.”

  Kyle parted his legs and patted the space between them. Brock froze and shook his head slowly. Kyle decided to see if his intuition was accurate, that Brock just needed a reason to submit to him.

  “You said you’d follow my orders. Now come here.”

  Silently Brock turned and shuffled backwards into the space waiting for him. Kyle pulled him back so that he was lying against his chest then pinned him into place with his thighs. He leaned forward and breathed in the scent from Brock’s hair.

  “Relax. Close your eyes and pretend that I’m your dream man.”

  He could feel Brock trembling, muscles tensed as he ran a finger along his defined cheekbone.

  “So beautiful…” Kyle resisted the urge to stroke and touch every inch of the body resting against him. He was already hard enough that Brock must be able to feel him pressing against his lower back. He wondered what Brock was thinking, hoped that he was secretly enjoying their closeness.

  Brock could hardly breathe. Kyle’s ample cock was digging into his spine and all he wanted was for it to move lower. Kyle touched his face and he had to fight not to turn into his warm palm and nuzzle there. He felt light-headed and dizzy, but he didn’t think the inoculations were to blame. Blood left his head and descended to his groin as if gravity had increased its pull. He swallowed and tilted his head back, exposing his slender neck in an act of trust. He trembled, but not from fear, and gasped as soft lips sucked the sensitive skin above his collarbone then moved to his neck. Kyle encircled his chest with a strong arm and held him in place as he bit down gently at first then harder into the juncture between neck and shoulder until Brock cried out. Kyle’s grip on him softened and he pulled back, rubbing a thumb over the sore place on Brock’s neck. Brock knew he’d been marked and God help him, he liked it.

  Some of the tension left Brock’s body and he relaxed against Kyle’s firm chest. His lashes fluttered and he felt himself slipping impossibly into sleep, his exhaustion compounded by the emotional exertion he had been through. He turned his head and snuggled against Kyle’s body, enjoying the spicy scent that permeated Kyle’s pullover and drifted into his dreams.

  Kyle knew that Brock must have been utterly spent, both emotionally and physically and that he shouldn’t read anything deeper into the position he now found himself in. However, the weeks he had spent learning about Brock’s life, following him and observing everything he did, made him realize he was deeply attracted to the younger man. It wasn’t simply physical lust either, though he couldn’t deny that it was part of the equation. He had fallen for the whole package—Brock’s sense of adventure, his passion for his work, his sensitivity. Blond hair and those beautiful eyes were the icing on the cake. Kyle ran his fingers down the scar on his own face. He felt rough and ugly in comparison. If they’d met through normal means, he was sure Brock wouldn’t have spared him a second glance, yet here he was with this gorgeous creature asleep on his chest, rising and falling slightly as Kyle breathed gent
ly so as not to disturb him. It felt wonderful, yet at the same time was the worst possible torture because he knew it couldn’t last. He was fooling himself if he thought Brock would ever want him. He sighed and closed his own eyes, one arm still protectively wrapped around Brock’s chest.

  * * * *

  When Brock stirred a couple of hours later, he was still curled against Kyle’s body. For a few delicious moments, he allowed himself to believe that it was his boyfriend who held him so securely and that the hard body he leaned against would press its weight against him, skin to skin, if he wished it. The irony was that he did. Just the thought of all that toned muscle making contact with his naked flesh was enough to make Brock painfully hard. He wanted to feel the rake of stubble across his skin. He wanted to be thrown down and taken hard. Against all logic, he hoped that Kyle would lose patience and do what his eyes continually threatened. The way in which their lives had collided was shocking, but despite everything, Brock liked this man who had gatecrashed his world.

  Carefully Brock lifted Kyle’s arm away from his body and slid forwards. With a sigh of relief, he stood and crept toward the stairs. He needed to splash cold water on his face and another part of his anatomy would probably benefit from a dousing as well.

  * * * *

  The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Brock cooked dinner. They watched a movie from separate chairs. Neither man mentioned what had happened that afternoon, but the livid bruise on Brock’s neck bore testament to that brief escape into sensation. Kyle felt ridiculously protective. “You look exhausted.”

  “I’m shattered. Is it all right if I go to bed?”

  Kyle nodded. “Of course. I need you fit and well. Get ready and I’ll be up shortly.”

  Kyle gave him fifteen minutes to use the bathroom then followed him upstairs. Brock sat on the edge of the single bed in the small, cell-like second bedroom. He wore dark pajamas in some kind of tartan pattern, his pale bare feet rested on the floorboards. Frustrated, Kyle sighed. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”