by Rhys Ford
The friction overwhelmed him, and Gus reached for Rey’s cock, running his palm over his length. A few strokes, then his shaft pulsed and Rey’s stomach clenched, his abs rippling and tightening. Poised over Rey’s climax-stiffening body, Gus was caught in the beauty of the man he’d spend the rest of his life with. His dragon was still unfinished, but most of the base color was there, promising to be as vibrant and fierce as the tiger riding his other hip. There were scars, small ones from doing stupid boy things and darker patches where fire kissed and bubbled Rey’s skin. His dark hair was nearly black from sweat, and his beautiful, long-lashed eyes were unfocused, a deep sienna with amber and sable slivers at their centers.
But it was Rey’s smile—that gorgeous, white, sweet smile—that both broke and healed Gus’s heart every time he saw it. Just as it did now when Rey cupped Gus’s face, his fingers damp with sweat and scented oil, to give him a brief, blinding smile before pulling Gus over the edge with a tight, hard clench around Gus’s cock.
He lost himself. Somewhere in between Rey taking his hand, entwining their fingers, and the moment he felt Rey close down on him, Gus lost all sense of himself. The rings anchored him before he spun out into the ether. The hard ribbon of metal Rey’d asked him to wear pulled him back down, reminding Gus of his place at Rey’s side… and of Rey’s at his. His body sang, catching up the quiet hopeful hum he’d nursed in his heart and breaking the restraints he’d soldered on his own dreams.
Rey’s arms held him tight, his legs hugging Gus’s waist as they released, the gush of power from their cores pouring through them, then slowly turning, softening until the brush of skin on their cocks grew too intense to bear.
A few instinctive rocking motions of his hips and Gus emptied his well of need, satiated past being able to talk. His brain struggled to maintain even the smallest of functions and he shut down everything he didn’t need to survive, choosing only to breathe… and to hold Rey close.
They parted but still touched, fingers against mouths and cheeks, sometimes a brush against a still-hard nipple or lips on a collarbone salty with sweat. He’d bitten Rey at some point during their lovemaking, and he kissed the purpling welt on Rey’s shoulder, secretly smug he’d marked his lover in a spot no one else would see.
Sighing, Rey brushed Gus’s tangled, wet hair from his face and said, “I love you, Gus. Very much. I can’t imagine a future without you.”
“I love you too.” Pressing his mouth onto Rey’s, Gus savored their kiss. Then he grinned, realizing what lay ahead of them. “Hey, so now that we’ve got a house, you think I can get my own dog?”
IT WAS final.
A done deal. He’d signed on enough lines to do an entire back piece filled only with his autograph, and even after being conditioned to spending hours guiding a vibrating tattoo machine across someone’s skin, Gus’s hand hurt, but it was worth it.
The little boy he carried into 415 Ink’s front room was officially, unequivocally his son.
Chris wriggled, a slightly grimy, mostly sweet-smelling bundle of energy and blond curls, and Gus mocked nearly dropping him, to the boy’s squealing delight. Gus heard Lynn’s sharp gasp, and he winked at her when he pulled Chris back up onto his shoulder.
“Boy can walk, you know,” Bear informed him from behind the counter. “Just in case you forgot, they probably worked really hard to teach him.”
“Earl! Let me down.” Chris wiggled across his father’s shoulder. “Please. There’s a dog.”
“God, like father, like son,” Rey grumbled. “Ask the asshole to marry me and he’s all… I want a dog.”
Setting Chris down, Gus grinned up at his lover. “Hey, I say yes. I just want you and a dog.”
“Okay, someone flip the sign to closed and let’s get this party going.” Bear snagged Chris as he ran by, lifting him into the air with a swoop. “You, little man, you can help me get the cake.”
An hour later, 415 Ink was packed to the rafters with people, a worrisome amount of chattering, warm bodies numerous enough to make Mace wonder out loud if the fire marshals would be shutting them down before the night was over. A long banquet table trembled under the weight of food brought in, and outside behind the building, Mace kept Randy’s spare grill going with hamburgers and carne asada. A couple of musicians from a local rock band stopped by, and Ivo coaxed them into doing an acoustic set, his brother providing fairly decent backup vocals to the singer’s throaty, powerful rasp while Bear drew a New School forearm piece on Chris with Magic Markers.
The shop’s interior grew louder as the night wore on, and by nine, a drunk-from-attention Chris stumbled over to the reception area then collapsed onto Earl’s bed to curl up around the snoozing shaggy dog.
“And that’s our cue to go.” Jules chuckled, tugging on Gus’s sleeve. “Give me a kiss, and call me tomorrow when you wake up.”
“I work tomorrow, so it’ll be before noon,” he promised, then kissed her on the cheek. “Want me to carry him out?”
“Nah, Dad’s got him.” She moved out of her father’s way, and Doug stopped long enough for Gus to press a kiss onto his son’s forehead. Giving Gus a brief hug, she murmured, “Thanks for being his dad. You didn’t have to step up, but I’m glad you did.”
“I had to. He’s my kid,” Gus reminded her. “I’m going to do right by him. All of us are.”
“I know.” Jules smiled. “Tomorrow, Mr. Scott, we shall do this again.”
He watched them go, and for the first time in forever, he didn’t feel a twinge of jealousy at the sight of their tightly knit family. His threads ran to other directions, from Donna and Randy, who’d come to the party armed with sheet cakes and fried chicken, and to the four men who’d held him up during the darkest times of his life.
His baby brother was dancing barefoot, a knee-length pleated black leather skirt swirling around his long legs, encased in fishnet stockings. His Hizoku Ink tank top sparkled where Rey’s sister’s glittered hands had touched it, and his hair was back to a shade Gus could only call flamingo. Ivo’s dark blue eyes were thick with kohl, his elegant masculine face sleek with makeup. His Japanese cat shoulder tattoo slid in and out of view when he raised his arms above his head, moving his body in time to the beat of the music playing through the shop’s sound system.
Mace was somewhere in the back, keeping an eye on the dwindling fire, but he was there when Gus needed him, the older brother who’d stepped into the space Puck left behind and picked up the mantle of beloved asshole. He depended on Mace in ways he couldn’t begin to count, but mostly for yanking Rey out of a burning building and being his lover’s best friend ever since.
But if Mace was his personal pitchfork-wielding devil, Luke was the angel who’d save his sanity. The man who he called his sane twin looked up from his discussion with Bear’s apprentice and winked, but the lightness in his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Gus sighed, wishing he could do more than watch Luke work his way through life.
“It’s good to see Luke socializing,” Bear said, hooking an arm over Gus’s shoulders. “He’s having fun tonight.”
The weight was companionable, familiar and comforting. His brother’s scruffed chin tickled Gus’s cheek, and he leaned into Bear, the weight on his finger changing everything, but no matter what happened, he would always have Bear.
“I don’t know if you can call it socializing. He’s talking to the Noob,” he pointed out. “I mean, if he was talking to Rob the new guy, we could call that socializing, but the apprentice? Kid hasn’t even worked up to tattooing fruit yet.”
“Kid’s name is David, and he’s older than you, Goose,” Bear teased, clenching his arm into a hold across Gus’s neck. They tussled for a brief moment; then Earl barked at them to break it up. “See? You don’t need a new dog. Earl loves you.”
“Earl probably thought I was attacking you, so don’t give me that shit.” Gus gave Bear a light push. The older man didn’t even budge or lock his knees, and Gus sighed. “Dude, you could at le
ast make it look like you had to work a little bit there. You’re not good for a guy’s ego.”
“I think the only guy you need for your ego is coming in with another plate of carne asada.” Bear jerked his head toward the back door. “And you know, for what it’s worth, kiddo, I’m proud of you. You’ve turned out great.”
“’Cause of you, man.” He shook his head when it looked like Bear was going to argue. “Fuck off, Barrett, and just take the compliment.”
“Yeah, you’re lucky Rey likes that pretty face of yours or it’d look a lot different right now.” Bear ruffled Gus’s hair, then lightly slapped the back of his head. “Behave or you’re going to be pulling up those floors in that house you guys got all by yourself.”
“Hey, sexy.” Gus quirked a grin when Rey wrapped his arms around Gus’s waist, then pushed him up against the reception counter. “Watch the dog. He’s already pissed off at me for wrinkling Bear’s shirt. Asshole’ll probably rip my socks off because I’m touching you or something. Mace about done out there?”
“Yeah, he’s making sure the grill’s off. Said he’ll be inside in a bit.” Rey hooked his fingers into the back loops of Gus’s jeans. “How are you feeling? Okay?”
“Shiny as… a shiny thing,” he replied with a laugh, then sobered. “You?”
“Better than I’ve ever been before,” Rey said softly. “And if I haven’t told you in the past few hours, I love you, and I’m glad you’re making an honest man of me.”
The music faded when Rey pulled him in for a kiss, or at least it did in Gus’s mind. They kissed like they had sex… a long, powerful joining with a sweet gentleness at the edges, their love softening the sear of their passion, banking it to preserve its heat. Gus couldn’t get enough of Rey’s touch, of his mouth and the thrust of Rey’s strong body against his own, but when Rey held him, Gus fell in love all over again. He came up for air with a hard cock and a deep longing to find a dark corner to scratch the itch Rey always seemed to bring out in him.
“Fuck, I love you,” Gus muttered into Rey’s mouth. “You drive me nuts.”
“Right back at you, babe,” Rey replied softly. “Now, how about if we see if Bear can cover for you tomorrow? Because I think I’m going to spend all night making sure you can’t walk straight in the morning, and maybe if you ever do crawl out of bed, you can start putting your art on my back… where it belongs.”
ROB’S MOUTH was like swallowing cinnamon whiskey and fire, heady and dangerous enough to be a health risk… especially if Bear caught Mace with his hands down the back of the young tattoo artist’s jeans. He kept trying to walk away, but no matter how far he got, Mace found himself turned around and right back where he started, either on his knees with his lips wrapped around Rob’s dick or vice versa.
The alley behind the tattoo shop was dark, a shadowy sliver of space blocked off by their cars and the cooling grill Randy brought over from his house, so the chances of them being discovered with their pants down around their ankles was slim, but there still was a chance… especially since his entire too-damned-nosy family was only a door away.
“Jesus…. God, what you can do with your fingers,” Rob gasped. “Fuck… me.”
“Not only don’t I have time, but if Bear finds us, we’re dead.” Mace reluctantly let Rob go, struggling for air after losing himself in Rob’s kisses. “We’ve got to stop doing this. It’s… nuts. I don’t even like you.”
“Yeah, you’re no fucking treat either,” the inker grumbled back. Rob tried straightening his hair, but the shock wave of blue-tipped ebony strands wasn’t willing to be subdued. “I was crazy for doing this once, much less….”
“Don’t count. I don’t want to know,” he ordered. “That’s it. Tonight’s… we’re done. No more.”
He tried to ignore the disgust surging up in him at the thought of walking away from Rob, but it was for the best. Mace couldn’t afford to have Rob attached to him. He didn’t trust himself, not with knowing where he’d come from… the animals who’d given him life and probably their cruelty. It would start small, a bit of anger at something done wrong, and the next thing he would know, his hands would be painted with hot blood and he’d be standing over Rob’s broken body. It was too much of a risk. He had too much to lose… his family, his job, and his sanity.
Walking away now was the best thing for both of them—he knew that… so why did it hurt so much when Rob’s gaze dropped away and his raspy voice finally whispered, “Yeah, you’re right. This is nothing but a quick fuck we like because we shouldn’t be doing it. So yeah, from right now, you and I are done.”
More from Rhys Ford
Welcome to Dim Sum Asylum: a San Francisco where it’s a ho-hum kind of case when a cop has to chase down an enchanted two-foot-tall shrine god statue with an impressive Fu Manchu mustache that’s running around Chinatown, trolling sex magic and chaos in its wake.
Senior Inspector Roku MacCormick of the Chinatown Arcane Crimes Division faces a pile of challenges far beyond his human-faerie heritage, snarling dragons guarding C-Town’s multiple gates, and exploding noodle factories. After a case goes sideways, Roku is saddled with Trent Leonard, a new partner he can’t trust, to add to the crime syndicate family he doesn’t want and a spell-casting serial killer he desperately needs to find.
While Roku would rather stay home with Bob the Cat and whiskey himself to sleep, he puts on his badge and gun every day, determined to serve and protect the city he loves. When Chinatown’s dark mystical underworld makes his life hell and the case turns deadly, Trent guards Roku’s back and, if Trent can be believed, his heart… even if from what Roku can see, Trent is as dangerous as the monsters and criminals they’re sworn to bring down.
How do you save a drowning man when that drowning man is you?
Jake Moore’s world fits too tightly around him. Every penny he makes as a welder goes to care for his dying father, an abusive, controlling man who’s the only family Jake has left. Because of a promise to his dead mother, Jake resists his desire for other men, but it leaves him consumed by darkness.
It takes all of Dallas Yates’s imagination to see the possibilities in the fatigued art deco building on WeHo’s outskirts, but what seals the deal is a shy smile from the handsome metal worker across the street. Their friendship deepens while Dallas peels back the hardened layers strangling Jake’s soul. It’s easy to love the sweet, artistic man hidden behind Jake’s shattered exterior, but Dallas knows Jake needs to first learn to love himself.
When Jake’s world crumbles, he reaches for Dallas, the man he’s learned to lean on. It’s only a matter of time before he’s left to drift in a life he never wanted to lead and while he wants more, Jake’s past haunts him, making him doubt he’s worth the love Dallas is so desperate to give him.
Murder and Mayhem: Book One
Dead women tell no tales.
Former cat burglar Rook Stevens stole many a priceless thing in the past, but he’s never been accused of taking a life—until now. It was one thing to find a former associate inside Potter’s Field, his pop culture memorabilia shop, but quite another to stumble across her dead body.
Detective Dante Montoya thought he’d never see Rook Stevens again—not after his former partner falsified evidence to entrap the jewelry thief and Stevens walked off scot-free. So when he tackled a fleeing murder suspect, Dante was shocked to discover the blood-covered man was none other than the thief he’d fought to put in prison and who still makes his blood sing.
Rook is determined to shake loose the murder charge against him, even if it means putting distance between him and the rugged Cuban-Mexican detective who brought him down. If one dead con artist wasn’t bad enough, others soon follow, and as the bodies pile up around Rook’s feet, he’s forced to reach out to the last man he’d expect to believe in his innocence—and the only man who’s ever gotten under Rook’s skin.
Half Moon Bay: Book One
Deacon Reid was born bad to the bone with no intention of changing
. A lifetime of law-bending and living on the edge suits him just fine—until his baby sister dies and he finds himself raising her little girl.
Staring down a family history of bad decisions and reaped consequences, Deacon cashes in everything he owns, purchases an auto shop in Half Moon Bay, and takes his niece, Zig, far away from the drug dens and murderous streets they grew up on. Zig deserves a better life than what he had, and Deacon is determined to give it to her.
Lang Harris is stunned when Zig, a little girl in combat boots and a purple tutu, blows into his bookstore, and then he’s left speechless when her uncle, Deacon Reid, walks in hot on her heels. Lang always played it safe, but Deacon tempts him to step over the line… just a little bit.
More than a little bit. And Lang is willing to be tempted.
Unfortunately, Zig isn’t the only bit of chaos dropped into Half Moon Bay. Violence and death strike, leaving Deacon scrambling to fight off a killer before he loses not only Zig but Lang too.
The British Empire reigns supreme, and its young Queen Victoria has expanded her realm to St. Francisco, a bustling city of English lords and Chinese ghettos. St. Francisco is a jewel in the Empire’s crown and as deeply embroiled in the conflict between the Arcane and Science as its sister city, London—a very dark and dangerous battle.
Marcus Stenhill, Viscount of Westwood, stumbles upon that darkness when he encounters a pack of young bloods beating a man senseless. Westwood’s duty and honor demand he save the man, but he’s taken aback to discover the man is Robin Harris, a handsome young inventor indirectly responsible for the death of Marcus’s father.