by Jet Mykles
Grinning, Brent hastened to obey. So far in the times they’d been together, he’d always managed to get his clothes off faster than his lover. Of course, he cared far less about his clothes. Hell’s outfits were all very carefully thought out, and much of the clothing was custom made. This was due both to his size as well as his tastes, no doubt Brent, on the other hand, was a jeans and t-shirt man. The only times he dressed up were when someone dressed him up. So, Brent crawled naked onto the ivory sheets of the bed before Hell even had his pants off. He watched Hell practically roll the tight clothing off his slim legs.
“Wait. Please,” he said, when Hell’s fingers went to the thong.
Hell grinned, eyes at half-mast. “Yes.”
Brent crawled to the foot of the bed and dropped to his belly, reaching out with greedy hands. “Let me.”
Chuckling, Hell sauntered over until he stood before Brent. The bed was one of those high ones, the top fully three feet off the ground, so their positions were just right to put Brent’s mouth in line with Hell’s crotch.
Brent slid his hands up the soft, nearly invisible down on Hell’s thighs, then back to cup his silky buttocks. He pulled the imp closer until the hot pouch of the thong pressed into his face.
Hell sighed, fingers settling lightly on Brent’s head.
Brent mouthed Hell’s cock through the thick satin, wetting it with his tongue and breathing heavily through it so the heat would further stir Hell’s excitement. A tensing of the fingers in his hair was his reward. He lapped at the satin until it was quite wet, even tasting a small bit of pre-cum, then used his teeth to squeeze the shaft just so.
Hell groaned.
Happy with himself, Brent threaded his fingers in the straps of the thong and very carefully pulled it down, releasing his prize. He deliberately didn’t touch until he’d gotten the thong down to Hell’s knees, then brought his hands back up to brace on Hell’s hips.
He looked up.
Hell’s eyes were deep indigo pools under the pastel mop of hair, focused on him. Smiling, he wound his fingers in Brent’s hair and nudged him close.
Matching the smile, Brent opened wide and let Hell pull his head up the shaft to the tip, then let the imp push deep into his mouth.
They both groaned. So good. Hell tasted so good. Brent clutched those slim hips, helping to guide that gorgeous shaft farther into his mouth. He swallowed around the head, using his tongue to caress the velvety skin on the underside. Hell pulled away, and Brent just let his tasty treat slide over his tongue, making sure to suck hard so that its owner knew he wanted it back. His message was received, because Hell did push back in. A glance up at the imp showed those eyes now mostly closed and his mouth slack with pleasure. Brent hummed, happy to be the cause of that look.
Hell fucked his face for a few glorious moments, but Brent could tell that he was going to pull out. After their second night together, they had decided to trust that they were each clean, and Brent had gotten to swallow Hell down. He loved it and was happy to do it again, but Brent knew now that if Hell was intent on coming in his mouth, he’d let himself go. He was holding back this time. Which meant he intended to have Brent’s ass.
Brent was not complaining.
Sure enough, after a few ragged hip snaps, Hell hauled Brent’s head up and away. Brent opened his mouth for the kiss that the imp bent forward to slam onto his lips.
“Stay there,” Hell ordered when he tore from the kiss.
Brent wouldn’t have moved for the world. He let his hands dangle over the foot of the bed as he watched Hell head for the bag that sat on the nightstand. In a moment, the lube was out and Hell was climbing up on the bed behind him.
“Do you want me, Süsser?”
Stupid question, but he now knew that Hell liked to hear the answer. “Yes.”
He knew because it made Hell purr, and it prompted exciting, gorgeous caresses like the one Hell bestowed on his back. “So beautiful,” he heard Hell murmur as the imp leaned in to kiss the small of Brent’s back. Brent didn’t bother to correct him as those sweet lips trailed down to kiss and nip each globe of his ass.
The lube top popped. Brent sighed happily, resting his forehead on his forearms. He lifted his hips with Hell’s guidance and spread his legs.
Hell, blessed little angel that he was, didn’t bother with fingers and didn’t have to bother with condoms anymore. He pressed the slick head of his cock at Brent’s opening and pushed slowly.
Brent groaned, loving this. This was sex. This was what it was about. This was penetration with a bite of pain that blossomed into the most wonderful, dark sensation one could share with another person. Brutal little tingles shot up his spine, making him twitch, making him moan. “Oh, yeah.” His stomach flipped and his cock jumped as Hell pushed into his body. He let his thighs slide even wider until his hips met the bed.
Hell sank forward, draping that hot, hard body over Brent’s back.
Brent was torn. Part of him didn’t want to move. This was perfect. This right here. He could stop time right here, right now, when he was happy and Hell wanted him. But he couldn’t stop. He had to move. Had to feel that delicious friction in his ass. Had to make Hell swell and push. Had to make the imp crazy so that he’d throw every bit of strength in that little body into fucking Brent into the mattress. He could do it, too. Brent knew it, and wanted it again.
“Fuck me,” he moaned, clutching the edge of the bed. “Do it, Hell.”
Long-fingered hands braced on the back of Brent’s shoulders. The imp positioned himself and pulled out. Then slammed back home, enough to make Brent want to arch his back. He tried, but Hell’s weight kept him prone.
Hell did it again. And again. Slowly. Precisely. Driving Brent nuts as he found an angle that hit Brent’s gland. Brent released the garbled scream he hoped Hell was waiting for.
“Oh, fuck, yeah, more,” Brent begged as Hell picked up speed. “Ah, God, yes, fuck. Shit. Damn it! Fuck!” He had no idea what he was saying and was quite sure neither of them cared. The sound was important. Hell wanted to know Brent loved it, and Brent was more than willing to voice it if it meant that Hell wouldn’t stop. “More, yes!”
He shut up when Hell fell forward, one hand sliding up the light sheen of sweat on Brent’s back to sink three fingers into his mouth. Eagerly, Brent sucked them in.
The guttural German muttered into his spine set Brent to bucking underneath Hell, slamming himself up when Hell drove forward. Hell was close. So close. Fuck yeah!
He lost it. Crying out around Hell’s fingers, he felt his balls clutch and he spurted onto the duvet beneath him.
Hell gasped. Cursed. Hips snapping as he pushed his own orgasm deep into Brent’s body.
Hell collapsed on his back, heavy breathing cooling the sweat on Brent’s skin.
Smiling, Brent brought his forearms up to cushion his own head, happy to play mattress for Hell for a while. Knowing there was probably a round two coming.
Yeah. This he could get used to.
For as long as it lasted.
Chapter Ten
“Is it good? The sex?” Luc asked.
Brent’s eyes instinctively shuttered as sense memory filled his flesh with phantom caresses. “Yeah.”
Luc leaned on the dusty railing and stared out over the studio parking lot. In the distance, the hills were barely visible through the oppressive smog. “Did you say anything like ‘I love you’?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Brent took a drag on his cigarette, thinking. “What does he want with me?”
“Maybe a good fuck or twelve?”
“Yeah, but --”
Luc sighed, a frustrated sound. “Jesus, Brent, I’ve known you most of my life, and I still don’t get how you can think you’re not worth anyone’s attention.” He flicked the butt of his cigarette to the pavement below.
Brent scowled. “It’s not that.”
“It is that. You’re going to think a p
ossibly good thing out of existence, you know.”
“I don’t get it. He’s gorgeous. He can get anyone.”
“And he wants you. You’re not such a bad catch, y’know.”
Brent made no comment, watching a couple of finches investigate a scrap of paper.
Luc sighed and stood up, adjusting the robe that he wore over his bare torso. There was a flash of his tiny blue swim trunks before he retied the belt that had fallen loose while they were leaning on the balcony rail. “As long as you don’t go making any promises and the both of you know what’s what, I don’t see the harm in the two of you fucking. But if you think it’s going to be a problem, then you should stop it.”
Brent flicked his spent Camel onto the pavement below the railing and stood, readjusting his own robe. He stared up at the waning sunlight, knowing it seemed even darker to him thanks to the shades. Say what you like about California smog, it did make for colorful sunsets sometimes. “I’m not sure he’ll let me stop it.”
That got Luc’s attention. He stopped mid-turn and spun to face Brent again, frowning. “What?”
Brent cast a glance toward the thick, closed door that led back into the studio. “I don’t get the feeling that he’d accept it.”
Luc raised a brow. “Have you tried?”
Brent scowled, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of the deep-blue robe. “Sorta.”
“‘Sorta’?”
Brent pushed a burst of air past his lips. “Okay, not really. But what am I supposed to say? I like being with him. I just don’t think we should be together so much.”
“You’re overthinking.”
“And what else is new?”
Luc leaned back against the railing, arms crossed. “How about you say just that? That you think you two shouldn’t be together so much?”
Brent stared at an abandoned plastic bag fluttering on the ground near the wall. “And then it stops.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“It always does.”
“And you don’t want it to stop.”
“Did I mention that the sex is really good?”
Luc chuckled. “It’s only been two weeks. If the sex is as good as you say, then no wonder he wouldn’t let you go.”
Brent nodded. It had actually been a little over two weeks, but he wasn’t going to quibble.
Luc reached over to squeeze his shoulder. “You think it’s dangerous?”
“Huh?”
“You think he’s a psycho killer or something?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“You sure?”
“About that, yeah.” Brent shrugged. “He’s just ... intense.”
“Then just go with the flow. As long as you both know the score, who does it hurt?”
Me, when he decides he’s done with me. He sighed, combing a hand through his hair. “Yeah, who am I kidding? For sex that amazing, I should just go with it.”
“That’s the spirit.” Luc pulled a pack of Camels from his pocket, then shook his head and put them back. “I’m going inside”
Brent moved to follow him. “Yeah.”
Keeping his hands in his pockets while they headed for the door, he cocked his head at Brent. “I thought you didn’t like topping.”
Brent flushed. “I’m not.”
Luc stopped. “Whoa! You’re kidding? The cherub is a top?”
“God, don’t call him cherub.” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.
Luc chuckled, throwing an arm around Brent’s shoulders. “I wouldn’t worry about it, man. Maybe he really does like you.” He snorted as he walked them both toward the studio. “Or he’s amazed to find anyone taller than him that’ll let him top.”
Brent elbowed Luc in the gut as they walked through the door, but that only made Luc laugh harder.
They entered the huge studio. Two-thirds of the wide-open space was crammed with technical equipment, including at least five cameras and countless lights and monitors as well as things that Brent never had figured out a use for. The other third was the set.
It was a miniature waterfall. There wasn’t even a top to it. The faux stone and moss of the background went up about fifteen feet and stopped, and right about there was a huge, ugly contraption that would pour or dribble water on cue. Catching the water was a twelve-foot-wide basin made up to look like a deep, gorgeous pond.
Brent had soundly disagreed with this part of the video concept, but he’d been overruled thanks to something that Johnnie and Todd, the director, kept calling “fan service.” At some point during the day, all five members of the band would get their turn standing beneath the water, looking as naked as possible. Johnnie and Darien had already had their first of what was supposed to be three turns each in the pool. They had been sent on their way to dry up for their second turns while Hell, Luc, and Brent had their first.
He hated this crap.
Although, at this particular moment, the concept had a perk. Hell was currently taking his turn in the pool. Or, rather, was standing up to his waist in water, waiting to be drenched. All around him, the camera crew crawled like bugs around the set, getting everything ready.
Hell had his long hand shading his eyes from the ultrabright lights, staring toward the main camera and Todd. The gold that normally adorned Hell’s hand -- a slave bracelet, Brent had finally found out the name -- was there, together with another inch of gold bangles about his wrist. Two gold necklaces gleamed around the pale column of his throat, and one of the makeup crew was standing in the water beside him, arranging his purple braid so it draped over his shoulder and bisected his chest.
“He’s beyond cute,” Luc murmured in Brent’s ear, his arm still companionably around Brent’s shoulders.
Captivated by the sight of his lover, Brent could only nod.
Hell turned his head, and there was no doubt that his shaded eyes caught sight of Brent and Luc. His pink lips fell open slightly, then pressed together in a small grimace. But it was brief. Just as Brent noted it, Todd called the imp’s attention.
Self-consciously, Brent shrugged out from under Luc’s arm and wandered to the sidelines to watch. Technically, neither he nor Luc needed to be here. Well, not in the studio itself. There was a very nice waiting room just on the other side of one of the doors, where Darien was drying off and Johnnie was playing video games. There was another television, and they’d even been given the password for the building’s wireless network. But Brent wanted to be here to see.
It didn’t mean anything, or so he told himself. Well, anything more than that he happened to think Hell was one of the most gorgeous sights a body could watch and it would be a shame to miss him getting all wet.
“I’m going back inside,” Luc said from somewhere behind his left shoulder.
Brent nodded, not bothering to look.
It was still a good ten minutes before anything happened on the set. Hell stood very patiently, speaking in low tones with the girl in the water with him. Then she got out, and two guys busied themselves with checking the lighting. Finally, all seemed done and Todd crouched on the bank of the small pond before Hell. Brent was too far away to hear everything they said, so he just watched Hell’s big eyes as they fastened on Todd and he nodded at what was said. Todd stood and turned away, spouting directions at those around him.
Hell turned his head and caught sight of Brent. He smiled that smile that made Brent want to devour him, or let Hell devour him, he didn’t care which.
“All right, Hell,” Todd called from his director’s chair. “You ready?”
Still smiling, Hell faced the camera. “Yes.”
The music cranked up, nothing that would be put into the video itself, but the ambience seemed necessary. Hell’s smile changed to that one of sweet, angelic innocence, and he reached up to cross his arms over his chest, each hand loosely gripping the opposite shoulder. It showed off both jewelry and slim limbs to great advantage just before the water carefully poured onto him. Enough to get him we
t pretty quickly, but not so much that the onlooker couldn’t get their fill of the liquid turning soft lavender hair to a deeper amethyst, sluicing through the hair and over his cherubic face before pouring onto his naked torso. Brent licked his lips, wanting to be that water, wrapping around that slim little body, caressing every curve and crevice. Not that he hadn’t already done that with hands and tongue in a more private setting, but he craved to do it again and again.
And that, he could be honest with himself at least, was what scared him the most. As much as Hell insisted on being with him, he couldn’t find it in his heart to truly disagree. He wanted the imp with him at all times, sleeping or waking, and didn’t think the attachment was at all healthy.
Chapter Eleven
That night, the band, Gretchen, and her top assistants took over a private room at their hotel and started seriously discussing plans for touring.
As usual, Brent mostly sat on the sidelines. He listened dutifully and chimed in when asked, but he rarely put forth an opinion. What did he care where they played, as long as they played? Truthfully, he kind of liked playing in the little dive bars that they used to get booked in during their earlier days, and he really missed their ongoing run at Purgatory, but he wouldn’t part with the ten-thousand-seat arenas, either. He’d given up participating in these discussions with the last tour, leaving the decisions ultimately to Johnnie, Luc, and Gretchen. They let him lead when it came to the music itself; he let them have their way -- mostly -- when it came to the band’s persona.
Not surprisingly, Hell dove right in there with Luc and Johnnie. He didn’t know the venues in the States very well and asked a ton of questions, but when they started discussing abroad, he knew the European and Asian markets better, despite the fact that Heaven Sent had toured there twice. Johnnie and Luc were impressed, and Gretchen positively devoured any and all information Hell gave her about venues or important people.
So Brent ate quietly, nodding when he was supposed to. Gretchen, Johnnie, Luc, and Hell did most of the talking. Ellen and another assistant took notes. Darien spoke up now and again, but usually just with a comment. Like Brent, he left these things to the others.