Velvet Need

by Sean Michael

  His own body was long and gaunt and no manner of bathing suit could disguise that. But the robe that went over it was sinfully soft. He would have to find out what material it was and have Kestrel order enough to cover the table in the room. Such a luxury for Dent to lie on.

  In no time at all he was back in the living room, towel over his shoulder and a matching pair of sunglasses dangling from one hand.

  "Mmm. It's a good look for you.” Dent was leaning against the wall, robe open, muscles rippling as he shifted.

  He froze where he stood, absolutely taken by the picture Dent made. “For me?” He shook his head. “There is no way I can look even half as stunning as you do, my dear.” He went over to Dent, hands reaching for those wonderful muscles. He needed to see Dent swimming.

  "Your hands are warm.” Dent did not agree, but he did not argue, so Luttrell took it as a plus.

  He continued stroking as he put on his sunglasses. “Let's see yours on. We'll match."

  Dent chuckled, but slipped them on. “Do I look ridiculous?"

  "Quite the opposite, my dear. You look very stylish.” He slid his fingers around Dent's arm and wandered them casually down the hall. “I have an idea."

  "Hmm?” Dent followed him, moving easily. Trusting.

  "It would be a shame to waste our outfits. We should go swimming."

  "I love the water. We could bathe..."

  "The sunglasses would be wasted on a bath.” He leaned in, sharing his secret with Dent. “Hercules has set up a new pool, very private. There is a sun lamp that he swears to me feels exactly like the sun on the skin, with the sound of waves piped in..."

  "Oh...” Dent rippled, the moan sexual and wanton. “I want."

  "Then you shall have, my dear. It's not open to anyone else yet—he said you were to be the first to use it."

  They came to the door and he spared Dent the need to open it, grabbing the handle and swinging the door wide; he suspected it would take all his lover's fortitude to make the trip down to the pool.

  "I...” Dent reached for his hand, fingers squeezing his. “I don't ... I'm frightened."

  "I know. And that's all right, my dear. We'll do this together, yes?” He took that first step, trusting Dent would come with him.

  Dent did, following him, one step after another, to the lift. “Bertoli. Bertoli, I can't."

  He laughed gently. “But you are, my dear. You are.” He kept moving, thanking the stars when pressing the lift button had the doors sliding open for them almost immediately. Soon, they would be far enough that Dent might as well go forward as go back.

  He petted Dent's arm, squeezed their hands together. His lover's skin was grey, sweat sheening it as Dent shuddered. But they stepped onto the lift, the doors closing smoothly behind them.

  "What do you love best about the water, Dent?” he asked, more to give his lover something to focus on than his need to know the answer.

  "The way it surrounds me, holds me up. I like feeling clean. Do you swim?"

  So brave, to answer him, even in the midst of panic. “I do. I like the feeling of weightlessness, and the way I seem to fly through the water.” The lift arrived on the right floor, doors sliding open again. “Here we are already. The pool is just around the corner."

  "What if they're here? What if they're waiting?” Dent's eyes, huge, met his. “What if they take you?"

  "They are not here, Dent. There is security everywhere. We are safe. We are both safe."

  He held Dent's eyes as they made their way to the pool room. Number seven. He put his palm on the reader, the door sliding open for them, the sound of the ocean spilling out.

  "They're not in there? You swear it?"

  "I swear it, Dent. There is no one in there.” He took a step inside, drawing Dent in with him. “Trust me."

  "I do. I do.” Dent shuddered, knees buckling as the door closed.

  He caught Dent, holding him close. “It's a small place. The door is locked now. Let's walk together, and you'll see. Then we can swim. It'll be wonderful, my dear.” It already was—Dent had come so much further today.

  "We can swim.” Dent dared to look around, relaxing as those eyes took in the water, the beautiful flowers and surroundings.

  "I would like nothing better.” He beamed at Dent, removing the man's sunglasses and then taking off his own.

  Hercules had been right, the lights really did feel like true sunshine, warm and good on his skin.

  Dent slipped the robe off, headed straight for the water. Luttrell watched, admiring the beautiful muscles, the lean lines. His lover was quite beautiful. And out of the apartment, about to do something he loved, that he'd thought maybe was lost forever.

  With a delighted laugh, he dropped his own robe and followed.

  When Dent stepped into the water, the sound his lover gave was pure joy, the most blissful sound he'd heard in months. Beaming, he slipped into the water himself, more intent on watching Dent than doing laps.

  Dent moved easily, staying near the wall at first, in the shadows, but slowly branching out, stretching toward the sun. For the first time since Dent had been kidnapped, Luttrell saw again the man who had first come to him. Not exactly the same, but that confidence and easy power was right there instead of buried behind worry and fear.

  Dent swam up to him, relaxed and easy, the light of interest burning in those eyes. “It feels good."

  "It is good.” He laughed, fingers sliding over Dent's skin, the water making it slick.

  Dent moved toward him, the smile warm, easy. “Yes. Yes, it is good."

  "I have never seen you in the sunlight before,” he noted, wrapping his arms around Dent's shoulders and letting that strength support him. “It suits you."

  "I spent hours in the sun before they took me."

  "Yes, I remember that tan.” So different from his own pale skin. Very sexy.

  Dent smiled at him, sliding away again, slipping through the water and then up upon the tile, sunning himself like a great reptile.

  Laughing, he climbed out and settled in one of the deck chairs. “Would you like some lunch, my dear?” He'd been promised a fully stocked refrigerator.

  "Mmm. I could possibly eat.” Dent stretched, feet dangling in the water.

  Luttrell found he could just reach the door to the fridge and he opened it, looking in. “Oh, there's a whole platter of fruit here. And salad, sandwiches. Beer.” Perfect picnic food.

  "Excellent.” Dent seemed loathe to move, but those eyes stayed open, Dent awake, aware.

  He chuckled, loathe to move, himself. Still, it would be more fun to be closer to his lover. He spread his towel next to where Dent lay and brought over the plate of sandwiches and tray of fruit along with a couple of bottles.

  "Oh, thank you.” He got a smile and a kiss that rocked him to the core.

  "Mmm ... you're welcome.” He lay close, feeling quite ... smitten.

  Dent began to feed him, offering him the best morsels, wooing him. He held Dent's eyes as he accepted the food, lips and tongue tasting Dent's fingers as often as he could.

  "Thank you.” Dent traced his bottom lip, eyes peaceful.

  He grabbed hold of Dent's finger with his mouth, and began to suck on it, tongue playing across the tip.

  Dent's eyes went half-mast, the long, leans muscles rippling. “Bertoli."

  "Mmmm...” He let his teeth graze the tip of Dent's finger, that look going straight to his cock.

  Dent stretched, ass shifting on the flat, wet rock. Oh, lovely. Purely lovely. The faux sun was warm on his skin, but it had nothing on the heat Dent generated in him. He shifted as well, moving closer, pressing their sides together.

  "I...” Dent moaned, cock beginning to fill. “My Bertoli."

  "Oh, yes, my dear. I am absolutely yours. What will you do with me?” It was all he could do not to rub against Dent like a cat in heat.

  "I believe I will love you.” Dent's tongue tickled the corner of his lips, parting them for the slow, hungry kiss.r />
  He opened wide, letting Dent in; he wholeheartedly approved of his lover's plans. He reached out, fingers sliding through Dent's hair.

  Dent took the kiss deep, tongue pushing into his lips, fucking his mouth with a straight-forward hunger. There was something to be said for simple passion, for lust given its head, and Luttrell gave himself over to it, letting Dent take the lead. In this, Dent had always been generous, adoring his body, touching him and making them both moan and want.

  He slid his fingers along Dent's back, exploring the long spine, searching for the bundle of nerves he knew lived near the small of Dent's back. When he found it, Dent arched, feet trying to gain purchase on the stone.

  "So sensual,” he murmured, fingers teasing those nerves over and over.

  "I...” The moans echoed over the splash of the water. “Bertoli. I feel you."

  He laughed out his delight and love. “And I feel you, Dent. You feel good. So good."

  "I do.” Dent's teeth caught his earlobe, stinging as they bit down.

  He jerked, gasping at the sharp touch. His prick began to leak, his fingers opening and closing on Dent's skin.

  "You enjoyed that.” Another bite stung his jaw, then his throat.

  He could only gasp out a “yes,” his moans giving Dent the answer. Dent explored him, nipping and scraping his skin, leaving tiny, dark marks behind. Whimpers and soft, needy sounds issued from him, his body jerking and pushing toward Dent's bites and kisses. His balls drew up, aching, his cock throbbing. Dent was going to make him come again with that quiet need, that hungry mouth.

  "Please,” he begged, though he knew that Dent wouldn't leave him high and dry.

  Dent slid into the water, lips taking his prick in on the way down. He cried out, a laugh twisted in with the sound. So good, Dent was so good to him.

  Dent's head bobbed, lips fastened tight around his flesh. He spread his legs wider, offering himself over to Dent.

  Dent swallowed hard, throat closing about the tip of his cock.

  "Dent!” It was his only warning before his balls drew up and emptied, seed pulsing into Dent's mouth. Dent swallowed him down, tongue cleaning his cock before the long body floated away, Dent relaxed on the water.

  He lay there, gasping like a fish out of the water, watching his lover float.

  "You're beautiful.” Dent grinned at him, looking almost smug.

  He smiled back, and then laughed. “Me? Your eyes must be clouded."

  "No.” Dent dove into the water, quick as a fish.

  Luttrell moaned as that lovely ass briefly slid up out of the water. He went back into the water, swimming after Dent.

  Dent led him on a merry chase, the long, lean body slicing through the water like magic. He was laughing and breathless in no time, only continuing the chase because it was Dent.

  Dent ended in the deepest part of the water, floating on his back, eyes closed. Luttrell dove into the water, coming up under Dent, opening his mouth and placing a sucking kiss on his lover's ass.

  Dent turned, pulling away with a laugh that Luttrell could hear, even under the water. He popped up, grinning and launching himself after Dent, taking a kiss before settling in the water, floating next to his lover.

  "I'm glad you came,” Lutrell murmured.

  "I am too. Let's just stay here forever."

  "You'll turn into a prune,” he laughed.

  "Prunes are sweet."

  "You're not sweet. More savory. A little salt, a little something that is ... well, you.” He could certainly float a little longer. Maybe not forever, but for awhile.

  Dent offered him a smile. “Come play, Bertoli. We'll worry about the rest later."

  "I can think of nothing I'd like to do better.” With a laugh, he followed his lover through the water.

  * * * *

  Malachi stood outside Luttrell's rooms, ringing the comm over and over. One more ring and he'd open the doors himself, no matter how late it was.

  "Who is it?” snapped Luttrell.

  "Let me in, Luttrell. Now."

  "Mal?” The comm clicked off and the door slid open. “Do you know what time it is?"

  "Yes.” He stepped in, locking the door behind him. “Dent's abductors have escaped the authorities three crono ago. I wanted you to know.” The bastards had killed eight feds on the way out.

  Luttrell was a pale man. He went absolutely white. “No."

  "Yes. Herc wants you moved deeper into the club. Now.” He didn't like it any more than anyone else, disrupting Dent, but it needed to be done.

  Luttrell's eyes flashed to his. “You believe they can get past the front door?"

  "No. No, I don't, but Hercules doesn't want to take any chances.” Dent had suffered enough.

  "I'm not sure running away is what he needs, Mal.” Luttrell started down the hall. “And what does it tell him if we move—that his home isn't safe like he's come to believe it is?"

  Mal sighed, hand rubbing his nape. “You need to talk to the boss. He's making the calls.” Luttrell had a point, though. Monk had the club locked down so tight it squeaked.

  "Herc can advise us, but Dent and I must be the ones to make this decision.” Luttrell knocked on the door to the bedroom. “Dent? It's Mal, my dear. He has some news."

  Dent sat up, met his eyes. “They escaped."

  It wasn't even a question. “How did you know?"

  "You wouldn't have come otherwise."

  Luttrell sat and put his arm around Dent. “Hercules has offered to let us move deeper into the club."

  "I want Luttrell moved. I'll stay here. This is my home now."

  Mal stared, confused. “Pardon me?"

  Dent looked over at him, eyes still, serious. “Take Luttrell deeper into the club. Keep him safe."

  That was incredibly unexpected.

  "What? No!” Luttrell shook his head, hand tightening on Dent's shoulder. “We'll stay together."

  "No. I won't run, but I won't risk him. They'll hurt him."

  Shit, he had a headache and the temptation to kick Hercules in the ass was huge. “We should call the Boss."

  "It doesn't matter who you call, I am not going anywhere—and stop speaking about me as if I'm not here, Dent. If you want me to move, then you will move with me. If you stay here, so do I. And nobody is hurting anyone. I have seen Mr. Monk. Security will remain secure."

  Mal watched them both, hiding his smile. Dent looked almost whole again and Bertoli looked like he might enjoy fighting with his sub. Regardless, Herc had sent him on a mission.

  "...go with Mal, now. Herc is a demanding old bastard."

  "You leave Hercules to me. We are safe here and we are together. And we should let poor Mal get back to bed."

  "You're not listening to me, Bertoli.” Dent's growl was deep, aggravated, and Mal began to back from the bedroom, comming Hercules.

  "What?"

  Short, sharp, Hercules was in fine form.

  "Dent refuses to leave, Boss, and wants us to take Luttrell. Luttrell is ... discussing it with him."

  Dent's voice snapped out, the curse sharp and clear.

  "Luttrell is the top, he can make Dent leave with him. I shouldn't have to tell you this."

  "You want to talk to him, Boss? I'm tired and I have to train eight worker bees at dawn."

  One of Hercules’ eyebrows went up, violet eyes really looking at him.

  "No, Mal. I want you to deal with it. And when you've settled it you'll report to me. In person."

  Damn it. “Yes, sir. I'll find out what their decision is."

  Of course, Dent was yelling and Luttrell was heading for the playroom, so he imagined he knew what that decision was.

  "I'll see you soon then.” The comm went dark.

  "Luttrell? Have you made a decision?"

  Luttrell paused at the door to the playroom. “We will stay here. Together. You and Hercules and Mr. Monk do what you must to keep our home safe. We will not be run off."

  "Bertoli!” Dent sounded furious. It
had been a while.

  "Excellent. I'll let the boss know. Please keep your doors locked and sealed."

  "Thank you, Mal. We will open it for you or for Hercules alone."

  "Yes.” He nodded to Luttrell, offered the gaunt man a smile as Dent came streaking out of the room, ranting. He thought maybe he felt sorry for Luttrell, but then he saw the odd joy in Luttrell's eyes, the satisfaction there and then thought about the meeting with Hercules awaiting him.

  No. No, he didn't feel sorry for Luttrell at all.

  * * * *

  A part of him was terrified. The men who'd hurt Dent were loose, no doubt looking to come after his lover again. But mostly he was trying very hard not to laugh, because he didn't want Dent to think he was laughing at the man. And he wasn't. But he did want to laugh because of Dent.

  It had been so long since Dent had shown such passion and fire. He'd forgotten he missed it.

  "Just get on the table, my dear."

  "You're not listening to me!” Dent was in a full-out fury, worried for him, wanting him to be safe. It was quite glorious, quite arousing. His amazing, passionate lover.

  "Just because I don't agree with you doesn't mean I'm not listening.” He patted the table encouragingly.

  "Bertoli!” Dent's hands landed on the table, muscles clenching. “Pay attention."

  He rolled his eyes, but honestly, he was happy. So happy. Stopping, he took Dent's face in his hands, met that wonderfully alive gaze. “Yes, my dear?"

  "I don't want them to hurt you. You have to go and be safe, love. I need that. I need you to be safe."

  "I will be safe with you here, Dent.” There was no way he would abandon Dent, not to mention that he couldn't imagine being safe and not knowing that Dent was as well.

  "How do you know?"

  "Because you will not let anything happen to me, just as I will do the same for you.” He kissed Dent and stepped back, patting the table again. “Now. Up."

  "Bertoli. This is not the time.” Oh, he did remember when Dent was trying to be reasonable.

  "If you don't get on the table now, I will gag you as well as bind you."

  "You will not. I'm trying to talk to you."