by Kaye Draper
Suddenly, Luca pulled away, sitting forward to wrap his big hands around Grey’s upper arms. He heaved him upward with a surprising burst of strength and Grey let out a gasp of surprise as he found himself sprawled along the lean length of Luca’s body, their legs tangled, his throbbing erection pressed against Luca’s flat stomach. One long arm held Grey across his back, pinning him against Luca, as the other gripped his hair, angling his head back. Luca’s lips met his with a ferocity that Grey hadn’t thought him capable of, giving as good as he got. Then, Luca pulled away and gave Grey a wicked look of his own.
“Your turn,” he said, in a voice that was deeper and rougher than usual.
He rolled, flipping Grey onto his back, and worked Grey over in the same rough way Grey had just done to him. His big hands pinned Grey’s arms to the bed as his tongue flicked over his nipples. He grasped one hardened nub between his teeth and Grey sucked in a sharp breath. Luca released one arm in order to stroke Grey hard while he continued his attack. Grey arched his back and buried his hand in Luca’s silky hair. His stomach went taught and it was all he could do not to end it right there.
Luca pulled away and took in Grey’s closed eyes and harsh breathing. “Ah-ah…keep it together,” he said in a mocking tone. “You’re the one who wanted to play rough.” But Luca’s own breathing was ragged.
Grey’s eyes flew open as he felt Luca turn around and move over him. Luca eased himself into Grey’s mouth and Grey did the same, moaning when Luca purposefully scraped his teeth. Luca thrust into Grey's mouth, and Grey couldn’t keep his body from responding in time with Luca’s movements, his hands gripping the back of Luca’s thighs as they bucked into each other, completely lost.
Finally, Grey just couldn’t take it anymore. He thrust deep into Luca’s mouth. The Cosmic Joke pulsed, and he let out a deep moan against Luca’s sweat-damp skin, as he lost it. It went on forever, as if he was pouring out his soul, but somehow getting a rush of golden energy back in return. Luca groaned and his own release flooded Grey's mouth. Grey swallowed reflexively, gasping for air and trying to remember his own damned name.
A few minutes later, they managed to rearrange themselves and catch their breath. Grey wound up with his head pillowed on Luca’s arm, curled on his side toward the guitarist while Luca sprawled on his back. Grey took in the inky spill of Luca’s shoulder length hair across the pillow, moved his hand down to rest over that beautiful chest, where his heart still pounded, heavy and sated.
Now that the heat was fading from his body, Grey was mortified at how he had acted. At how jealous and…neurotic he was. What the hell had come over him?
Luca lifted a hand to brush the sweat-damp curls from Grey’s face. “I don’t know what that was all about,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his wide mouth. “But…um, wow.”
Grey averted his eyes, but he had to be honest. “I’ve been feeling…strange…ever since that whole thing at the bar. Then I just…I didn’t want you thinking about her.”
“Her? Your mom?” Luca sounded genuinely confused and slightly horrified. Then his gaze followed Grey’s to the dresser, where Grey knew a photo of Christine still lay face-down among a scattering of sheet music and old guitar picks.
Luca gave a short laugh. “That was what you were worried about?” He reached out and turned Grey’s face toward his, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Idiot,” he said fondly, planting a light kiss on Grey’s forehead. “It’s just a memory. I’ll burn the damned picture right now, if it makes you feel better.”
Luca shook his head and gave Grey an exasperated look. “I was only thinking about you, you frustrating, beautiful idiot. I’ve never….” He sighed. “I’ve never done this stuff with a guy. And I’m always just…figuring it out as I go. Last time was easy.” He smirked. “We were both a little…uninhibited.” He sighed. “But I thought if it was awkward for me, it was probably awkward for you too, since you’ve probably never done this either. I mean…as a guy.” Luca gave a half-shrug, difficult as it was lying flat on his back. “So I was trying to be gentle. I didn’t want to push you to do something you didn’t want to, or scare you, or…” he laughed, “…shock you. Not that I apparently have to worry about that, you bossy little thing.”
Grey buried his face in Luca’s shoulder and laughed, feeling like the world’s worst ass. Luca had only been thinking of him, and Grey was only thinking of how jealous he was. He had ruined the moment for Luca, destroyed all his careful tenderness. “I’m sorry,” Grey said, his voice muffled.
Luca stroked Grey's back with a light, tickling touch and rolled his eyes. “Grey, seriously. Like I didn’t enjoy myself either way. Don’t worry so much—don’t be such a girl.” His chest shook with silent laughter.
Grey sat up and punched him lightly in the shoulder. “I think you’ve seen enough to know I’m not a girl.”
But given the way Luca was looking at him—his hands behind his head and his dark, silky hair tousled wildly against the pillow, those blue eyes hooded with desire—Grey got the feeling Luca didn’t much care.
Luca held out an arm and regarded him with a grave expression that was marred by the twitch of a threatening smile. "Come here, whoever you are. And bring your dick and balls with you. I promise not to just die of disgust. We need to get some sleep before the show tomorrow."
Grey gave up analyzing his gender roles and collapsed back onto the bed, curling up against Luca's side. He knew there were things they needed to talk about. Things to think about. Like what the fuck was going on with his creepy mom and whatever she was doing to the men around here. Or how Grey was apparently slowly going insane. But it was like his brain just short-circuited. Luca was already drifting off, and the weirdness would still be there tomorrow. They could deal with it then. He pulled the fluffy comforter over them both and was out like a light.
Chapter 48
The last note of the song still hung in the air, the crowd noise swelling with applause and whoops of approval. Breathless, Grey stepped back from the mic stand and turned to grin at Luca. The guitarist hit the last chord with a flourish. Luca’s eyes met Grey’s and electricity sparked between them. Luca flung the guitar behind his back where it dangled from the shoulder strap and closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Grey didn’t have time to react before Luca slipped a hand behind his head…and kissed him. Grey went rigid in surprise, then sunk instinctively into Luca’s embrace.
The stage lights were still up. The crowd went nuts. Grey’s brain kicked in and he tried to pull away, but Luca held him tight, energy thrumming through his lips and vibrating in every fiber of Grey’s being as he bent Grey backward, so he was bowed over Luca’s long arm, gluing their bodies together suggestively. The stage went dark as the curtains closed, and Luca finally released him.
“You bastard!” Grey gasped, shoving Luca as hard as he could. He could still hear the crowd out there, buzzing with shock and speculation.
Luca turned and walked off stage. Matheus and Ethan followed and, after an angry moment where he envisioned doing any number of violent, bloody things, so did Grey.
George was waiting for them in the dressing room. His round face was sweaty and beet red. “What the hell was that little stunt?” He didn’t even give them a chance to get settled before he started yelling.
Grey gritted his teeth with effort, but he finally lost the battle and shouted back, making George’s eyes go wide. “Don’t yell at me old man! I’m the victim here!”
Luca sank onto an overstuffed couch. “I just did it without thinking. But I’m not sorry. I’m tired of hiding how I feel and lying to everyone.”
Grey glowered at him. “Think about the rest of us first! Mat and Ethan will suffer too, when we lose a bunch of fans and have crazy reporters waylaying us twenty-four seven.”
Matheus just shook his head and started stripping off his shirt as he headed toward the shower that was a perk of this particular venue. Ethan gave Grey and Luca a nervous grin and rubbed hand
over the back of his neck. “So, does this mean we can’t shower together anymore?”
Grey threw a water bottle at the drummer’s head. Ethan ducked, laughing, and followed Matheus. Apparently, Grey and George were the only ones who cared.
Chapter 49
Luca left the theater and headed for home. He’d made excuses to avoid riding back to the townhouse with the others—something about needing time to unwind and clear his head. They all knew he was just giving everyone space to be pissed at him. But whatever. He would walk home. Maybe the frigid air would clear some of the steam out of his head. His elation at having had such a great show was tempered by anger, and by a distinct lack of caring what the hell everyone else thought. Yeah, so he hadn’t really planned on exposing his relationship with Grey. He’d just acted in the heat of the moment, feeling Grey’s magic and magnetism calling to him as he fed from the crowd and absolutely helpless to resist it. And yeah, he understood why the others might be upset. But he still refused to feel bad about it. Screw that. He was done lying. Done playing games. Luca was who he was, end of story.
He hadn’t expected Grey to be happy with him, but still, his response had taken Luca by surprise. He had expected some huffing and puffing, sure. But it turned out Grey was truly pissed at him. More than a little of Luca’s anger stemmed from that—from the little jab of pain under his breastbone that he was desperately trying to ignore.
Why was Grey so adamant about keeping their relationship a secret? Luca wanted to shout it from the rooftops. He wanted to hold Grey’s hand as they walked down the street, kiss him in public…put his claim on him for all the world to see. He couldn’t stand the way others looked at the beautiful singer. He had the insane urge to make sure they knew he was taken. And also…he didn’t know how long their relationship could last. What if the world suddenly changed around them again? What if Grey found out what Luca was, and all the weirdness was just too much for him? Luca wanted to grab onto what they had and bask in it while he could.
It would be nice if Grey felt the same way.
There was always something holding Grey back. And that made Luca even more angry. If there was anyone suffering here, it was Luca. He had always thought Grey’s hesitancy toward him, his reluctance to make any move in Luca’s direction, had stemmed from a lack of confidence in himself. That Grey just feared being rejected. But what if it was something more? What if Grey really just wasn’t as infatuated with Luca as Luca was with Grey? He had a terrible moment when he thought that maybe his father was right. Creatures like Grey could be dangerous to one’s sanity. Maybe he was even more susceptible to Grey’s charms than he thought.
He shook his head, rejecting the fears the moment they sprang up. That wasn’t it at all. That was just a lame excuse. He loved Grey. Not because of the power he knew was hidden in the beautiful singer, but because of who he was. And Grey loved him too, despite how difficult he apparently found it to admit that little fact. Luca opened and closed his hand as he walked, extinguishing the blue glow in his palm. It was no use getting this worked up and flashing his magic around. If Grey wasn’t ready to accept Luca and everything he wanted for them, there was nothing Luca could do to change that. He just had to be patient.
But his patience was getting harder and harder to find. And his father was spouting prophecy and dire warnings every day. How much longer did they really have?
Chapter 50
A week later, Grey sat in George’s office, staring at the piles of envelopes that littered their manager’s desk. “What in the world are you doing?”
The stylist, Brian, sat up from where he was rifling around in a big mail sack. He’d been filling in here and there as George’s assistant since Lucifer started gaining popularity. Grey had laughed the first time he saw the flamboyant stylist filing papers—both at the sight of him doing something so unglamorous, and at the even more ridiculous thought that George would have so much work that he’d need an assistant. But they insisted they were serious. And as Brian had so helpfully pointed out, other than Lucifer and one eccentric rich cross-dressing media influencer down at the end of the island, he really didn’t have too many high-end customers needing his styling services since the quarantine.
Brian glared at Grey and set another pile of unopened mail on the desk. Apparently, he wasn’t exactly loving his stint as secretary.
“What did I do?” Grey said, crossing his arms defensively.
Brian rolled his eyes. “It’s not your fault, cupcake. It’s all my fault. Because of my talent with hairspray and an eyelash curler you’ve nearly stopped the postal service with your fan mail!”
Grey snorted. “Please.”
Brian pointed to the desk, which was cordoned off into four columns, using pens and paperclips as makeshift walls. “Ethan, Matheus,” he pointed at two smaller piles. Then he pointed at a larger one, “Luca.” With a dramatic flourish, he waved a hand over the towering piles in the last column, separated from the others a boundary made from a plaid thermos and a stapler. “And our dearest, darling, pretty-boy Grey.”
Grey stuffed his hands into his pockets and tried not to blush. Luca slapped him on the shoulder and laughed. He had apologized to Grey for the mess at the last concert, and he was obviously making a huge effort to pretend everything was fine. But Grey could see the strain in his eyes sometimes, the bit of tightening around the edges of his mouth. Luca was so good at being easy-going. Grey worried about how much that attitude hid what the guy was really feeling. The guitarist snagged a few letters off one of his piles and plopped into an overstuffed chair to read.
Grey reached for one of his envelopes, but Brian slapped his hand away. “No. Not that pile. Take one of these.” He handed Grey one from another stack.
Grey raised his eyebrow at him, but took the envelope, which had already been opened. His eyes skimmed the letter, then returned for a second read through. It was from a young man on the mainland who wrote to thank Lucifer—and Grey in particular—for saving his life. He had felt alone and outcast, and their music had helped pull him through some dark times—times when he had considered ending his life.
The first time I heard your voice telling me not to give up, the letter read, I felt like there was a reason to keep on living.
Grey blinked to hide his watering eyes and put the letter back into the envelope. Setting it aside, he reached for the pile Brian had told him off from earlier. He managed to snag an envelope before Brian saw him. This one was unopened, and taking it aside, he tore open and started reading. It was printed on stationary from the Church of Heavenly Grace. Grey didn’t think much of it until he started reading. It denounced Lucifer as amoral. It referred to Grey as “the honey-tongued anti-Christ.”
Grey glanced up at Brian, and the stylist shook his head. “I told you not to read that pile.”
Grey tossed the letter in the trash can and reached for one in yet another stack. Brian shook his head but didn’t stop him. “I wouldn’t,” was all he said. He obviously had these sorted. If the pile before this was such crap, what was this one?
Grey’s eyes scanned the message contained in the letter. His hands shook. He read it again, truly angry this time. It was a scathing anti-gay missive that called the relationship between Luca and Grey “sick and wrong.” It ended with a venom-filled declaration that Grey would “burn in the flames of hell for all eternity,” for entering into such a “filthy and disgusting union.”
Grey’s eyes burned and he was tempted to cry again, for completely different reasons. He had been bullied before because of his looks, or being an outcast, or any number of things. He’d been picked on and ridiculed plenty of times. It was no big deal to him, really. But this...this hurt in a way none of that ever had. To read such hateful things directed at him—and at Luca—simply for loving someone. This was all the more reason why he had wanted to keep his relationship with Luca a secret. He didn’t want that infectious bile directed at the person he loved.
“What is it?” Luca looked
up from his letter, a slight smile still lingering on his face over whatever it contained.
Grey shook his head and crumpled the letter. It wasn’t enough just to throw it away. He wanted to burn it and scatter the ashes, like some evil thing.
Brian sighed. “Sorry, sweet pea,” he said tiredly. “I know exactly how you feel right now. But that’s just the way the world is. Full of ignorant jackasses.” He shoved the positive pile toward Grey. “But not everyone is that stupid. Read some more of these.”
Grey looked at him. “How many?”
Brian raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“How many of these things are there?”
Brian sighed. “Enough. Too many.” His eyes darted to Luca and away, with a hint of accusation. “You made a public declaration in front of your fans, what did you expect?”
Luca sat up straight, his expression turning grim. “Hate mail?”
“Bile,” Grey said, not looking at him. He didn’t want Luca to feel guilty.
Luca’s gaze turned sad, but he hid it quickly. He shrugged as if it didn’t bother him. “I won’t apologize to anyone for being who I am, or for loving who I love. And neither should you.”
Brian clapped. “Here, here!”
George, until now ignoring their conversation from his place at another big desk in the corner of the room, rolled his eyes and took a swig of his coffee. “You’re all a bunch of idiots.” He jabbed a finger at Grey and glared at Luca. “You just count your lucky stars the love pile is still three times the size of the hate pile!”
Grey glanced at Brian. “How bad is it, really?”
He sighed and gestured to the stacks of letters. Each column was arranged into several rows. “I’d say about fifty percent of your fans love you no matter what and think you’re the coolest, bravest guys in the world.” He rolled his eyes. “Ten percent say you’re fags and you’re going to infect everyone who listens to your music with the fag virus.” Luca choked with laughter at that one and Brian smirked at him before continuing. “Ten percent simply think you’re going to hell and would like you to know that—but they probably weren’t fans before, just concerned citizens.” He sighed and dug out another handful of unsorted letters. “The other thirty percent could care less where you stick your pork sword. They just like your music.”
