Wicked
A Heaven and Hell Club Short Story
Colette Davison
Wicked (A Heaven and Hell Short Story)
Copyright © 2019 Colette Davison
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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Cover Design: Colette Davison
Edited by: Sarah Chorn
Proofread by: Paul Williment
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorised duplication is prohibited.
Contents
Wicked - blurb
Foreword
1. Wicked
Coming Soon
About the Author
Also by Colette Davison
Wicked - blurb
Jag thought he knew Michael, but he still has a lot to learn.
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Halloween at the Heaven and Hell Club is an extravagant affair. The trouble is, Jag didn't realise the holiday meant so much to Michael.
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Realising he still has a lot to discover about his lover, Jag decides to give Michael a Halloween to remember.
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Can a wicked costume, a sexy dance, and a surprise question, make this the best Halloween Michael has ever had?
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Wicked is a short MM romance story, with an age-gap relationship, pole dancing and a happy ending. It follows on from the events of Broken, but can be read as a standalone.
Foreword
Wicked takes place after the events in Broken, but can be read as a standalone story. If you want to get to find out how Michael and Jag got together, you can read Broken on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited now.
Jag
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Jag had spent more time watching Michael decorating Heaven and Hell for Halloween than helping him. His lover was behaving exactly like an over excited kid on Christmas Eve. He was grinning from ear to ear as he transformed the club from classy to spooky.
“What do you think?” Michael asked, as he finished arranging the last of the fake cobwebs, his eyes bright.
Jag chuckled. “It looks great. I guess you really like Halloween.”
“It’s the best holiday of the year.”
Jag arched an eyebrow, surprised to discover Michael thought that. “Good to know.”
Michael held a finger up and bounced on the balls of his feet. “One last touch.”
He disappeared behind the stage, leaving Jag feeling a little bemused. A few seconds later, there was a rattling sound and then low-lying smoke slowly started to roll over the stage, gradually covering the floor.
“I didn’t know you had a dry ice machine.” How hadn’t Jag known that? He’d worked in Heaven and Hell for several months now, and lived with Michael above it for almost as long, which apparently wasn’t long enough to discover everything there was to know about his partner or the club.
“I have two.” Michael wandered over to Jag and put his hands on the younger man’s hips. “I only turn them on for special occasions.”
Jag tilted his chin up. “And Halloween is a special occasion?”
“Oh, yes.”
Their lips brushed in a soft, fleeting kiss.
“Are you going to tell me why you love it so much?”
“Don’t you?” Michael frowned. “Dressing up, trick or treating…” He trailed off as Jag looked away. “No?”
“I never did any of that.” There were plenty of things Michael still needed to learn about him, too. Jag forced a smile to his lips. “But tell me why you love Halloween.”
Michael’s frown deepened, before his whole face lit up and he smiled broadly. “When I was a kid, my dad always made a point of being home to celebrate. He’d spend all day decorating the house. It was different every year. Once, he turned our front garden into a graveyard. The year after, he dug a shallow hole, put a red light in it and wooden boards over it, and added bloody mannequin arms to make it look like something out of a zombie apocalypse.”
Jag smiled. The giddiness in Michael’s voice was palpable. He didn’t talk much about his parents. The only thing Jag really knew was that they didn’t live nearby and Michael didn’t call them often. It was obvious, from this story, that they’d been close at one point, even if they weren’t now. Jag mentally slapped himself, knowing he shouldn’t make assumptions. Not calling often didn’t mean they didn’t get on. Jag hoped Michael and his family did. One of them had to have a decent relationship with their parents, and it definitely wasn’t him.
“He’d take me trick or treating every year,” Michael went on. “We’d both get dressed up and go around the neighbourhood. The only rule he had, was that we could only knock on doors where they’d put some kind of Halloween decorations up.”
“Makes sense.”
Michael used his thumbs to stroke Jag’s sides through his T-shirt. “Did you ever do anything for Halloween?”
Jag looked away. “No.” In fact, he’d never been allowed trick or treating, and his parents had often taken him out so they wouldn’t be bothered by kids knocking on the door. Maybe if the trick or treaters in his neighbourhood had been as considerate as Michael and his father, his parents wouldn’t have got so annoyed by them.
“You shouldn’t have let me go on like that,” Michael said apologetically. “And I should have been more sensitive.”
Jag pressed a finger to Michael’s lips. He lifted his gaze again, staring the man he loved in the eyes. “Don’t apologise. Just assume my parents are cuckoo in every way and that everything you’d consider normal, they’d turn their nose up at.”
Michael gasped dramatically. “Even Christmas?”
Jag laughed. “Okay, they did Christmas. And Easter. But no chocolate eggs.”
Michael pressed his lips together and nodded knowingly. “Definitely cuckoo.” He tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “So this would be your first real Halloween?”
“I guess so.” Jag narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to take me trick or treating, are you?”
Michael grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Do you want to?”
“I think I’m a bit too old.”
“Well, we’re going to have one hell of a party here tonight. Everyone’s going to be dressed up. All the music and lights will be spooky. We’ve got bobbing for alcohol—”
“Shouldn’t that be apple bobbing?”
“Like you said, we’re not kids. I’m fairly sure the punters will prefer to get a shot bottle than an apple.”
Jag laughed. “You’re probably right.”
“On top of that, all the cocktails will be themed, and there’s going to be a competition for the best costume. Customers only.”
Jag clicked his fingers. “Damn. And there was me thinking I could get dressed up and win, assuming you’re the judge.”
Michael hummed and stepped closer. “What costume did you have in mind?”
Jag hadn’t actually planned to wear a costume, other than a pair of the horns Michael had put in the changing room for the dancers to put on. He glanced at the stage. Normally, he was the club’s angel, but as he was teasing Michael, he felt like being naughtier. “Sexy devil.”
Michael kissed Jag’s neck, slowly. “We could hold a private competition, after hours. You’d win my first prize, whatever you wear.”
Jag tilted his head back, as Michael went back to kissing him. “And what would the prize be?”
Michael chuckled against Jag’s neck. “Me.” He lifted his head, excitement filling his eyes again. “Wait here.”
Jag watched Michael go through the b
ack door, towards the changing rooms and his office. Laughing and shaking his head, he flopped into one of the comfortable arm chairs that were arranged around the stage, and gazed at the decorations again. Michael really had done a great job. Fake cobwebs were draped everywhere. There were spiders and bats and huge inflatable ghosts suspended from the ceiling. There were also skeletons and gravestones around the edges and each of the booths, used for private dances, had pumpkin lanterns, flickering fake pillar candles, and white lilies in tall black vases. Combined with UV lighting and the smoke that was rolling around his feet, Heaven and Hell looked amazing. It seemed too much for one night of the year, but it obviously made Michael happy to go to so much effort.
He sucked in a breath as Michael returned. He’d changed out of his jeans and T-shirt, which had gotten grubby from putting the decorations up, into a white three piece suit with a top hat and tails. He had a huge pair of white, feathery wings on his back and a silver topped cane in his hands.
“You look amazing,” Jag breathed. “Did you dance in that when you were the club’s archangel?”
Michael laughed. “There’s no chance I could have pole danced in this get up; not enough grip or stretch in the fabric. I hired it especially for tonight.” He took his hat off and bowed. “I’m glad you like it. I can’t wait to see your costume.”
Michael had gone to so much trouble, which left Jag feeling ashamed that he hadn’t bothered. It didn’t help that Michael looked so goddamned hot, whilst he was going to end up looking like he always did, wearing jeans and silver body paint. A borrowed pair of demon horns couldn’t match up to the image Michael probably had in his head. He’d been stupid to tease his lover about what he might wear.
“Are you okay?” Michael asked.
Jag made himself smile. “Of course.” He frowned. “You said everyone was going to be dressed up? What if walk-ins don’t get that memo?”
Michael grinned. “The bouncers will have devil horns and halos on the door. That way the punters who haven’t got dressed up can decide if they want to be pure or wicked.” He winked.
“That’s a great idea.”
Michael’s grin faded. “It was Edward’s idea. The first Halloween we owned the club we threw a massive party.” He drew in a shuddering breath. “It was the first and last one he helped me arrange.”
Jag was on his feet and by Michael’s side in an instant. He wrapped his arms around his lover and held him tight. He had no words, but knew he didn’t need any. Michael’s melancholy would pass and it was no doubt twinned with happy memories of his first love.
“Thank you.” Michael kissed the top of Jag’s head and hugged him back.
They stood like that for a while and then Michael sniffed and released Jag. “I should carry on getting the club ready. Are you up to helping me?”
Jag glanced at the clock behind the bar. It was hard not to wince when he realised the day was almost over and it wouldn’t be long before the club was opening its doors. Which didn’t give him long to find something to wear so he didn’t disappoint Michael.
“I’ve got an errand to run. Do you mind?”
“Of course not.” Michael caught hold of Jag’s face and kissed him. “I love you.” He brushed his lips over Jag’s, making him feel wanted and needed. His other hand came to rest on Jag’s hip again, tugging his body to Michael’s.
Jag shivered. He pointed to the front door, which was at the top of a wide flight of stairs. “I’m going to go, before you distract me.”
“Me? Distract you?”
Jag chuckled. “Yeah, it’s definitely that way around.”
He dragged himself away from Michael, grabbed his coat from behind the bar and jogged up the stairs. He paused and looked down at his lover, who was staring at him. Fuck he looked amazing in that suit. Jag had to come up with something just as stunning, so he could be the trick to Michael’s treat. He needed a sexy devil outfit, that he could dance in, on Halloween, at nearly closing time. Easy.
Michael
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“It’s going great tonight, Boss,” Mac said.
Heaven and Hell was heaving. It was much busier than a regular Wednesday night, but, as in previous years, the Halloween theme had clearly lured the punters in. Most of them had made some effort to dress up, too, and those who hadn’t were willing to wear the accessories that the bouncers were handing out. The atmosphere was electric. Between Michael and Mac, they’d choreographed several dances to haunting music. Slow, sensual routines contrasted with quick, heart thumping ones, to show off the skills of the dancers, sending the crowd wild. The bar was doing an excellent trade, the games were popular, and the private dance booths were almost all occupied, most of the time. Halloween was definitely one of the best nights of the year.
Michael tilted his head, as he noticed Mac staring up at the dancers on the stage. “Are you wishing you were up there with them?” There were times he did and he’d stopped dancing long before Mac. After he and Edward had bought out the club, they’d had to concentrate on turning the place into a thriving business, meaning there was no time for dancing.
Mac shook his head. “I’m glad to have finally hung up my hot pants.”
Michael raised his eyebrows. “But is Russel?”
“Oh, the hot pants still come in handy at home, don’t you worry about that.” Mac winked at him. “I make good use of my jockstraps in the bedroom, too.”
“I think that’s bordering on too much information.”
Mac held up his hands. “Hey, you’re the one who brought my sex life into the conversation. What did you expect?”
Michael laughed. “That’s fair.” He glanced around the club. “Isn’t Russel joining us tonight?”
“He might pop in later. Technically, I’m on duty, so I can’t let my gorgeous other half distract me. I’m a professional.”
Michael cleared his throat, knowing that he would be hopelessly distracted the moment Jag came on stage. He always was.
“You’re allowed,” Mac said, as though reading his thoughts; or maybe Michael was just that transparent. “You’re the boss. You can get away with ogling your other half whilst you’re meant to be working.” Mac tapped Michael on the chest. “Anyway, you’ve got a while to wait before Jag comes on stage.”
“What? Why?”
“He’s dancing last.” Mac flashed him a grin, before striding away to check on the bar staff.
Frowning, Michael folded his arms and carried on watching the three dancers on the stage. Normally, Jag did at least three solo spots a night, with private dances in between. Why would he choose to dance last and lose the extra income from the strip teases? Michael decided not to worry about it. Jag would have his reasons and Michael knew he’d enjoy finding out what they were.
Of course, after Mac’s puzzling announcement, the night seemed to drag on. There was plenty for Michael to do, but he did it all through the filter of wanting to see what Jag had up his sleeve. Not that he generally wore sleeves to dance.
Eventually, just before three a.m., when the number of punters was starting to dwindle and the bouncers were getting ready to start throwing everyone out, Jag took to the stage. Michael held his breath as the elfin young man stood beneath a blood red spotlight. Fuck he looked sexy in red demon horns and heavy black eyeliner. He was wrapped in a long black trench coat, with the collar upturned. He lifted his head, his eyes seeking out and connecting with Michael’s, and then he grinned. It was the most devilishly seductive grin Michael had ever seen his lover pull off. It made his skin tingle and stole his breath. Without realising what he was doing, he started to move closer to the stage.
The music started: Stay by Shakespeare’s Sister. As the first slow lines boomed out, Jag pulled open the trench coat, his stare never leaving Michael. Michael shivered as he allowed his eyes to roam over the young man, taking in every detail of his outfit. He wore a snug fitting black leather collar around his slender neck, with a silver pentagram dangling from it. A sheer black top
clung to his arms and chest, showing off every curve and contour. Next he wore skin tight black leather trousers, which would provide the friction the young man needed to pull off stunts on the pole. His feet were bare. Jag had definitely pulled off a sexy demon look.
Jag dropped the coat to the floor and began to dance, his fluid, sensual movements perfectly in time to the heartfelt ballad. He divided his time between floor and pole, slipping between movements as though it were as natural to him as breathing. Maybe it was. His spins were slow and graceful, demanding considerable strength and stamina.
Then the music kicked up into the faster, rockier section, and his dance altered seamlessly to match. The gentle seductive expression left his face, replaced by one that was almost predatory and oh so sinfully wicked. It was clear to Michael that, despite the still reasonably full room around them, Jag was only dancing for him. Each grind of the hip, each spin, invert, or lick of his lips was designed to turn him on and make him fall headfirst out of heaven and into hell. Michael would have been glad to plunge into those fiery depths, just to feel Jag’s scorching lips against his own.
As the song ended and Jag hung upside down in a blade pose, Michael found himself close enough to lean forward and kiss Jag. He didn’t care that they weren’t alone, or that the room was full of punters. He needed to show his appreciation. The crowd clapped and applauded and he couldn’t tell if it was because of the dance, or because of their long, sensual kiss. Maybe both. He didn’t care. He felt dizzy with desire. As their lips parted, Jag’s chest was heaving, his breath ragged and his skin was drenched in sweat that gleamed under the lights.
Wicked Page 1
