Heaven Sent 3: Hell

by Jet Mykles

  “Shit, Hell ...”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re killing me here.”

  “Am I?”

  “Stop teasing.”

  Hell shifted, watching his hands as they rubbed Brent’s flat belly, spreading the pre-cum over his skin “Am I teasing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want me to suck your cock?”

  “God, yes.”

  “Ah. I would be happy to.”

  Hell dragged himself up more, letting his tongue lick a dripping line from the base of Brent’s cock to the head. Brent cried out when those pouty lips closed over the tip of him, then sank down the shaft. Hell hummed approval, letting gemstone eyes flutter closed as he raised up and again sucked down Brent’s cock.

  Oh, this isn’t going to last long, Brent thought to himself, unable to voice his thoughts over the moans and grunts that had taken over his throat.

  Hell’s fingers bit into Brent’s hips as the imp managed to take most of Brent into his mouth. He didn’t even gag when the head hit the back of his throat. Good God, the little devil didn’t have a gag reflex!

  Brent was in heaven. There was a joke in there about Hell, but his mind couldn’t function properly to find it. He let it go and clutched the duvet beneath him, happy to let Hell have his way.

  Hell’s hands massaged his hips, his thighs, as that marvelous mouth worked wicked magic on Brent’s cock. Brent did everything he could to keep from coming, to keep this going.

  Hell stopped briefly, grinning at Brent’s protest. “One moment, Süsser,” he crooned, grabbing the lube.

  Brent watched as Hell poured clear liquid on the fingers of one hand, then capped the bottle again. Is he ...?

  Hell took Brent’s cock back into his mouth and brought the wet hand down and between Brent’s thighs. Slippery fingers caressed the skin behind his balls.

  Oh, fuck yeah, he is! Brent shook, moaning. It had been so long.

  Hell’s right hand grabbed the base of Brent’s cock, gold chain and bracelet jingling quietly as he released Brent from his mouth with a pop. A squeeze quelled the impending orgasm. “Not yet.” He ducked his head to suck lightly on Brent’s balls as his fingers continued to caress and explore around Brent’s hole.

  “Please,” Brent heard himself beg.

  “Soon, Süsser.”

  “Hell ... agh!” He cried out, back arching as Hell’s finger sank in.

  “You like that.” It was a pleased observation.

  “Yes,” Brent gasped, gripping the pillow on either side of his head. “More. Please.”

  A second finger joined the first. “You’re tight, but you’re already ready.”

  Brent couldn’t answer, too caught up in the feel of fingers. God, but he loved that! The stretch, the burn, it was wonderful, and Hell had blessedly long fingers that would soon find -- He cried out again, writhing as Hell found his spot. Two fingers, maybe three, sank in and pulled out and sank in again, and Brent ground down to meet them.

  “Brent, Süsser, may I fuck you?”

  “Please, God, yes!”

  Hell’s mouth swiped around the head of his cock again, making Brent groan, but then it was gone, along with the hand that had held him. The bed moved, and Brent managed to look to see Hell kneeling between his bent legs, condom in hand and cock back to readiness. Thank God! Brent thought. Followed by wordless excitement that he really was going to get fucked!

  Brent reached for the lube and popped the top as Hell smoothed the condom over his cock. Brent poured the lube into Hell’s hand, then closed and tossed aside the bottle as Hell got into position. Hell’s hands pushed up one of his knees, and Brent held up the other.

  “Gott, you want this, don’t you?”

  Brent nodded, nearly reduced to begging.

  “You are a dream come true,” Hell assured him as he set the head of his dick at Brent’s opening and pushed.

  “Oh, fuck yeah!” Brent groaned, eyes dropping closed as that delicious, dark pleasure soared through his veins. He even liked the little twinge of pain right before his body opened up to draw Hell in. He shuddered and panicked to realize that this was it. He was coming. He couldn’t hold it back. “Ah, shit!” His body shook, and cum spurted over his belly and chest.

  Hell froze, watching with wide eyes until Brent subsided.

  Brent bit his lip, wincing at he looked down at his belly. “Sorry.”

  Hell met his eyes, an amazed smile on his lips. “Should I stop?”

  Brent shook his head. “Please don’t.”

  Carnal heat suffused the imp’s face, his mouth spreading into a demon’s grin. Without warning, he shoved forward with his hips, sheathing himself fully in one hard thrust.

  Brent almost screamed. As it was, it came out as a prolonged, shaking whimper.

  “Are you all right?” Hell asked.

  “Fine. Great. Do that again.”

  Hell did, and Brent just about died.

  “Fuck me,” he heard himself beg. “Hard.”

  Guttural German words poured from Hell’s mouth as he took hold of both of Brent’s knees, holding them up and apart. The blessed, awful imp leaned in and started to pound into Brent, giving it to him just the way he liked it. He took Brent’s grunts and cries as the permission they were, and Brent happily lost all reason and thought, riding the brutal heat of the man fucking him. His cock tried to rise but wasn’t up to it so soon. But the tingle still took his groin. He wasn’t sure if he came or not, and didn’t really care. The burn, the heat, the ruthless pleasure that ripped at his gut was a wonderful thing as far as he was concerned.

  Hell lasted longer than Brent thought he could. He manhandled one of Brent’s thighs across, forcing Brent onto his side. Brent didn’t know or care how he managed it, but Hell kept fucking him, kept cursing or praising him in German. His hair was damp with sweat, turning the lavender to a shining amethyst. Some mascara smudged down the sheen that covered his high cheeks. Brent’s hazy mind decided he’d never seen anything lovelier.

  On a harsh shout of something Brent didn’t understand, Hell jerked. His body convulsed as he came. And came. And came. Underneath him, Brent shuddered in echoed pleasure.

  Hell fell forward over him, braced on his arms. He stayed there for a moment, breathing. Finally, eyes gone deep ultraviolet turned up to shine at Brent.

  Brent’s conscious revived just enough to tell him one thing: You are in so much trouble.

  Chapter Eight

  Brent woke with hair the color of an Easter egg tickling his neck and chin. Hell’s small, lithe body was draped over his right side Brent blinked at the ceiling, sleepily judging by the hazy gray illumination in the air that it must be morning.

  He let his head fall to the side and forced his eyes to focus on the clock on the nightstand. Six a.m.

  He sighed and rolled his head back upright, closing his eyes. He wasn’t getting back to sleep. No matter how late Brent stayed awake at night, he usually woke at about this time. His inner clock simply would not allow him to sleep past six or seven unless he was sick or profoundly hungover. But even that didn’t work all the time.

  Besides, he had to pee.

  He pulled in a deep breath, careful to be quiet. He didn’t want to wake the imp. For a moment he just let himself enjoy the feel of the warm body pressed to his, the nearly hairless leg twined around one of his. Brent’s arm lay over Hell’s smooth back, that long purple braid threaded loosely through his fingers. The clasp for the braid had come loose during the night, so the last half of the plait of hair was undone, dark streaks sifting over Hell’s lower back. Brent gazed hungrily over the pert curve of the man’s ass, plainly visible since they never had made it under the covers.

  Brent caught himself looking and shut his eyes. What was he looking at? He’d had his fun. Now it was over.

  Listening to his silent, chiding voice, Brent started to extricate himself from Hell’s embrace.

  He found two things out pretty quickly. First, the imp
was compact and strong but relatively light, even in sleep. Second, he slept like the dead Brent managed to untangle himself and slip out from underneath the imp without so much as the man’s breathing changing. Brent chuckled as Hell’s loose limbs fell back to the mattress and stayed there.

  Brent chose to move softly as he went about finding his clothes. He still wore his shirt. He located his pants and underwear in a tangle at the foot of the bed. After pulling them right side out, he put them on but just picked up his shoes and socks. He wasn’t going far, after all.

  He paused at the doorway to the bedroom. The imp still hadn’t moved, his lovely pale skin practically glowing in the early morning light. Brent had a fleeting thought of covering him up but discarded the idea. The temperature in the room was just fine, and doing so only chanced that Hell would wake up.

  Brent turned and left the room, then the suite. The hallway was, thankfully, empty, but then he was the only early riser in the band. Unless there was a damn good reason, they’d all be abed until breakfast was delivered somewhere around ten or eleven.

  Brent found his keycard in his pants and let himself into his own suite. He was still sleepy but knew that lying down wouldn’t help. He’d just toss and turn and think, and thinking right now wasn’t a good idea. He might think of what he’d done, of how good Hell had felt. He might wonder what would have happened if he’d stayed in Hell’s suite until the imp woke. Nah, best not to think of that. That could only lead to disappointment.

  Yawning, he made use of the bathroom, discarded his clothes from the previous night, and changed into a pair of swim trunks. He pulled on a soft robe and stuck his feet into some battered tennis shoes. Per instruction, he called the courtesy desk and asked them if the pool was free. Tyler had already instructed the staff that Brent was to be allowed into the enclosed pool area even though it was outside normal hours.

  Grabbing a towel, he went to catch the elevator to the proper floor.

  A few hours later, Theo woke him from a nap when he arrived with breakfast. After his swim, Brent had returned to the room pleasantly tired from his exertions and had promptly fallen asleep in front of the television.

  Theo rolled the cart closer to the couch. “So, did you get lucky last night?”

  Brent froze mid-yawn, eyes on his aide. “Huh?”

  Theo grinned. “Kick ass performance and all. I was wondering if I’d be walking in on something.”

  He’s just guessing. Besides, if Brent had been with company, he would have put the sign on the door, and Theo knew it. Brent yawned again, sitting up. The robe he still wore fell off one shoulder, and he pulled it back. “Nosy. What about you?”

  “Hey, I’m not the rockstar.”

  “Yeah, but you get the residuals.”

  Theo laughed. “That I do.”

  Brent smiled, edging forward as Theo put a covered plate on the table before him. The scents of omelet and bacon assaulted him as the cover was lifted. “So? You get lucky?”

  “I did.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Ha! If you’re not telling, neither am I.”

  Brent unrolled the silverware from the napkin, wondering. He could tell Theo. The man was one of the few who’d known about him and Luc, and as far as Brent knew, he’d never breathed a word. But Brent hadn’t decided who he wanted to let know about what happened. He was trying not to panic wondering if Hell had told anyone. Of course, it was only ten o’clock. The imp probably wasn’t even up yet.

  Theo set the last of the plates and baskets on the table. He picked up the carafe of coffee and poured a cup. “Okay, I’ll leave you to eat. You’re due at a photo shoot at three. Sound check’s at seven.”

  Brent nodded, continuing to eat. Five hours before he’d have to see the imp. Maybe he could manage to talk to Luc before then. That is, if his friend wasn’t wrapped around Reese. Oh, yeah, that’s likely.

  Theo reached into the second tray of the cart and pulled out a newspaper and a pack of cigarettes. He set them both on the end of the table, within arm’s reach. “You need anything else?” he asked, turning to fetch the ashtray from a side table.

  “No.”

  Theo set the ashtray down, then disappeared for a moment into the next room. He reappeared with a frown. “Where are your glasses?”

  “Huh?”

  He set Brent’s Zippo in the empty ashtray. “Your glasses. I found your lighter in your pants, but your glasses weren’t there.”

  Brent tipped his face to look into Theo’s curious blue eyes. His own widened, and his mouth fell open slightly.

  Theo grinned slowly. “You left them in someone’s bedroom.”

  Brent shut his eyes and his mouth. “Shit.”

  “Geez, Brent, that’s two pair in one day.” Theo laughed. “Want me to go get them?”

  “No. Just ... Shit. Just get me another pair.”

  Theo stood there, his grin fading a bit. “Seriously, Brent, you know you can trust me. I’ll go get them and won’t say a word.”

  Brent swallowed and avoided Theo’s gaze. “I know that. But .. just get me a new pair.”

  Theo snickered. “Okay, man. I’ll get another five, just in case.”

  “Fucker.”

  The snicker turned back into a laugh. “I didn’t leave my glasses in someone else’s bedroom last night.” He turned and headed for the door. “Try not to go blind before I get back.”

  “You’ll have them for the photo shoot, right?”

  “Of course I will. Later, man.” The door clicked shut.

  Brent sank back on the couch, hand over his eyes. He’d left his sunglasses in Hell’s room. How had he forgotten? He never forgot his glasses!

  More importantly, how was he going to get them back? He hadn’t quite worked out what he was going to say to Hell yet. Knocking on the imp’s door to ask for his glasses, then beating a hasty retreat probably wouldn’t go over well. Maybe he’d just let the imp keep them.

  Maybe he was a coward.

  Maybe he was just at a loss.

  He sighed. Maybe he should just eat his breakfast and worry about it when it happened.

  It was noon, and he still hadn’t figured anything out. Twice he’d almost gotten up to go down the hall to Hell’s room, but had stopped himself. He was pretty sure the imp was due for an interview earlier today. He might already be gone.

  He sat on the couch, still watching television. The robe was gone, and he now wore jeans and a worn and faded David Bowie t-shirt. Bare feet were propped on the coffee table, and his acoustic guitar was cradled in his lap, his fingers idly trailing over the strings. He thought better when he had a guitar in his hands, but this time it wasn’t helping.

  When a knock sounded at the door, he put aside the guitar and got up to answer it. He figured it was Gretchen or one of her people checking up on him. Or housekeeping seeing if he needed something. Theo couldn’t possibly be back yet, and he had a keycard to let himself in. Didn’t housekeeping usually announce themselves?

  Brent didn’t expect to see the imp on the other side of the door.

  Hell looked delicious. Today he wore a huge, ice-blue button-down shirt, the hem of which almost hit the faded knees of his dark jeans. His hair was glossy and curling around his round face. Shocked, Brent realized that for the first time he was seeing Hell completely sans makeup. The eyebrows were still purple, of course, but the lashes were nearly white, and no dark liner outlined Hell’s eyes. He looked so very young and shining.

  The glint in his eyes, however, was pure evil.

  He grinned up into Brent’s shocked face and lifted a hand. Brent’s sunglasses dangled from his fingers.

  Brent glanced down the hall to verify that it was empty. It was.

  But his distraction gave Hell a chance to plant his hand on Brent’s chest and shove him backward.

  “Hey!” Brent almost caught himself, but Hell leaned into him, shoving him farther into the room and up against a wall as the door slowly shut itself. “What are you --?”<
br />
  Words cut off when Hell grabbed his shoulders and yanked him forward, sealing their mouths.

  Brent knew he should pull away. This was a perfect opportunity to get a few things straight. But, oh, God! Hell felt good. All warm and soft and hungry and smelling wonderfully fresh. Brent’s hands splayed out over his sides, then slid down to his hips when Hell groaned and pushed closer.

  Brent was stunned when Hell pulled his lips away. The keyboardist’s long fingers braced on Brent’s chin, halting him from resealing their lips.

  Hell smiled, lips shiny from their kiss instead of lip gloss. “I missed you this morning.”

  Brent swallowed, remembering where he was. He couldn’t quite make himself part from Hell’s embrace, but they needed to talk. “Yeah, uh, about that ...”

  Hell shook his head. “Nein.. There is no ‘about.’” He brought both hands up and, grinning, propped Brent’s glasses up on top of his head. “I will say nothing to anyone, if that is what you want, but I did enjoy last night. I hope that you did, too?”

  Brent nodded.

  Hell twirled a lock of Brent’s black hair around one finger, staring deep into his eyes. Those gemstones glittered. “Let’s do it again.”

  “Wait, no --”

  Long fingers shoved into Brent’s hair, then hauled him down into another searing kiss.

  Brent moaned as he pitched forward, his hands gripping Hell’s waist in an effort to keep them both upright.

  Unconcerned, Hell held his face and ate at his mouth, sucking trembling moans from Brent’s chest. Then one hand dropped down to the buttons of Brent’s relaxed jeans, popped open the fly, and reached in to cup the urgent flesh within.

  “God, Hell,” Brent groaned, pushing his hips into that beautiful massage. His head fell forward, bracing on Hell’s shoulder. “Don’t you -- ah! -- have an interview or something?”

  “No. I have nothing to do but you,” Hell murmured into his ear, the fingers of his other hand massaging Brent’s neck. “So good. So sexy. I want you so much.”

  Brent squeezed his eyes shut as Hell’s hand shifted to delve into his briefs. Rumbling pleasure overrode any protest that might have been in his head.