by Jet Mykles
Brent and Hell left together. They hadn’t even made the pretense of getting separate rooms this time. Not since hardly any of the media or fans knew they were in town. Gretchen had grilled them earlier about what she needed to know about their relationship. Brent had been relieved when Hell readily agreed that they should keep it low-key in the public eye for now.
Brent dropped onto the suite’s couch to start taking off his boots. He had them off before he realized Hell was perched on the arm of the chair not three feet away from him, arms folded over his chest, legs crossed.
“What?”
Hell frowned, obviously not pleased with his own thoughts. Violet eyes snapped.
“What?”
“Why do you let him make all your decisions?”
Brent blinked. “What?”
“Luc. All through dinner, any decision that was yours to make, he made it; then you just agreed.”
“He did?”
“You know it’s true.”
Uh-oh. When the German accent got thicker during sex, it was a good thing. But he had a bad feeling that outside of sex it wasn’t so much. But he couldn’t quite figure out what the problem was. He shrugged. “I leave all that stuff to Luc, Johnnie, and Gretchen. They’re better at it.”
Hell’s foot started to bounce. He was still frowning.
Brent scooted down to the end of the couch, close enough so he could reach over and put his hand on Hell’s bouncing knee. He felt the joint working underneath the thin, worn denim of Hell’s faded jeans.
Gemstone eyes glanced down at his hand, then back up at his face.
“Seriously, Hell, that’s how it’s always worked. You’ve seen me with the press. You know I’m hopeless.”
The imp’s nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. “That’s true.”
Brent tried a smile. “You know it.” He slid his hand farther up Hell’s thigh, kneeling on the couch so he could lean closer.
Hell shook his head. His arms uncrossed, and he grabbed the trailing end of his braid, fiddling with it. “I just ... You’re always with Luc.”
Brent snorted, leaning in even closer to nuzzle aside the loose collar of Hell’s oversized button-down so he could get at the warm skin of his neck. “I think, lately, I’m always with you.”
Hell tipped his head down, actually pouting. “When you’re not with me, you’re with him.”
“He’s my best friend. We’ve always been close.”
“Especially when you were sleeping together.”
Brent tensed. “I told you. That’s over.”
Hell slanted him a nasty glance. “Is it?”
What? The virtual wool over his eyes got swept away, and he stared in shock at Hell. Was he jealous? Were things at the point now where Hell was being proprietary? And over Luc? Miffed and not a little concerned, Brent sat back on his heels. “When do you think I had the time or energy to fuck Luc in the last two weeks?”
Hell’s jaw worked. “I meant before.”
“Yeah. It happened before, like a year ago, and now it’s over. You didn’t come into this a virgin either, y’know.”
“Does Reese know?”
“No.” Brent pushed to his feet. “And don’t you tell him.” He stalked across the room to the bedroom door.
“Why not?”
He slammed on the light and reached for his bag, throwing it on the bed. “Because Luc hasn’t told him, and it’s Luc’s place to do it. Not yours and not mine.”
“What are you doing?” Hell was in the doorway, clutching the frame with one hand.
“I’m outta here.”
“What? Why?”
Good question But he was working on gut instinct here. Something was telling him to get out now, or things were going to get deep and harder to get out of later. “This has gotten out of hand.” He headed for the bathroom for the toiletry bag he kept there.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“One little difference of opinion, and you’re just going to leave?”
It wasn’t just that. Hell was getting attached, and that just wouldn’t do. If Brent let himself get similarly attached, he’d be a rotten mess when Hell finally came to his senses. He emerged from the bathroom and tossed a glare at Hell. “Fuck it. I’m not staying here with you when you think that I’m fucking someone else’s boyfriend.”
Hell glared back. “It’s not a huge leap. You were fucking him.”
“What part of ‘in the past’ is so hard for you to understand?” He threw the small bag into the big bag. He had to reach in to rearrange barely folded clothing to make it fit.
“Where will you stay?”
“I don’t know. There’s got to be other rooms in the hotel.” He stood straight, hands on hips as he glared at Hell. “Or, hey! I know. I’ll just go shack up with Luc. After all, Reese is still in New York, right?”
Hell snarled. “All right, all right. I was wrong. I’m sorry. It’s just ...”
“Forget it.” Brent shook his head and bent back over his luggage.
Hell appeared at his side. He grabbed Brent’s bag and shoved it to the other side of the bed, out of reach.
Brent glared down at the imp who scowled up at him. He turned.
Hell’s hand whipped out to grab his arm, preventing him from stepping away. “Don’t go. I said I was sorry.” His cheeks were flushed. “I just ... it’s hard to watch you let him lead you like that.”
“He wasn’t leading me.”
“He was.”
He slapped at Hell’s hand to get him to let go, then turned toward the closet. “Fuck this.”
“Brent --”
“No.” He shoved open the closet to grab the three things he’d hung up. When he turned back around, Hell was kneeling on the bed, straddling his bag. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Stopping you from going.”
“Get off of my bag.”
“No.”
“Hell ...”
Hell knelt up when Brent reached the side of the bed. He snatched handfuls of Brent’s shirt and held fast. Violet eyes glanced at him briefly, but couldn’t hold his gaze. “I don’t want you to go. I’m sorry. I’m jealous of the way you feel for Luc.”
Clothing draped over his elbow, Brent reached up to clasp Hell’s wrists. “You think?”
Hell held on. “Can you blame me? You and he are so close.”
“We fucking grew up together, Hell. He’s closer than family. You know that.”
“I do know that. I do. I just ...” He let his head fall forward, forehead thumping Brent’s collarbone. Wisps of soft hair caressed Brent’s chin. Warm lips brushed the skin exposed by the deep V of his t-shirt collar. “I want you so much. I go crazy thinking of anyone else who might have you.”
Brent froze. Yeah, this was bad. Yes, Hell liked to play games during sex, and Brent was happy enough to play along, but the words hit him. Hard. Was this another game? Was this a child being possessive of his toy? A toy he’d discard once he found a shiny new one?
Those lips trailed little wet kisses up Brent’s chest to the sensitive skin of his neck, just under his jaw. “Don’t leave.”
“You think I’m fucking Luc.”
“No. I don’t. I overreacted.” The words drifted on warm breath over the wet trail Hell’s tongue left on his neck. His little body edged closer, pressing as best he could against Brent. “I don’t think you’re fucking Luc. I know that’s over.”
“Now you know?”
“I knew before. I was angry. I was hurt. I want you all to myself.”
“Hell --”
Sharp teeth bit gently on his earlobe. “I’m sorry, Liebling. I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you.”
Bad idea, he told himself. Go with your first instinct. Leave. Yeah. That’s what he should do. Leave because this didn’t feel right. This was a stronger attachment than just a sexual attraction. This was something Brent had never felt before. It felt big, and that equaled scary because he was goi
ng to get burned in the end. He always did. He should go.
But his body had other ideas. For the first time in ... ever, he was getting fucked regularly. And well. For the first time, he was with someone who wanted him for him and wasn’t sleeping with “the rockstar” or using him as a substitute or as available meat. Even if it wasn’t going to last. Even if Hell was sure to find something better. Hell’s body fit with his. Hell’s hands knew him. Hell’s mouth belonged on his skin. On his mouth. At least for a little while longer.
Like now. Hell’s lips slanted over his, and those strong fingers slid up his neck and into his hair, holding him in place. His own hands had fallen from Hell’s wrists and now rested on the waistband of his jeans. His fingers slid inside to tease the soft, warm flesh at the top of Hell’s buttocks.
Hell caught him unaware and pulled. Squeaking into Hell’s mouth, Brent fell forward, falling on Hell, who landed on his back on the mattress. The pants and shirt draped over Brent’s arm crumbled into a pile at their sides.
Still holding his head, Hell let their faces part just enough so that he could suck and nip at Brent’s lower lip. Brent kissed while trying to readjust his position so he wouldn’t crush Hell.
“Perhaps you should fuck me, Geliebter,” Hell murmured. He bit Brent’s lip. “Show me my place.”
Brent’s eyes opened wide. He couldn’t help the shudder of delight that made his body tremble.
Hell smiled. “I was wrong. I need to be taught a lesson.”
“But ...” Yes, Brent liked bottoming, but he had nothing against topping every once in awhile. Hell’s murmured suggestion poured like molten lava into his gut, enough to fill his cock inside his slacks.
“Yes. I want it. I want you. Inside me.” Another kiss, enough to sear Brent’s brain. “I want you. Please.”
Please. The word that usually set Hell off turned out to have the same effect on Brent. At least when uttered by those supremely kissable lips.
He groaned and bent his head to properly take Hell’s mouth in a kiss. The imp let him in, opening his mouth to Brent’s tongue. Brent disentangled his arm from the loose clothing at their sides and scrambled to his knees, giving himself room to reach between their bodies and start on Hell’s jeans.
Hell’s hands came out of his hair to pull up Brent’s t-shirt to his armpits, those strong fingers gliding down his chest and belly before they found and made quick work of the fastening of his slacks. Hell found Brent’s cock at just about the same time that Brent finally managed to find Hell’s, and they shared a breathless few moments of shuddering, mutual masturbation.
Then Hell splayed his free hand on Brent’s chest and shoved him up. “Now. You need to fuck me now.”
Brent grinned, a comment about pushy bottoms on his lips, but he didn’t release it. Instead, he jumped back off the bed, the better to shuck his pants.
Hell wiggled out of his shirt, jeans, and shoes as Brent dropped his slacks and removed his t-shirt. He knelt naked on the bed as Hell arranged himself on his back in the middle of the mattress. A quick reach into the top drawer of the nightstand put lube in his hand.
Hell put his hand out, palm up, and Brent obediently poured a generous amount of liquid in it. He thought Hell meant to lube up his cock, but instead the imp’s long fingers dropped down as his legs raised. With his dry hand, he cupped his balls out of the way for the wet fingers to dip down and push into his own hole.
Brent held his breath, entranced by one of the most erotic things he’d ever seen.
“Brent,” Hell moaned, sliding another finger inside himself.
The sound helped Brent to move. Well, that and an insistent urge in his cock that it had to be touched. Had to be squeezed. Had to be wet down so that it could replace those fingers in that tiny little opening.
Hell had a third finger playing with the first two by the time Brent got in place. Obviously, bottoming was not new to him. Given his size and looks, that wasn’t at all surprising.
Brent grabbed one knee and pulled the leg up against his chest.
Hell’s fingers pulled from his anus and grabbed hold of Brent’s cock.
With the imp doing the aiming, all Brent had to do was hold on to both slim legs and lean forward, letting gravity take him into the imp’s greedy little hole.
“Ah, fuck! You’re tight.”
Hell’s face was screwed up in a grimace. Whether pleasure or pain, Brent wasn’t sure. “Ja. Gott!” Okay, that sounded like pleasure. “Tight. For you.” Deep, German-accented pleasure. When Brent got deep enough that Hell had to let go his cock, his hands reached out and clutched Brent’s hips, continuing to pull. “More.”
Brent paused, panting, hilt-deep in the imp’s body. “There isn’t any more.”
The fucking minx actually purred! He rolled that sexy little body, making Brent’s eyes cross as the angle and the squeeze changed. His eyes snapped open, and the dim lighting made the violet eyes far darker and more seductive. His grin really should have shown fangs. “Fuck me.”
He didn’t have to say it. Brent couldn’t have denied the rock of his hips if he’d tried. Deep, primal urges were upon him, and he could only hang on and ride the wave. He slid in and out of the heat of Hell’s body, aware from the start that he just couldn’t last too long. He met the imp’s eyes, hoping it showed in his face. “Hell.”
Hell just kept grinning. He released Brent’s hips, grabbed his own cock with one hand, and rolled his balls with the other.
Brent groaned, and rocked, and fucked and ... oh, shit! He cried out, arching back as heat poured from him into that hot little opening.
Spent, he kept upright just by leaning on Hell’s legs. The imp bucked and writhed under him, chasing his own orgasm. Not knowing where he found the energy to move, Brent pulled out and dropped to his belly between Hell’s thighs. The imp started to protest, but it cut off in a cry when Brent took the top of Hell’s cock into his mouth. Brent wrapped his hand around the one Hell had on his dick, and they both pumped as Brent sucked. It didn’t take long anyway. A few pumps, and Hell shattered, moaning Brent’s name as he shot into Brent’s mouth.
The imp sagged into a panting heap on the mattress. Brent had enough energy to crawl forward to lay his cheek on Hell’s chest.
This was good. Earlier was weird, and he still didn’t like what Hell had thought, but this right here? This was good.
Chapter Twelve
Music and heavy, wet sea air filled the resort room, carried along on the breeze that drifted through the open balcony doors. Brent let the susurrus of the waves outside underline the melody that followed his fingertips as they danced over the keys of Hell’s Casio. He wished for the live beat of Darien’s drums but made do with the electronic throb of the instrument’s drum machine. The song was almost done, started in his head a few weeks ago and now actually heard for the first time by someone else.
Brent turned his head and watched the imp as he let go of the last few notes. Hell lay on his side on the bed, naked, his cheek resting on one arm. His gemstone eyes were mostly closed, matching the dreamy smile on his face. “That is beautiful, Liebling.”
“Thanks.” Brent let his own smile blossom as he reached out to hit the button that stopped the recording and saved it. Seemed fitting that the new song was saved on Hell’s machine. He was the inspiration for it, after all. All the bright, laughing notes mixed into the slower melody were homage to Hell’s laughter.
Not that he’d tell the imp that.
After two long months of smaller gigs in key cities across the country, Heaven Sent had split up for a month’s hiatus. The hiatus was due to end next week when the band would meet up in New York again to start another round of smaller shows, working up to the real start of the world tour.
When Hell had suggested that the two of them spend the time alone, Brent had hedged. They’d been spending a lot of time together, and it was only a matter of time before Hell either got tired of him or started to think that they had more than just sex. Wh
ich they didn’t. But Hell was a persistent little imp and had eventually convinced him. Unwilling to let go of the fun he was having with Hell, he’d pushed aside his worries and come with Hell to a posh Florida resort. Neither one of them had been there before, and it was known for catering to celebrities, so Brent didn’t have to worry about the fan thing. If the press found out about it, well, that didn’t much matter. There were already rumors going around about him and Hell, and it only seemed to be lending another layer to the band’s popularity.
Switching off the Casio, Brent went to drop down on the bed beside Hell. He spread out on his belly, cheek cushioned on the backs of his hands. He closed his eyes and just listened to the sound of the ocean. He hadn’t been this relaxed in years.
Hell’s hand trailed down his naked back, sliding briefly over his buttocks. The bed jostled, and a moment later Hell’s weight settled on top of him, chest to back, cheek between shoulder blades. For a long time, they just lay like that, with Hell’s hands gently drifting up and down Brent’s sides and arms.
“Three months,” Hell sighed.
Brent dragged his eyes opened and cast them sideways, but he couldn’t see Hell from this vantage unless he actually shifted his cheek from atop his hands. “What?”
“Three months we have been together.”
Brent swallowed and shut his eyes. “Hmm.”
Hell’s fingertips lightly scratched down his spine. “Even so, that is a long time.”
Brent kept his eyes closed and avoided squirming. Some of that beautiful lassitude was draining from his limbs as Hell talked. Why was he bringing this up? They’d been so good about not talking about it. If they didn’t talk about it, then things were okay.
He felt the jab of Hell’s sharp little chin as the imp rolled his head, then the warm satin of his lips as he pressed a kiss to the back of one of Brent’s shoulders. “Is that not a long time, Liebling? Haven’t we been good together?”
Brent stared at the back of his own wrist. Had to nip this conversation in the bud. “Long time. Hey --” He pushed up, lifting Hell and unseating him in the move. “-- do we have any more of that cake?” He rolled aside and got off the bed.
