by Jet Mykles
Hell smiled. He reached up, cupped Brent’s chin, used a thumb to swipe away some of the lip gloss that had smeared on Brent’s lips. “All right. Let’s talk.”
Brent’s eyes went wide. He glanced toward their rapt audience. “Can we go somewhere else?”
He took heart when Hell burst into joyful laughter.
Chapter Seventeen
Hell took Brent’s hand and turned toward their audience. “My apologies to you all, but my announcement has changed. I fear I must cancel this press conference.”
Brent shuffled next to him, far too aware of the flashbulbs and roar of questions. He concentrated on the shine of Hell’s hair rather than the eager crowd watching them. Of course they wanted to know what had happened, how long this had been going on. Most of the questions, in fact, were directed at him.
But Hell just smiled and waved and led the way toward the back door. Luc and the man in the suit followed.
Shutting the door between them and the press helped Brent’s nerves only a little. He held fast to Hell’s hand, unwilling to let it go now that he had it.
Hell turned to face him, heedless of the other two in the room. “Do you mean it?”
Brent nodded. “Yes.”
“This isn’t just a trick to get me to stay with the band?”
“No. That wouldn’t work anyway.”
“No. It wouldn’t.” Violet eyes strayed from Brent’s face and past his shoulder. “And you are all right with this?”
Brent glanced over his shoulder at Luc. His friend shrugged. “I am if he is.” He gave Brent a small smile. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so sure of something.”
“I am sorry.” Brent looked down at Hell to see the sincerity in his face as he continued to look at Luc. “What happened last night ... I was angry, and I spoke out of turn.”
Luc nodded. “Thank you for that. It was a bad secret to be keeping anyway. I should have told Reese already.”
“Are you and he ...?”
Luc’s grin was huge. “We’re fine. I got lucky and Reese decided to believe me.” The grin faded a bit, his look a bit more serious. “You should believe Brent.”
Brent again filled his eyes with a vision of Hell, who glanced back up at him, squeezing his hand. “I agree.”
He knew the grin that took his lips was goofy, but Brent couldn’t help it. Besides, it made Hell chuckle, which wasn’t a bad thing.
Hell looked at the man in the suit. “Christopher, thank you for coming to my rescue, but ...”
The brunet waved a hand, dismissing the apology. “What are friends for?” he asked in a crisp, British-accented voice, pushing classy wire-frame glasses up on his nose. “I’ll admit I’m glad we didn’t have to go through with it.”
Hell squeezed Brent’s hand again, regaining his attention. “Yes, well, if you’ll excuse us, I have an empty room upstairs.”
Luc laughed. “I’ll head out, then. See you guys back at the Weiss later.”
Brent waved as Hell dragged him from the room. There was a hallway on the other side of a door opposite the one they’d entered. Hell headed for the elevator at the end of it.
“Who was the guy with you?” Brent asked, glancing back to be sure no one followed them.
“Christopher? He is a friend of mine from school. A lawyer.”
They stopped, waiting for the elevator.
Brent scowled. “Were you really going to leave the band?”
Hell stared at their clasped hands. “I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t stay knowing I couldn’t have you.”
“Why me?” Brent asked before he could help it.
Hell growled, but the elevator doors shushed open before he could answer. He pulled Brent into the elevator, forcing them face to face. “I love you.”
Unwilling to push it, Brent nodded, sliding his hands up to rest on Hell’s shoulders. “Okay.”
Hell grabbed his wrists, backing away from the kiss Brent leaned forward to give. “You don’t sound as though you believe me.”
Brent’s fingers dug into the rough burgundy silk of Hell’s jacket. “I ... do.”
Hell frowned. Again the doors opened and again Hell led the way out. He didn’t say another word until they were in his suite. Just two rooms and not nearly as nice as what they had back at the Weiss.
Brent hovered, uncertain. He wanted very badly to just kiss Hell and lose himself in sex with the man, but Hell obviously had other ideas.
The imp led him into the bedroom and pointed at the bed. “Sit.”
He did.
Hell stepped between his knees and held Brent’s face in his hands, tipped up to look at him. “I love you.”
Brent wet his lips. “I love you.”
It wasn’t enough. Hell’s eyes bore into Brent’s skull, his fingers tense at Brent’s temples. “I loved you before I met you. You may ask Christopher, if you like.”
Brent frowned a bit at that, not sure he liked Hell being so close to this Christopher guy, but he couldn’t very well complain when his relationship with Luc had been at the center of their problems.
Hell’s thumbs smoothed over Brent’s cheeks. “I fell for your music. I knew that I wanted to work with whomever was responsible for those glorious sounds. Imagine my delight when I found not only was a single man responsible for them, but also that he was the beautiful man of my dreams.”
Brent’s eyes narrowed. How was he supposed to believe that Hell found him more attractive than Luc or Johnnie? The idea was preposterous. And he wasn’t the only one responsible for the music.
But now was not the time to quibble. Now was not the time to think. Thinking got him into trouble.
Hell leaned in and kissed him, only allowing a soft brush of lips. “I love you.”
Brent clutched Hell’s hips, opening his mouth to that kiss. “I love you,” he said when those lips released his.
The look of pleasure on Hell’s face when he pulled back was worth the fear of saying it. So he said it again. “I love you, Hell.” He pulled those hips closer. “Please.”
The word had the desired effect. Hell pulled his face up into a crushing kiss, all lips and teeth and tongue and even a slight trace of blood when delicate tissues broke from the pressure.
Brent moaned, scrabbling at the cloth buttons of Hell’s jacket to get it open and reveal the skin underneath. Hell released his face to work on Brent’s clothes. They might have managed better if either one of them had given up the kiss, but neither would, so getting naked was an exercise in fumbling But they did manage it. Brent fell on his back, Hell covering him. It was Brent’s turn to sink fingers into hair while Hell’s hands explored.
“Ah, Liebling,” Hell murmured into his mouth. “We’ll go slow next time, but I need to be inside you”
“Oh, yeah.”
Brent scooted higher onto the bed while Hell dashed to his bag to find lube. The bottle was open and clear liquid was pouring into his hand as he came back across the room. He closed the bottle and tossed it onto the mattress beside Brent as he knelt between Brent’s thighs. Helpfully, Brent held his legs up.
“Ah, God, yes, please!” Brent groaned as the blunt invasion burned its way into his body.
Hell leaned in, kissing Brent’s chest as he set to pounding Brent’s ass.
Brent grabbed handfuls of hair. “Hell, please.”
“Love you,” Hell grunted, fingers clutching the bend of Brent’s knees.
“God, love you, too.” Brent moaned.
“Yes!”
“Fuck!”
“Gott!”
They came together in an explosion of white light that nearly made Brent pass out.
Afterward, they lay on their sides, facing one another, kissing and cuddling and not speaking with words at all. Brent let himself relax, let himself feel it. Hell loved him. He loved Hell. That’s all that mattered for now.
Epilogue
Brent’s hand descended, pick dragging across the strings of his guitar. He closed his e
yes, starting his solo for “Saving Paradise.” The crowd of thousands almost hushed, and little lights flickered in the darkness in homage to the slow love song. It was a Heaven Sent favorite, and the guitar solo was the climax. For years he’d played this part without any sound from his band mates.
But now it was different. Halfway through, a trickling sound like water surrounded him, laughing its way over the audience before Hell’s harmony picked up underneath the guitar’s main line. For a moment, the two of them held everyone’s attention, connected by music even though Hell stood on a platform ten feet behind Brent. It was the music that did it. The music that started it and the music that ended it.
The connection.
The others joined in. Darien’s drumbeat edged in slowly, followed by the throbbing heart of Luc’s bass. Last, but not least, Johnnie’s voice sang out, seducing the crowd with words of love.
Love.
Brent smiled, opening his eyes. His spotlight wasn’t on anymore, so he was bathed in blue. Hands moving on the strings without conscious thought, Brent turned and put his back to the crowd. His gaze landed on the head he sought, curls bright even bathed in blue light. Initially, the imp’s concentration was on the racks of keyboards before him, but Brent fancied that Hell could feel his attention. Because the imp looked up, saw him, and smiled. Maybe he winked.
Brent blew him a kiss, hoping he saw it.
Then it was time to work. He turned around and bent his head over his guitar, turning his concentration back to the music and the performance for now.
Sweat dripped from his face as he stood with Johnnie, Luc, Darien, and Hell at the front of the stage, waving at the audience, accepting the ovation that would have deafened them if not for the plugs in their ears. This was what it was all about. This was worth having to live in the public eye. The pure joy. The waves of love.
Love.
On impulse, he turned, hand out to wrap around Hell’s neck. The imp looked up at him, gorgeous with wet, sweaty hair and smeared mascara. They smiled at each other and kissed.
The crowd went wild.
Oh, yeah. This was good.
Jet Mykles
Jet’s been writing sex stories back as far as junior high. Back then, the stories involved her favorite pop icons of the time but she soon extended beyond that realm into making up characters of her own. To this day, she hasn’t stopped writing sex, although her knowledge on the subject has vastly improved.
An ardent fan of fantasy and science fiction sagas, Jet prefers to live in a world of imagination where dragons are real, elves are commonplace, vampires are just people with special diets and lycanthropes live next door In her own mind, she’s the spunky heroine who gets the best of everyone and always attracts the lean, muscular lads. She aids this fantasy with visuals created through her other obsession: 3D graphic art. In this area, as in writing, Jet’s self-taught and thoroughly entranced, and now occasionally uses this art to illustrate her stories or her stories to expand upon her art.
In real life, Jet is a self-proclaimed hermit, living in southern California with her life partner. She has a bachelor’s degree in acting, but her loathing of auditions has kept her out of the limelight. So she turned to computers and currently works in product management for a software company, because even in real life, she can’t help but want to create something out of nothing.
