Til Darkness Falls, page 13
“You can hum, can’t you?”
Alrick’s brow furrowed at the non sequitur. “Yes, of course.” He hissed as Brian sucked his index finger into the warm cavern of his mouth. The soft caress of a tongue against the slightly crooked digit went straight to his cock, instantly leaving him impossibly hard. He shivered when the shorter man slowly withdrew the finger from the wet orifice.
Brian leaned close to him until their lips were a mere paper’s width apart. “Then hum for me instead.”
Alrick wasn’t certain which of them closed that last distance. In the end, it simply didn’t matter. The man who had been occupying his thoughts so incessantly was back in his arms. That was the only reality he cared about.
Brian slid his hands beneath Alrick’s shirt and traced his fingers over the muscular plane of his chest. Before Alrick could react, Brian swept the shirt over his head, tossing it carelessly onto the floor behind them and sending his own quickly after it. Alrick groaned as soft lips latched intently onto a pink nipple, his remaining ability to form a coherent thought draining swiftly into his cock. Shoes thudded to the carpet, followed urgently by pants and boxers. The air in the living room was cool against their bare skin, but neither of them noticed. Thrusting a naked thigh between Brian’s legs, Alrick grabbed a handful of warm flesh and drew Brian toward him, aligning their erections. Brian threw his head back as their mutual hardness came into luscious contact.
“Ah, yeah. Like that.”
Alrick took eager advantage of the long column bared for his exploitation. He swept his tongue up Brian’s neck with broad, slow swipes before taking a section of glistening skin between his lips and sucking hard. Brian grabbed at his shoulders as sharp heat bloomed beneath the blond’s mouth. After a long moment, Alrick lifted his head to admire his handiwork. “Mein,” he growled, the sight of the red mark arousing a fierce sense of possessiveness. Alrick laid claim to Brian’s mouth, twisting as they fell onto the couch so that the shorter man landed flush on top of him.
Brian legs parted so that he could straddle Alrick’s muscular thighs. Moving his hips, he rubbed their arousals together, drawing a grateful moan from the man lying beneath him. The friction burned uncomfortably at first, but the copious amount of fluid leaking from the tips of their erections soon eased the way.
“That’s it,” Alrick murmured, kissing wherever he could reach. “Show me what you want.” Reaching down, he clenched his hands around the soft mounds of Brian’s ass and squeezed, loving the way his fingers sank into the slightly out of shape muscles. “Show me how you want to fuck me.”
Brian inhaled sharply as his arousal throbbed in response to the suggestion. “Goddamn it, keep talking to me. I fucking love the way you talk.”
Alrick chuckled deeply as the other man paid him back by attacking his neck and chest, leaving a multitude of red marks in his wake. He whispered endearments in German, his tone degrading to a growl as the tension built up with every thrust of their hips. Chest heaving, his flushed skin dripped with sweat. Brian’s breath rasped over his heated skin in harsh puffs like he was running a race. He reached behind him and peeled Alrick’s left hand off of his ass. The blond started to protest, but his complaints ended swiftly when Brian drew his still-aching finger into his mouth. Again, the soft, wet pressure made him throb in reaction. He watched in fascination as the other man released his index finger, only to include his middle finger and then his ring finger.
“Scheisse—” This time, the epithet was a prayer rather than a curse. He recognized the tender gesture as a primitive attempt to soothe away his pain. An intense need for release came upon him suddenly, every slide of Brian’s cock against his own flooding his nerve-endings with sparks of electricity. Alrick tried to hold himself back, wanting to take Brian into his bedroom, where the king-sized mattress and a box full of condoms awaited them.
But Brian chose that moment to exchange the three fingers he’d been sucking on so contentedly for his little finger, which was twisted awkwardly from the abuse it had received. Though he couldn’t have been aware that the finger had nearly been crushed beyond use, Brian treated it with special care; the pressure of his mouth shaded away from the sexual and became almost familial, the soft sucking of his mouth designed to soothe away the pain in the mistreated appendage.
Alrick shouted as he succumbed to unspoken sentiment, his passion pouring out in shuddering waves and coating both of their stomachs with hot stickiness. Alrick’s release triggering his own, Brian added to the spattered tableau, shouting nonsense as he exploded. Brian collapsed against Alrick, their breathing filling the room with a different kind of music.
“Crap, that’s gonna sting in the morning. Next time, gotta use lube.”
Alrick groaned in agreement, the skin covering his softening member already beginning to feel sore. “Indeed.”
Brian wiggled on top of him, seeking to find a more comfortable position. “The light’s on again. What is it with you and lights?”
Alrick smirked, knowing Brian was fully aware he had been the instigator this time. “I didn’t hear you complaining before.” He huffed as a finger poked him none too gently in his side. “Besides, I enjoy seeing the expressions you make when you are about to come for me.”
“Bullshit. You just have some freaky lamp fetish.”
Another wiggle, and amazingly, Alrick felt his cock stir with lazy interest.
“Why is it that curses sound so much cooler in German?”
“Because we invented it. Or at least that’s what my father would have had me believe.”
Brian stilled. “Is your dad still alive?”
Alrick’s chest tightened, although the weight of the other man pressing down on him somehow lessened the familiar pang. “No, he died many years ago.” A pair of arms held him a little closer.
“Sorry.”
Alrick knew he shouldn’t encourage such personal questions, but he merely shook his head, knowing the other man would be able to feel the movement. “It is hardly your fault.”
“Do you have any other family? Your mom?” Brian’s words began to slur, and Alrick bid a reluctant farewell to his plans of continuing things in the other room.
“No, she has passed away, as well. I do have a younger sister though.”
“What’s her name?”
“Rosamond.”
Alrick began to drift off as exhaustion slowly overtook him. He’d been up very late the night before taking care of business and had not rested much today, too eager at the prospect of seeing Brian again. It was a dangerous game trying to live in two such wildly incompatible worlds. Could a cold-blooded killer really fall in love? He grunted sleepily as he felt something stroke his shoulder.
“Nice tattoo. What does it mean?”
Alrick hoped that Brian was far enough gone that he didn’t notice the sudden tension in his body. “Nothing in particular. It’s just a souvenir from a misspent youth.”
There was no answer save for a soft snore.
TIYE watched helplessly as the prince rushed from the room. He wanted badly to follow, but he did as he was bid. His heart pounding loudly in his chest, he wrestled with the solid plank of wood that served to secure the door. Tiye hastily pulled on his discarded skirt and sat on the bed, only to leap to his feet again a second later, unable to contain his nervous energy. The bone-rattling clang of metal and the chilling shrieks of pain and death swelled in the hall as the fighting neared once again. A loud thud banged against the door, and Tiye wondered grimly whether it was the falling of a body that had caused the terrible sound.
But the pounding soon resolved itself into the sound of a determined knock. Tiye hesitated only a moment before rushing to unbar the door. The prince’s name was on his lips as he flung open the heavy wooden slab only to have his hopes dashed. A regal beauty stood in the doorway, seemingly impervious to the violence that raged behind her. An older woman cowered behind her, trying to make herself as small and inconspicuous as possible. The young woman swept into the chamber as though it was her rightful place, and Tiye instantly perceived her identity.
“Lady Hebeny,” he said with surprise, bowing nervously in greeting. Tiye looked behind her into the hall, but amazingly, the hall was empty of all but dead bodies. Shivering at the morbid scene, he closed and locked the door behind them. “Why are you here?” he asked his unexpected visitor. “It is dangerous to be out during this madness.”
“It is this very tragedy, my dear boy, that has brought me to you,” she said hastily, waving away his words. She met his gaze fully for the first time, and her eyes were not nearly so cold he had imagined. “I have just heard it from my woman, Trella. Whispers of an impending rebellion amongst the slaves reached the pharaoh, and he had his personal guard raid their village. Several of the ringleaders were put directly to death, including—” She closed her eyes, her voice choking with the tears that spilled down her cheeks. Made bold by the dread coiling in his gut, Tiye stepped toward her impatiently and grabbed her hands. He stared into her eyes beseechingly, anxiety sharpening his gaze.
“Who? Who was killed?”
“Your mother and your brother were accused,” she whispered.
Tiye could only stare at Hebeny, her words screaming in his mind like the raging of a storm. “My mother and brother?” he echoed, his tone weak and distant as his voice faltered.
“Only Trella says that your brother, at least, escaped, though he was wounded. He roused the rest of the village, and they came to attack the pharaoh. Even now, your brother has gone to kill Rahotep’s father!”
Tiye turned without a word and raced toward the door, flinging away the heavy bar in his panic as if it weighed nothing. He fled from the room, tears blurring his vision as a single, horrible thought chased itself through his mind. His brother, Nakhti, had gone to kill the pharaoh, and his lover had gone to see to his father’s safety. Even though they were often at odds, the prince would never allow his sire to be killed. And if Rahotep and Nakhti should meet….
MERY!
Alrick woke instantly, a habit he’d retained from his days in basic training. Dawn was still hours away, and he wasn’t quite certain what had disturbed him. He thought he’d heard a voice, but it faded away, leaving behind nothing but the remnants of an ill-remembered dream. Eyes stinging, he blinked against the brightness that filled the room before remembering that they’d fallen asleep with the lamp on. Thoughts of the light made him think of the man who seemed to have such a dislike for it. Moving carefully, he rolled onto his left side, and his smile grew when he saw the awkwardly splayed limbs of the man lying in bed next to him.
The sheet rode tantalizingly low over Brian’s naked hips, and the sight of that paler band of flesh stretching from just below his navel beckoned Alrick to lean over and lick it. Even now, his body hummed with the lingering traces of the electricity engendered by Brian’s every touch. His spent cock stirred ever so slightly, the memory of being buried deeply in delicious heat urging it to life. If he could, he’d gladly spend the rest of his life discovering just how far he and Brian could crawl into each other’s bodies before they could no longer be separated.
At some point during the night, they’d found the energy to drag themselves into the bedroom for another round. Utterly worn out, Brian was sleeping the sleep of the dead. Alrick thought he looked well satisfied. Feeling no little pride, he reached out and ran a thumb over his companion’s slack lips, which glistened with a little bit of drool.
Brian. A strong name for a complicated man.
Brian had thrown his arm over his eyes, annoyed by the light, but Alrick was reluctant to turn off the lamp. He was too grateful for the chance to examine the other man so closely without his acerbic self-consciousness getting in the way. Alrick watched him for a long moment as he slept, marveling at the contrast of his cinnamon brown skin against the white sheets of the bed. He’d always admired the diversity that America had to offer, and Brian had it in spades. He was neither light nor dark but clearly straddled two words and was all the more beautiful for it.
But his beauty didn’t explain why Alrick had made such an effort to get closer to him. The fact that Brian had the most incredible eyes he had ever seen, a crazy mix of hazel and green that seemingly couldn’t decide which to settle on, certainly didn’t justify the risk he was taking. Given the nature of his business, he’d fully intended to keep a low profile while in the city. But the simple truth was that he’d felt compelled the moment he had seen Brian sitting so forlornly at the bar. The sense of connection he’d felt with Brian had shocked him, the instantaneous attraction going far beyond the mere physical. It was like he’d been looking for something but hadn’t known that it was lost until he’d found it. And now that he had, he couldn’t bring himself to let go.
After their first night together, he’d watched Brian for a long while after the other man had fallen asleep, struggling with himself over whether he should continue the pursuit or let sanity prevail. He still hadn’t been sure what to do when it came time for him to leave for a job. But before he could question his intentions, he’d written the note, spinning a believable story to explain his absence and leaving it with his spare room key in plain sight.
Even now, Alrick couldn’t regret his decision. He realized he was humming as he gently moved Brian’s arm away from his face. At some point, the other man had inexplicably become intertwined in his head with the sweet strains of Mozart. He wasn’t a fan of the Austrian boy genius and his airy-fairy compositions, but they sparkled with undeniably joy. The sentiment very much described his mood. Alrick gazed thoughtfully at the man sleeping beside him, the looming prospect of his upcoming assignment for Giovanni growing all the more distasteful. Every murder he committed took him further and further away from Brian, every lie he told the other man compounding his guilt. Thinking derisively of the nickname he’d so carefully cultivated, Alrick envied Leroux’s Phantom. Angel of Music was much more in keeping with how he wanted to see himself.
Overcome with the sudden urge to hear his sweet cries again, Alrick considered waking Brian to continue where they’d left off the night before. But the other man was sleeping so soundly, he didn’t have the heart to wake him. Instead, he tortured himself by imagining how much simpler things would have been had he met Brian before everything in his life had gone to hell. But things weren’t different. His reality could not be changed, no matter how much as he might wish it. Caressing Brian’s cheek as he watched him sleep, Alrick heard a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Rosamond’s.
So you have a heart after all, Brüder.
He could practically see his sister’s fondly mocking smile. He answered her in a whisper as he gently ran his hand over the brown curls running riot over Brian’s head.
“Yes, Rosa, so it would appear.”
THE apartment building was gaudy and pretentious, fitting the nouveau riche attitude of the neighborhood’s residents. The penthouse taking up the entire top floor was by far the worse. Access was possible only by way of a private elevator, which required a key to operate. The long hallway between the elevator and the front door of the penthouse featured an oriental rug worth enough to feed a family of six for a decade. A heavy, gilt-framed mirror, surrounded by a dozen tacky paintings of dogs as circus performers, interrupted the bare expanse of wall. A tall, hulking giant of a man in dire need of a neck stood guarding the door, his massive torso straining the seams of his shirt and a pair of sunglasses making his blank expression even blanker.
Giovanni Rivella might not have needed the protection of a full-time bodyguard, but having one constantly at his beck and call did his inflated ego a world of good. The man himself was lying in his oversized bed after a long night of clubbing, propped up against thickly stuffed pillows. Both the bed and the pillows were covered in varying shades of black and purple satin. Gio had told his lady friend he liked living like a pimp. For some reason, she’d been unimpressed.
Naked but for the gold chain lying across his respectably pumped chest—courtesy of a regular course of steroids and long, hard hours spent at the gym—he bent his right arm at the elbow, smiling in approval at the resulting mound of his bicep. He never failed to be awed by the sight of himself, but he eventually grew impatient with waiting and shot an irritated glance toward the open door of the bathroom. The shower had stopped nearly fifteen minutes ago. The light was on, and a shadow fell across the floor tiles.
“Yo, babe! What’s the holdup? Get your sexy ass out here.” He reached down to rub eagerly at his unimpressive cock. While that was an unfortunate consequence of genetics, his shrivled balls were not. His steroid supplier had never warned him about that nasty little side-effect—emphasis on the little. It had felt really good when he’d beat the lying shit to a bloody pulp with his drug-enhanced fists. “Gio junior needs some attention.”
The woman standing in the bathroom massaging cold cream onto her face rolled her eyes in disgust. She turned the tap and waited as warm water filled the sink. A few quick splashes removed the majority of the cream, and an efficient swipe with a towel took care of the rest. Glancing up into the mirror, she studied her reflection with cold detachment.
She was beautiful, but then, she was always beautiful. No matter the ethnicity into which she was born, glorious black hair, stunning brown eyes, and olive-kissed skin always defined her. In every life that she’d lived for nearly three thousand years, her features were the only constant. Perhaps the North African heritage of her first life had been imprinted on her very soul, following her from incarnation to incarnation. Or perhaps that bastard god, Set, simply delighted in tormenting her with the constant reminder of her past.
Not that her appearance made any difference. Beauty meant nothing when you were doomed to spend eternity living out an ever-repeating hell.
