The Brotherhood 8 Under Hill and Over the Bar Read online

  When Rocco noticed and huffed heavily, Keelan threw him a cheeky grin. It wasn’t fair, of course, but how else was he to get Laurence to the portal? Amour Magique did indeed have dozens upon dozens of shadowy nooks, but he wanted his man to come and play under hill. For the sake of the bet, oh, yes, but also because he desired comfort in their coming together, and nothing beat the soft green lawns, padded daises, and cooling light of the hidden moon.

  “Is this the way?” Laurence asked suddenly, looking around himself. He frowned and shook his head. “You know, I still don’t trust you.”

  Keelan frowned and adjusted the level of his glamour. Laurence should not have been able to form such a question in his head, much less give it voice. He is a strong one, a voice cautioned -- or observed, wryly -- within his mind. “And am I supposed to trust you?” he responded. “This isn’t about anything but sex, Laurence. Remember? Now follow me.”

  Laurence’s hand gripped Keelan’s again, a little more tightly this time. Satisfied, Keelan made for the portal at the end of the bar, cunningly disguised as a mirror. Laurence should have been seeing it as a door. All the same, Keelan couldn’t stop himself from teasing Rocco as he led his chosen partner past the illusion. “Through the looking glass,” he murmured.

  Behind them, Rocco snorted in what sounded like deep disgust and began polishing a clean glass so hard that Keelan heard the squeaking.

  Keelan chuckled as he felt the portal close behind them. As always when traveling through one of these interdimensional tears, he felt a brief moment of disorientation, dizziness, and a touch of nausea before they stepped out on the other side, their feet landing softly on the lawn Keelan most often shared with his friends.

  Turning Laurence to face him, Keelan put a hand to both of the man’s temples in a gentle touch. “See me,” he whispered. “Be free of the spell I have cast on your eyes.” Then, as Laurence blinked, looking startled, Keelan raised his voice. “Does this suit you?”

  Laurence swallowed hard enough to make his Adam’s apple bob, but Keelan was proud to see he didn’t flinch or jump. Instead, he gazed around at the small circle, ringed by standing stones, with its four raised pedestals covered in silk. Above them, the full moon gleamed with an opalescent, pearly sheen.

  “This,” Laurence said slowly, “is not a nook or a cranny. This doesn’t even qualify as an alcove.” He turned around and around, staring at the stones and the grass and the moon. “In fact, I think we’re outdoors.” His face hardened. “All right, that’s it. I knew this damn club was weird, but I didn’t expect to have my drink spiked.”

  Keelan blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  Laurence rounded on him, shoving the elf flat-palmed in his chest. “What did you slip in my drink, huh? Roofies? Something new on the street that I haven’t heard about yet?”

  “I did nothing to your beer. It had already been desecrated enough by being chilled.”

  “Yeah, right. Pull the other one. You want to explain to me why I felt like I was on a rollercoaster, and how we ended up outdoors in this ... whatever this is?”

  Either I am losing my touch with glamour or this Laurence is far stronger than he might appear at first glance. He had known the redhead would be fiery of temper and tough-willed, but to challenge an elf on his home ground? The man was mad or suicidal. Also very, very ignorant. He could be killed for his pushes and shoves had Keelan a mind to object.

  Fortunately for them both, Keelan decided to invoke the right of protection over his visitor, as he was interested in more than a touch of hands to his chest. He seized those hands and brought them together in his own, stroking his thumbs over Laurence’s most intriguing, curled fingers. “There’s nothing to worry about.” He injected his voice with yet more magic, intending to ease and soothe the man. “We’re still inside Amour Magique. This is one of the rooms I have rented for the night. It’s merely made to look like the outdoors. If you had a ladder high enough, you could climb up and touch this shining ‘moon.’” He caressed Laurence’s hands again, then brought them to his mouth for a kiss. “There, now. Do you feel better?”

  To his surprise, Laurence eyed him with an even deeper suspicion. “You could have warned me,” he said shortly. “You don’t just surprise a man like this and expect to get away with it.”

  By the Lord and Lady! Keelan had never met a man so resistant to the honey-sweet temptation of elven glamour. He kissed Laurence’s hands again, this time flickering the tip of his tongue over the knuckles, and lowered his voice into husky, lover-like tones. “Be that as it may, here we are. Do you really want to waste our time arguing?”

  Laurence’s eyelids grew heavy, while his green eyes sparkled with awakening lust. He squeezed his fists in Keelan’s grip and wet his lips. “No.”

  Then he attacked. Indeed, Keelan could find no other word for the man’s actions. It was as if Laurence were a starving man and Keelan the banquet. The mortal launched himself at Keelan, knocking the startled elf off his feet and down onto his back into the sedge grass. Pinned by his forearms, with Laurence on top of him, Keelan stared up, dazed, into a face writ with desire and need. “I’ve got better things to do,” Laurence said, before diving down to kiss Keelan.

  Ah, now this is more like it. Keelan willingly surrendered his mouth -- for the time being -- and let Laurence in to plunder with an eager, talented tongue. The man fumbled a bit, as if out of practice, but quickly learned his way around the mechanics and progressed to making their kiss a work of art. It was a proper man’s kiss, too, hard and rough, teeth pressed against lips, and tongues thrusting eagerly against one another, mimicking what was to come and taking savage pleasure in driving one another mad.

  When Laurence drew back to breathe, Keelan let his own hunger come out in his expression. “Very good, for a start,” he teased. “But here, now. Let me show you how this is done.”

  Grasping Laurence by the forearms, he flipped them over and over until it was Laurence who lay on his back, Keelan dominant over him. Laughing in triumph, Keelan tried for his own kiss -- then jumped back, yelping.

  The man had bitten him!

  Though those sharp teeth hadn’t broken the skin on his tongue, the injury still stung like hell and baffled Keelan beyond belief. He worked his jaw a few times, controlling his anger -- there was the bet to think of, after all -- then demanded, “What do you think you’re playing at, man?”

  Laurence had the cheek to grin at him, a grin tinged with all the sly cruelty of the best of the Fey. Not for the first time, Keelan wondered if the man had some drop of that bloodline running through his veins. If his family hailed from Ireland, ’twas all too possible.

  The man stuck out his tongue and ran it across his upper lip as teasingly as a giant cat. “No one gets me on my back unless I say so,” he said firmly. “Give a guy some warning next time, and you won’t pay the price.”

  Keelan reined in his anger a second time. The nerve of this mortal! Ah, but he’d pay soon enough, and gladly. “I’ll be sure to bear that in mind,” he said dryly. “But there are better things to do with our tongues and teeth. Do you want to try me on for size?”

  Laurence wriggled beneath Keelan. “Are you man enough?”

  “And then some,” Keelan breathed. “First, these clothes come off.”

  “I can’t undress with you pinning me down.”

  Oh, for the love of Brighda! Impatient, Keelan blasted Laurence with a touch of what would be the equivalent of glamour napalm, and used the moment when the man was dazed, eyes wide open but seeing nothing, to enchant both their clothing away. Then, before it could wear off and the man could ask awkward questions, Keelan sank into Laurence’s arms, flesh against flesh, and began to kiss him again.

  Thank all the old gods, his trick seemed to work. Laurence stirred groggily and would likely have demanded answers, but lips on his and Keelan’s eager cock pressed against his belly must have convinced him to keep his own counsel. Hungry arms swarmed up around Keelan, holding him tight and
close, Laurence’s hips arching upward to meet the press of the elf’s cock against his skin.

  To Keelan’s pleasure, Laurence took a bit of initiative. The bold red-haired man began to move in a rhythm old as time, flowing back and forth against Keelan like the waves of an ocean. Their lips never ceased touching one another, from mouth to neck to collarbone to mouth again, both kissing as frantically as though they couldn’t get enough of the other.

  When Laurence broke apart, it was to gasp -- as if he had been running -- “Condom? Lubricant?”

  Keelan closed his eyes and muffled a curse. Lube would be no problem, he had that in plenty, but the Fey did not often use those awful rubber sheaths. He could easily cloud Laurence’s mind again into believing he wore one, but he had the feeling the man would not be so easily fooled, and the definite sense that to trick the man over something so important to humans would be poor form.

  Wrong, the voice in his head warned him.

  A clever thought struck Keelan. He reached for Laurence’s jeans, spread out beside them on the grass, and dug in first one pocket, then the other. In one of the back pockets, he came up lucky with a small foil-wrapped square. Triumphant and smug, he waved it over Laurence’s head. “Found one. Will it fit me?”

  “You assume you’re going on top?” Laurence wriggled beneath Keelan in a gesture clearly meant to drive him wild.

  Keelan dealt him another kiss, this one touched by the magic he bred himself, a mixture of lust and challenge. “I know I am.”

  “Mmm.” Laurence rolled against him and smiled, his face relaxed. He looked almost boyish when he let himself go. “I get the next turn, then, if we can find a second condom somewhere.”

  “You think we’ll go a second time?” Keelan was genuinely intrigued.

  Laurence feigned a bite at Keelan’s skin, which was almost glowing under the light of the moon. “Bet your life,” he said softly, then made a grab for the condom. “I’ll put it on you.”

  Keelan groaned. His cock was on fire with the all-consuming lust that could overtake the elves, and the thought of Laurence’s hands on him all but undid his self-control. Loosing his grip and rolling over onto his back, his cock hard enough to lie flush against his stomach, he spread his arms and legs. “Come and get me -- if you dare.”

  “Shameless,” Laurence whispered. All the same, though, he got up on his hands and knees, poising himself over Keelan’s cock. He removed the foil packet from Keelan’s hand, tore it open, and drew the thin rubber sheath out. Frowning at the small doughnut of latex, he said, “It’s been a while, but I bet you it’s just like riding a bike ...”

  Keelan spasmed when Laurence touched him, the slightly cool hands on his dick driving him all but out of his mind. He reserved a bit of sanity for later, as he intended to nail this impertinent human to the grass until they were both sore and aching.

  Only a bit, though.

  As Laurence placed the tip of the condom over Keelan’s cock, Keelan fought to keep his cool. His lover slid the rubber down, so tight and sheer it felt like a second skin, and smoothed it out at the base. Wicked hands slipped further down to play with Keelan’s balls, weighing and measuring, rolling and toying, making him insane with the feel of those hands that knew just how to tease and taunt.

  Keelan made a grab for Laurence’s arms, intending to flip them again. “My turn,” he growled.

  To his surprise, Laurence knocked his arms away. “I’m on top,” he informed Keelan sternly. “That means I’m in charge. Lube?”

  Keelan blinked. “Lube?”

  Laurence swatted him lightly. “Do you have some? Slippery stuff. I’m going to need it if you’re going to drive that thick, heavy spear into me.”

  Keelan momentarily forgot his own name, much less the location of the Fey lubricant he’d last used with Eremand. It had to still be around there somewhere, yet when he thought of summoning the bottle, Keelan paused. Somehow, to fuck one man with another’s leftover supplies seemed gauche.

  “A moment,” he said, daring to hold a hand over Laurence’s eyes. The man bucked and twisted, as expected, but it gave Keelan enough time to muster a new bottle from his own private stock. This was the good stuff, a slick humans could only dream of, which warmed to the touch and filled the air with the scents of cinnamon and vanilla. Neither tacky nor sticky, it stayed as liquid as that which flowed from a woman’s pussy, although perhaps fewer thoughts of women were better at the present time.

  When Laurence wrestled free, Keelan was holding up the glass bottle in triumph. He’d cast a glamour over it as well, making it look like an ordinary, small white tube. An argument over hygiene was truly just about the last thing he wanted to get into. He unstoppered the cork, certain Laurence saw him clicking open a tube, and poured some of the oil out onto his fingers, then --

  “What the hell?” Laurence drew back. “Where did you get that? A glass bottle? I don’t do homemade lubes, Keelan. What’s in there, more happy drugs?”

  Damn it! Keelan sighed and passed the bottle over. “There’s nothing in here that isn’t safety approved,” he said, impatiently, slicking up his cock and pressing it up into Laurence’s palm. “Test a bit more on me, and see what I mean.” Is this man totally impervious to glamour?

  Laurence gave him a skeptical look, then tilted the container, the glass a deep emerald green and fancifully shaped like an erect phallus, dripping some of the liquid into his palm. He sniffed the oil, then rubbed a bit between finger and thumb.

  “Are you quite satisfied?” Keelan demanded. He was rapidly losing any and all patience he might have had. His body demanded fucking and demanded it immediately. Any more delaying on Laurence’s part, and he -- ah, no, he couldn’t. Not with the bet, and a thousand silver riding on his ability to capture the mortal. And not when Laurence’s sweet, taut, white ass was so very, very close to his cock ...

  Thanks be to all the Old Gods! Laurence was nodding. He did not, however, hand the bottle back. “Better get ready.” The mortal’s voice was low and ripe with sex. “It might have been a while, but I still know a few tricks.” Anointing his fingers with a heavy coat of the oil, he reached between his own legs and began to stroke within the crevice of his own buttocks, his eyes sagging shut in pleasure.

  Keelan all but lost his breath. The sight of Laurence kneeling above him, preparing his own ass to take Keelan deep inside, was worthy of being painted. He’d have to see if he could remember well enough afterward to ... oh, Gods. He lost his train of thought when Laurence thrust two fingers into his own hole and began to work them, stretching himself wide.

  “Is this your plan? To drive me crazy?” Keelan demanded, undulating as Laurence writhed above him, the man arching as his questing fingers must have found the sweet spot and began to work it. Laurence was breathing heavily, his bare chest rising and falling, beginning to shine with a light coating of sweat. Keelan swore. “You’ll break me. I’m dying for the want of you.”

  “Are you really?” Those green eyes, brighter even than the glass holding the oil, sparkled wickedly. “Then get ready to come and take me.” Laurence withdrew the fingers from his ass, poured more oil onto them, and applied it in heavy strokes over Keelan’s cock. He knew just how hard to press and rub, heavy swirling touches over the length and width of his prick, teasing circles at the tip. He didn’t stop until Keelan howled and threw his head back, then bit at his own arm to keep himself from crying out even louder.

  “Now,” Laurence said, voice thick, “we’re ready.”

  Keelan froze. He wouldn’t -- surely, he’d not try -- but he did. Spreading his knees wide on either side of Keelan’s hips and using one hand to guide Keelan’s member, Laurence sank down on the elf’s stone-hard stiffness, taking every inch deep inside him one slow push at a time. The man, ballsy as he was difficult, didn’t stop until his ass was flush with Keelan’s groin, stuffed to the gills with dick and gasping for air.

  Keelan stared at Laurence as best as he was able to, mouthing useless words that
he could not find breath to voice. Laurence chuckled, the low bedroom chuckle of a man who’d gotten his way. “You know what they say,” he murmured, tracing oil-slick hands over Keelan’s chest. “Save a horse ... and I’ll pretend you’re a cowboy.”

  “Giddy up,” Keelan managed as Laurence began to rise up, the heavy traction on his cock driving the last bits of sense out of his mind. He reached for Laurence’s hips, intending to steady him, but the man was like a rock and would not be budged. Keelan had to satisfy himself instead with merely guiding the man’s progress, all the way up, till only the tip of his cock was inside -- then he let out a deep groan from the middle of his chest when Laurence slid back down, his internal muscles gripping like a python.

  “This is my show,” Laurence informed Keelan, pressing down on his chest. “Now shut up and fuck me.”

  Keelan shook his head dizzily. Then, as Laurence began to withdraw again, he raised his own hips to follow; when Laurence sank back down, he continued his thrust. Laurence laughed, tilting his white throat to the sky, wild and free as any elf on a spree, as Keelan fucked him with all the might in his body.

  Laurence favored Keelan with another dazzling, vicious smile, the sort Keelan had seen before on the lords of the hunt, and squeezed. Clamped down tight as a vise. Keelan’s back cleared the ground and a shriek tore itself from his throat. “Ah, ah, ah, have mercy!” He almost didn’t recognize the raspy voice as his own. “You’ll drive me over the edge, and it’s too soon!”

  Laurence hooked his nails into Keelan’s chest, not hard enough to break the skin, but with enough pressure to let the elf know he meant business. “It’s all about sex, baby,” he said, grinding his muscles until Keelan yelled again, unable to help himself. “And when you’ve gone for a couple of years without, there’s no such thing as too soon.”

  With that, he began to raise and lower himself quick as a snake, with twice as hard a grip, so quickly that, incredibly, Keelan could hardly keep up. It was barely conceivable that he couldn’t match this mortal -- mortal? -- lover at all, gliding on the oil that filled the air with the smell of warmed spices and musky sex. Keelan struggled, just a moment, for control, and then lost himself. Laurence had undone him.