Another project S.L. Armstrong and I are working on is a trilogy that stars Dorian Gray in a modern, paranormal world where ghosts and magic exist (because they’d have to since he made a wish and it came true). He falls in love with a man named Gabriel, who comes with some extra baggage: a dead twin brother. The trilogy follows the twists and turns of this love triangle as Dorian has to make some hard decisions about his past, present, and future. It’ll be awesome, I promise!
The worst thing about being a paranormal peon: he made so little that he always had to have a second job. Being in a foreign country, even an English speaking one? Yeah… manual labor without much interaction with people was the way to go. He’d been lucky to get a job at all, even if it was vaguely humiliating. Pulling his cart up to the door of the penthouse, Gabriel knocked. “Housekeeping!” When no one answered, he slipped his master key card into the lock and entered, trying not to whistle at the luxurious surroundings. Definitely better than his closet of an apartment. He started stripping the bed, ignoring the scent of sex that wafted up. Hey, if he were this wealthy, he probably wouldn’t have any trouble getting laid, either.
“What?” A familiar British voice rang out behind Gabriel. “Did you hit your head on the tarmac when you fell? Followed me back to my hotel?”
Gabriel jumped and spun around. As the man leaned against the wall, wrapped in a towel with a smirk, Gabriel’s heart fell. Still, he offered the wealthy man from his near-car accident a painfully saccharine smile. “Housekeeping. At your service.” He couldn’t help but swallow thickly at the sight of the man almost naked, slightly flushed from a shower. Fuck, but he had a gorgeous body. Someone that hot wouldn’t need money to get laid. He blinked, averting his eyes in order to stop staring, but the vision of the man was emblazoned on his brain.
Smooth, Gabe… Real smooth, Michael cracked from the ether.
The muscle in Gabriel’s jaw twitched as he tried to ignore his dead twin. This was the last thing he needed today. The man had almost killed him. Well, if he was honest, he’d almost killed himself, just stepping out into the street without looking. Then, the man laughed. The sound was low, rich, and the sound wrapped around Gabriel, made his heart pound. And then the man pulled the towel from his body and tossed it at him.
“Housekeeping. So this isn’t a little holiday, American?” he asked, walking to the wardrobe.
Gabriel scrambled catch the towel. The man was naked. He’d caught a glimpse of his front, but his backside… God, his ass! It was the most perfect ass he’d ever seen, and after living in the Bay Area, that was kind of saying something. “I… uhm… No.”
Shit. Gabriel closed his eyes. Now he was hard. One long look at the man’s ass, and he was hard as stone. He tried to hide behind his cart, distracting himself by switching out the used towel for a fresh one. Even Michael whistled softly in his mind. His straight as an arrow twin found the guy whistle-worthy, and that, Gabriel thought, sort of sealed his fate. His face was flushed, heart pounding, and he tried so hard not to look up from the towels and little guest shampoos.
The man turned around, holding up two shirts, his front completely exposed. He wriggled the hangers a bit, asking, “Which one? Scarlet or cobalt?”
Gabriel stared and blurted out the first word that came to mind. “Cock.” He hadn’t thought his face could get any redder, but then it did. And he vaguely thought he’d throw up right there. “Red. The red one’s… nice,” he managed.
Somewhere in the ether, Michael snorted. If I had a gun, I’d just shoot you now.
“Thanks,” Gabriel breathed, closing his eyes.
Gabriel opened his eyes to see the man slowly approach him wearing just the unbuttoned red shirt.
“You like my cock, American?”
“I… I can’t…” Gabriel froze, and his heart pounded in his chest. Oh, God, he was going to be fired. Two days on the job, and he was already going to be fired. And the scarlet cloth against that perfect skin, the man’s tone, and the smooth way he walked… It had to be the most erotic he’d ever seen someone be. Pure seduction, and it made his cock twitch in his work trousers.
The man stopped just a breath away from Gabriel and lifted a finger, drawing it down Gabriel’s cheek and throat. “Can’t what, lovely?” he purred.
Gabriel gasped softly and felt his lower lip tremble. “I’m not… supposed to talk to you.” He gripped tightly at his cart, even if it wasn’t placed between them and didn’t hide his obvious arousal. This wasn’t a porno. The housekeeping boy didn’t just have sex with the hot guy in the penthouse. It didn’t work that way in real life.
A chuckle, deep and pleased, rumbled up out of the man. “I am a… special… guest.” His finger teased the hollow of Gabriel’s throat. “What’s your name, pretty boy?”
Had the guy just complimented him? His cock seemed to think so. Gabriel swallowed again and licked his lips. He felt too hot, his throat too dry. “Gabriel,” he croaked.
Good. At least you got that answer right, Michael grumbled.
“Gabriel,” the man said, seeming to roll his name around on his tongue. “An archangel.” His fingers trailed down the uniform shirt Gabriel wore. “My name is Dorian, pet.”
“Uhm,” Gabriel panted. “Hi.”
Dorian leaned in, lips barely brushing at the side of Gabriel’s throat. “Articulate.”
Gabriel shuddered, the softest of groans making its way past the lump in his throat. He swore that he’d come in his pants then and there. “Nice to… meet you, Dorian,” he whispered.
Dorian’s breath teased up Gabriel’s throat, over his jaw, toward his lips. “The… pleasure… is mutual.”
Gabriel let go of the cart and hovered his hand above Dorian’s chest, that thin stripe of bare flesh between the open edges of crimson fabric. He looked down for a moment and saw how true Dorian’s words were. Dorian’s cock was hard, fully erect and leaking, just like his own cock inside his uniform pants and boxers. “Dorian…” The name alone was like a lewd caress, and he turned into Dorian’s feather-light touches, sealing their lips together.
Dorian’s fingers combed through Gabriel’s hair as his tongue slipped between Gabriel’s lips. Fuck, he’d never been kissed like this! It was sinful, enough to steal Gabriel’s breath away. In the middle of the kiss, though, Dorian slid a hand between them, cupped Gabriel’s cock through the fabric of his trousers. He squeezed gently as he fed a moan into Gabriel’s mouth. That moan was matched by Gabriel, only Gabriel’s had a desperate, high edge to it. He arched into Dorian’s touch, need rushing through him.
God, was this really happening? Gabriel felt dangerously close to coming in his pants, fully clothed, Dorian’s knowing hand and tongue working him with devilish skill. He held tightly to Dorian’s shoulder, his other hand moving from Dorian’s hip to his ass. The skin was smooth, perfect, and he gripped at it, loving the firmness of muscle beneath that soft skin. In that moment, Gabriel was sure he’d do anything for this strange man, in this foreign country, so long as he was given release.
Dorian pulled back, panting, nipping at Gabriel’s wet lower lip. A wicked gleam lit up the dark eyes, and a lustful smile curved the bow-perfect lips. “Still want to change my sheets… or do you want to be spread out on them?”