Through Neon Eyes: Control by Michael Barnette

Alternative Lifestyles, Futuristic, GLBT, Mystery/Suspense, Science Fiction, Yaoi/Manga

THROUGH NEON EYES - BOOK TWO - CONTROL
Michael Barnette
Rated this issue: The Ladies Chamber
Rated for series: The Iron Maiden
Length: Sigil
Price: $1.99
SKU: X-60180-003

The soft murmur of the air conditioning whispering through the vents was the only sound in the dimly lit room. Jessman opened his eyes to a view of the ceiling, expecting to see a webwork of wrought iron.

What he saw was the plain white ceiling of his own bedroom.

Disappointing, and completely mundane, unlike the incredible events he remembered.

Had it been a dream? Was any of it real?

Jessman moved and felt the sting of whip-raw skin down his back and thighs, across the flat plane of his abdomen.

Real, then. Not a dream.

His ass hurt, but the pain made him smile.

Yes, very real.

As real as the warmth he felt in the bed beside him.

Jessman turned his head and was met with the vision of his lover’s sleeping face. Beautiful as a simvid star, perfection, the living example of the highest surgical skill available. At least that’s what Jessman believed. No human was that perfect, that attractive without enhancement. At least he’d never met anyone who could say they were born with such looks. His own face was no exception.

Cornsilk hair twisted into a tangle of braids studded with blue beads, a myriad of bright feathers and tiny silver bells. Beneath the gold fringe of the blond’s eyelashes were eyes that matched the cobalt blue beads. Bright as neon. Cybereyes. Expensive ones that spoke of affluence…or a wealthy patron.

Jessman resisted the urge to pull the smaller man close, to wake him up for another round of mind-melt-level fucking before he had to leave. Much as he wanted another bout of such intense passion, he had to work, and thinking about what they’d done last night would be enough of a distraction to his boring routine without adding another, even fresher memory. Instead, Jessman just lay there, watching the blond sleep.

He looked so young, and he wasn’t.

He looked so innocent, and he certainly wasn’t.

He looked so harmless, and that he damned well wasn’t.

High-price gunwhore from the Liberty City Freezone. Jessman had paid for the man to entertain him.

Entertain.

What a laugh.

More like fuck him into complete oblivion, reinvent reality, and bring him back from the brink of madness, changed forever.