Excerpt of Through Neon Eyes: Promise-Part 2 by Michael Barnette
Book Four of the Through Neon Eyes monthly series
Released April 2007
Available from Mojocastle Press LLC


Addictions have their drawbacks, and David Jessman would be the first person to admit he's addicted to the passions he's only felt in the arms of one man: Bells, the LC Zone gunwhore and deadly zonewarrior. Having gotten so wrapped up in his personal life that he forgets to do anything but daydream about a certain blond gunwhore David Jessman finds himself in serious trouble with his boss. Trouble that Bells promises to make right-- somehow.

Excerpt of Through Neon Eyes: Control by Michael Barnette
Book Four of the Through Neon Eyes monthly series
Released April 2007
Available from Mojocastle Press LLC


Addictions have their drawbacks, and David Jessman would be the first person to admit he's addicted to the passions he's only felt in the arms of one man: Bells, the LC Zone gunwhore and deadly zonewarrior. Having gotten so wrapped up in his personal life that he forgets to do anything but daydream about a certain blond gunwhore David Jessman finds himself in serious trouble with his boss. Trouble that Bells promises to make right-- somehow.

"Yeah. I got a rep. Badass gunwhore me. Get called a bitchboy mos' days. Don't take no shit from nobody or no one for no reason." Bells turned his head to touch David's fingertips with his lips. A tongue darted out to slide suggestively long the index finger before it was sucked gently into his mouth.

Jessman groaned, his cock ready, his body willing, his mind gone to mush.

"Are you going to fuck me, or are you just planning to drive me mad?"

Bells laughed, the tones sweet and thick as honey. He let David's finger go and said, "Yeah, corpboy, I gonna fuck you good. I wanna hear you scream," he added as he leaned down to nip Jessman's throat, his breath warm and scented with the bourbon he'd been drinking. "I like hearin' you beg for my cock, Jessman. Good for you that I did. Kept you alive, din't it?"

Jessman shuddered at the meaning behind the words. The gunwhore had liked hearing him begging for release that first time, and that was the only reason he was still alive to worry about other zoners coming for him.

If he'd reacted any other way....

He held on tightly to Bells, "Fuck me, please."

"Yeah, we get to that," the dulcet voice whispered into his ear, still speaking in the language of the Free. "But I wanna play wif you firs'. I wanna taste you, I wanna hear you really beggin' for what you want."

The researcher just sighed when he found that he was no longer holding the blond, the zoner gone, the song of the bells in the man's hair telling him his lover had moved away from the bed, even if all he could see was the ghostly blur in his optics.

Bells was lust incarnate and complete sexual frustration all rolled into a package that held Jessman's attention in an emotional a grip that went right for his groin.

He sat up to find the gunwhore looking under the bed of all places.

The slender man stood, the teasing hint of a smile quirking his mouth. Jessman couldn't help but stare, the expression on the gunwhore's face rocketing through his mind to coil like a serpent of pure lust in his balls.

It took him a couple of heartbeats to notice the small duffle bag in Bells hand. Jessman frowned. He'd never seen the bag before and he wondered where it had come from. Bells must have brought it, but... I don't remember seeing it. Of course he also had no memory of being brought back to the NeuroTech enclave from their little jaunt into the LC FreeZone. Bells must have hidden the duffle there the night he'd brought Jessman home.

The blond snapped his fingers, pointed to a spot near the edge of the bed. Jessman understood the command-- he'd used it himself in a simvid or two. Obediently he crawled over to the blond, lowering his head to his master. His stomach fluttered, heart starting to pound. Nervous excitement. Anticipation. Cock hard and throbbing to the rapid beat of his heart, he waited.

Wordlessly Bells set the bag down and, gaze on the researcher, he slowly opened the zipper of the bag. Face unreadable he continued to watch Jessman as he reached inside.

Jessman stared, wide-eyed, his mouth going dry, the pace of his heart skipping to an even higher rate of speed as Bells pulled the first object out. Something black and very familiar. It was an object he remembered well. Narrow braids black as sin falling from the handle, the cat o'nine was held in front of him so he could look at it. He'd learned to enjoy the stinging kiss of that whip, learned to dance to the music of the Sweet Sisters to the cat's caresses. He swallowed a hand starting to rise to touch it. He didn't have permission and David stopped himself. Without permission feared to touch. This could very well be another of those unspoken rules he'd rather not risk breaking.

Jessman found himself flushing with pleasure when Bells-- his master-- offered him one of those quirky half-smiles, acknowledging he'd been right not to touch what didn't belong to him.

He was learning.

Bells proffered the whip, holding it in front of David's face. He understood what he was supposed to do, and bowed his head to kiss the whip. Another thrill of pleasure filled him when Bells cupped his chin in one slender hand and gave him a kiss.

"Good boy," the blond murmured against his mouth and Jessman shivered from the sound of that voice, from the praise, the silver tones of the bells and the nearness of the whip.

The cat fell open and was flicked up to trail along his shoulders, down his back in caress that brought an involuntary moan from Jessman, his cock jumping, precum slipping over the heated head.

Bells lips were still touching his when a firm hand encircled his dick and his whole body shook with the bolt of white-lightning sensation, of pure desire that ignited in his groin and blazed across his awareness. He groaned, his lips trying to latch hungrily on his master's mouth.

The hand let go, Bells pulling back to regard him with a look that left him reeling with desire because it wasn't a look of cool dispassion, it was a smoldering lust fueled stare.

Braided leather moved down his back to tickle at the crack of his ass. Jessman had to struggle with himself to remain where he was, to keep from lifting his butt in the air and begging for his master's cock, or the kiss of Sister Pain.

He closed his eyes, bowing his head to the man who all but owned him. What has he done to me? Jessman asked himself, hardly recognizing the man he'd become in these last few days. He'd always thought he was the alpha type, manly, in charge, in control. But one taste of the Sisters, one run-in with the blond gunwhore and he'd become a willing devotee to a need so powerful he would do anything, including toss aside all traces of masculine pride, just to get another taste.

It was a sure sign of addiction, no question about it.

A cool hand touched his cheek, slid down to gently tip his head up.

He opened his eyes to neon cobalt. The face of an angel that hid the mind of a man capable of reducing him to the whimpering wreckage of unconstrained passion. Bells brushed a finger over his lips and Jessman's stomach was suddenly full of butterflies.

This was also the man who'd refrained from killing him. Kept another zoner from shooting him dead not so long ago.

He trembled under the lash of too much emotion.

Passion. Terror. Love.

Tears welled up in his eyes, were kissed away as strong arms enfolded him in an embrace.

"Shhh...." warm across his neck, hands sliding along his back, soothing reassurance. "Remember my promise."

Jessman dared to put his arms around the slender man, the muscles in his arms bunching, straining. He knew he was unable to hurt the gunwhore so he clung to him as tightly as he could manage.

The hands that caressed him went from soothing to enflaming as they ventured down to his ass, stroking the curve of his buttcheeks, teasing along the crack.

"Master.... please..." Jessman gasped as one slim finger slid into the crack, touched the sensitive skin of his anus.

The blond laughed, the sound as musical as the chiming bells in his hair, but lower, and sexy.

Warm and firm, the lips that kissed him sent a flash of desire through his body that swept away the shreds of his fear and left only the blaze of lust that burned in his balls, turned his dick into a bar of scorching hot flesh. Their tongues moved together in a languid exchange that intensified, both men gasping, Jessman holding tightly to the smaller man, not wanting the contact of their mouths to end. But the kiss did end, a hand taking his chin in a gentle but firm grip that forced him to look at Bells.

"No one's gonna hurt you David. Don't be scared, ain't nothin' gonna happen to you."

"That's not... what's wrong..."

"Then what?" The blond's gaze was searching, his expression questioning.

In answer Jessman touched the strands of the cat o'nine tails, "This has changed me so much."

"Ah..." Bells breathed in response, "Yeah. It do that to everyone. Sisters is like that." Bells picked the nine-tailed whip up, "Never pictured youself yielding to another man, did you?"

"No," Jessman admitted.

Bells smiled slightly, nodded his understanding. "Few men do. At first."

"What about you?"

Bells shrugged, "Me?" He gave Jessman one of those odd little smiles, "I'm from the Free. You never know when you gonna to die. You just do what feels good, an' hell with worryin' 'bout stuff that don't matter nohow."

"Oh." Jessman sat there playing with the braided tails of the whip.

"Bet you never thought pain could be a good thing, did you?"

Jessman shook his head in the negative.

"'S what I thought. You learnin' a lot of new shit now, huh?"

Jessman couldn't help the soft laughter he gave at that question. "Yes, I certainly am... master."

Bells smiled. "You too pretty to kill, Jessman." He leaned in, kissed the man with slow thoroughness, possessive, yet gentle.

When it was over Jessman looked up at him, eyes wide, full of the trust he was giving this man: gunwhore, zonewarrior, his lover. Paid or not it hardly mattered. He belonged to the gunwhore now as surely as the gunwhore himself belonged to his broker.

Purchase Through Neon Eyes: Promise Part 2. Promise 2 is also available at Fictionwise and in print from Genre Connections.