killingsoftly: (Lover)
The first couple of days had been like in a dream of pure joy. He still had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't actually dreaming, that it all was real. That more than just the fact that Warren was with him, that Warren loved him. That he ... even in his head he stumbled over the word, but he managed it...loved Warren.

There was fear there, too. Always fear, of what he could do. Of what he'd done before. That Warren would wake up one day and realize just who and what he was in bed with. That Warren didn't know the worst of it. The lives he'd taken knowingly. Purposefully.

That the full knowledge of him would burst the bubble of happiness they were floating in.

He pulled on his leather pants and shrugged into his silk shirt. Earring in, just one, shirt half unbuttoned. He added a touch of eyeliner, something to draw eyes to his. Nothing too elaborate. Nothing like what he'd paraded around in the years of Glam. But a touch. He was tousling his hair, adding in gel when his cell rang.

He glanced at the number and sighed. He almost didn't answer, but he finally did. He wondered how she'd known he was in town.


"Devin, darling," her voice was always so chipper and yet refined. "You naughty boy, you didn't call and tell me you were in town."

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killingsoftly: (Against all odds -- Warren)
Devin was nervous, unaccountably so, given everything. But a whole week in New York and the promise of what was to come made him shiver. He'd booked three gigs, calling on contacts and cajoling them into letting him play. Devin had done well enough for them in the past that they were happy to take the DJs off a night or two and slide him in, plastering up fliers and sending out emails.

He got the van loaded with the equipment and his bags, checked out of the hotel, then headed to Warren's to pick him up. He was bouncing a little as he got to the apartment, looking over the neighborhood and thinking that it would be home for a while when they got back. Home with Warren.

Devin felt as giddy as a schoolboy at the thought and couldn't help it if he was a little flushed when he knocked on the door.


killingsoftly: (Default)

September 2007

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