This is the ninth story in the Rewriting History series, and it follows Parisian Demands. Sorry for the delay, but it belatedly occurred to me that I couldn't let Curt have his wicked way with Jerry (no, not that way, what *are* you thinking? LOL!) because Jerry would then cut Curt out of Brian's life and presto, end of story. So...I had to come up with something else. Jerry will still get his comeuppance. He just won't get his teeth handed to him, and maybe that's a good thing. ;) :evil

So...here it is, for better or worse. ;)

Warnings: m/m, AU. R rating is for language, not sex. No angst, just some verbal sparring. But then, that's always fun. ;)

~Silk

*****

Illuminate in Style

By Silk

He should have known. Curt never gave in so easily. He was like a fucking dog with a bone.

"Curt! What are you going to do? Curt!"

"Don't say a word, Bri. I'll take care of things."

That was what Brian was afraid of. Curt taking care of things. His way. The way of the wolf, no doubt. Wolves were not noted for their patience or their mercy, and truthfully, these were not qualities he necessarily associated with his lover.

"I don't want you to hurt him."

Curt snapped his head around and stared right through Brian. For a moment, infinitesimal as it might be, Brian was genuinely apprehensive. Curt's eyes were dark gray and hard as iron. Brian knew that Curt would never hurt *him*, no matter how Brian provoked him, but Jerry...that was definitely a different story.

Jerry was arrogant and demanding and coolly ambitious. But he had seriously underestimated just how dangerous Curt Wild could be.

Brian met Curt's gaze and willed the older man to back off. Curt didn't so much as blink.

"Please, Curt. For *me*."

"Why? Do you *like* being put down by people who are *supposed* to be working for *you*?"

"No..." Brian seemed to be thinking, weighing his words before he spoke. "I don't care about *him*, Curt. I care about *you*. If you go after him...Jerry could make things very difficult."

"For you, you mean. That's what's bothering you, right? The deal. Always the fucking deal."

"No, I told you. I'm worried about what could happen to you. He could cut you from the record. The tour."

Curt took what appeared to be a much-needed breath. "Brian...I don't give a shit about the record. Or the tour. Or Jerry."

"I thought you wanted to cut a record with me, Curt," Brian said, his light blue eyes as puzzled as they were hurt.

"Brian...I know what I am. What can *I* possibly do for someone like *you*? Your fucking star is on the rise, man. You know it. I know it. I don't have any illusions about why I'm here."

"Jerry never should have said that-"

"But he did. The record...the record was a fucking excuse, babe. I would have done anything to hook up with you. And I did." Curt turned away and began striding down the hallway again, forcing Brian to run to catch up with him.

"You *used* me so you could get your career back?"

Curt shook his head, but he never slowed his pace. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," he growled.

Brian reached out and grabbed Curt by the arm. Curt swung around with such a fierce look on his face that Brian found himself stepping back without thinking. "Then w-what?" Brian stammered.

"Dammit, Brian, haven't you been listening to a word I've been saying? I *love* you. I would have signed with the *devil* to be with you." Curt groaned and raked both hands through his hair. "Oh, God, I think I *did*."

"All this time I thought *I* was handling *Jerry*," Brian began thoughtfully, "*he* was really handling *me*."

"Yeah." Curt searched in vain for a place on Brian's body that he could safely touch without mussing his perfect-for-the-photo-shoot look. Finally he settled for stroking his thumb over one of Brian's eyebrows. "You've got power now, babe. You don't have to share it with anyone. Not Jerry. Not even *me*."

"I want to, Curt. Whatever I have...it's nothing compared to having *you* in my life."

"You don't have to choose now, Bri."

"I already did. When I came to your bed last night," Brian said softly, his eyes glowing faintly, "I chose *you*."

Curt sighed as Brian took him in his arms. When Brian's lips caressed his ear, Curt closed his eyes and allowed himself to *listen* to what Brian was saying.

"I love you. No one matters...except you and me."

"Yeah."

Brian reluctantly released Curt, giving him a rueful smile. "Now we're not only late for the shoot, but we're wrinkled, too."

Curt laughed. "And whose fault is that?"

"Mine. All mine." Brian kissed Curt full on the mouth, knowing that just down the hall, there was any number of people who would love to know that they were lovers and use that information to their own advantage. "Just like you."

"You're a romantic little slut, I'll give you that."

*****

"Ah, so good of you to show up," Jerry said, forcing a smile that never reached his chilly blue eyes.

"We were unavoidably detained," Brian said breezily, striking a pose with his hand on his hip.

"I see," Jerry said, biting back the involuntary response that sprang to his lips.

"You remember what it's like to be young and in love, don't you, Jerry?" Brian continued with a twinkle in his eye.

Perturbed by the fact that Brian was stealing his thunder, not to mention his leverage against the two lovers, Jerry chewed ferociously on his cigar. He would make Brian pay for thwarting him. Then he would fucking *kill* Curt Wild. This was his influence. He had no doubt of that.

Before Curt, Brian was a talented kid with tons of ambition and not much else. It made him *pliant*, and that was a very good thing for people like Jerry.

Now, in two short days, Brian was making it clear that the figurehead was no longer. Brian wanted *real* control, and he was willing to fight Jerry to get it.

"No, actually, I can't say that I do, Brian. But I'm certain your *wife* does." Jerry couldn't prevent a sneer from distorting his normally bland expression.

Mandy looked curiously from Jerry to Brian and back again. She raised one eyebrow imperiously. *She* knew how much they needed Brian, even if Jerry didn't. She didn't care for Curt *or* his disruptive effect on her husband. But if that was what it took to keep Brian productive...and if that was what it took to keep her own star ascendant...so be it.

"Oh, darling," she drawled in her obsequious faux English accent. "You know how much I *adore* Brian, but now I've got *two* men at my beck and call. What more could a girl ask for?"

Brian laughed and slipped his arm around Curt's waist, his fingers sliding just beneath the top of his pants to brush bare skin. He winked at Mandy, unable to fault her instincts for self-preservation, and grateful once more that people could be depended upon to be predictable.

Curt shifted slightly, his hip bumping Brian's before he settled comfortably against his side. So that was how it was going to go, eh? Mandy didn't like him, and he sure as hell didn't like *her*, but they were going to present a united front against a common enemy. Jerry.

"That's right," Curt agreed in his smoke-and-gravel voice. "We're practically the Three Musketeers, man."

"Really? And what does that make *me*? Cardinal Fucking Richelieu?" Jerry snapped, forgetting that he had an audience of interested onlookers.

Curt smiled slowly, his gray eyes glittering with something that might have been humor, but probably wasn't. "You know what they say, man. *Nobody* expects the Spanish Inquisition."

Mandy chortled and slung a careless arm around her husband's shoulders, while Brian choked back a burst of laughter and stealthily pinched Curt's ass.

For once, Jerry was speechless.

Curt had no illusions about what he'd won. But from the furious way that Jerry eyed his carefully hand-picked journalists, who were already scribbling enthusiastically, Curt could tell that there would be war.

No matter. Curt was used to watching his back. And now he had allies.

End