This is the sixteenth story in the Rewriting History series, and it follows Swear You're Gonna Feel My Hand.

Warnings: m/m, angst, AU, graphic (!!!) sex, and occasional bad language. Read my lips. This is *HOT*. Not for the faint of heart. ;)

~Silk

*****

Like a Peppermint Eaten Away

By Silk

Curt shouldered his duffel bag and lit a cigarette the moment he left the limousine. Brian plucked the cigarette from his mouth and kissed him, inhaling the smoke Curt would have exhaled. When he broke away from Curt, he let the smoke trail slowly out his nostrils with a sly grin that made Curt want to fuck him in front of the doorman and anyone else who cared to look.

"Bri-annnn..." Curt growled warningly.

"Do it. I dare you," Brian challenged him, apparently reading his lover's mind and loving what he saw there.

"Briannnnnn! You're backkkkk!" Mandy called out with the shrill voice of a 15th century fishwife. It sliced across Brian's nerves like a knife that was too dull to do the job properly.

He frowned when Mandy kissed him, automatically turning his head so that her lips missed his. He could feel Curt's outrage as though it was his own. "Why are you here, Mandy?"

Mandy's eyes widened at Brian's acid-sharp tone. When he and Curt had left, things had been amicable enough. Or at least, to Mandy's simplistic way of thinking. She conveniently forgot that they had taken off quite literally without notice, leaving no word when they might actually return.

"Jerry sent me," she said flatly. Ah, well, so the bloom wasn't yet off the rose, as far as she could tell. Brian was still hopelessly enamored of his charmingly decadent little punk rocker. She could deal with that. Time would take care of everything. That, and Jerry Devine.

"So?" Brian placed Curt's cigarette between his lips and took a heavy drag. For a moment, he felt like he would swoon, Curt's taste penetrating and intense in his mouth. Then he sought refuge in the familiar mask of Maxwell Demon, a costume too easily donned, if he but took the time to think about it. "What does he want?"

"After Hammersmith, we're going back into the studio."

"What do you mean *we*? You don't sing, do you, Mandy?" Brian said cuttingly.

"No, Brian, I have no particular talents," Mandy replied, all too aware of Brian's desire to humiliate her in front of his lover.

Curt snorted. "I wouldn't say that."

"Shut up!" Mandy shouted.

Brian caught her hand right before she slapped Curt, his cigarette suddenly dangerously close to burning her wrist. "Don't even think about it, Mandy! No one touches Curt but *me*!"

"Oh, yesssss," she hissed. "We *all* get that, Brian. I think you've made that abundantly clear."

"Bitch," Brian spat, his beautiful mouth twisted in a feral grimace.

Mandy seemed amused by Brian's anger, but she should have known better than to tell him that. "Did you forget to put on your *face*, darling? I almost didn't *recognize* you."

"Fuck you, Mandy!" Brian exploded, brushing her shoulder in passing. In truth, he might have bowled her over, but Curt reached out a hand to steady the young woman. Mandy shrugged off his touch like it burned.

"I'm still his wife," she snarled at Curt.

"Only because he hasn't had time to divorce you," Curt responded heatedly.

"Dream on."

"I do. Every fucking day. But you're *still* here. What'd you do, make a pact with the Devil or something?"

"Curt!" Brian stood in the doorway of the hotel and waited expectantly.

Curt's blue-gray eyes glittered as he met Mandy's grim glare one last time. Then he caught up with Brian, whose own expression remained enigmatic.

Deliberately turning his back on Mandy, and in a very real way, his marriage, Brian slung an arm around Curt's waist in a possessive gesture that made it clear where his true loyalties lay.

"You'll be sorry, Brian," Mandy muttered to herself. After all, the future was wide open.

*****

Brian stormed into his bedroom, tearing furiously at his clothing. "I have to take a shower."

"We just took one before we left Brighton."

"I don't care. I can feel her all over me. All over *you*." Brian stood there, half dressed, his face flushed, his full lips drawn back to reveal his straight white teeth.

"Come with me. I want you with me," Brian ordered.

Whatever quixotic mood swing Brian was having, Curt found he didn't much mind. He could afford to be indulgent now. Brian chose *him* over Mandy. He could almost feel sorry for her, too. The stupid woman didn't have the sense to realize that she'd lost. But this was only the calm before the storm. He knew Mandy didn't have it in her to be a gracious loser. It wasn't in her nature.

He understood that. It wasn't in *his* nature either. And *anyone* who tried to take Brian away from him was in for the fight of his life.

*****

Curt was still hopping on one leg, trying to get out of his pants, when Brian abruptly lost control. He dragged Curt into the shower and kissed him, his hands anxiously sliding themselves over tender flesh, almost as if he was attempting to reassure himself that Curt was still *there*, still *his*.

Brian was nearly inarticulate with the emotion flooding his veins, but he managed to say, "Love you." He pushed Curt against the wall of the shower, and Curt obediently braced himself on his hands. Strangely acquiescent, Curt wasn't sure why, except that he knew instinctively what Brian needed, and in turn, he needed to be the only one who could give it to him.

Brian kneed Curt's legs apart and trailed a wet finger along the crack of his ass, avoiding his opening. Curt sucked in his breath when he felt Brian's artless caress, then relaxed, pressing his face against the cool ceramic tile.

Lube. Brian cursed when he realized that the lube was carefully tucked away in Curt's duffel bag. In the other room. But necessity was the mother of invention. He poured a dollop of aromatic shampoo into his hand and generously applied it to his cock. Before the water could wash the slickness away, Brian thrust into Curt's body, knowing that Curt was both hot enough and loose enough to enter without any further preparation.

He grabbed Curt by the hair and tugged until Curt's face was upturned, the harsh spray of the shower pelting down until it reached his half-open mouth. Whipping his wet head around so suddenly that his hair haloed his face for one brief moment, Curt begged for a kiss.

Brian captured his mouth in a kiss that was initially passionate, but rapidly became so much more. His fingers sank into the wet strands that fell across Curt's face. They continued to kiss, almost tenderly now, Brian's erratic rhythmic thrusts slowing to become sensual undulations.

Curt closed his eyes, suddenly unwilling to come and break the physical connection between them. He felt, rather than saw, Brian's arm wrap around his chest, pulling him deeper into Curt's narrow channel. All at once, his eyes opened, his startled gray gaze meeting Brian's inexplicably yielding blue one in a blur of color and sensation.

The water was growing cold, and Curt automatically shivered. But it wasn't the temperature of the water that he noticed. His eyelashes fluttered down as Brian reached around him to grab his dick. Brian's teeth bit down on Curt's shoulder as he spilled himself inside Curt. But it was the whisper-soft "Unnhh" that Brian uttered at the moment of climax that Curt heard and obeyed its unspoken command.

When they were spent, their breath coming in ragged gasps that precluded speaking, they clung to one another. Curt reluctantly broke away from Brian, but only so that he could turn around and hold him.

Brian lay his head on Curt's shoulder, and suddenly their roles were reversed once more. "I'm not giving you up, baby."

"Promise?" Brian asked, his fingertips restlessly stroking Curt's upper arm.

Curt kissed Brian's hair. "Yeah."

But it was a well-known fact that some promises were never meant to be made, and some promises were never meant to be kept.

End