My beautiful intellectual. My mad Egyptologist.

I mean something dirty, sweaty,” Luiz corrected idly, leaning closer. He stroked the back of his knuckles down Michael’s cheek. “What I like best. Rock, blues, with an edge of metal. Something dangerous. Real. The audience driven to ... well, in the old days it would have been bloodlust. But these are more temperate times. So lust will have to do.

You’re so hungry for success, more. I can almost feel the crossroads looming... Do you know there’s a legend that certain musicians sold their souls to the devil for their skill? Johnson. Paganini.” Luiz laughed at the shift of Michael’s hips, the grind of Michael’s cock into his hand, released him to add, “And certain metal bands for money and fame.

I’ve lost a guardian angel and gained a muse.

You really have spent too long amongst dead things and sand. People misbehave, Ben. People do … wicked things, in the name of pursuing sensual pleasures. And in the pursuit of love. Life is short. Very short. And as long as all understand the rules of the game, then there is no harm in it.

Just drive, rock star. Drive fast. Very fast. Because I’ve got a shopping list ten miles long of the things you’re going to be doing to me.

... it’s you. You with that bloody obsession, that love of other that runs like a seam of gold through you. That life unlike any other. That wild, endless curiosity. Obsession. Even that maddening fucking code of honor. All of it. You, Benedict. You–

Rough love. Hard, edgy love. Love that made you bleed. Love hard to find, the kind of love you fought to keep.