About Braided: A Velvet Glove Novel
by Sean Michael
220 pages/71000 words
ISBN: 978-1-60370-023-8, 1-60370-023-7
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc
Twins Peter and Paul run the body modification store at the Velvet Glove. They specialize in tattoos and piercing, using their own bodies as experimental canvases. These two have a special relationship, one as volatile as it is loving, as most of the members of the Glove are well aware.
Along comes Bowie, master masseur and strong, steady top. Attracted to the twins, he gets involved with the volatile couple. Can he bring balance and happiness to their relationship? Can all three of them find a way to make their lives work together and for the better? Find out in this passionate addition to the Velvet Glove stories.
Review
Mychael Black, author of Fool's Gold, from Galleons & Gangplanks, writes: Peter and Paul are two very unique brothers (twins, actually). Body mods, love, and constant arguing -- that's their way of life. Then along comes Bowie, the new masseur at Velvet Glove. The twins instantly catch his attention, and he theirs.
From helping Peter learn to get past his stutter, to dealing with Paul whose desire to submit clashes with his obstinance -- Bowie has his hands full.
Peter and Paul are definitely my favorite brothers/twins of Sean Michael's. I have a photographic mind, so everything is in picture form when I read. The brothers are gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful. Their bodies, their love, their individual characteristics (even the not-so-good ones) -- everything about them.
The sex, whether it's between the brothers themselves, or all three of them, is hot as hell. (I especially have a weakness for Paul getting spanked. Dear GOD...)
Braided is definitely a wonderful - -and utterly HOT -- addition to Sean Michael's Velvet Glove series!
Sample
Prologue
Peter was going to scream if Paul didn't stop singing that stupid song.
He loved his twin, he did, but he hated when Paul got a song stuck in his head and started singing.
Hated it.
"Paul..."
Paul looked over -- eyes hidden behind contacts that looked like flames to match the red and orange hair. "What?"
"S...stop it?"
"Stop what?"
"Singing."
"Singing what?"
Peter glared. "You kn...n...now what you were s...s...singing!"
"I wasn't singing. I was drawing." Paul stuck his tongue out. Oh... the little bastard had taken Peter’s new tongue-rod, the glow-in-the-dark one.
"You w...w...w...weren't supposed to take that, Paul! It w...was for one of T...t...tap's new boys, special o...ordered!"
"Take what? You can't take a song, Peter."
Oh. Oh! Peter was going to kill him.
Dead.
Peter rumbled and stood, slapping his hand down. "You are s...s...such a little prick!"
Paul stood up, stretching to lean over him. "Little, asshole?"
He puffed up, stepped closer. "N...n...no, you're a b...b...big, fat, asshole!"
There was a gentle knock on the door. "I hate to interrupt..."
Peter turned, looking over at the stocky redhead standing at the door. "Oh, n...n...no problem. We can f...f...fight anytime."
Paul pinched his ass, made him squeak.
The man chuckled. "Yes, you seem quite practiced at it. I'm looking for the massage rooms. Hercules said I couldn't miss them, but I have to admit, I've managed it."
"You're real close. They're two doors back, down that little hallway." Paul offered a grin and a handshake, reaching around him. "Are you new?"
Paul's hand was taken, then his own hand was swallowed up in a big, beefy one, given a firm, but gentle shake. "I am. Bowie. I'm going to be in charge of Massage."
"Hi. I'm P...p...p...p...p..." Fuck.
Paul piped up. "He's Peter. I'm Paul. Welcome!"
There was another deep chuckle. "Hello, Peter. Hello, Paul. So you two run body mods?"
They nodded.
"Peter's the piercer." Paul grinned. "And I ink."
"Nice to meet you. I guess we'll be neighbors."
"Yep. Just remember that we only sometimes mean the things we scream at each other." Paul was such an ass.
"I m...m...mean it." He stuck his tongue out at Paul, chuckling as Paul leaned in and kissed it.
"Mmm." Bowie made a soft, almost humming purr. "Well as long as you don't disturb my clients with the screaming, we'll get along just fine."
"Hercules soundproofed the massage rooms." Paul's flame eyes were steady on him, making him a little hot. "So we don't anymore."
"Good, good." Bowie's eyes flicked from him to Paul and back again, watching them. "Well, if the tension ever gets too high -- there's nothing like a nice massage to loosen things up again. And you know where to find me."
"And if you ever want to decorate, we're always here, experimenting..." Paul winked over, pointing to him. His skin was all dyed a pale purple, hair silver and braided with little bells.
Bowie chuckled again, the sound low and rich, quiet. "I can see that. Tell me, does that color go all over?"
Paul nodded, hands sliding around his waist and cupping his cock. "I shaved him and dyed him myself." Peter felt his cheeks heat, but he leaned back into Paul and nodded.
There was that humming purr again, Bowie's eyes intent on them, dark and hot. "I bet that was a sight to see."
Paul nuzzled his cheek, hands holding him close, and he could feel Paul's cock rubbing against his ass. The air in the room seemed heavy, hot. Interesting.
"He was beautiful. His cock is pierced and we put a purple barbell in, a pretty metal band around his balls after they were clean."
"What about you," Bowie asked softly, almost breathlessly. "Are you shaved all over and what color is your skin?"
"Right now, Peter shaved all but a little triangle and died it to match my hair." Paul rubbed against him, making him hot. "I've got the prettiest tattoos, too. Fish and flowers and birds." Not to mention two little jeweled rings between balls and ass.
"You would look lovely bound together against a cream background. Naked and wanting, but not able to touch each other."
"Not be able to touch?" Paul's voice was low, husky, hands unfastening his pants. "Why wouldn't we be able to touch?"
"P...p...paul..." He stretched into the touches, eyes closing.
"There's many ways to achieve that," murmured Bowie, voice husky. The sounds of the door closing, of the bolt sliding home, were loud. "You wouldn't be able to touch because you'd be tied, cuffed, frozen how I pose you."
"Oh..." Paul was vibrating behind him, hand exposing his cock and stroking it. "You're good with ropes? Good enough to handle two?"
"Good enough to handle you two."