Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 3

his lover.
    That's when he felt the first lyrics of the song fill his mind. There was moisture on his face, but he put it down to the shower. At last his world was filled with song once more.
    He felt cleansed and renewed and alive. Alive in a way he'd never felt before. He pulled free of Will and dropped to all fours overcome by the emotion and the music filling his head. Will spun around and dropped behind him, wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. Sinn twisted around and hugged Will. And he was certain he'd never let him go. For he knew as certain as he'd ever known anything in his life that Will Keyser, the boy grown into a man, had claimed him heart and soul.
    CHAPTER 11
    Will threw on a pair of black running pants and slipped up to his loft on the top floor of the once-abandoned manufacturing building. The top floor had also been renovated. He was starving and he knew when Sinn finally woke up he'd be starving as well. Another skill that Will had perfected was cooking.
    After the extended shower, and toweling each other dry, Will had coaxed Sinn onto the king-sized bed and given him a massage with the special lotion he had spoken of. And then they had curled up together among the black satin sheets, both men falling into an exhausted sleep.
    It had been an amazing night and when Will woke up after such a deep sleep, he'd thought he'd find the whole night had just been a dream. But he was delighted to find Sinn's warmth still nestled against him, tangled in black satin. His wavy blond hair was spread across the pillow, highlighted like spun gold silk upon satin. Will studied Sinn's features in repose. The lines softened by sleep, he seemed much the same as the sexy would-be rocker who had left Reverie behind all those years ago.
    His hand hovered just above the pale brow, Will's attraction to the man once more eagerly arising. But Will had to wonder, would a refreshing sleep and the span of a new day change everything once again? Would the afterglow have faded and Sinn once more assume the mantle of a jaded rocker set on using others and abusing himself, hiding the passions that lie beneath the surface?
    Last night he'd been laid bare and Will knew that the infatuation he'd experienced as a boy for a wild young man going by the name of David Garner, had exploded into the fiery passion, and devoted love, for a jaded rocker with the persona of Sinn Midnite.
    Will put together something relatively light to eat. Croissants, homemade blackberry jam, whipped butter, fresh-squeezed orange juice, and an assortment of fruits. He also prepared fresh coffee and poured that into a carafe, and pulled down two ceramic coffee mugs. He could do something more substantial later. If Sinn stayed around and didn't just opt out. There was still that very real possibility. Will put everything on a tray, set the tray into the dumb waiter he'd had installed and lowered it to the playroom level.
    He had cleaned up the playroom earlier, had cleaned and folded Sinn's clothes. When he entered the bedroom from the playroom, carrying the tray, he noticed Sinn was sitting cross-legged upon the bed, still bare. Notebook papers were strewn across the bed and he was frantically writing. Will set the tray on the drafting table, poured coffee into each of the mugs, then walked across the room and held out a mug to Sinn.
    Sinn glanced up. He grinned and then accepted the coffee. "Great. I'm starved, but I need caffeine more. I can't believe this. I've pushed so hard, for so long and finally the words are there. I thought they were gone forever."
    Will settled carefully onto the edge of the bed. He took a sip of his coffee, watched Sinn as he scribbled some more.
    "A new song?" Will asked.
    "Damn," Sinn said as he scratched out a line. "Not right. It can be better. I wish I had my guitar."
    "I have a folk guitar in the closet."
    Sinn's head shot up. "You do? Do you play?"
    Will shrugged. "I toy around with it some. Not a lot."
    "Yeah, that would help. I compose better when I can play around with the strings. It helps to center me. Not that there's been a lot of that in recent years. Everything I've written has seemed like garbage. But this, not this."
    Will got up and walked to the closet. He hadn't had the guitar out in a while. When he'd gone down to Spain on assignment, one of the men he'd interviewed, and then dated, had given it to him as a gift before he left. He'd shown him a few things on it, but it really wasn't Will's thing. He