• Louise Collins

Bye Baby

The release date for Bye Baby approaches, which is also my birthday. Don't quite know how to feel about turning 30 but at least I've got Donnie and Elliot to celebrate with me. <3






Here's a excerpt below:


Elliot got closer, straddled Donnie, then lowered himself down into his lap. Donnie blinked in surprise. They were close together, and just as the idea of headbutting Elliot started to take form in Donnie’s flagging mind, Elliot held the blade to his throat.


“Not gonna happen.”


Elliot clutched at the back of Donnie’s neck with his other hand, then slid his fingers up into his matted hair. Somehow it was more embarrassing feeling someone’s fingers snag on the knots than looking at the mess in the mirror.


“The grunge look still in?”


“Go to hell.”


“You’ll meet me there too.”


Donnie noticed how clear Elliot’s skin looked, how clean he smelled, how bright his eyes shone, how full his lips were. The same way he catalogued Elliot, Elliot seemed to catalogue him.

“Long greasy hair, tatty old beard, dirty face, dozy-assed gaze. What the hell happened?”

Donnie exhaled sharply from his nose instead of answering.


“This ‘Donnie King’ is a has-been. Pathetic.”


The knife still threatened Donnie’s jugular, but Elliot’s other hand held his face. Donnie could smell him—vanilla with a sprinkle of something spicy.


He looked back, and the cold inevitability and self-hatred came screeching to a halt.


“But the other one’s in there somewhere, isn’t he…”


Elliot moved his thumb against the uneven hair on Donnie’s jaw, then stopped and looked deep into Donnie’s eyes. The intense look Elliot gave him made him shiver.


“Do you know what else I heard about Donnie King?”


Donnie licked his lips, tasting blood. “What?”


“He fucks like a wild thing.”


A thrill shot through Donnie at the words. He used to—he used to be just as ruthless and thorough at fucking, but the last time he tried, he’d got worn-out and given up eating ass. His lover was both unsatisfied and offended.


“Where did you hear that?” Donnie asked.


The way Elliot looked into his eyes and the weight of him on his lap were doing odd things to Donnie. His thighs were hot from where they touched the back of Elliot’s. His nostrils pulsed with Elliot’s scent, and his fast-darkening eyes were too good to look away from. Something stirred in Donnie, uncurling him from his tight ball of self-loathing.

He didn’t know what the hell was happening, what was going on in Elliot’s head. All he could do was wait to see what Elliot was going to do with him.

Donnie was at his mercy—at the bright-eyed twenty-three-year-old’s mercy.


He’d fallen through yet another trapdoor.


Elliot leaned in slowly, gaze attached to Donnie’s mouth, and brought their lips together. His were soft, and plump, and so hot they burned.


A sound of surprise left Donnie.

Donnie didn’t kiss back, but his lips parted slightly of their own accord. Elliot’s kiss was gentle, his hold on the Donnie’s face even softer, and it drove him fucking crazy. Somehow soft and gentle, it made his heart go into overdrive, and his pulse frantically beat against the blade at his neck.


Being at Elliot’s mercy and being kissed gently was both a turn-on and a massive humiliation. Forced into a kiss, aroused by it, it was a complete indignity, but he didn’t hiss for Elliot to stop.


Donnie could feel the nicks, the sharp blade catching the skin, but he couldn’t slow his heart down and didn’t avoid the lips on his.

Elliot slipped his tongue past Donnie’s sore lip into the warmth of his mouth. Wet, and smooth, and eager. The pendulum swung away from humiliation into arousal. Donnie’s cock pressed painfully against his zipper. Everything felt too tight, too hard, and mortifyingly, too wet.


Donnie brushed his tongue against Elliot’s, loving the feel of it. The taste of Elliot danced on his taste buds, despite the blood, despite the whiskey, Elliot tasted sweeter than any mouth Donnie had tasted before, and a forgotten longing filled him.


He wanted to own that mouth.


Donnie struggled against the restraints, wanting to touch, wanting to hold, and he knew the knife had cut him deeper when warmth flowed down his neck. Donnie dove his tongue inside Elliot’s mouth like he needed the wetness and the heat. He sucked on Elliot’s tongue, and he went all shaky on Donnie’s lap, groaning into his mouth.


He didn’t do gentle kisses, or soft touches, or let himself be led. He kissed and sucked and licked, and the other guy was supposed to get embarrassed over how much they wanted him. They surrendered, and Donnie did what he pleased until he was satisfied. That was the old Donnie’s way.


He needed to establish order and kiss Elliot into submission. Donnie would be damned if he died while being teased with sweet kisses.


“Fuck,” Elliot breathed, leaning back. “You may look a mess, but boy can you kiss a guy breathless.”


He got up from Donnie’s lap and took a step back. He dropped the knife, fondling his lips. Donnie could see they had blood on them—his blood—and his cock jolted in his pants.


“What now?”


“I leave.”


“And me?”


Elliot rolled his eyes, smiling. He sauntered forward, then pressed a hand to Donnie’s groin. He rubbed Donnie’s cock until he grunted, then backed off.


“I leave you alive.”


“You know I’ll come after you,” Donnie said, breathing heavily from his nose. “When I catch you, I will kill you.”


“You’ll never catch me, baby.”


Donnie frowned. “What did you call me?”


Elliot’s grin climbed higher, his eyes sparkled, and then he winked. “Baby.”


“I dare you to say that again,” Donnie growled.


“Bye, baby.”


Elliot turned around, picked up the blue backpack, then left through the front door, leaving it open, exposing a tied-up Donnie to the corridor.


“Don’t fucking call me baby!”



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