Life Outside The Elysium Ch 19

This is another chapter in Part 2 of a series that began with Life in the Elysium, which you can find

here.

I strongly suggest you read the first series before starting this one. For those who just skip to the sex scenes, there will be no issue if you pick up here, but if you want to understand and enjoy the plot more fully, please take some time to read the series, as it will make more sense.

Be aware, this series includes a variety of adult situations, including male bisexuality, interracial sex, light incest, group sex and other taboo subjects that not everybody may be into. I do my best to accurately tag the story, so check those tags in advance to see what you can expect from each specific chapter. If anything in the tags bothers you, there's an entire site here filled with things you may prefer more. In any event, thanks for reading!

Author's Note

: We're almost there, folks! This is the penultimate chapter of Part 2 of the Elysium series. We wrap up a number of plot lines, start a few new ones, and one of the sex scenes I've been dreaming about writing for weeks now is finally on the page. I hope you all enjoyed the buildup.

One last chapter, hopefully out by the end of this week, and then we're taking a short vacation until we start Part 3 next month.

Thanks, as always, for sticking with the story. There are still plenty more adventures of Jack, Avery, Eva, the Sinclairs and the Elysium to come!

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Milton Schaefer couldn't sleep. The Gossiper, one of the country's premiere scandal sheets, came out at six on Friday mornings, with the website timed to go live at the same time the first copies would be hitting the racks in finer grocery stores across America. Some places would have to wait until Saturday for their copies, depending on when the local printers got them done and out to the wholesalers.

In Vegas, however, at six sharp you could walk down to your local Albertsons and pick up a copy, still warm from the presses.

Milton hated The Gossiper, hated everything it stood for. But it was one of the Weissman Media Group's top sellers, second only to the Las Vegas Tribune Review. As Milton was steadily climbing the ladder at WMG, he couldn't have very well turned down a promotion to Assistant Editor when it was offered, even if it was at The Gossiper and not at the Tribune Review.

Thankfully, his time in purgatory was ending. He knew the story that was breaking today was going to get him back to the Trib. It was almost a done deal.

When he'd approached the Editor-in-Chief at The Gossiper with the story about Miles Sinclair and Michael Romano, he'd been met with skepticism. That skepticism vanished instantly, replaced with wild enthusiasm, as soon as he brought the photographs from the Sinclair/Romano lover's tryst on Valentine's Day.

This story had to go all the way to the top, to Rita Weissman herself. She was the widow of the founder of WMG, Sheldon Weissman, who had been killed on New Year's Day at the Empire Luxe. There were some qualms amongst some of the editors about running an article like this, one that could be considered "outing" a gay couple who were not public, and the Editor-in-Chief had decided that this needed to be cleared by the boss herself.

Milton laughed as he remembered that meeting. It had lasted three minutes.

He had presented the photos and the story, while the Editor-in-Chief had laid out the staff concerns.

Rita Weissman had looked at the two of them. "Romano? And Sinclair?"

The Editor-in-Chief had nodded.

Rita had laughed. "Fuck 'em. Fuck 'em both. Run it."

That was the whole meeting.

Rita Weissman blamed both Vex Romano and Solomon Sinclair for the death of her husband. He was killed on Romano's property, where Romano was obligated to protect his guests. And it was Sinclair's sex palace that had drawn the ire of the Anti-Debauchery League, who, as far as Rita knew, was responsible for the shootings. She had no concept of the vast number of webs that had been spun, strands that connected each of the Big 5 casino owners to the events that occurred that night. Sheldon had, but Sheldon was dead, and what he knew went to the grave with him.

As far as Rita was concerned, anything that hurt the Sinclairs and the Romanos was fair game. Even a sordid sex hit piece that wouldn't have run ten years earlier. Even a piece that Sheldon Weissman, staunch ally of Vex Romano, would have killed in a heartbeat. Their alliance had gone to the grave with him, too.

Schaefer checked his watch. Five after six. The story was live. He pulled up The Gossiper's website on his tablet, and there was the story, in living color, splashed across the home page.

SECOND SINCLAIR SEX SHOCKER!

Just a few months after the SCANDALOUS story broke that the GEORGETOWN HERO, JACK FISHER was engaged in lewd sex with his own mother, Sinclair Group's own EMILY FISHER, there's a SECOND SALACIOUS SINCLAIR SEX STORY! The Gossiper has obtained exclusive photos of Solomon Sinclair's son MILES SINCLAIR kissing the heir to the Empire Luxe Holding throne, MICHAEL "JUNIOR" ROMANO, in a SECRET SEX SUITE in the STARLIGHT HOTEL! Their Valentine's Day tryst lasted more than eight hours, and Miles was spotted sporting Romano's... fluids... on his face as he left the building! TALK ABOUT A HAPPY ENDING! Somebody should have told Miles and Michael that Steak and Blowjob Day is March 14th!

Vex Romano is notorious for his conservative ways -- who knew his son was so KINKY? What will the happy couple do next? Where will they go? What will happen now that Vex knows about his son's boytoy? And will there be photos? Keep spreading The Gossipper and we'll keep digging these hot details for you, every week!

Schaefer frowned. It was an absurdly short piece, the editors choosing to let the photographs tell the story. He hadn't written the copy, and he wasn't sure if he'd been asked to that he would have been able to write it. There were far too many alliterative passages for his taste, and the overhyped capitals and constant exclamation points looked like something you'd see in a poorly written porn story on one of those jack-off websites. The photos saved the story, though, and the shot of Miles with Michael's jizz on his face would have earned him a World Press Photo Award if there was any justice in this world, Milton thought.

He chuckled to himself. This was going to go off like an atom bomb in the Vegas casino scene. It was definitely an embarrassment for Romano, although Sinclair probably would consider it just more good advertising for his sex den.

He dropped the tablet, visions of a promotion, a new office -- with a door! -- in the Trib's newsroom while Avery Locke seethed in frustration, danced through his head. Before too long, exhaustion overtook him, and Milton fell asleep.

* * *

Lionel stared up at the ceiling in his bedroom. It was just before six in the morning, and he was due upstairs for a shift in the Penthouse security station at eight. He'd worked a double yesterday, filling in for Diego who was back in DC with Jack and Avery. Fortunately, Gabby had stayed behind, helping to clean up the mess from the AAFI Awards ceremony and liaising with the local police and the Secret Service while Lionel handled the FBI like he usually did.

He could hear her snoring next to him, her arm wrapped around his midsection. Underneath her arm was another one, more slender, slightly darker, and attached to Sunny Jeong.

This had been the strangest week of his life. It had started when Sunny barged in last Sunday, dropping the news that Geno Volkov was dead. A few drinks later, he, Sunny and Gabby were in the midst of a heated ménage à trois that had lasted all night.

Gabby and Sunny had hit it off, and the three of them had spent every free minute during the next week together in bed. Sunny had spent each night with them, leaving in the morning for work. The sex had been terrific, reminding him of the heady days of their past relationship.

Gabby was behind him, but Sunny was snuggled in facing him. He could see the curve of her petite shoulder in the dimness of the early morning. Thank God his bed was big enough for the three of them. It was actually quite cozy, once he got used to it.

Was he getting used to it? Was this something that could become a long-term thing? Lionel had spent most of his life trying to avoid attachments, not wanting to put a family in harm's way thanks to his day job as a Bureau spy catcher. His month-long relationship with Sunny, which he admitted was nothing more than a torrent of sex and booze, had lasted just as long as the Sinclair/Ashbrook investigation had lasted. He broke it off when he knew he'd be moving on and so would Sunny. It had ended amicably, but Sunny had been a pistol when they were together. She didn't seem to have changed much. He appreciated that about her, and he knew Gabby did, too.

Maybe this could be a long-term thing.

Lionel stroked an arm and was rewarded with a contented sigh from Sunny, who burrowed in a little tighter against him. Between the feeling of Gabby's breasts on his back, and little Sunny snuggling into him, he felt his cock start to harden.

The morning was always his favorite time for love making. "Always nice to start the day off right," he'd tell Gabby, after she'd dropped to her knees to give him a wakeup blowjob in the shower. Or in the kitchen as he made breakfast. Or to wake him up before his shift. At least, that's what happened when she was here. They didn't get a ton of time together, especially when she was undercover with Diego or in DC.

Having her here, now, was a blessing. Having Sunny back, too? His cup runneth over.

Sunny was apparently more awake than he gave her credit for, because he felt her small hand wrap around his thickening cock, and she began to tug it gently. He looked down at her, and her eyelids flitted open, she yawned, still stroking him, and then smiled.

"Good morning, Mr. Jefferson," Sunny purred. She slid up his body and kissed him lightly.

"Good morning, Ms. Jeong," he whispered back to her.

"That's Supervisory Special Agent Jeong to you, civilian," Sunny said, a half-grin on her face. Not waiting for his response, she slid down his side, disappearing under the covers, and soon Lionel felt a warm, wet feeling engulf his cock. He wasn't fully erect, so Sunny could actually get her mouth completely around him.

"Mmmm, it's too early," Gabby murmured, moving her arm up Lionel's chest until she was stroking his face with her hand. She scooted in closer to him, her breasts pushing into his back, her long black hair billowing out behind her. She, too, opened her eyes and looked at him. "Never too early for some sausage, though," she said.

Lionel felt her hand move down towards his crotch, where it ran smack into the back of Sunny's head.

"Early bird gets the worm, Gabby," Sunny said, her voice muffled by the covers.

"There's enough worm for the both of you," Lionel retorted, throwing back the covers. Sunny appeared, her mouth around Lionel's girthy black cock, the rest of her naked. None of them had clothes on, it being way too hot for three people in one bed to bother with pajamas.

Gabby pouted a little, but decided she'd help Sunny pleasure their man, and leaned in to kiss him deeply, while Sunny worked his cock. Lionel rolled onto his back, and wrapped his left arm around Gabby, pulling her close, feeling her tits on his chest, while his right slid down to cup the back of Sunny's head as she did her best to work as much of his fat cock into her mouth as she could get. She still couldn't fit the whole thing in, now that he was fully erect, so her blowjobs were more like handjobs with a lot of tongue.

Still good, though, he thought.

Gabby stroked his nipples, tweaking each of them, while they kissed, and Sunny kept up a steady motion on his cock.

Lionel didn't want the morning to end.

So, of course, that's when his phone rang.

He saw that it was just after six and realized that the three of them had been playing together for less than twenty minutes. He saw Miles Sinclair's face and name on the screen, and he knew he had to take the call.

There was only one reason Miles would be calling him at six in the morning on a Friday.

"Jefferson," Lionel said into the phone, answering it.

"It's happened. Front page of The Gossiper. They caught us on Valentine's Day. I need your help. I'm kind of freaking out here," Miles said tightly into the phone. Lionel sat up immediately, and Sunny and Gabby both rolled off the bed, standing up. They could tell, just by the way his body tensed up, that something was wrong. And both being cops, or ex-cops in Gabby's case, they immediately started getting dressed without having to be told a thing.

"Copy. Remember what we talked about and what we planned," Lionel told him. "Get your go bag, meet me in the garage in ten minutes. Call Michael and get him ready to go. Understand?"

"Yes, got it. Go bag and garage. See you in ten," Miles said.

"Miles?"

"Yes, Lionel?"

"It's going to be fine. Okay? Everything is going to be fine," Lionel said. He could hear the terror in Miles' voice, and he knew instinctively that part of his job was going to be keeping Miles calm until they could execute the plan the two of them had drawn up a month ago, after the near miss outing at the motel in Naked City.

If

it had been a near miss, Lionel thought to himself. Somebody had hung Miles and Mikey out to dry. He wanted to know who, but that was secondary to getting them both to safety.

"Ten minutes, downstairs. See you then," Miles said, and hung up.

"What's going on?" Gabby asked him. "Is everything okay?"

"No, everything is not okay," Lionel said, hopping out of bed, and pulling a pair of pants and a white shirt out of his closet. "The Gossiper just outed Miles Sinclair and his boyfriend."

"Why does that matter? Who gives a shit who Miles is dating?" Sunny asked, clipping her badge and her sidearm to her pants, and slipping on her jacket.

"He's dating Mikey Romano, Vex Romano's son."

"Oh shit," Sunny said, her face clouding over. "He's a dead man."

"That's what we've got to prevent," Lionel said.

Gabby tossed Lionel his keys as she threw on a track suit and clipped her own sidearm, in a concealed carry holster, inside her pants.

"You want to tag along, Sunny? We could probably use another gun," Gabby said to her.

"Fuck it, I've got some time to kill before the day begins," she replied. She crossed the room quickly, gave Gabby a kiss on the lips, then turned and gave one to Lionel, and the three of them half sprinted out of their room, to the elevator, to meet Miles in the basement.

* * *

Michael Romano was a late riser. He had checked his phone last night, saw his first meeting wasn't until eleven on Friday, and decided to sleep in. That was probably why he missed The Gossiper dropping at six. Then again, The Gossiper was the kind of reading material you'd likely find in his sister's room, not his.

In that groggy state of non-sleep that one finds oneself in abed on a day when one can sleep in, it wasn't surprising that the first half dozen text messages and phone calls his phone registered went unnoticed.

It wasn't much past six when he rose to go to the bathroom. He grabbed his phone, and that's when he realized it had been ringing off the hook. He glanced at all the missed calls, stretched, and padded into the bathroom, bemused at how many people could be trying to reach him this early on a Friday.

He sat on the toilet, unlocked his phone and started reading. The first message was from his sister Eva, with a link to The Gossiper article. He didn't click on it -- didn't feel like reading more of Eva's gossip dishing this early.

The first text message he received was from one of the supermodels he had been on-again/off-again dating as a cover.

"Why didn't you tell me you swung both ways? We could have had some real fun in Rome!"

Mikey shook his head, no idea what she was talking about. There were two or three similar messages from women he'd been seen with, trying to throw his father off the scent of his relationship with Miles Sinclair.

The next message he saw was from Miles himself. This got Mikey's attention. They never texted between their actual phones. Miles insisted on burners. This message wasn't in their code, either -- it was in the clear and the tone was unmistakable. But it did end with one of their codewords, the one he thought he'd never actually see.

"Be downstairs at 6:30, bring all the cash you have and your passport. Do not respond to this message and delete it immediately. Tora Tora Tora!"

'Tora Tora Tora' was the code phrase they'd devised to send to each other if they were ever outed as a couple. It was never used in jest, and the sight of it on his phone in a message from Miles sent conflicting emotions through him.

His phone said it was twenty past six, so he had ten minutes to get downstairs. He jumped up, ran to his closet and began to throw clothes and toiletries into a bag. He put on a polo and jeans, stepped into his shoes, and then went to the safe in his office, which was a converted bedroom off his main apartment here in the Empire Luxe.

He tapped in the code and wrenched the safe open. He had a few stacks of cash, a coin book filled with gold coins, and his passport, all of which he scooped up and stuffed into his pants.

His phone started ringing again.

It was his father.

The sight of his father's smiling face on his phone was what shook Mikey. Part of him had felt relieved that the world finally knew about him and Miles. He was tired of skulking about. But part of him, a part he tried to suppress and laughed off with false bravado, was scared. This was one of his worst nightmares from his teenage years come true -- the wrath he expected from his father when his parents finally learned the truth about their son's sexuality. As he aged, the fear had lessened somewhat, but it was never fully gone.

For almost any other family in America, this would not have been a big deal -- almost everyone had moved beyond the puritanism of just a few decades before, and a person's sexuality was not even a topic of conversation most of the time. It was simply a thing. But the Romanos were not any other American family, and he knew his father did not approve and would not approve of what he did in private with the man he loved.

His best course of action was to follow Miles' plan, the one he'd put together when they'd started seeing each other again.

He ignored the call, not denying it so that it would keep ringing before heading to voicemail, grabbed his carryon stuffed with underwear and some clothes, and flew out the door. He took the stairs, as he knew security would be all over the lobby of his floor, and he knew security worked for his father.

He sped down the steps until he got a few floors down, then reentered the hotel proper from the stairwell. He rushed to the elevator lobby on that floor, mashed the down button and hopped in the first elevator that arrived. It was empty, thankfully.

Security in the main part of the hotel was slower than the family protective unit upstairs, who were already pounding on his door, trying to fetch him and bring him to his father. By the time they stopped knocking, unlocked the door and entered to find his apartments empty, Mikey was out front. In a flash he climbed into a black Sinclair Group Escalade, stuffed with people.

Miles was in the back, a smaller Asian woman he didn't know was behind them, and the front two seats were taken up by Gabby and Lionel, Gabby driving. He knew those two were part of Miles' protective team. The car sped off, pulling through the breezeway and making a quick left out onto Las Vegas Boulevard, running a red light safely, thanks to the sparse morning traffic. The SUV barreled at breakneck speed towards Harry Reid Airport.