Excerpt: Live Action Hero 1 Mission: Carnal

Live Action Hero 1- Mission: Carnal
Mary Winter
M/M Urban Fantasy
RELEASE DATE: February 29, 2008
Changeling Press
http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=816

BLURB:
Adrian turned his passion for action figures into a thriving comic shop, The Fantastic Five. After spending most of his life in the world of super heroes and aliens, he’s not surprised when the action figure he’s repairing comes to life. He’s more surprised by the instant attraction he feels to the man—and the fact that it’s mutual. These guys are supposed to be Real American heroes. But right now, Adrian wants him to be his hero.
Mack’s waited a long time for a reward. He’s come back wounded from a brutal mission, but the Toymaker upstairs promised him a new life and a new mission. When Adrian repairs his broken body, his gentle touch also repairs Mack’s broken heart. Now it’s Mack’s turn to repay Adrian, by teaching him about living your wildest fantasies and making your dreams come true.
EXCERPT:
Adrian blinked as the numbers on the spreadsheet blurred. Automatically, he reached for his tepid mug of coffee, wincing at its chill. He’d calculated the numbers backwards and forwards, not liking the decline they showed. Just past January first, he should have showed a boost in fourth quarter sales. After all, they had the holidays, then the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day to spend holiday money. Comics had been flying off the shelves. Several hot new releases had patrons queuing in line even before The Fantastic Five had opened.

Adrian shook his head. He rose to his feet, his gaze catching, as it often did, on the broken action figure sitting on the corner of his desk. The man sat there, his feet lost probably during some child’s “battle”. One hand had been almost torn from its wrist. Looking at it, he couldn’t tell, but Adrian knew if he picked up the figure, started to move the jointed limbs, he’d find the tear. He’d intended to start working on it tonight.

“Sorry, buddy,” he said, then smiled when he realized he spoke to a toy.

Adrian stood. He reached for his mug, not quite able to pull his attention from the figure. Adrian had found this toy in a box at a garage sale a few blocks over while out on his run. Although the figure had a production date in the mid-nineties, something about the toy had drawn Adrian. Normally, he wasn’t overly fond of the modern figures.

The plastic soldier sat there, stubble covering his cheeks and jaw. It gave him a surly look, as if he were a grizzled soldier who barked orders at his men all day. Short, dark brown hair was cut with military precision. His brows were dark slashes over his piercing blue eyes. Broad shoulders, perfectly muscled body, he looked like the real American hero his now long-gone packaging had declared him to be.

“As soon as I get through these numbers I’ll take care of you.” Adrian frowned at his nearly-empty mug. The clock on his computer told him it was after ten pm. Way too late to continue the caffeine drip he’d been on all day. If only he could pinpoint the source of the store’s drop in earnings. Then, he’d have some answers for his friends and partners.

Not that they needed them. Dean would be leaving for a windsurfing vacation tomorrow. Van and Hugh trusted him with the day-to-day operations of the store. Hugh worked on marketing and promotion. Van provided legal assistance and spent a lot of his time scouring for action figures to restore. The Field Medic operated as a subdivision of their store restoring vintage and modern action figures.

With a shake of his head, Adrian went to the kitchen. Moments later he returned with a cold bottle of water.

“Forget about the numbers,” a whisky-rough voice said in his mind.

Adrian stared at the figure. He’d been known to make jokes about what toys would say if they were real. But this was real enough as to be spooky. The voice sounded exactly like he guessed the toy would sound, a kind of Tommy Lee Jones commanding tone that always made Adrian’s cock stand at attention. He debated about answering, but decided what the hell, he was only talking to a toy. No one needed to know. “I’d like to,” he replied. “Then again, if you were real, there are a lot of things I’d like to do.”

Adrian allowed his mind to wander, imagining the figure as a real flesh and blood man. He figured he slipped deeper into a sex-deprived insanity with his musings, but it’d been ages since he’d been laid. Adrian knew he would drag his fingers through the man’s silken hair. The figure’s broad chest demanded an exploration with lips and fingers. Long, muscled legs and a tight ass. Just thinking about how he would look had Adrian’s cock hardening. He reached down and cupped his hand over it. His erection strained the denim.

“What do you want to do?” That gravelly voice filled his head again.

Adrian wanted to put those lips to better use. He shook his head. Damn it, he had numbers to go over and a plan to create. He didn’t have time for idle fantasies.

“Give me half an hour, all right?” Adrian arched an eyebrow at the mute figure.

“All right,” the voice barked back.

Adrian gulped half the water bottle down. Capping it, he turned away from the figure that had possessed so much of his thoughts. He should be focusing on his business. He must be losing it if he were having a fake conversation with a broken action figure. Rubbing his eyes, he vowed he’d get through these numbers come hell or high water. Or the distractions of a certain action figure sitting on the corner of his desk.

What he needed was to get laid. His dick swelled just thinking about a wet, willing mouth. The heavy length of a tongue stroking him, watching a man hollow his cheeks as he sucked hard. Adrian sighed. Yeah, that was exactly what he needed.

“Me, too, man,” the gravelly voice replied.

“Will you stop it?” Adrian asked. He snarled, realizing he’d copied the same column of figures three times. “Focus. You can do this.”

“I could do you.”

Adrian whirled in his desk chair. He was going fucking nuts! Some claimed masturbation caused dementia and blindness. Perhaps that was his fault. He’d hand-jobbed himself into a psych ward. He snorted, thinking his friends would laugh at that. They were always telling him to quit being so picky and just pick up a man. They teased him that he was like the profit and loss sheets he worked with.

Okay, that was it. One more pass through the numbers, and that was it. He had to get out of here.

He had to get laid.