This isn't much, but I've had a fever most of the morning, waiting for the medication for my sinus/ear infection to take effect *sigh* Gotta say that the cough syrup is good ;)
Last part HERE
The security guard posted at the door was still there. The man looked bored. Sam couldn’t blame him, it was late. Still, Sam felt as if something was off.
“Has my patient had any visitors?” he asked, hand on the door.
“No, Dr. Wexford. It’s been quiet. Who is the man? I mean, are you expecting trouble?”
Sam gave a sigh. “I hope not. Just keep an eye out.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sam pushed open the door and walked in. All seemed quiet, just as the guard said. Too quiet. He slowly approached Blake’s bedside. He smelt nothing, heard nothing, but there was a tingle in the air. That elder vampire had been here since he last left Blake. Not good.
Reaching out, he touched Blake’s forehead. “What does he want from you? Why were you looking for me?”
Blake’s eyes snapped open causing Sam to gasp.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Round Robin VI
My turn! Check out the last part HERE.
The blood went down like water and Sam could feel it spreading out through his long-dead veins and arteries. It brought strength and courage along with it, just like it always had.
Sam drained the bag and deposited it at the very bottom of one of the hospital’s waste receptacles, making sure there was plenty of other garbage on top. He washed up, taking care to scrub well, and ran his hands through his hair. His shaking had stopped and a mellow calmness stole over him.
Now, he could deal.
Back out in the hallway, he scanned the immediate area and didn’t see anything out of place. He had no idea where the nurse would have taken Ken, so Sam began systematically searching the empty patient rooms before heading back to the busy emergency room.
The last private room on the left was not empty. Ken still lay on the gurney and the young nurse hovered over him, glancing worriedly at the monitor that she’d hooked Ken up to. When Sam entered the room, she looked over.
“Dr. Wexford,” she said, doubt in her voice. “I’m not really understanding what I’m seeing here.”
Sam knew without a doubt what the nurse was seeing, but he knew she wouldn’t understand it. Mortals could never understand it. “It’s all right, Cecilia,” he said gently. “Why don’t you let me take it from here and you can go on back to work. If I need you, I’ll call.”
She seemed at once glad to return to work and unsure about leaving Ken. “All right. Let me know what I can do.” Cecilia turned on her heel and left the dim room, only giving a short glance back over her shoulder.
Sam carefully closed the door and bent over the man in the bed. “Kenny,” he whispered, resting a hand on Ken’s forehead and brushing hair out of his eyes. “Kenny, wake up and listen to me. I need to talk to you.”
For a long moment there wasn’t a sound. Ken didn’t stir and Sam had to place a hand on his chest to even ensure he was breathing. Panic rose in Sam’s throat and he was about to pry open one of Ken’s eyelids to check his pupils when Ken’s eyes flew open of their own accord.
“Want,” Ken growled, his voice deep and low and not at all like normal. “Give. Gimme. Want.” He reached up for Sam and seized the lapels of Sam’s white coat.
Sam found himself dragged nearly all the way onto the small gurney by strength he didn’t know Ken possessed, and then Sam was being kissed and licked and nipped until his own head was reeling.
He was also getting turned on, because this was Ken and Sam always wanted Ken, but somewhere in the back of Sam’s mind, he had a feeling that this was all being planned out for him. It was too perfect, they were too isolated and alone and it was way too quiet.
And Sam knew something - or someone - was keeping him from Blake.
He pushed Ken back down to the bed and managed to slide off. “I’m sorry,” he said to Ken, feeling true regret. “I promise I’ll be back to take care of you. I promise.” The guilt over the fact that it was probably too late to take care of Ken raised its niggling head, but Sam ignored it and backed toward the door anyway. “I’m sorry, Kenny.”
Sam opened the door and moved as quickly as he dared toward Blake’s room.
To be continued...
The blood went down like water and Sam could feel it spreading out through his long-dead veins and arteries. It brought strength and courage along with it, just like it always had.
Sam drained the bag and deposited it at the very bottom of one of the hospital’s waste receptacles, making sure there was plenty of other garbage on top. He washed up, taking care to scrub well, and ran his hands through his hair. His shaking had stopped and a mellow calmness stole over him.
Now, he could deal.
Back out in the hallway, he scanned the immediate area and didn’t see anything out of place. He had no idea where the nurse would have taken Ken, so Sam began systematically searching the empty patient rooms before heading back to the busy emergency room.
The last private room on the left was not empty. Ken still lay on the gurney and the young nurse hovered over him, glancing worriedly at the monitor that she’d hooked Ken up to. When Sam entered the room, she looked over.
“Dr. Wexford,” she said, doubt in her voice. “I’m not really understanding what I’m seeing here.”
Sam knew without a doubt what the nurse was seeing, but he knew she wouldn’t understand it. Mortals could never understand it. “It’s all right, Cecilia,” he said gently. “Why don’t you let me take it from here and you can go on back to work. If I need you, I’ll call.”
She seemed at once glad to return to work and unsure about leaving Ken. “All right. Let me know what I can do.” Cecilia turned on her heel and left the dim room, only giving a short glance back over her shoulder.
Sam carefully closed the door and bent over the man in the bed. “Kenny,” he whispered, resting a hand on Ken’s forehead and brushing hair out of his eyes. “Kenny, wake up and listen to me. I need to talk to you.”
For a long moment there wasn’t a sound. Ken didn’t stir and Sam had to place a hand on his chest to even ensure he was breathing. Panic rose in Sam’s throat and he was about to pry open one of Ken’s eyelids to check his pupils when Ken’s eyes flew open of their own accord.
“Want,” Ken growled, his voice deep and low and not at all like normal. “Give. Gimme. Want.” He reached up for Sam and seized the lapels of Sam’s white coat.
Sam found himself dragged nearly all the way onto the small gurney by strength he didn’t know Ken possessed, and then Sam was being kissed and licked and nipped until his own head was reeling.
He was also getting turned on, because this was Ken and Sam always wanted Ken, but somewhere in the back of Sam’s mind, he had a feeling that this was all being planned out for him. It was too perfect, they were too isolated and alone and it was way too quiet.
And Sam knew something - or someone - was keeping him from Blake.
He pushed Ken back down to the bed and managed to slide off. “I’m sorry,” he said to Ken, feeling true regret. “I promise I’ll be back to take care of you. I promise.” The guilt over the fact that it was probably too late to take care of Ken raised its niggling head, but Sam ignored it and backed toward the door anyway. “I’m sorry, Kenny.”
Sam opened the door and moved as quickly as he dared toward Blake’s room.
To be continued...
Friday, March 28, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Working Man series by J.M. Snyder
For a little break from the round robin, I'd like to tell you about my monthly e-book series, Working Man, published by Aspen Mountain Press.One short story is released every month, and they're stand-alone stories about gay men who find love and lust in the workplace. The stories range from sweet flirting to hot sex, and can be read in any order. There will be a total of 16 stories in the series when all is said and done.
The following seven titles are currently available:
- Opening Day at the County Fair ~ Jesse's dreading the annual county fair, until he sees a new face among the regular vendors. Davis is a contractor's son, and he's interested in learning more about Jesse. If they can just ditch Jesse's little sister, they might get to know each other a little better.
- Summer Kisses and Ice Cream Dreams ~ Sean works at an ice cream shoppe on the boardwalk. When he meets Andrew, it's love at first sight, but he doesn't dare make a move, not with Andrew's girlfriend right there. So why does she give Sean Andrew's number?
- Easily Addicted ~ Trevor runs into a sexy co-worker named Zack while taking a much needed smoke break. Then Zack invites Trevor to his office after hours and the sparks fly when they get a moment alone.
- Makin' Copies ~ Johnson thought photocopying his butt at the office Christmas party would be a cheap laugh. Trouble is, he forgot to take the copies off the copier, and they wind up on his boss's desk Monday morning.
- Pleasure Cruise ~ Andy agrees to take a cruise with his college buddies, but when they can't score with the ladies, they make sure he doesn't score with the hot waiter Carlos, either. But Carlos gives Andy a second chance.
- On the Job ~ Cable technician Charles doesn't do new installs, but an irate customer demands service now. When Charles meets the sexy Billy Jackson, he's more than happy to hook the guy up.
- Car Trouble ~ Terrence takes his Mercedes to a local auto shop recommended by his secretary. What begins as a bad day improves when he meets the mechanic, and soon it's not just his car being serviced.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Round Robin V
It's my turn to play today! Following up on the last part.
*
With a burst of speed, Sam caught Ken before he hit the floor. Lifting Ken into his arms as easily as he would a child, Sam placed him on a spare gurney. Just as quickly, he ran into the main hall, barking out an order at a passing nurse to go check on Ken. As much as he liked Ken and didn't want anything to happen to him, Sam had to get to Blake.
A hundred images of what he might find in Blake's room flashed before Sam's eyes as he sped down the corridor. However, he found only Blake, unconscious and alive, the machines attached to him still beeping and whirring normally.
There was no sign of the elder vampire, although Sam could feel the vestiges of his great power shimmering in the air. Although the vampire was ancient, he had the face of an angel -- a beautiful young man of no more than 20 years. It was the best disguise a vampire could hope for, and Sam knew he had to be extremely careful not to fall under the elder's sway.
Blake's eyes flickered, and he moaned softly. All thoughts of the ancient one fled Sam's mind as he leaned over his former lover's bed. With another moan, Blake was out again. Sam tenderly brushed Blake's hair back over his forehead and was suddenly blinking back tears.
He hadn't realized just how much he missed him.
It was dangerous, all this damn emotion. He had to get out and get his head together. Without giving a reason, Sam ordered security to guard Blake's room. He ignored the whispers and pointed looks from the nurses' station and hurried to the fourth floor. He really needed to check on Ken, but there was something he had to do first.
Eddie Howell looked up from his Sports Illustrated and nodded to Sam. "What's up, doc?" Eddie laughed at his own joke, which he did a lot. "Need some blood?" He smiled, and the overhead lights reflected off his balding head.
Did he ever. "Yeah, we're running out of O-neg downstairs." Sam smiled and waved a hand. "No, no, don't get up. I need a break from the ER anyway."
"I tell ya, you're the most helpful doc I've ever met at this hospital." Eddie picked up a donut and offered the box to Sam. "Need a sugar boost?"
Pushing the door to the blood bank open, Sam shook his head. "No thanks, I'm watching what I eat."
Inside the cool interior of the refrigerated room, Sam took a deep, unnecessary breath. His senses tingled in the presence of so much blood when he was so hungry, and he quickly went towards the back corner, opening a glass case and taking out a bag of A-pos. His very favorite. His fangs extended, piercing the thick plastic.
As the sweet, sweet nourishment coursed down his throat, Sam closed his eyes. He was going to enjoy this moment. Then he'd deal with whatever else waited for him in the ER.
To be continued...
*
With a burst of speed, Sam caught Ken before he hit the floor. Lifting Ken into his arms as easily as he would a child, Sam placed him on a spare gurney. Just as quickly, he ran into the main hall, barking out an order at a passing nurse to go check on Ken. As much as he liked Ken and didn't want anything to happen to him, Sam had to get to Blake.
A hundred images of what he might find in Blake's room flashed before Sam's eyes as he sped down the corridor. However, he found only Blake, unconscious and alive, the machines attached to him still beeping and whirring normally.
There was no sign of the elder vampire, although Sam could feel the vestiges of his great power shimmering in the air. Although the vampire was ancient, he had the face of an angel -- a beautiful young man of no more than 20 years. It was the best disguise a vampire could hope for, and Sam knew he had to be extremely careful not to fall under the elder's sway.
Blake's eyes flickered, and he moaned softly. All thoughts of the ancient one fled Sam's mind as he leaned over his former lover's bed. With another moan, Blake was out again. Sam tenderly brushed Blake's hair back over his forehead and was suddenly blinking back tears.
He hadn't realized just how much he missed him.
It was dangerous, all this damn emotion. He had to get out and get his head together. Without giving a reason, Sam ordered security to guard Blake's room. He ignored the whispers and pointed looks from the nurses' station and hurried to the fourth floor. He really needed to check on Ken, but there was something he had to do first.
Eddie Howell looked up from his Sports Illustrated and nodded to Sam. "What's up, doc?" Eddie laughed at his own joke, which he did a lot. "Need some blood?" He smiled, and the overhead lights reflected off his balding head.
Did he ever. "Yeah, we're running out of O-neg downstairs." Sam smiled and waved a hand. "No, no, don't get up. I need a break from the ER anyway."
"I tell ya, you're the most helpful doc I've ever met at this hospital." Eddie picked up a donut and offered the box to Sam. "Need a sugar boost?"
Pushing the door to the blood bank open, Sam shook his head. "No thanks, I'm watching what I eat."
Inside the cool interior of the refrigerated room, Sam took a deep, unnecessary breath. His senses tingled in the presence of so much blood when he was so hungry, and he quickly went towards the back corner, opening a glass case and taking out a bag of A-pos. His very favorite. His fangs extended, piercing the thick plastic.
As the sweet, sweet nourishment coursed down his throat, Sam closed his eyes. He was going to enjoy this moment. Then he'd deal with whatever else waited for him in the ER.
To be continued...
Monday, March 24, 2008
Round Robin IV
earlier parts
#
Samuel was working a double. The buzz of the tungsten, the stench of detergent and the waiting room malaise all blurred together. Only Ken’s concerned glances provided flashes of lucidity. Their eyes would meet and Samuel felt himself pulled back into this life he was trying to make for himself here. This was what he had wanted, after all, a normal life. Work, sex, blood each tidily in their place and free of the drama he had become so tired of.
He checked in on Blake when a moment presented itself, in between the usual stream of drunken idiots, persistent hypochondriacs, panicked parents and addicts hoping to trick exhausted residents into writing them prescriptions. Ken watched as he slipped in and out, and must have known where he was going. Blake lay still, shadowed eyes restless with twitching lids like he never stopped dreaming. Light from the doorway glanced over his prone body, every angle and line so beguilingly familiar. Samuel didn’t go past the doorway but he felt the pull of the man. A pull he hoped, with the fatalistic hope of an autumn leaf, not to succumb to.
Hurrying back to admissions Samuel heard a whisper of sound down a side corridor. Too soft to make out the words but resonating with the patina of long life, and the blood of others. Without a thought Samuel went towards the voice. His weariness dropped away, this was his place. And even if he did not hunt here he would not tolerate the encroachment of another. Outrage spiked even higher when he saw a small lithe figure leaning towards another man, all but pressing him against the wall.
Even as they kissed he saw the taller mortal was Ken, the other—the vampire—he did not know. Rage swirled through Samuel, but his blood was thin and starved. He could not sustain the strength of the emotion. As he drew close Samuel saw the swirl of psychic vapor as the vampire drew Ken’s essence up from him as casually as inhaling scent from a flower. Ken leaned back against the wall, clearly dazed, hypnotized… and aroused. His eyes were blank and staring. The vampire looked up casually, belligerent. He was a small, dark-eyed, and old. Looking into his eyes was like plunging into icy water. A vampire so old he did not even need to consume the clumsy vehicle of blood.
“I did not realize this little amuse-bouche was yours,” the elder said archly looking Samuel up and down. "I would have thought you had better… taste. But then, I will know for sure, soon enough.”
The elder seemed to step towards him, leaving Ken standing in a daze. But in a wintery blur he had gone by and turned to the left, towards Blake’s room.
Ken’s voice was slurred. “Sam?” he said, confused. He swayed on his feet, almost ready to fall.
#
Samuel was working a double. The buzz of the tungsten, the stench of detergent and the waiting room malaise all blurred together. Only Ken’s concerned glances provided flashes of lucidity. Their eyes would meet and Samuel felt himself pulled back into this life he was trying to make for himself here. This was what he had wanted, after all, a normal life. Work, sex, blood each tidily in their place and free of the drama he had become so tired of.
He checked in on Blake when a moment presented itself, in between the usual stream of drunken idiots, persistent hypochondriacs, panicked parents and addicts hoping to trick exhausted residents into writing them prescriptions. Ken watched as he slipped in and out, and must have known where he was going. Blake lay still, shadowed eyes restless with twitching lids like he never stopped dreaming. Light from the doorway glanced over his prone body, every angle and line so beguilingly familiar. Samuel didn’t go past the doorway but he felt the pull of the man. A pull he hoped, with the fatalistic hope of an autumn leaf, not to succumb to.
Hurrying back to admissions Samuel heard a whisper of sound down a side corridor. Too soft to make out the words but resonating with the patina of long life, and the blood of others. Without a thought Samuel went towards the voice. His weariness dropped away, this was his place. And even if he did not hunt here he would not tolerate the encroachment of another. Outrage spiked even higher when he saw a small lithe figure leaning towards another man, all but pressing him against the wall.
Even as they kissed he saw the taller mortal was Ken, the other—the vampire—he did not know. Rage swirled through Samuel, but his blood was thin and starved. He could not sustain the strength of the emotion. As he drew close Samuel saw the swirl of psychic vapor as the vampire drew Ken’s essence up from him as casually as inhaling scent from a flower. Ken leaned back against the wall, clearly dazed, hypnotized… and aroused. His eyes were blank and staring. The vampire looked up casually, belligerent. He was a small, dark-eyed, and old. Looking into his eyes was like plunging into icy water. A vampire so old he did not even need to consume the clumsy vehicle of blood.
“I did not realize this little amuse-bouche was yours,” the elder said archly looking Samuel up and down. "I would have thought you had better… taste. But then, I will know for sure, soon enough.”
The elder seemed to step towards him, leaving Ken standing in a daze. But in a wintery blur he had gone by and turned to the left, towards Blake’s room.
Ken’s voice was slurred. “Sam?” he said, confused. He swayed on his feet, almost ready to fall.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Round Robin: Part 3
Yay, it's my turn. :) You'll find my addition in bold at the bottom. The previous two posts are up first in italics for those who are trying to catch up.
Samuel closed his eyes to catch a moment’s peace in the hospital’s break room before he had to head back to the overly-busy emergency room. He’d run out of coffee and blood in the same day, making him one very cranky vampire. If it weren’t for the fact that he’d just celebrated his one hundred and seventy eighth birthday recently, he’d think he was a new fledgling fresh out of med school. At least he’d been able to handle the residency process. Being over a hundred and fifty when you did rotations allowed some tolerance to sunlight and not needing any food or sleep.
“Dr. Wexford to emergency. Dr. Wexford to emergency,” Ken, one of the latest crop of residents, said over the intercom.
Ken doll. Samuel smiled as he downed the rest of the hospital’s god awful coffee and tossed the empty cup into the trash. It made a perfect arc and sailed neatly into the center of the receptacle. With his surfer spiky blonde hair and eyes the color of the ocean outside his the view from his remote home, Ken looked like the proverbial childhood toy. And boy would Samuel like to play with him. He shook his head to clear the thought as he hurried from the break room and down to whatever the latest crisis was. Tonight was his last night before a two week vacation.
He followed the sound of commotion into one of the bays and stopped. His blood ran cold. The mortal on the table looked heart-stoppingly familiar, and for once Samuel was thankful that his heart didn’t beat. Blood caked the man’s midnight dark hair to his forehead. A gash ran along the outside of his left eye. An air splint held his right arm, and Samuel bet he’d see bruising on the man’s chest from a steering wheel.
“Car accident. He rear ended a truck on the Pacific Coast Highway, just past the turn off to Malibu Canyon Rd. Apparently the truck thought he saw something on the road and our patient didn’t stop quick enough. At least that’s what the truck driver said.”
Samuel listened with half an ear as he stared down at the man he’d once professed to love until the end of time. “Blake Bothman, the founder of Wirefly International,” he said.
“You know him?”
Samuel nodded, his throat too tight to say anything more. He drew a deep breath. Damn it, where was his emotional detachment when he needed it.
Ken laid his hand on Samuel’s shoulder. “We’ll take good care of him. He’ll be just fine. I promise.”
Sam looked down at Ken’s hand with his neatly manicured fingernails. Such youthful optimism. He’d had it once long ago. “Thank you,” he said, and hoped like hell Ken doll was right.
On the table, Blake groaned. “Samuel. Must. Get. To Him.”
Samuel surged forward. He touched Blake’s shoulder. “I’m here,” he said. “You’re in the ER. You’re going to be all right.” He glanced at Ken and saw the resident nod. He grabbed a chart and shoved it in Samuel’s free hand. Scanning it, Samuel saw nothing more than a few minor injuries, nothing some rest wouldn’t cure.
“Samuel,” Blake groaned again. His eyelids fluttered open for a moment. Green eyes connected with dark brown. And then they dipped closed. Blake’s moment of consciousness had passed.
"Damn." Forcing himself to ignore the surge of fear, Samuel lifted his head to meet the gaze of the nurse standing on the other side of the stretcher. "Let's get a head CT."
Nodding, the nurse trotted off to call radiology. Samuel stared at Blake's face. Once, he'd called Blake his own. Thought they'd be together for years, decades. He'd even considered giving Blake the Gift, so they could be together forever. But that was years ago. Before everything changed. Before Blake left and took Samuel's poor undead heart with him.
Blake would no doubt say Samuel had driven him away. These days, Samuel tended to agree.
Samuel shook himself. This was no time for wallowing in his regrets. He touched Blake's bloodied cheek. "I'll be back, sweetness," he whispered. "When you wake up, we'll talk."
Straightening up, Samuel turned to leave and ran smack into Ken doll. "Oops. Sorry."
"No problem." Ken curled a hand around Samuel's upper arm when he tried to brush past. Those pretty ocean-colored eyes radiated concern. "You sure you're okay?"
Samuel forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Blake's... an old friend. It sort of threw me for a loop, seeing him here after all this time." He glanced over his shoulder, not quite looking at Blake's too-still form. "Especially like this."
Ken's eyes narrowed. Samuel could practically see the wheels turning. Ken was smart and perceptive. The way he could read people was just scary sometimes. If Samuel stayed there one second longer, he knew Ken would figure out what Blake had once been to him. From there, it would be nothing for the kid to see just how much Samuel wanted Blake back.
Ken moved closer. "Sam..."
"I'm fine. Really. Um, thanks."
Twisting loose of Ken's grip, Samuel strode away with his gaze firmly fixed on the while tile floor.
"Samuel..." Ken called after him, the sound of his feet slapping against the hospital corridor in an effort to catch up. "Sam, wait."
Sam dodged into the men's room, hoping Ken would take the hint and realize he didn't want to talk, not about Blake, not about their own fledging relationship -- if one could call two months of frantic, sweaty sex during their few shared off hours a relationship. Ken was adorable, with a mouth that could suck the chrome off a bumper, but Sam couldn't see it ever being more than that. Ken was too young, too perky, too...everything. He was like a tiny dog nipping at Sam's heels, and right then, Sam couldn't take it. He needed a moment of peace to figure out why Blake was back. Why Blake was here, in his town, when the man had been overseas for the better part of the last decade.
Ken walked through the swinging door, spotted Sam standing by the sinks, and smiled as he headed toward him. "Hey, I thought you might want to talk. I couldn't help but notice the way you were shaking."
Fuck. Sam ran a hand over the bristle on his jaw. "Yeah, well, there's nothing to talk about. I just needed to splash some water on my face. It's going to be a long night."
Ken walked up behind Sam and laid his hands on Sam's shoulders, giving them a squeeze. "Are you sure? You know I'm here for you, right? I know you want to keep things casual, but I care about you, Sam. There isn't anything you can't tell me."
Sam white-knuckled the cool ceramic edge of the sink and closed his eyes, relishing the feel of Ken's hands massaging the tension out of his muscles. "I know. I feel the same way, but there really isn't anything to talk about. Blake is an old friend; there isn't anything else to say until I know more about his condition."
"Sure." Ken pressed his chest to Sam's back and brushed a gentle kiss against the nape of his neck. "You must be worried sick."
"I am," Sam said, leaving out why he was worried. He wished it was over something as simple as Blake's health. His old lover would recover, and quickly. His immune system would allow nothing else. It was what would happen once Blake regained consciousness that Sam feared.
Their relationship has been a volatile one at the best of times; the thin line between love and hate so blurred it was almost nonexistent. While it was true that their passion had risen to beyond the heights of normalcy, so too had their fights. When they hadn't been ripping each other's clothes off, they'd literally been at each other's throats in anger.
Their love had been anything but healthy. In the end, love hadn't been enough. He'd left, too afraid of what they would do to each other if he'd stayed another night.
Now, almost ten years to the day Sam had ended things, Blake had finally tracked him down. God help him if Blake wanted him back, because regardless of what he had going with Ken, Sam wasn't sure if he'd be able to resist Blake once he turned on the charm.
Samuel closed his eyes to catch a moment’s peace in the hospital’s break room before he had to head back to the overly-busy emergency room. He’d run out of coffee and blood in the same day, making him one very cranky vampire. If it weren’t for the fact that he’d just celebrated his one hundred and seventy eighth birthday recently, he’d think he was a new fledgling fresh out of med school. At least he’d been able to handle the residency process. Being over a hundred and fifty when you did rotations allowed some tolerance to sunlight and not needing any food or sleep.
“Dr. Wexford to emergency. Dr. Wexford to emergency,” Ken, one of the latest crop of residents, said over the intercom.
Ken doll. Samuel smiled as he downed the rest of the hospital’s god awful coffee and tossed the empty cup into the trash. It made a perfect arc and sailed neatly into the center of the receptacle. With his surfer spiky blonde hair and eyes the color of the ocean outside his the view from his remote home, Ken looked like the proverbial childhood toy. And boy would Samuel like to play with him. He shook his head to clear the thought as he hurried from the break room and down to whatever the latest crisis was. Tonight was his last night before a two week vacation.
He followed the sound of commotion into one of the bays and stopped. His blood ran cold. The mortal on the table looked heart-stoppingly familiar, and for once Samuel was thankful that his heart didn’t beat. Blood caked the man’s midnight dark hair to his forehead. A gash ran along the outside of his left eye. An air splint held his right arm, and Samuel bet he’d see bruising on the man’s chest from a steering wheel.
“Car accident. He rear ended a truck on the Pacific Coast Highway, just past the turn off to Malibu Canyon Rd. Apparently the truck thought he saw something on the road and our patient didn’t stop quick enough. At least that’s what the truck driver said.”
Samuel listened with half an ear as he stared down at the man he’d once professed to love until the end of time. “Blake Bothman, the founder of Wirefly International,” he said.
“You know him?”
Samuel nodded, his throat too tight to say anything more. He drew a deep breath. Damn it, where was his emotional detachment when he needed it.
Ken laid his hand on Samuel’s shoulder. “We’ll take good care of him. He’ll be just fine. I promise.”
Sam looked down at Ken’s hand with his neatly manicured fingernails. Such youthful optimism. He’d had it once long ago. “Thank you,” he said, and hoped like hell Ken doll was right.
On the table, Blake groaned. “Samuel. Must. Get. To Him.”
Samuel surged forward. He touched Blake’s shoulder. “I’m here,” he said. “You’re in the ER. You’re going to be all right.” He glanced at Ken and saw the resident nod. He grabbed a chart and shoved it in Samuel’s free hand. Scanning it, Samuel saw nothing more than a few minor injuries, nothing some rest wouldn’t cure.
“Samuel,” Blake groaned again. His eyelids fluttered open for a moment. Green eyes connected with dark brown. And then they dipped closed. Blake’s moment of consciousness had passed.
"Damn." Forcing himself to ignore the surge of fear, Samuel lifted his head to meet the gaze of the nurse standing on the other side of the stretcher. "Let's get a head CT."
Nodding, the nurse trotted off to call radiology. Samuel stared at Blake's face. Once, he'd called Blake his own. Thought they'd be together for years, decades. He'd even considered giving Blake the Gift, so they could be together forever. But that was years ago. Before everything changed. Before Blake left and took Samuel's poor undead heart with him.
Blake would no doubt say Samuel had driven him away. These days, Samuel tended to agree.
Samuel shook himself. This was no time for wallowing in his regrets. He touched Blake's bloodied cheek. "I'll be back, sweetness," he whispered. "When you wake up, we'll talk."
Straightening up, Samuel turned to leave and ran smack into Ken doll. "Oops. Sorry."
"No problem." Ken curled a hand around Samuel's upper arm when he tried to brush past. Those pretty ocean-colored eyes radiated concern. "You sure you're okay?"
Samuel forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Blake's... an old friend. It sort of threw me for a loop, seeing him here after all this time." He glanced over his shoulder, not quite looking at Blake's too-still form. "Especially like this."
Ken's eyes narrowed. Samuel could practically see the wheels turning. Ken was smart and perceptive. The way he could read people was just scary sometimes. If Samuel stayed there one second longer, he knew Ken would figure out what Blake had once been to him. From there, it would be nothing for the kid to see just how much Samuel wanted Blake back.
Ken moved closer. "Sam..."
"I'm fine. Really. Um, thanks."
Twisting loose of Ken's grip, Samuel strode away with his gaze firmly fixed on the while tile floor.
"Samuel..." Ken called after him, the sound of his feet slapping against the hospital corridor in an effort to catch up. "Sam, wait."
Sam dodged into the men's room, hoping Ken would take the hint and realize he didn't want to talk, not about Blake, not about their own fledging relationship -- if one could call two months of frantic, sweaty sex during their few shared off hours a relationship. Ken was adorable, with a mouth that could suck the chrome off a bumper, but Sam couldn't see it ever being more than that. Ken was too young, too perky, too...everything. He was like a tiny dog nipping at Sam's heels, and right then, Sam couldn't take it. He needed a moment of peace to figure out why Blake was back. Why Blake was here, in his town, when the man had been overseas for the better part of the last decade.
Ken walked through the swinging door, spotted Sam standing by the sinks, and smiled as he headed toward him. "Hey, I thought you might want to talk. I couldn't help but notice the way you were shaking."
Fuck. Sam ran a hand over the bristle on his jaw. "Yeah, well, there's nothing to talk about. I just needed to splash some water on my face. It's going to be a long night."
Ken walked up behind Sam and laid his hands on Sam's shoulders, giving them a squeeze. "Are you sure? You know I'm here for you, right? I know you want to keep things casual, but I care about you, Sam. There isn't anything you can't tell me."
Sam white-knuckled the cool ceramic edge of the sink and closed his eyes, relishing the feel of Ken's hands massaging the tension out of his muscles. "I know. I feel the same way, but there really isn't anything to talk about. Blake is an old friend; there isn't anything else to say until I know more about his condition."
"Sure." Ken pressed his chest to Sam's back and brushed a gentle kiss against the nape of his neck. "You must be worried sick."
"I am," Sam said, leaving out why he was worried. He wished it was over something as simple as Blake's health. His old lover would recover, and quickly. His immune system would allow nothing else. It was what would happen once Blake regained consciousness that Sam feared.
Their relationship has been a volatile one at the best of times; the thin line between love and hate so blurred it was almost nonexistent. While it was true that their passion had risen to beyond the heights of normalcy, so too had their fights. When they hadn't been ripping each other's clothes off, they'd literally been at each other's throats in anger.
Their love had been anything but healthy. In the end, love hadn't been enough. He'd left, too afraid of what they would do to each other if he'd stayed another night.
Now, almost ten years to the day Sam had ended things, Blake had finally tracked him down. God help him if Blake wanted him back, because regardless of what he had going with Ken, Sam wasn't sure if he'd be able to resist Blake once he turned on the charm.
Round Robin pt 2
Dang, it's my turn! Y'all bear with me, I haven't had time to think up anything really good so I'm flying by the seat of my pants. I think Amanda's next, she's bound to have something good for you *g*
So here goes:
On the table, Blake groaned. “Samuel. Must. Get. To Him.”
Samuel surged forward. He touched Blake’s shoulder. “I’m here,” he said. “You’re in the ER. You’re going to be all right.” He glanced at Ken and saw the resident nod. He grabbed a chart and shoved it in Samuel’s free hand. Scanning it, Samuel saw nothing more than a few minor injuries, nothing some rest wouldn’t cure.
“Samuel,” Blake groaned again. His eyelids fluttered open for a moment. Green eyes connected with dark brown. And then they dipped closed. Blake’s moment of consciousness had passed.
"Damn." Forcing himself to ignore the surge of fear, Samuel lifted his head to meet the gaze of the nurse standing on the other side of the stretcher. "Let's get a head CT."
Nodding, the nurse trotted off to call radiology. Samuel stared at Blake's face. Once, he'd called Blake his own. Thought they'd be together for years, decades. He'd even considered giving Blake the Gift, so they could be together forever. But that was years ago. Before everything changed. Before Blake left and took Samuel's poor undead heart with him.
Blake would no doubt say Samuel had driven him away. These days, Samuel tended to agree.
Samuel shook himself. This was no time for wallowing in his regrets. He touched Blake's bloodied cheek. "I'll be back, sweetness," he whispered. "When you wake up, we'll talk."
Straightening up, Samuel turned to leave and ran smack into Ken doll. "Oops. Sorry."
"No problem." Ken curled a hand around Samuel's upper arm when he tried to brush past. Those pretty ocean-colored eyes radiated concern. "You sure you're okay?"
Samuel forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Blake's... an old friend. It sort of threw me for a loop, seeing him here after all this time." He glanced over his shoulder, not quite looking at Blake's too-still form. "Especially like this."
Ken's eyes narrowed. Samuel could practically see the wheels turning. Ken was smart and perceptive. The way he could read people was just scary sometimes. If Samuel stayed there one second longer, he knew Ken would figure out what Blake had once been to him. From there, it would be nothing for the kid to see just how much Samuel wanted Blake back.
Ken moved closer. "Sam..."
"I'm fine. Really. Um, thanks."
Twisting loose of Ken's grip, Samuel strode away with his gaze firmly fixed on the while tile floor.
-------
Okay, that's it for me. Short and sweet *g*
Neeeext!
So here goes:
On the table, Blake groaned. “Samuel. Must. Get. To Him.”
Samuel surged forward. He touched Blake’s shoulder. “I’m here,” he said. “You’re in the ER. You’re going to be all right.” He glanced at Ken and saw the resident nod. He grabbed a chart and shoved it in Samuel’s free hand. Scanning it, Samuel saw nothing more than a few minor injuries, nothing some rest wouldn’t cure.
“Samuel,” Blake groaned again. His eyelids fluttered open for a moment. Green eyes connected with dark brown. And then they dipped closed. Blake’s moment of consciousness had passed.
"Damn." Forcing himself to ignore the surge of fear, Samuel lifted his head to meet the gaze of the nurse standing on the other side of the stretcher. "Let's get a head CT."
Nodding, the nurse trotted off to call radiology. Samuel stared at Blake's face. Once, he'd called Blake his own. Thought they'd be together for years, decades. He'd even considered giving Blake the Gift, so they could be together forever. But that was years ago. Before everything changed. Before Blake left and took Samuel's poor undead heart with him.
Blake would no doubt say Samuel had driven him away. These days, Samuel tended to agree.
Samuel shook himself. This was no time for wallowing in his regrets. He touched Blake's bloodied cheek. "I'll be back, sweetness," he whispered. "When you wake up, we'll talk."
Straightening up, Samuel turned to leave and ran smack into Ken doll. "Oops. Sorry."
"No problem." Ken curled a hand around Samuel's upper arm when he tried to brush past. Those pretty ocean-colored eyes radiated concern. "You sure you're okay?"
Samuel forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Blake's... an old friend. It sort of threw me for a loop, seeing him here after all this time." He glanced over his shoulder, not quite looking at Blake's too-still form. "Especially like this."
Ken's eyes narrowed. Samuel could practically see the wheels turning. Ken was smart and perceptive. The way he could read people was just scary sometimes. If Samuel stayed there one second longer, he knew Ken would figure out what Blake had once been to him. From there, it would be nothing for the kid to see just how much Samuel wanted Blake back.
Ken moved closer. "Sam..."
"I'm fine. Really. Um, thanks."
Twisting loose of Ken's grip, Samuel strode away with his gaze firmly fixed on the while tile floor.
-------
Okay, that's it for me. Short and sweet *g*
Neeeext!
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Round Robin: Part 1
Samuel closed his eyes to catch a moment’s peace in the hospital’s break room before he had to head back to the overly-busy emergency room. He’d run out of coffee and blood in the same day, making him one very cranky vampire. If it weren’t for the fact that he’d just celebrated his one hundred and seventy eighth birthday recently, he’d think he was a new fledgling fresh out of med school. At least he’d been able to handle the residency process. Being over a hundred and fifty when you did rotations allowed some tolerance to sunlight and not needing any food or sleep.
“Dr. Wexford to emergency. Dr. Wexford to emergency,” Ken, one of the latest crop of residents, said over the intercom.
Ken doll. Samuel smiled as he downed the rest of the hospital’s god awful coffee and tossed the empty cup into the trash. It made a perfect arc and sailed neatly into the center of the receptacle. With his surfer spiky blonde hair and eyes the color of the ocean outside his the view from his remote home, Ken looked like the proverbial childhood toy. And boy would Samuel like to play with him. He shook his head to clear the thought as he hurried from the break room and down to whatever the latest crisis was. Tonight was his last night before a two week vacation.
He followed the sound of commotion into one of the bays and stopped. His blood ran cold. The mortal on the table looked heart-stoppingly familiar, and for once Samuel was thankful that his heart didn’t beat. Blood caked the man’s midnight dark hair to his forehead. A gash ran along the outside of his left eye. An air splint held his right arm, and Samuel bet he’d see bruising on the man’s chest from a steering wheel.
“Car accident. He rear ended a truck on the Pacific Coast Highway, just past the turn off to Malibu Canyon Rd. Apparently the truck thought he saw something on the road and our patient didn’t stop quick enough. At least that’s what the truck driver said.”
Samuel listened with half an ear as he stared down at the man he’d once professed to love until the end of time. “Blake Bothman, the founder of Wirefly International,” he said.
“You know him?”
Samuel nodded, his throat too tight to say anything more. He drew a deep breath. Damn it, where was his emotional detachment when he needed it.
Ken laid his hand on Samuel’s shoulder. “We’ll take good care of him. He’ll be just fine. I promise.”
Sam looked down at Ken’s hand with his neatly manicured fingernails. Such youthful optimism. He’d had it once long ago. “Thank you,” he said, and hoped like hell Ken doll was right.
On the table, Blake groaned. “Samuel. Must. Get. To Him.”
Samuel surged forward. He touched Blake’s shoulder. “I’m here,” he said. “You’re in the ER. You’re going to be all right.” He glanced at Ken and saw the resident nod. He grabbed a chart and shoved it in Samuel’s free hand. Scanning it, Samuel saw nothing more than a few minor injuries, nothing some rest wouldn’t cure.
“Samuel,” Blake groaned again. His eyelids fluttered open for a moment. Green eyes connected with dark brown. And then they dipped closed. Blake’s moment of consciousness had passed.
“Dr. Wexford to emergency. Dr. Wexford to emergency,” Ken, one of the latest crop of residents, said over the intercom.
Ken doll. Samuel smiled as he downed the rest of the hospital’s god awful coffee and tossed the empty cup into the trash. It made a perfect arc and sailed neatly into the center of the receptacle. With his surfer spiky blonde hair and eyes the color of the ocean outside his the view from his remote home, Ken looked like the proverbial childhood toy. And boy would Samuel like to play with him. He shook his head to clear the thought as he hurried from the break room and down to whatever the latest crisis was. Tonight was his last night before a two week vacation.
He followed the sound of commotion into one of the bays and stopped. His blood ran cold. The mortal on the table looked heart-stoppingly familiar, and for once Samuel was thankful that his heart didn’t beat. Blood caked the man’s midnight dark hair to his forehead. A gash ran along the outside of his left eye. An air splint held his right arm, and Samuel bet he’d see bruising on the man’s chest from a steering wheel.
“Car accident. He rear ended a truck on the Pacific Coast Highway, just past the turn off to Malibu Canyon Rd. Apparently the truck thought he saw something on the road and our patient didn’t stop quick enough. At least that’s what the truck driver said.”
Samuel listened with half an ear as he stared down at the man he’d once professed to love until the end of time. “Blake Bothman, the founder of Wirefly International,” he said.
“You know him?”
Samuel nodded, his throat too tight to say anything more. He drew a deep breath. Damn it, where was his emotional detachment when he needed it.
Ken laid his hand on Samuel’s shoulder. “We’ll take good care of him. He’ll be just fine. I promise.”
Sam looked down at Ken’s hand with his neatly manicured fingernails. Such youthful optimism. He’d had it once long ago. “Thank you,” he said, and hoped like hell Ken doll was right.
On the table, Blake groaned. “Samuel. Must. Get. To Him.”
Samuel surged forward. He touched Blake’s shoulder. “I’m here,” he said. “You’re in the ER. You’re going to be all right.” He glanced at Ken and saw the resident nod. He grabbed a chart and shoved it in Samuel’s free hand. Scanning it, Samuel saw nothing more than a few minor injuries, nothing some rest wouldn’t cure.
“Samuel,” Blake groaned again. His eyelids fluttered open for a moment. Green eyes connected with dark brown. And then they dipped closed. Blake’s moment of consciousness had passed.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Squees and Puzzlement
They don't get any better than this:
Grab onto your seats and hang on for a dark, fast ride that doesn’t leave you wanting! This is an extraordinary offering from the dynamic duo of Barbara Sheridan and Anne Cain. If you haven’t read their work before, and I admit this is my first, then you are really missing out!
You can read the rest of the review HERE
Interesting to me was a comment the reviewer made on how Dark Whispers contains scenes might push certain reader's "ick" buttons. There's no surprise there especially if you know how rough our boyz like ot play with one another but what got me was that s/he brought up the same scene that Mrs. Giggles was squicked by.
Anne and I and our editor find that particular scene to be one of the tamest things in the bunch.
Can you spot the squicky thing???
Sakurai moved through the darkened apartment, raising his eyebrows at the sparse furnishings. The entryway opened into a living area with only a leather sofa, a glass coffee table and a bar underneath the windows across from the door. To the left was an eat-in kitchen, noticeably missing its refrigerator, not that Sakurai would've used it anyway. Licking at the corner of his mouth, he tasted the bloody remnants of his evening's ”meal” and smirked.
A soft rustling came from outside the window over the bar. Sakurai crossed the room and pulled open the thick drapes. A fat, dark grey cat jumped through the opened window and rubbed against his hand, purring the whole time.
"You were stalking me all evening, sayuri." He laughed. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?" He'd spotted the cat's amber eyes peering at him through the darkness as he first walked past the apartment building in search of prey. The cat followed him through the whole course of the hunt, the only witness to the kill when Sakurai claimed a homeless street musician and drained the wretch as he slept in a doorway.
"Not a very impressive hunt," Sakurai murmured apologetically to the purring cat. "But nothing in this city has impressed me, either, so we're even."
Someone cursed out in the hallway, and the passion---the despair--in it took Sakurai's breath away. He was at the door an instant later, his hands caressing the stained wood as a sense of familiarity washed over him.
What kind of freak am I?
The man's thoughts echoed in Sakurai's mind, piquing the chiang shih's morbid curiosity. There was such anger and lust in this one, the latter maddeningly repressed.
"I'm starting to get the very annoying habit of speaking too soon. There may be something appealing here after all.” Sakurai whispered and chuckled softly.
Meanwhile, the man outside had returned to the elevators, cursing under his breath for having gotten out on the wrong floor. Soon he was gone, but Sakurai stayed at the door, laughing.
What was the thing the mortals said about New York—ah yes, the city is home to some of the most interesting people.
“Well my fur-covered friend—“ Sakurai broke off. The cat was gone, his presence undetectable in the apartment. Breathing a bored sigh, Sakurai decided to indulge in the one modern mortal custom he rather enjoyed—a hot shower.
*****
Some time later, Sakurai sat on the building’s rooftop, his long hair still damp, the ends drying and blowing in the breeze sweeping in from the north. A presence prickled his vampiric sense and he looked over his shoulder. “So you’ve come back to visit, sayuri. And what’s that you’ve brought me?”
The corners of Sakurai’s mouth turned down when the cat dropped a pair of men’s underwear by his hand. But then the wind drifted past again, carrying with it the scents that clung to the black fabric.
Sakurai fingered the garment. Interesting. The odors he detected might very well have come from the person in the corridor. The flavor of the passion he’d sensed earlier was quite the same. His eyebrow quirked when his fingers brushed a wet patch of fabric and Sakurai lifted his fingers to his sensitive nose.
“Oh yessss.”
He lifted the pair of nylon briefs and flicked his tongue across the wet spot, savoring the man’s semen. Grinning, he reached out and stroked the fat cat’s head before sucking the bit of cloth into his mouth to extract the heady, violent passion-filled fluid from the fibers. “Very good, my friend. Very good.”
Grab onto your seats and hang on for a dark, fast ride that doesn’t leave you wanting! This is an extraordinary offering from the dynamic duo of Barbara Sheridan and Anne Cain. If you haven’t read their work before, and I admit this is my first, then you are really missing out!
You can read the rest of the review HERE
Interesting to me was a comment the reviewer made on how Dark Whispers contains scenes might push certain reader's "ick" buttons. There's no surprise there especially if you know how rough our boyz like ot play with one another but what got me was that s/he brought up the same scene that Mrs. Giggles was squicked by.
Anne and I and our editor find that particular scene to be one of the tamest things in the bunch.
Can you spot the squicky thing???
Sakurai moved through the darkened apartment, raising his eyebrows at the sparse furnishings. The entryway opened into a living area with only a leather sofa, a glass coffee table and a bar underneath the windows across from the door. To the left was an eat-in kitchen, noticeably missing its refrigerator, not that Sakurai would've used it anyway. Licking at the corner of his mouth, he tasted the bloody remnants of his evening's ”meal” and smirked.
A soft rustling came from outside the window over the bar. Sakurai crossed the room and pulled open the thick drapes. A fat, dark grey cat jumped through the opened window and rubbed against his hand, purring the whole time.
"You were stalking me all evening, sayuri." He laughed. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?" He'd spotted the cat's amber eyes peering at him through the darkness as he first walked past the apartment building in search of prey. The cat followed him through the whole course of the hunt, the only witness to the kill when Sakurai claimed a homeless street musician and drained the wretch as he slept in a doorway.
"Not a very impressive hunt," Sakurai murmured apologetically to the purring cat. "But nothing in this city has impressed me, either, so we're even."
Someone cursed out in the hallway, and the passion---the despair--in it took Sakurai's breath away. He was at the door an instant later, his hands caressing the stained wood as a sense of familiarity washed over him.
What kind of freak am I?
The man's thoughts echoed in Sakurai's mind, piquing the chiang shih's morbid curiosity. There was such anger and lust in this one, the latter maddeningly repressed.
"I'm starting to get the very annoying habit of speaking too soon. There may be something appealing here after all.” Sakurai whispered and chuckled softly.
Meanwhile, the man outside had returned to the elevators, cursing under his breath for having gotten out on the wrong floor. Soon he was gone, but Sakurai stayed at the door, laughing.
What was the thing the mortals said about New York—ah yes, the city is home to some of the most interesting people.
“Well my fur-covered friend—“ Sakurai broke off. The cat was gone, his presence undetectable in the apartment. Breathing a bored sigh, Sakurai decided to indulge in the one modern mortal custom he rather enjoyed—a hot shower.
Some time later, Sakurai sat on the building’s rooftop, his long hair still damp, the ends drying and blowing in the breeze sweeping in from the north. A presence prickled his vampiric sense and he looked over his shoulder. “So you’ve come back to visit, sayuri. And what’s that you’ve brought me?”
The corners of Sakurai’s mouth turned down when the cat dropped a pair of men’s underwear by his hand. But then the wind drifted past again, carrying with it the scents that clung to the black fabric.
Sakurai fingered the garment. Interesting. The odors he detected might very well have come from the person in the corridor. The flavor of the passion he’d sensed earlier was quite the same. His eyebrow quirked when his fingers brushed a wet patch of fabric and Sakurai lifted his fingers to his sensitive nose.
“Oh yessss.”
He lifted the pair of nylon briefs and flicked his tongue across the wet spot, savoring the man’s semen. Grinning, he reached out and stroked the fat cat’s head before sucking the bit of cloth into his mouth to extract the heady, violent passion-filled fluid from the fibers. “Very good, my friend. Very good.”
Ropes
I love rope. Really, really love rope. It is a fetish for me. Tie you up, tie you down...oh yeah, I'm a top on it. That silky feel of rope sliding through your fingers. The little after mark dimples it makes on skin. Mmmmmm
No surprise that I have a story in this then:
Toy Box: Rope
Edited by M. Rode,
featuring stories by James Buchanan, Kiernan Kelly, and HB Kurtzwilde
41 pages / 18000 words
ISBN-13: 978-1-60370-306-2
ISBN-10: 1-60370-306-3
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc
Ever dream of being tied up and had wicked things happen? That's what the ropes Taste Test is all about. In James Buchanan's A Little Trust, Nicky and Brandon from the popular Cheating Chance, have a near miss after a rotten day at work for Brandon. Can they make the most of the adrenaline?
Cobalt Dynamus from HB Kurtzwilde features Alous, an aerialist who's invited to join a new act, one with two beautiful men who fly on silken ropes. Can he find a place at their center?
Finally, Kiernan Kelly creates a world for country singer Travis, who needs some time away. His old friend Booger picks him up, and ties him up, and Travis has to figure out what's important in life. Wrap yourself up in this one today!
Something wasn’t right.
It crawled up Brandon’s spine and nestled into the base of his skull as he headed toward his apartment. Indefinable, subtle, yet definite enough to set all Brandon’s senses on overload, the feeling wouldn’t let up. Nothing looked pried on the window screen or the door to his unit. The porch light flickered a jaundiced yellow, just as it had last night and the night before that. He couldn’t see more than darkness through the kitchen window, the only view into the apartment from the second floor walkway.
Still, the sensation lingered. Maybe the doormat had been moved. Or the beer bottles he kept lined up on the kitchen sill had been rearranged. The inside light: that was it. There should have been a light on in the very back of the apartment. Brandon didn’t like walking into a pitch-dark house. He liked being able to see any room he stepped into. And while the fifteen-watt bulb didn’t throw off much light, it was enough to bleed through into the kitchen.
Slowly, Brandon eased toward the door. In seconds he processed his surroundings. Hard line bass drifted in from the street. A child fussed somewhere close by. Otherwise, only the typical Riverside sounds, rumbles of semi-trucks on the freeway, helicopters, and the occasional unseen jet, broke the sleepy stillness of two in the morning.
Brandon took a deep breath and reached for his gun. Easing it from the slide holster at his hip, Brandon drew on the calm the familiar weight offered. What wasn’t so comforting was the gook slicking down the grip. He licked his lip and tasted rank water. At least he’d forced that punk-ass perp to swallow more of the shit they were rolling around in than he had.
A cautious step forward earned Brandon a squelch from his boot. Oh yeah, he needed to put a justifiable hurt on someone tonight. Whoever, whatever, waited behind that door was about to get the wrong end of the stick from a detective’s crappy day.
He moved to the side, pressing his body against the foot of stucco between window and door. Crouching down, he kept the gun raised near his right ear. Drawing his gun twice in one day -- what a way to break in the brand new Sig Sauer P229. He probably wouldn’t need all twelve of the .40 caliber rounds.
He wrapped his other fist around the tangle of keys -- bike, station locker, home -- and slipped the fob out of the saddle. His holster and the key keeper: two hold-overs from his uniform days. Rubber rings on each key kept the jangle down to a bare minimum. With his left hand he slid the key into the lock. Then he counted to fifty. Patience paid off many times over; Brandon had learned that early on. Make a sound and then wait for the effect to wear off before you move again.
Seconds often stood between him and death.
He twisted the key in the lock. A loud snick sounded. This time Brandon cycled through various VNV Nation lyrics. Three full songs worth, or at least the portions he remembered, kept his mind busy. At that point, well, there was no point. Either the perp knew he was there or he didn’t. Brandon reached out and slowly turned the knob. When he felt the catch give, he took a breath. Again, painfully slowly, he pressed the length of his left arm along the surface and eased the door open. Brandon’s position only let him get it about half way, but momentum kept the door swinging until it bumped into the wall.
Footsteps.
Buy it: http://www.torquerebooks.com/zencart/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=96&products_id=853
No surprise that I have a story in this then:
Toy Box: RopeEdited by M. Rode,
featuring stories by James Buchanan, Kiernan Kelly, and HB Kurtzwilde
41 pages / 18000 words
ISBN-13: 978-1-60370-306-2
ISBN-10: 1-60370-306-3
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc
Ever dream of being tied up and had wicked things happen? That's what the ropes Taste Test is all about. In James Buchanan's A Little Trust, Nicky and Brandon from the popular Cheating Chance, have a near miss after a rotten day at work for Brandon. Can they make the most of the adrenaline?
Cobalt Dynamus from HB Kurtzwilde features Alous, an aerialist who's invited to join a new act, one with two beautiful men who fly on silken ropes. Can he find a place at their center?
Finally, Kiernan Kelly creates a world for country singer Travis, who needs some time away. His old friend Booger picks him up, and ties him up, and Travis has to figure out what's important in life. Wrap yourself up in this one today!
By James Buchanan
Something wasn’t right.
It crawled up Brandon’s spine and nestled into the base of his skull as he headed toward his apartment. Indefinable, subtle, yet definite enough to set all Brandon’s senses on overload, the feeling wouldn’t let up. Nothing looked pried on the window screen or the door to his unit. The porch light flickered a jaundiced yellow, just as it had last night and the night before that. He couldn’t see more than darkness through the kitchen window, the only view into the apartment from the second floor walkway.
Still, the sensation lingered. Maybe the doormat had been moved. Or the beer bottles he kept lined up on the kitchen sill had been rearranged. The inside light: that was it. There should have been a light on in the very back of the apartment. Brandon didn’t like walking into a pitch-dark house. He liked being able to see any room he stepped into. And while the fifteen-watt bulb didn’t throw off much light, it was enough to bleed through into the kitchen.
Slowly, Brandon eased toward the door. In seconds he processed his surroundings. Hard line bass drifted in from the street. A child fussed somewhere close by. Otherwise, only the typical Riverside sounds, rumbles of semi-trucks on the freeway, helicopters, and the occasional unseen jet, broke the sleepy stillness of two in the morning.
Brandon took a deep breath and reached for his gun. Easing it from the slide holster at his hip, Brandon drew on the calm the familiar weight offered. What wasn’t so comforting was the gook slicking down the grip. He licked his lip and tasted rank water. At least he’d forced that punk-ass perp to swallow more of the shit they were rolling around in than he had.
A cautious step forward earned Brandon a squelch from his boot. Oh yeah, he needed to put a justifiable hurt on someone tonight. Whoever, whatever, waited behind that door was about to get the wrong end of the stick from a detective’s crappy day.
He moved to the side, pressing his body against the foot of stucco between window and door. Crouching down, he kept the gun raised near his right ear. Drawing his gun twice in one day -- what a way to break in the brand new Sig Sauer P229. He probably wouldn’t need all twelve of the .40 caliber rounds.
He wrapped his other fist around the tangle of keys -- bike, station locker, home -- and slipped the fob out of the saddle. His holster and the key keeper: two hold-overs from his uniform days. Rubber rings on each key kept the jangle down to a bare minimum. With his left hand he slid the key into the lock. Then he counted to fifty. Patience paid off many times over; Brandon had learned that early on. Make a sound and then wait for the effect to wear off before you move again.
Seconds often stood between him and death.
He twisted the key in the lock. A loud snick sounded. This time Brandon cycled through various VNV Nation lyrics. Three full songs worth, or at least the portions he remembered, kept his mind busy. At that point, well, there was no point. Either the perp knew he was there or he didn’t. Brandon reached out and slowly turned the knob. When he felt the catch give, he took a breath. Again, painfully slowly, he pressed the length of his left arm along the surface and eased the door open. Brandon’s position only let him get it about half way, but momentum kept the door swinging until it bumped into the wall.
Footsteps.
Buy it: http://www.torquerebooks.com/zencart/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=96&products_id=853
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Dive In!
I know I may be booed for saying this, especially with spring just days away, but I hate the sun. I hate the heat. You might even say I hate the summer. So try not to get too confused when I say that every June through August I can usually be found high up in a lifeguard chair, my Ray-Bans scanning a glittering swimming pool. And yes, I do still hate sun, heat and summer. But, as I am fond of pointing out, how else but as a lifeguard could I get paid to sit at the pool all summer getting a tan? When it rains and is cold, as it so often is in the great Northeast, I lock myself in the pool office and write about things much hotter than a humid day.
I’m also a lifeguard instructor. Once during training, I had one of those what if moments that all writers love to have pop into their brains. I was watching a particularly fetching male lifeguard trainee performing CPR on the dummy, his broad wet chest rising and falling, and there it was. What if? What if the instructor watching had a previous relationship with the guy doing the thrusting—on the dummy? It would be pretty hard to stop thinking about other kinds of thrusting.
That little what if marinated in my head for a year or two until it became my new Samhain release Diving in Deep. Cameron, the instructor, is trying very hard to forget the night that he let wedding champagne and the flattering attention of Noah’s crush override the part of his brain that told him sleeping with his best friend’s little brother was a bad plan. Now Noah, all wet—and grown up a lot since then—is the one with the powerful chest rising and falling with the thrusts of those rippling arms. Suddenly, CPR is sexier than Cameron ever thought possible and he finds himself trapped between a rock and a hard…place. As for Noah, who wouldn’t want a do-over with the one that got away? The one you’ve been comparing all your other lovers to?
Noah and Cameron were a lot of fun to write about. The biggest problem they gave me was not getting out of bed long enough to work on their issues. Now Noah’s friend Joey wants his own book. (Actually he’s kind of demanding.) I’m getting there, honey. And have I got the man for you.
To read more about Noah and Cameron, you can find the PG-13 excerpt at the Samhain website or for something with a little more steam, come on over to my website.
I’m also a lifeguard instructor. Once during training, I had one of those what if moments that all writers love to have pop into their brains. I was watching a particularly fetching male lifeguard trainee performing CPR on the dummy, his broad wet chest rising and falling, and there it was. What if? What if the instructor watching had a previous relationship with the guy doing the thrusting—on the dummy? It would be pretty hard to stop thinking about other kinds of thrusting.
That little what if marinated in my head for a year or two until it became my new Samhain release Diving in Deep. Cameron, the instructor, is trying very hard to forget the night that he let wedding champagne and the flattering attention of Noah’s crush override the part of his brain that told him sleeping with his best friend’s little brother was a bad plan. Now Noah, all wet—and grown up a lot since then—is the one with the powerful chest rising and falling with the thrusts of those rippling arms. Suddenly, CPR is sexier than Cameron ever thought possible and he finds himself trapped between a rock and a hard…place. As for Noah, who wouldn’t want a do-over with the one that got away? The one you’ve been comparing all your other lovers to?
Noah and Cameron were a lot of fun to write about. The biggest problem they gave me was not getting out of bed long enough to work on their issues. Now Noah’s friend Joey wants his own book. (Actually he’s kind of demanding.) I’m getting there, honey. And have I got the man for you.
To read more about Noah and Cameron, you can find the PG-13 excerpt at the Samhain website or for something with a little more steam, come on over to my website.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Shakespeare's Gay Boys
For the last two weeks I've been wondering what I was going to blog about when it was my turn again. Then this weekend fate handed me multiple possibilities. Because I'm a theatre geek, I chose this one. That's right. You're getting a dramatic critique for your blog today.
I saw "Troilus & Cressida" on Saturday night. If you don't know it—and I don't blame you if you don't; it's one of the Bard's lesser-produced plays—it doesn't matter. Suffice that it's Ancient Troy and that the Greeks have been laying siege to the city for seven years. That's not the point. The point is blatant slash in Shakespeare's play! Woo-hoo! I mean you can talk it up until the cows come home that Mercutio was in love with Romeo—and he totally was—but here is undeniable manlove in the text of a play written in (as far as they can tell) 1603 by the greatest English-speaking playwright in history. It warmed my slashy heart to be reminded of it, and in such excellent fashion. (The actors were fantastic. I say this without too much bias; only one of the actors in question is a friend of mine.)
There are three very different gay men in this script.
Pandarus is the original dirty old queen. He's got it bad for Troilus, a deliciously handsome young son of King Priam, and so his one goal is to hook up his niece Cressida with Troilus so that he can live vicariously through their pairing. This is a major plot point, but it's not my point so we'll just move on.
Patroclus is dubbed by scurrilous soldier Thersites as the "male varlet" (Huh. I just thought. I wonder if Shakespeare was word-playing on varlet/valet?) and the "masculine whore" of Achilles. (Yes, that Achilles. He of the Heel.)
Achilles is supposedly in love with one of King Priam's daughters, but his actions belie the accusation. The consummate soldier, he has lost his taste for war not because he's in love with the daughter of his enemy, but because his lover, a fellow soldier, has no stomach for fighting. Patroclus does try to get Achilles to get back to the fight, though, for the sake of his reputation, if nothing else.
PATROCLUS
To this effect, Achilles, have I moved you:
A woman impudent and mannish grown
Is not more loathed than an effeminate man
In time of action. I stand condemn'd for this;
They think my little stomach to the war
And your great love to me restrains you thus:
Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid
Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold,
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
Be shook to air.
Achilles eventually decides to get back to the war, but before he can:
ACHILLES
My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite
From my great purpose in to-morrow's battle.
Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba,
A token from her daughter, my fair love,
Both taxing me and gaging me to keep
An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it:
Fall Greeks; fail fame; honour or go or stay;
My major vow lies here, this I'll obey.
Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent:
This night in banqueting must all be spent.
Away, Patroclus!
And you get the distinct impression that he's bound to the oath by principle rather than by love of the woman. I mean, come on, he doesn't even mention her name. You also get that he's glad for the excuse not to fight. He doesn't want to, and more than that, he doesn't want Patroclus to have to.
Of course war being war and soldiers being soldiers, Patroclus does go into battle. It isn't clear from the text exactly why. Maybe he feels bound to. Maybe when his words didn't work he figured his actions would get Achilles to fight and thereby restore Achilles' reputation. In the case of this production, it was a silent look of "If this is what I have to do, I'll do it. I'm still a soldier." that passed between Patroclus and Achilles. Really a heartstring-tugging moment from such a quick, non-verbal exchange.
Later still, we learn of Achilles' reaction to Patroclus' death in battle by the hand of Hector (Priam's oldest son and the great warrior o'
ULYSSES
O, courage, courage, princes! great Achilles
Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance:
Patroclus' wounds have roused his drowsy blood,
Together with his mangled Myrmidons,
That noseless, handless, hack'd and chipp'd, come to him,
Crying on Hector.
Yeeeeah. Achilles really gives a shit about King Priam's daughter. Suuure. I mean, Isn't it obvious? That's why he hunts down and kills her brother, Hector, and drags Hector's body behind his horse around the walls of
Monday, March 17, 2008
Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Here we are again. Another holiday on my blogging day. Guess that's my lot in life *lol* Hope everyone wore their green and didn't get pinched too much :)
I've been busy trying to get my next Dragon Riders book completed so I can go on to my next M/M story. I'm truly having withdrawls :D
Meanwhile, I'm waiting word on one titled Fallen Angels and thought I'd give a little peek at it. Remember, this is unedited, so forgive if I've missed some grammer mistakes.
Blurb:
Adam Hardy’s assignment was clear: Infiltrate the pseudo-biker gang Fallen Angels and bring back the dirt on their big boss, Lucifer.
Nowhere in the mission statement did it tell him to fall for their leader, Mammon.
Marc, aka Mammon, thought that a quick dip would sate the lust he held for the newest Fallen Angel. After all, Adam would never be his now that Lucifer has taken an interest in the pretty-boy.
Who knew sex and the unexpected bond of trust would bring the two men together as they try to take Lucifer down and out of their lives forever. Can the two survive all the obstacles thrown at them or will Lucifer make their lives a true hell?
Unedited excerpt:
“Mammon?” Adam’s voice was thick with sleep.
“Marc.” Okay, I’m really losing it now. Where in hell had that come from?
Adam lifted his head, brows drawn together with confusion. “Huh?”
I swallowed hard, my throat trying to constrict. Only two people knew my real name. Adam would make three. Despite the devil on my right shoulder poking me with his pitchfork and cursing at my stupidity, I wanted this man to know my real name. I don’t know why, but I wanted to hear Adam say my name.
“Marc. My name is Marc.” Adam sat up, his gaze locked to my face. He still looked bewildered. I chuckled. “You don’t think my parents actually named me Mammon, do you?” It felt strange having after sex discussions. I usually took off right after the act, feeling restless and unsatisfied. It was refreshing not to feel that way with Adam.
“Uh, no. I mean, it just gave me a shock.” His cheeks darkened with a flush.
I smiled, really enjoying flustering him. From my observations and reports from the others, Adam was standoffish from the others, almost shy unless his mind was ticking away on a plan. And what he had shown the small group was that he could be a real hard ass at times. No one knew much about him as he rarely talked about himself. Besides what my background checks produced and what I’d observed of him, his history was a mystery. Perhaps that’s what intrigued me about him. His conflicting personality. Even now, after witnessing the passion buried deep under that stone cold, all-business character. He was a puzzle I wanted to solve. My problem was that I had only a day to do so.
I guess that’s why I decided to hit on him and try to sate this lustful ache I’ve had for him since I first laid eyes on him. But I don’t think it worked as I’d planned. Now, I just wanted more of him.
I shrugged, my smile fading. “I’m trusting you not to tell anyone else. It’s our secret.”
Adam nodded.
“And if I hear the slightest whisper, I’ll know where it came from.” I surprised him, pinning his hands to the bed, my body rolling on top of his. “Trust me when I say that you never want to screw with me.” My eyes narrowed on him, my expression grim. Intimidation was always one of my better traits. I’d learned from a master.
His brow raised and the corner of his lips twitched as if suppressing a smile. “I don’t know, Marc.” My stomach flipped and I had to hold back the pleasant sigh at hearing my name fall from his lips. “Screwing with you has so far been quite invigorating.” He smiled and my lungs emptied of oxygen.
That was it. I couldn’t hold up my threatening façade after that. My cock had rejuvenated with him just saying my name. What this man did to me was amazing. A once in a lifetime find.
“Invigorating, you say? Maybe stimulating is a better word?” I pressed my hips down and shoved upward, showing him just how he affected me.
Adam gasped. “Greedy man. Wanting more and more,” he said, but there was laughter in his voice, his eyes shining.
“Mammon is the name for the fallen angel of greed.” I dipped my head and nipped at his bottom lip.
“No complaints here.” Adam’s arm wrapped around my back, his fingers digging into my ass cheeks, pulling me closer.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
I picked up a "traditional" romance novel the other day. You know, with the busty heroine wearing the hero's shirt? And of course the hero is bare-chested, because he only has that one single shirt and he was gallant enough to give it to the heroine that was nearly captured by marauding village-pillagers. Weird how the hero has a dungeon of gold coins, but only that one shirt.
Anyway.
I used to devour those novels by the dozens in high school and my early college years. I would visit my local used bookstore and scour the shelves for whatever genre was appealing to me at the time: pirates, Native Americans, cowboys, British royalty. Some of them were okay, some sucked, and some were excellent. But you know, I never figured that just a few years later, I would be thinking, "This book would be so much better if that heroine was, you know. Male. And acted like a man."
Think about how much more rich and colorful the traditional M/F romance novel could be if there were two hot-headed men in the lead role. Actually, there are plenty of people who are thinking this same thing, as evidenced by the rise of the small publishing houses on the web that are specializing in M/M romance. I just wish someone had discovered this back when I was reading dime-store romances. Now, the novels I write are the ones I wish I could have read years ago.
And my heroes have more than one shirt.
Anyway.
I used to devour those novels by the dozens in high school and my early college years. I would visit my local used bookstore and scour the shelves for whatever genre was appealing to me at the time: pirates, Native Americans, cowboys, British royalty. Some of them were okay, some sucked, and some were excellent. But you know, I never figured that just a few years later, I would be thinking, "This book would be so much better if that heroine was, you know. Male. And acted like a man."
Think about how much more rich and colorful the traditional M/F romance novel could be if there were two hot-headed men in the lead role. Actually, there are plenty of people who are thinking this same thing, as evidenced by the rise of the small publishing houses on the web that are specializing in M/M romance. I just wish someone had discovered this back when I was reading dime-store romances. Now, the novels I write are the ones I wish I could have read years ago.
And my heroes have more than one shirt.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
We have a release date! Mission: Raw
Sawyer (left) and Dean (right) with their buddy Hugh took a vacation down to Missouri last weekend to celebrate the fact that I finished their story and got it turned into my editor. Mission: Raw, the second book in the Live Action Hero series has a May 16 release date! Hooray!!!!
Hugh, in the middle, is very anxiously awaiting his story. He's heard rumors of Sawyer & Mack's hunky friend, Talon, and he can't wait to meet this model man. He'll have to wait a bit longer. I've a couple of projects to finish up, but once I do, then Hugh will be able to meet, and hopefully like, Talon. I can hope. Because then it's Van & Brice's turn.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
What's Not to Love about the Neck Biters?
Over at the Fangs, Fur, Fey blog I took part in the topic of the week and thought I'd re-run it here
Q: How do you pick the sort of creature/being you utilize?
A: I didn't pick them they picked me!
Well maybe they didn't so much "pick me" as "lure me in". I've loved the vampire mythos from as long back as I can remember. Way back in the Modern Dark Ages before cable TV and the Internet-- Barnabas Collinsand Lily Munsterwere my idols.
Barnabas was the first "good guy monster", the brooding hero with the bad haircut that all the girls wanted to drift off into the night with. Surely he's the grandfather of the majority of paranormal romance vampires heroes today.
And yet, I've always liked my vampire heroes to be more bad than tortured and angsty.
Richard Lynch's Anton Voytek was such a character, but as all "evil" vamps tend to be, he was dispatched in the end by the "Good Guys" (although Voytek's demise may have been ambiguous in hopes of a sequel. It was 1979, I'm old now and the minor details escape me ^_^)
To spare you all from me going off on a whole 'nother tangent the gist of it is that a mutual fondness for Japanese rock, Asian films and yaoi anime and manga brought Anne Cain and I together in an online game that spun off from an email loop dedicated to the Shinsengumi, a kick-ass samurai police group who patrolled Kyoto in the mid to late 1860s.
In the aforementioned game Anne introduced an original character of her Dao Kan Shu, top hatchet man for the Wong clan out of San Francisco.
Shu was the undisputed King of Sociopaths who somehow managed to be alluring, fascinating and damned sexy as he cut a malicious swath through the game's landscape of 19th century America. If any man was destined to come to a violent end before the age of thirty is was Shu. And yet we couldn't bring ourselves to let him die in the game as he was meant to, especially after he acquired his protégé, Toshiro Itou.
But how could we logically keep alive an assassin who had more enemies than we could name wanting him dead?
By giving him a "secret admirer" in the form of a traveling kabuki actor who was a centuries old vampire.
In researching the vampire mythology of Japan and China we found great info that fit perfectly with Shu's violent nature and slashy relationship with his Toshiro.
I keep hearing that the market for vampires is saturated but vampire fiction has had a loyal following that's an immortal and Count Dracula himself. I know Anne and I have had quite a fun and wild ride watching our Dragon's Disciple universe expand and grow to encompass erotic urban fantasy and contemporary and paranormal romance and we'll play with our very bad boys and adventurous girls as long as they continue to tell us their stories.
Q: How do you pick the sort of creature/being you utilize?
A: I didn't pick them they picked me!
Well maybe they didn't so much "pick me" as "lure me in". I've loved the vampire mythos from as long back as I can remember. Way back in the Modern Dark Ages before cable TV and the Internet-- Barnabas Collinsand Lily Munsterwere my idols.
Barnabas was the first "good guy monster", the brooding hero with the bad haircut that all the girls wanted to drift off into the night with. Surely he's the grandfather of the majority of paranormal romance vampires heroes today.
And yet, I've always liked my vampire heroes to be more bad than tortured and angsty.
Richard Lynch's Anton Voytek was such a character, but as all "evil" vamps tend to be, he was dispatched in the end by the "Good Guys" (although Voytek's demise may have been ambiguous in hopes of a sequel. It was 1979, I'm old now and the minor details escape me ^_^)
To spare you all from me going off on a whole 'nother tangent the gist of it is that a mutual fondness for Japanese rock, Asian films and yaoi anime and manga brought Anne Cain and I together in an online game that spun off from an email loop dedicated to the Shinsengumi, a kick-ass samurai police group who patrolled Kyoto in the mid to late 1860s.
In the aforementioned game Anne introduced an original character of her Dao Kan Shu, top hatchet man for the Wong clan out of San Francisco.
Shu was the undisputed King of Sociopaths who somehow managed to be alluring, fascinating and damned sexy as he cut a malicious swath through the game's landscape of 19th century America. If any man was destined to come to a violent end before the age of thirty is was Shu. And yet we couldn't bring ourselves to let him die in the game as he was meant to, especially after he acquired his protégé, Toshiro Itou.
But how could we logically keep alive an assassin who had more enemies than we could name wanting him dead?
By giving him a "secret admirer" in the form of a traveling kabuki actor who was a centuries old vampire.
In researching the vampire mythology of Japan and China we found great info that fit perfectly with Shu's violent nature and slashy relationship with his Toshiro.
I keep hearing that the market for vampires is saturated but vampire fiction has had a loyal following that's an immortal and Count Dracula himself. I know Anne and I have had quite a fun and wild ride watching our Dragon's Disciple universe expand and grow to encompass erotic urban fantasy and contemporary and paranormal romance and we'll play with our very bad boys and adventurous girls as long as they continue to tell us their stories.
Oh, for the love of...
Why is it, when I try to work on one thing, plot bunnies pop up out of nowhere?
Here I am, trying to finish up one thing that's due Saturday (just a short story), plus edits on the sequel to The Prince's Angel. Out of nowhere, I get nailed with several plot bunnies: gem smugglers and biochemists, accountants running from hitmen while driving cops insane -- you name it, they're there.
Where do they come from? Not a clue. Usually, story ideas come from music, TV, movies, random things I see/hear online and in real life... But these? I'm at a loss. LOL
So, if you're an author, where do YOUR ideas stem from? If you're a reader, what are some pairings (in terms of characters) that you'd like to see?
Here I am, trying to finish up one thing that's due Saturday (just a short story), plus edits on the sequel to The Prince's Angel. Out of nowhere, I get nailed with several plot bunnies: gem smugglers and biochemists, accountants running from hitmen while driving cops insane -- you name it, they're there.
Where do they come from? Not a clue. Usually, story ideas come from music, TV, movies, random things I see/hear online and in real life... But these? I'm at a loss. LOL
So, if you're an author, where do YOUR ideas stem from? If you're a reader, what are some pairings (in terms of characters) that you'd like to see?
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
The Regent's Knight by J.M. Snyder
My latest release is The Regent’s Knight, a fantasy set in the pre-industrial land of Pharr. It's part of the "Secret Lives" AmberPax collection and (I think) is quite a fun read.Here's a little tidbit of trivia for you ... my very first novel ever was an epic fantasy called The Magical Stones of Pharr, which I wrote while in high school. While that story will never see the light of day (and for good reason), I decided to usurp the land in which the story took place and revisit it for this story.
Blurb:
Prince Amery Llewellen is the only son of King Adin of Pharr and heir to the throne. When his father is lost in battle with the barbaric tribes invading the northern Pharrisian border, Amery becomes regent in his father’s stead. The royal advisers pressure him to take the crown and assume the throne, but doing so will force him to take a wife as well. Amery is loathe to do that, because he’s deeply in love with one of his knights, Sir Tovin Raimus, from the southland.
Such a relationship is forbidden ~ both because Tovin is another man and because he is a knight, much below the station of a prince. After King Adin forbid their union, Tovin and Amery masked their love with fights and arguments designed to make the servants believe they loathe each other. The whole castle dreads the news that the northern border has been breached, because when Tovin is assigned the position of castellan, that makes him head of castle security. His being stationed so near the regent has the servants believing the two will fight to the death.
That’s just a farce to keep their love a secret. But Pharr needs a crowned ruler, and Amery must decide whether to take his rightful place on the throne or forsake his kingdom for the love of one man.
EXCERPT:
NOTE: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.
“Gods,” Tovin breathed as he crawled onto Amery.
The regent started to speak but Tovin covered his mouth with his own, silencing him with a hungry kiss as his hands roamed the smooth body beneath him. His fingers plucked Amery’s nipples erect, eliciting gasps of delight from his lover. Moving lower, he brushed away the hand at Amery’s crotch and grasped the thick length, massaging it in his fist, working it hard.
“Tovin,” Amery managed to murmur between kisses. When Tovin cupped his balls and tickled one forefinger along the tender skin behind them, the regent arched into the knight’s body and moaned. “It’s been too long.”
Straddling Amery’s hips, Tovin sat back and pulled off his surcoat. “It has,” he agreed with a grin.
The regent reached for him, hands tugging at the scant hair on his chest, then thumbing over his nipples. Each touch sent a sliver of pleasure spiking through Tovin like lightning, striking his overly sensitive nipples and shooting down to stir the blood already thickening in his dick. He could come from such play ~ one of the first times he and Amery had been together, when they were still teenagers and kissing was the extent of their lovemaking, Amery had been amused to find that a few minutes’ suckling on Tovin’s teats was more than enough to get him off.
Catching Amery’s hands in his, Tovin raised them to his mouth and kissed each fingertip. “Stop that,” he admonished, “or I won’t be able to pierce that sexy ass of yours with my sword.”
Amery laughed and, twisting one hand free from Tovin’s grip, poked at the bulge in the front of the knight’s breeches. “Your sword? Is that what this is? Unsheathe it, knight, and wield it for me. Let me test its breadth and heft. Let me feel its blade.”
Tovin rocked back, his buttocks pressing Amery’s hard cock against his own legs. The regent’s mocking words dissolved in a gasp of delight as his eyes shut against the sensations caused by Tovin’s body against his. The hand at his crotch bunched in the fabric covering his erection with a gentle squeeze that made him moan.
Catching that hand again, Tovin raised it to the other and held both of Amery’s wrists against his chest. “I have an idea,” he announced.
“What’s that?” Amery wiggled his hips beneath Tovin to remind him that he was waiting for something more. “Can you tell me later?”
Tovin laughed. “I can tell you now,” he replied. “I’m still mostly dressed. These pants aren’t coming off until I’m ready.”
Amery pouted and tried to twist his wrists free from Tovin’s grip. “I think you’re ready now,” he declared. “I’m the regent. My word is law. I say you’re ready.”
Laughing again, Tovin leaned down over the regent, stretching his lover’s hands above his head to keep them out of reach. Amery’s nipples brushed over Tovin’s; he had to close his eyes against the thrill sparked by that touch. Between them, his cock throbbed in his pants, aching for release.
“I think you’re in no position to argue with me now,” he whispered, touching the tip of Amery’s nose with his own. Amery leaned up for a kiss but Tovin pulled away slightly. “Not yet.”
Amery sighed, frustrated. “Kiss me now. I demand it.”
“You can’t make demands here,” Tovin told him.
Buy your copy today!
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Contest Winner!
And the winner is ... Cathy. Please email me at Amandasromance @ aol.com (remove the spaces) with the title and format of the book you'd like. You can find a list of all my available titles here: http://www.AmandaYoung.org/books
A big thanks to everyone who entered.
Good night!
A big thanks to everyone who entered.
Good night!
Monday, March 10, 2008
Monday Morning Contest!
Good morning. Since I'm rather brain-dead this morning, and can't think of a single thing to write about, I thought I would offer up a contest for you all. To be entered to win a free download of any of my availabe titles, simply leave a comment that includes the name of all the current members of this blog.
*Hint, most (but not all) of the Slash & Burn bloggers have a book cover on the sidebar*
I'll choose a winner at random and post that winners name at midnight est tonight! Good luck!
*Hint, most (but not all) of the Slash & Burn bloggers have a book cover on the sidebar*
I'll choose a winner at random and post that winners name at midnight est tonight! Good luck!
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Manlove sweeps the Eppies!
Okay, so maybe that's overstating it a bit *g*
BUT.
Two of my very favorite manlove authors (women I am proud to call friends) won their categories in the Eppies last night, and I am so happy and proud I could bust!
Jet Mykles won the Erotic Fantasy/Paranormal Romance category with Rated X-Mas: Spiritual Noelle. It's a menage, but does contain some HAWT m/m action :D
Laura Baumbach won the GLBT category with The Lost Temple of Karttikeya, which is the nail-biting final book in Loose Id's multi-author Collector series.
Big congrats, girls, y'all ROCK!
**throws confetti**
Congrats to all the other Eppie winners and finalists as well :D
Did I miss any other manlove winners?
Jet's already been poking me to enter something for the next Eppies. I'm thinking Untamed Heart...
BUT.
Two of my very favorite manlove authors (women I am proud to call friends) won their categories in the Eppies last night, and I am so happy and proud I could bust!
Jet Mykles won the Erotic Fantasy/Paranormal Romance category with Rated X-Mas: Spiritual Noelle. It's a menage, but does contain some HAWT m/m action :D
Laura Baumbach won the GLBT category with The Lost Temple of Karttikeya, which is the nail-biting final book in Loose Id's multi-author Collector series.
Big congrats, girls, y'all ROCK!
**throws confetti**
Congrats to all the other Eppie winners and finalists as well :D
Did I miss any other manlove winners?
Jet's already been poking me to enter something for the next Eppies. I'm thinking Untamed Heart...
Saturday, March 8, 2008
The Boys go Traveling
So, what's the one thing you're supposed to pack when you take a trip?
Guess...
Nope, not that. Guess again....
Okay, give up? Your GI JOES!!!!!
For me, I'm taking Sawyer, Dean, and Hugh on a trip down to Missouri. They're going to visit my land (alas, I forgot their little GI Joe tent, LOL!!!!) and try to cheer Hugh up because it'll be a couple more weeks before I can start his story. He's so impatient. He wants his man now!
I'll have pics on my Operation:Write blog and I know Jade has updated our "coming out" party.
Guess...
Nope, not that. Guess again....
Okay, give up? Your GI JOES!!!!!
For me, I'm taking Sawyer, Dean, and Hugh on a trip down to Missouri. They're going to visit my land (alas, I forgot their little GI Joe tent, LOL!!!!) and try to cheer Hugh up because it'll be a couple more weeks before I can start his story. He's so impatient. He wants his man now!
I'll have pics on my Operation:Write blog and I know Jade has updated our "coming out" party.
So look for pictures coming soon...
And I better get back to writing... Hugh is cracking the whip. *wink*
Friday, March 7, 2008
They're here....
Dai and Sakurai are two of our very baddest Bad Boys and we think you'll like them. Here's a taste:
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Most call me Sakurai, but certain special people are permitted to call me Liu.”
“Fuck you.”
“You did, as I recall, and rather enthusiastically.”
Dai felt his temperature spike, as much from anger as remembrance, and Sakurai laughed. It was a filthy, deep and throaty laugh that made Dai’s heart race. “You’re a fucking Fed. I know it.”
Sakurai breathed an exaggerated sigh. “No, I’m afraid I’m not.”
“Where did you come from?”
“Japan, originally. Oh, you mean this evening? Well that’s my little secret.”
Dai clenched his teeth until his jaw ached.
Look at me, Daisuke.
Dai stared at Sakurai’s reflection in the mirror. He hadn’t opened his mouth yet he could hear his voice as clear as day.
Look at me. Now.
Dai shifted, his cock stirring in response to the authoritative tone.
“He didn't love you like a son, Daisuke, he loved you like a man and many times he sat in this back seat and masturbated, imagining what it would be like to bury himself deep in your pretty virgin ass and fuck your brains out... Alas, Raymond Watts never forcibly took what he wanted. I, on the other hand...”
Dai clenched his free hand into a fist. “You don’t know shit. Don’t you dare talk about Ray that way.”
Sakurai laughed that filthy, seductive laugh again.
"Like you weren't moaning his name last night." Sakurai leaned back against the seat, running his fingers over his throat and down his chest.
Dai dropped his gun, his hands shaking so badly he couldn't keep a grip on the weapon. He jerked his head around. "Shut the fuck up!"
Sakurai laughed again. "Talk dirty to me--I like it," he purred. His fingers traced a path farther below his waist, skimming his abdomen and the full length of his stiffening cock. "Though...I could teach you better things to do with that filthy mouth."
Dai faced the windshield again. An image of that woman tied to the cross and being whipped came into his mind only to be wiped clean when Sakurai laughed yet again.
“You did enjoy that little display, didn’t you?” He flicked his long hair back with a quick motion of his hand and scratched at his neck again. “Amateurs. Pathetic rank amateurs, the lot of them. They know nothing of what it means to teach true obedience.”
He shifted on the seat and leaned forward, his hot breath skimming Dai’s ear. “But I know all about making people obey.”
Dai swallowed and tried not to shiver when Sakurai’s tongue flicked out to skim that place where his ear joined his neck.
Undo your pants. Now.
Before he knew what he was doing, Dai was reaching down and touching himself over the front of his jeans. God--he was so hard. It would feel great to tug down the zipper, to rub his cock...
He shook his head, freeing himself from the thrall that had temporarily gripped him. "Wait a fucking second--don't you dare do that--don't you dare get inside my head again!"
Dai struggled to push all his erotic thoughts and desires out of his mind. He bent down, retrieved the gun and shakily pointed it over the edge of the seat. "Stop fucking with me!"
Sakurai laughed. “Oh dear boy, I haven’t even begun to do that.”
He grabbed Dai’s wrist and pulled his hand farther over the seat then leaned forward and licked the barrel of the Glock, his eyes never leaving Dai’s. With a smirk, he placed the barrel in his mouth and began sucking on it then pulled back, his tongue swirling around the end like he was teasing a cock.
Dai wished it was his cock. Oh God…
Thursday, March 6, 2008
They want Men Kissing!
Fans of As the World Turns have started a campaign complaining about why the shows gay couple doesn't get enough "face time" with each other. Fans are apparently tracking how long its been since the network let the characters Luke Snyder and Noah Mayer kiss on screen.
You can read the CNN report here: http://www.cnn.com/2008/SHOWBIZ/TV/03/03/apontv.missingkisses.ap/index.html
You can read the CNN report here: http://www.cnn.com/2008/SHOWBIZ/TV/03/03/apontv.missingkisses.ap/index.html
Older Guys
This is one of those thing in romance fiction of any stripe that doesn't get a lot of press. Most of the men in M/M fiction tend to be young studs. Oh, you can find the ocassional May/December romance, but not easily.
Maybe becasue I'm older (not old mind you...but skidding into middle age) and I and my SG were watching Wild Hogs yesterday and it got me thinking. Laughed my ass off btw, not a great movie, but a fun road trip ride, almost a spoof on the teenage road trip movie. As I'm watching, however, I'm thinking...sheesh, Travolta is certainly hotter now then he was when he did Greese. There are some seriously sexy older men out there. I'm so in line for the new Indiana Jones movie. Why? Harrison Ford.
The slightly worn face, a lot of years on a man's shoulders; I don't know why but that's just sexy to me. Add a litttle silver to the temples and I'm melting.
So, I thought I'd give you a snippet of a piece I'm working on with two older guys...one FBI the other LAPD. Meet Chase and Enrique... not quite safe for work.
“Hedonist?” Enrique tossed the t-shirt at the bathroom door. Chase guess it connected through to the office. “You have a problem with that?” He dropped his slacks and Chase licked his lips.
Enrique rolled his shoulders and then removed the red and white choker. His hands up and back like that made everything flex and Chase hissed. Brown skin, just enough muscle to be firm, dark hair fanning out over his pecs, and a tight ass in white shorts: Chase could look at that body for ages. Enrique gently set the choker on the dresser. Again the slight twist and turn set off his body just right.
When Enrique shucked his briefs as well it just got better. A thick, dark prick stuck out half mast from a black nest of curls. There hadn’t been enough light at the club to see the whole package.
Chase wiggled out of his dress shirt and undershirt. Then he shoved his slacks and briefs down in one motion, kicking off his shoes in the process. Business clothes did not make for easy access. He stripped his socks. Laying back, Chase rolled his neck a few times to work out the kinks.
Enrique stood over him, watching, his hand roaming over his prick. Each stroke got it a little harder. “Nice, Chase.” He clambered onto the bed. “What horse you steal that dick off of?”
There was no way he was even half that impressive. “If you’re gonna stroke me,” Chase teased back, “use your hands not words.”
“That, I can do.” Electric kisses burned down Chase’s neck as Enrique’s hand wrapped over his prick. Chase’s hips bucked into the touch. Drifting under the touch, Chase savored the feelings. So different from the casual fucks. Not that it wasn’t a casual fuck, but this had more of the take your time and get to know each other feel. The kisses and the touches melded into a warm buzz running through Chase’s frame.
Chase hissed when Enrique leaned over and licked the throbbing head of his prick. The warm, wet caress bubbled his skin. With a shudder, Chase reached down and grabbed Enrique’s face. “Uhn ah, we’ve been around the block there already.”
“So?” Enrique chuckled. “Not good enough for a repeat?”
“No, it was spectacular. But this old body of mine, well, I’d hate to run out of steam before I got to the main course.”
“You keep talking like you’re seventy or something.”
“It ain’t the years it’s the mileage.” Chase’s fingers danced down Enrique’s chest.
Rolling onto his back, Enrique mumbled, “Definitely wouldn’t want you to run outa steam.” He stretched and smiled. “I was hoping to get a taste of what you got.”
Maybe becasue I'm older (not old mind you...but skidding into middle age) and I and my SG were watching Wild Hogs yesterday and it got me thinking. Laughed my ass off btw, not a great movie, but a fun road trip ride, almost a spoof on the teenage road trip movie. As I'm watching, however, I'm thinking...sheesh, Travolta is certainly hotter now then he was when he did Greese. There are some seriously sexy older men out there. I'm so in line for the new Indiana Jones movie. Why? Harrison Ford.
The slightly worn face, a lot of years on a man's shoulders; I don't know why but that's just sexy to me. Add a litttle silver to the temples and I'm melting.
So, I thought I'd give you a snippet of a piece I'm working on with two older guys...one FBI the other LAPD. Meet Chase and Enrique... not quite safe for work.
“Hedonist?” Enrique tossed the t-shirt at the bathroom door. Chase guess it connected through to the office. “You have a problem with that?” He dropped his slacks and Chase licked his lips.
Enrique rolled his shoulders and then removed the red and white choker. His hands up and back like that made everything flex and Chase hissed. Brown skin, just enough muscle to be firm, dark hair fanning out over his pecs, and a tight ass in white shorts: Chase could look at that body for ages. Enrique gently set the choker on the dresser. Again the slight twist and turn set off his body just right.
When Enrique shucked his briefs as well it just got better. A thick, dark prick stuck out half mast from a black nest of curls. There hadn’t been enough light at the club to see the whole package.
Chase wiggled out of his dress shirt and undershirt. Then he shoved his slacks and briefs down in one motion, kicking off his shoes in the process. Business clothes did not make for easy access. He stripped his socks. Laying back, Chase rolled his neck a few times to work out the kinks.
Enrique stood over him, watching, his hand roaming over his prick. Each stroke got it a little harder. “Nice, Chase.” He clambered onto the bed. “What horse you steal that dick off of?”
There was no way he was even half that impressive. “If you’re gonna stroke me,” Chase teased back, “use your hands not words.”
“That, I can do.” Electric kisses burned down Chase’s neck as Enrique’s hand wrapped over his prick. Chase’s hips bucked into the touch. Drifting under the touch, Chase savored the feelings. So different from the casual fucks. Not that it wasn’t a casual fuck, but this had more of the take your time and get to know each other feel. The kisses and the touches melded into a warm buzz running through Chase’s frame.
Chase hissed when Enrique leaned over and licked the throbbing head of his prick. The warm, wet caress bubbled his skin. With a shudder, Chase reached down and grabbed Enrique’s face. “Uhn ah, we’ve been around the block there already.”
“So?” Enrique chuckled. “Not good enough for a repeat?”
“No, it was spectacular. But this old body of mine, well, I’d hate to run out of steam before I got to the main course.”
“You keep talking like you’re seventy or something.”
“It ain’t the years it’s the mileage.” Chase’s fingers danced down Enrique’s chest.
Rolling onto his back, Enrique mumbled, “Definitely wouldn’t want you to run outa steam.” He stretched and smiled. “I was hoping to get a taste of what you got.”
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
The New Black
It's New Year's Eve and my long-time friends are bemusedly asking yet again "What is it you're writing?"
I glanced up from trying desperately to get through Metallica's "One" on Guitar Hero III. "Male/male erotic romance. And it's primarily for a straight female audience."
They laughed but I could still hear their disbelief. I tried to find a way to explain. After staring at my onscreen avatar, I said, "It's the new black. You know those bands your daughters listen to, Panic! At the Disco, Fall Out Boy? They're wowing their audiences with male/male kisses and other suggestive things on stage. And their female fan base screams for it."
I could tell I still didn't make much headway with my friends of seventeen years. If I'd had my laptop, I could have sent them to youtube to look at Brothers and Sisters or Luke and Noah from As the World Turns or to watch some of Torchwood: Jack and Ianto, Jack and John, or even Jack and Jack.
My favorite flavor of romance is no longer locked away on pay cable or in hard-to-find independent films. Look at the media blitz created by the fans upset over the lack of Luke and Noah kisses on As the World Turns. In addition to an AP run in big newspapers (and all my local ones) it's made British news websites, CNN and even NPR. And other than the obligatory conservative rant about the homosexual
agenda (Now, where did I put mine? I have to look up my apointments), everyone seems to be on the side of more boy kissing. Male/male romance is the new black. I couldn't be happier to see our favorite romances making news and new fans.
And by the way, I totally rock on Guitar Hero. I just wish I could get some of the avatars to mimic the aforementioned bands. Ah well, maybe in Guitar Hero IV.
I glanced up from trying desperately to get through Metallica's "One" on Guitar Hero III. "Male/male erotic romance. And it's primarily for a straight female audience."
They laughed but I could still hear their disbelief. I tried to find a way to explain. After staring at my onscreen avatar, I said, "It's the new black. You know those bands your daughters listen to, Panic! At the Disco, Fall Out Boy? They're wowing their audiences with male/male kisses and other suggestive things on stage. And their female fan base screams for it."
I could tell I still didn't make much headway with my friends of seventeen years. If I'd had my laptop, I could have sent them to youtube to look at Brothers and Sisters or Luke and Noah from As the World Turns or to watch some of Torchwood: Jack and Ianto, Jack and John, or even Jack and Jack.
My favorite flavor of romance is no longer locked away on pay cable or in hard-to-find independent films. Look at the media blitz created by the fans upset over the lack of Luke and Noah kisses on As the World Turns. In addition to an AP run in big newspapers (and all my local ones) it's made British news websites, CNN and even NPR. And other than the obligatory conservative rant about the homosexual
agenda (Now, where did I put mine? I have to look up my apointments), everyone seems to be on the side of more boy kissing. Male/male romance is the new black. I couldn't be happier to see our favorite romances making news and new fans.
And by the way, I totally rock on Guitar Hero. I just wish I could get some of the avatars to mimic the aforementioned bands. Ah well, maybe in Guitar Hero IV.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Most Romantic Season
(Apologies if this isn't quite slashy enough, but time and inspiration are in short supply this week. One can't rely on fate to hand one a gay plush flying monkey every time one needs to blog. ;) )
What do you think is the most romantic season? Is it spring when the flowers start to bloom? Or summer when so many people insist on getting married? Or autumn when the trees are in their splendor of gold and yellow and red? Or winter when we snuggle up with a special someone and a mug of cocoa in front of a roaring fire?
Well I would argue that it's none of these. The most romantic season, the season that never fails to ignite passion and tears and joy, is Baseball Season. Is it just the deliciously tight pants the boys of summer wear? That certainly doesn't hurt, but I frankly prefer the retro look with the baggy knickerbockers and high socks. Is it the slashy goodness of watching fit young men openly hugging, butt slapping, and leaping all over one another when they win, or embracing in tears when they lose the biggest games in the fall? That doesn't hurt either. But in my opinion it's the history of the sport, the excitement of the game itself, and the unmistakeable and inimitable cries of "My oh my!" and "Fly away!" and (my personal fave) "Get out the rye bread and mustard, Grandma! It's grand salami time!" from Cooperstown-bound Dave Niehaus that make my heart flutter and my eyes well up. That's romance to me.
And, yeah, the boys in tight pants smacking each other on the ass are nice, too. ;)
What do you think is the most romantic season? Is it spring when the flowers start to bloom? Or summer when so many people insist on getting married? Or autumn when the trees are in their splendor of gold and yellow and red? Or winter when we snuggle up with a special someone and a mug of cocoa in front of a roaring fire?
Well I would argue that it's none of these. The most romantic season, the season that never fails to ignite passion and tears and joy, is Baseball Season. Is it just the deliciously tight pants the boys of summer wear? That certainly doesn't hurt, but I frankly prefer the retro look with the baggy knickerbockers and high socks. Is it the slashy goodness of watching fit young men openly hugging, butt slapping, and leaping all over one another when they win, or embracing in tears when they lose the biggest games in the fall? That doesn't hurt either. But in my opinion it's the history of the sport, the excitement of the game itself, and the unmistakeable and inimitable cries of "My oh my!" and "Fly away!" and (my personal fave) "Get out the rye bread and mustard, Grandma! It's grand salami time!" from Cooperstown-bound Dave Niehaus that make my heart flutter and my eyes well up. That's romance to me.
And, yeah, the boys in tight pants smacking each other on the ass are nice, too. ;)
Monday, March 3, 2008
Fantasies, yummy!
I've had my hands full lately trying to complete the second book to my Dragon Riders series, do revisions on two of my novellas that are to be released in a print book, and taking a couple of online courses. All are dealing with my heterosexual stories so I'm feeling a little off not working on any of my gorgeous male on male stories. *drool* Oh, and I turned another year older yesterday. How depressing is that? 
So I thought I'd do a little piece on fantasies.
What is a fantasy? It’s defined as a situation imagined by an individual or group, which does not correspond with reality, but expresses certain desires or aims of its creator. They usually involve situations that are impossible or highly unlikely. Some are even sexual.
I found that in general, the most common fantasies for men and women are:
1-reliving an exciting sexual experience
2-imagining sex with a current partner
3-imagining sex with a different partner
As writers, how often do you delve into your fantasies?
As readers, have you found books that coincide with your personal fantasies?
You don’t have to give details, just something to think about
Not a bad way to start a week, huh?
So I thought I'd do a little piece on fantasies.
What is a fantasy? It’s defined as a situation imagined by an individual or group, which does not correspond with reality, but expresses certain desires or aims of its creator. They usually involve situations that are impossible or highly unlikely. Some are even sexual.
As writers we use this to our advantage. Especially the sexual part ;) We use our own fantasies to create stories, situations, and worlds. They also provide inspiration.
I found that in general, the most common fantasies for men and women are:
1-reliving an exciting sexual experience
2-imagining sex with a current partner
3-imagining sex with a different partner
As writers, how often do you delve into your fantasies?
As readers, have you found books that coincide with your personal fantasies?
You don’t have to give details, just something to think about
Not a bad way to start a week, huh?
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Oh, Spring.
So close and yet so far. March always means springtime to me, but it's hard to remember that spring doesn't actually happen until much later in the month. The sun is shining for now, though, so I'll content myself with imagining that summer is just around the corner and pretty soon the boys will be back on the beach, playing shirtless volleyball and giving each other ass-pats.
I finished a novel last night that's due to start in May on Torquere Press's Turn of the Screw serial subscription service. It's called Keeping Karma and it's probably as close to sci-fi as I'll ever get, which isn't really close at all. Alexander Myers can "hear" the animals that come into the emergency veterinary clinic where he works. It's a little bit of a stretch for me since I don't really do the fantasy/sci-fi thing, but most of the novel is pretty contemporary, aside from that. Oh, and there's some sex. Dylan Travers is a very cute animal control officer that attracts Alex's attention from day one.
Here, have a little taste...
The warm puppy’s squirming brought Alex back from thoughts of the past and he smiled again at Andrea. “Okay. I’ll tell the doctor you’re ready. Let me just --”
Pee, the puppy thought.
Alex reacted as fast as he could. He snatched the puppy from the table and deposited him on the linoleum floor. Immediately, the little dog began to sniff around in circles before lifting its hind leg and urinating against the cabinet.
“Great,” Alex told it. “Perfect. Don’t worry, I’ll get it. No problem.” He sighed and waited for the puppy to finish peeing.
“Wow, you got him just in time,” Andrea marveled. “I never know when he has to go until it’s too late.”
“Yeah, it’s a gift,” Alex muttered, grabbing a towel and sanitizing spray from the same cabinet the puppy had christened. He wiped down the spot while the puppy sat on Andrea’s shoes and watched him.
Game! Play?
“No,” Alex answered, not able to suppress a chuckle. “Cleaning up your piddle is not a game.”
---
Then, of course, Alex meets Dylan...
The officer pulled out a small business card and returned to drop it on Alex’s desk. “If I have a really busy night, sometimes I don’t get to check on the critters I bring in. Could you call me? That’s my extension.”
The card landed on top of Alex’s raptor book and he looked at it. “Sure,” he said slowly. “Call you about the deer. Will do.”
“Thanks.” The officer grinned at Alex again and headed for the doors, this time not stopping. His white truck was parked at the curb and Alex watched until the man got in and drove away.
He dropped his eyes to the card again. “Dylan Travers -- Animal Control Division” was printed in small type, along with the county’s seal and police department symbol. Alex touched the raised letters with the tip of his finger. Dylan.
The card went into Alex’s wallet.
---
Hijinks ensue, naturally. I'm excited. :D
I finished a novel last night that's due to start in May on Torquere Press's Turn of the Screw serial subscription service. It's called Keeping Karma and it's probably as close to sci-fi as I'll ever get, which isn't really close at all. Alexander Myers can "hear" the animals that come into the emergency veterinary clinic where he works. It's a little bit of a stretch for me since I don't really do the fantasy/sci-fi thing, but most of the novel is pretty contemporary, aside from that. Oh, and there's some sex. Dylan Travers is a very cute animal control officer that attracts Alex's attention from day one.
Here, have a little taste...
The warm puppy’s squirming brought Alex back from thoughts of the past and he smiled again at Andrea. “Okay. I’ll tell the doctor you’re ready. Let me just --”
Pee, the puppy thought.
Alex reacted as fast as he could. He snatched the puppy from the table and deposited him on the linoleum floor. Immediately, the little dog began to sniff around in circles before lifting its hind leg and urinating against the cabinet.
“Great,” Alex told it. “Perfect. Don’t worry, I’ll get it. No problem.” He sighed and waited for the puppy to finish peeing.
“Wow, you got him just in time,” Andrea marveled. “I never know when he has to go until it’s too late.”
“Yeah, it’s a gift,” Alex muttered, grabbing a towel and sanitizing spray from the same cabinet the puppy had christened. He wiped down the spot while the puppy sat on Andrea’s shoes and watched him.
Game! Play?
“No,” Alex answered, not able to suppress a chuckle. “Cleaning up your piddle is not a game.”
---
Then, of course, Alex meets Dylan...
The officer pulled out a small business card and returned to drop it on Alex’s desk. “If I have a really busy night, sometimes I don’t get to check on the critters I bring in. Could you call me? That’s my extension.”
The card landed on top of Alex’s raptor book and he looked at it. “Sure,” he said slowly. “Call you about the deer. Will do.”
“Thanks.” The officer grinned at Alex again and headed for the doors, this time not stopping. His white truck was parked at the curb and Alex watched until the man got in and drove away.
He dropped his eyes to the card again. “Dylan Travers -- Animal Control Division” was printed in small type, along with the county’s seal and police department symbol. Alex touched the raised letters with the tip of his finger. Dylan.
The card went into Alex’s wallet.
---
Hijinks ensue, naturally. I'm excited. :D
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Another Excerpt from Mission: Carnal (released on Thursday!)
Live Action Hero 1- Mission: Carnal
Mary Winter
M/M Urban Fantasy
RELEASE DATE: February 29, 2008 NOW AVAILABLE!
Publisher: 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:
The guy was his mission.
Mack knew it in his gut, and as the man pushed a stoneware mug of coffee and a banana across the table, he realized he didn’t know his name. “So what can I call you?” he asked as he wrapped his hands around the mug. Warmth seeped into his palms. He inhaled the rich aroma, and his stomach rumbled.
“Adrian, though you probably know that already.” He poured himself a mug of coffee and sat down. “So talk. How’d you get here?”
Mack sipped his steaming brew. “I’m the toy you repaired.” He stuck out his leg and wiggled his toes. “You put my feet back on. Fixed my body. And poof! I’m here.” He grinned and peeled the banana.
“So you’re saying you used to be an action figure? A toy? You do bear an uncanny resemblance to him. And you sound like that voice I heard.” Adrian pressed his lips closed, and Mack wondered what they’d feel like wrapped around his cock.
“So you heard me?” Pride surged through his body. “Did you feel me, too?” Mack lifted the banana to his mouth. He formed an oval with his lips, then put the end into his mouth. Carefully, he chewed and swallowed, before taking another bite.
“Yeah, I heard you,” Adrian admitted in a rough voice. “So that was you?”
Mack nodded. He polished off the fruit, washing it down with a cup of coffee. That was the first food he’d had in…”Hey, what year is it?”
“Year? 2008.”
“Damn.” Mack gave a low whistle.
“What year did you think it was?” Adrian frowned.
“The last I knew it was 1971, but a lot of time has passed since then. I don’t remember much of it.” Mack raked his fingers through his hair.
“What do you remember? Because according to the date on your -- the figure’s butt, you were made in 1996.” He stood and grabbed the coffee pot, sitting it on a trivet in the middle of the table. “I think we’re going to need more of this.”
Mack nodded. “I was in Vietnam on my second tour. We were pinned down by heavy fire and then nothing. I was shot. Don’t know where or the details, except it killed me. Heaven. Hell. None of that exists. At least not for me. Some kind of purgatory. The Toymaker told me I wasn’t quite good enough for Heaven and not quite bad enough for Hell. So I had a choice. I could come back, or I could stay in limbo. So, he sent me back as an action figure. Then I lost my feet. The Toymaker told me I was special, destined for another mission, and here I am.” He shrugged. “Look, I’m just a soldier. Always have been. Philosophy is not my strong suit. All I know is that I’m here, and apparently you’re my next mission.”
“Really?” Adrian drawled.
Mack rose to his feet. Adrian’s disbelief hurt more than it should have. After all, if their roles had been reversed, he doubted he’d be so trusting. Pushing in the chair, he walked around it. He stood beside Adrian, then dropped to his knees. “Let me show you that I’m the one you heard.” He rested his palm on Adrian’s thigh.
Adrian flinched. Mack noticed Adrian’s erection, tantalizingly close. It pressed against Adrian’s jeans, as erect as it had been last night in the tub. Mack curled his fingers. “Come on. What do you have to lose?”
Turning in his chair, Adrian spread his knees. “What are you going to do, give me a blow job?” His hands reached for the button on his jeans.
“Is that what you want?” Mack struggled to keep his voice even, not to give in to the hunger rearing to life inside him. Behind the buttons of his military trousers, his dick throbbed. His balls hung full and heavy between his legs, his all-too human body rearing to experience sex for the first time in over thirty years.
Mack chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Adrian asked.
“Sorry. Just realized that I am a very old man.”
Adrian leaned forward and combed his fingers through Mack’s hair. “You don’t look much over thirty to me.”
“Good.” Mack covered Adrian’s hands with his own. “Let me.” He unfastened the button, lowering the zipper on the jeans. Some things hadn’t changed, he thought as he revealed Adrian’s cock. Mack curled his fingers around the shaft. It lay thick in his palm, the head flushed purple. Veins roped the shaft and a drop of fluid leaked from the eye.
Last night he’d held memories in his mind. Today, he held reality in his hand. Curling his fingers around Adrian’s shaft, Mack stroked it from base to tip. The slow caress had Adrian’s breathing deepening. The musky scent of his arousal teased Mack’s senses, and he leaned forward to get a taste.
Adrian groaned as Mack licked the head of his cock. He swirled his tongue over it, then worked his way down the shaft and back up again. Wrapping his lips around its girth, Mack drew the organ into his mouth ever so slowly until he had taken nearly all of Adrian’s length. Mack relaxed his throat muscles and took even more.
Mack braced one hand on the hard muscles of Adrian’s thigh. The other reached between his legs to fondle his balls. Yeah, some things never changed. The springy curls teasing his nose and lips, the taste of a man, and the feel of a hard cock sliding down his throat. Mack moaned as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked.
Adrian cupped the back of Mack’s head. His fingers clenched, working in time with Mack’s long pulls on his dick. Sure, he’d done this last night, or at least had imagined it. However, this time he had the real deal. A thick cock in his mouth, balls filling his hands, and most of all, the promise of reciprocation. Or at least he hoped so.
In the years since his death, he’d all but forgotten the pleasure of wrapping his lips around a thick shaft and sucking. Listening to Adrian’s husky moans made Mack’s cock rock-hard. He longed to reach between his legs and unfasten his trousers. He didn’t. Not until Adrian came. Then, they’d see how far this went.
Mary Winter
M/M Urban Fantasy
RELEASE DATE: February 29, 2008 NOW AVAILABLE!
Publisher: 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:
The guy was his mission.
Mack knew it in his gut, and as the man pushed a stoneware mug of coffee and a banana across the table, he realized he didn’t know his name. “So what can I call you?” he asked as he wrapped his hands around the mug. Warmth seeped into his palms. He inhaled the rich aroma, and his stomach rumbled.
“Adrian, though you probably know that already.” He poured himself a mug of coffee and sat down. “So talk. How’d you get here?”
Mack sipped his steaming brew. “I’m the toy you repaired.” He stuck out his leg and wiggled his toes. “You put my feet back on. Fixed my body. And poof! I’m here.” He grinned and peeled the banana.
“So you’re saying you used to be an action figure? A toy? You do bear an uncanny resemblance to him. And you sound like that voice I heard.” Adrian pressed his lips closed, and Mack wondered what they’d feel like wrapped around his cock.
“So you heard me?” Pride surged through his body. “Did you feel me, too?” Mack lifted the banana to his mouth. He formed an oval with his lips, then put the end into his mouth. Carefully, he chewed and swallowed, before taking another bite.
“Yeah, I heard you,” Adrian admitted in a rough voice. “So that was you?”
Mack nodded. He polished off the fruit, washing it down with a cup of coffee. That was the first food he’d had in…”Hey, what year is it?”
“Year? 2008.”
“Damn.” Mack gave a low whistle.
“What year did you think it was?” Adrian frowned.
“The last I knew it was 1971, but a lot of time has passed since then. I don’t remember much of it.” Mack raked his fingers through his hair.
“What do you remember? Because according to the date on your -- the figure’s butt, you were made in 1996.” He stood and grabbed the coffee pot, sitting it on a trivet in the middle of the table. “I think we’re going to need more of this.”
Mack nodded. “I was in Vietnam on my second tour. We were pinned down by heavy fire and then nothing. I was shot. Don’t know where or the details, except it killed me. Heaven. Hell. None of that exists. At least not for me. Some kind of purgatory. The Toymaker told me I wasn’t quite good enough for Heaven and not quite bad enough for Hell. So I had a choice. I could come back, or I could stay in limbo. So, he sent me back as an action figure. Then I lost my feet. The Toymaker told me I was special, destined for another mission, and here I am.” He shrugged. “Look, I’m just a soldier. Always have been. Philosophy is not my strong suit. All I know is that I’m here, and apparently you’re my next mission.”
“Really?” Adrian drawled.
Mack rose to his feet. Adrian’s disbelief hurt more than it should have. After all, if their roles had been reversed, he doubted he’d be so trusting. Pushing in the chair, he walked around it. He stood beside Adrian, then dropped to his knees. “Let me show you that I’m the one you heard.” He rested his palm on Adrian’s thigh.
Adrian flinched. Mack noticed Adrian’s erection, tantalizingly close. It pressed against Adrian’s jeans, as erect as it had been last night in the tub. Mack curled his fingers. “Come on. What do you have to lose?”
Turning in his chair, Adrian spread his knees. “What are you going to do, give me a blow job?” His hands reached for the button on his jeans.
“Is that what you want?” Mack struggled to keep his voice even, not to give in to the hunger rearing to life inside him. Behind the buttons of his military trousers, his dick throbbed. His balls hung full and heavy between his legs, his all-too human body rearing to experience sex for the first time in over thirty years.
Mack chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Adrian asked.
“Sorry. Just realized that I am a very old man.”
Adrian leaned forward and combed his fingers through Mack’s hair. “You don’t look much over thirty to me.”
“Good.” Mack covered Adrian’s hands with his own. “Let me.” He unfastened the button, lowering the zipper on the jeans. Some things hadn’t changed, he thought as he revealed Adrian’s cock. Mack curled his fingers around the shaft. It lay thick in his palm, the head flushed purple. Veins roped the shaft and a drop of fluid leaked from the eye.
Last night he’d held memories in his mind. Today, he held reality in his hand. Curling his fingers around Adrian’s shaft, Mack stroked it from base to tip. The slow caress had Adrian’s breathing deepening. The musky scent of his arousal teased Mack’s senses, and he leaned forward to get a taste.
Adrian groaned as Mack licked the head of his cock. He swirled his tongue over it, then worked his way down the shaft and back up again. Wrapping his lips around its girth, Mack drew the organ into his mouth ever so slowly until he had taken nearly all of Adrian’s length. Mack relaxed his throat muscles and took even more.
Mack braced one hand on the hard muscles of Adrian’s thigh. The other reached between his legs to fondle his balls. Yeah, some things never changed. The springy curls teasing his nose and lips, the taste of a man, and the feel of a hard cock sliding down his throat. Mack moaned as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked.
Adrian cupped the back of Mack’s head. His fingers clenched, working in time with Mack’s long pulls on his dick. Sure, he’d done this last night, or at least had imagined it. However, this time he had the real deal. A thick cock in his mouth, balls filling his hands, and most of all, the promise of reciprocation. Or at least he hoped so.
In the years since his death, he’d all but forgotten the pleasure of wrapping his lips around a thick shaft and sucking. Listening to Adrian’s husky moans made Mack’s cock rock-hard. He longed to reach between his legs and unfasten his trousers. He didn’t. Not until Adrian came. Then, they’d see how far this went.
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