Bohunk – Friday Flash Fic., Feb. 9


Silas gave the woman using the weight machine beside him a hard stare.

“Did you — did you just call me a “bohunk”?”

She sidelined a glance at him, moving her powerful arms up and down as her machine made smooth gliding noises. “Maybe?”

The young man with black hair, beard and nicely defined torso, said, “Isn’t that a John Hughes reference?”

Her eyes widened as she looked him over. “Very good. Now, which movie?”

Silas, not to be outdone, began using his weight machine to demonstrate the size of his muscular shoulders. “Sixteen Candles.”

The woman’s eyes widened and she smiled. “Nice.” Her eyes followed the bulges in his pectorals as he moved the machine.

“As I recall, the term wasn’t exactly used as a compliment,” Silas said, working his muscles deliberately harder for his attractive audience.

The woman giggled, her large biceps providing a mature counterpoint to her girlish levity. “Wow. I really didn’t expect you to get the reference at all,” she admitted.

Silas smiled, looking over the rest of the woman’s body and liking it. “It was one of my favourites. My much older sister was a huge John Hughes fan. She forced me to watch them all.”

The woman nodded, blowing a stray lock of hair off her forehead as she worked her arm muscles. “I wrote my Master’s Thesis on eighties adolescent culture as presented in those movies.”

Silas nodded, impressed. “Wow.”

“They come off a little bit sexist now though.”

Silas laughed. “Yeah, just a little. Still kinda romantic though. The whole thing with Sam and Jake.”

The woman pierced him with a hard stare this time. “Would never happen in real life. I crushed on guys like that all the time. They never gave me the time of day.”

Silas frowned. “Awe. I’m sorry.”

The woman laughed. “It’s okay. I don’t go for that type anymore.”

Silas cleared his throat. “What, uh, what type do you go for these days?”

The woman deliberately drew her eyes along Silas from his feet in the Adidas runners to the top of his Nike t-shirt, to his warm brown eyes. “Gym rats who know their John Hughes references.”

Silas gulped, a hesitant smile spreading on his face. One that was more of a wow than a look at me. “What’s your name?”

The weights of her machine clanged down as she let go and straightened, wiping the back of her neck with a towel. “Would you believe it’s Samantha?”

Silas nodded. “Sure. But mine’s not Jake. It’s Silas.”

Samantha shrugged. “Probably about time that movie got updated anyway, don’t you think? I’ll meet you at the water fountain in fifteen. Unless you need more time?”

Silas shook his head. “I don’t.”


Golden Shower, Monday Flash Fic., Feb. 5


“Man, this view is amazing! You were totally right about this, Mark!”

Panting, more from the accumulated exertion of the climb than the minimal effort it took to sit on the line in the air over the stunning South American landscape, Mark grinned. “Told you.”

“Only thing is, it would be even more stunning if I wasn’t concentrating so hard on holding my bladder.”

“I told you to piss before we got into the harnesses, man.”

“Yeah. I should have listened.”

“Can you hold it till we get to the bottom?” Mark asked.

“I don’t know. How long do you think that will take?”

Mark didn’t say anything for several moments. “Well, I don’t want to rush it, Brian. I mean we basically climbed for six hours for this!”

“Ah fuck. Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“Just let go. Do it.”


“Just piss. You’ll feel better.”

In the air?”

“You put yourself in this situation, Brian. Now man up.”

“Oh man. Geeze. My bladder is so full I’ll be dripping! If there’s anyone down there…”

“There’s nobody down there, Brian. Just let go and stop talking about it so I can enjoy the view.”

“Fuck it. Fine.”

“Are you pissing?”

“Oh my God. Yes. YES. Feels so good!”

“Okay, okay. Tone it down. It’s not an orgasm.”

“Oh man. It really almost is. Oh fuck. I feel so much better. Except now I’m soaked.”

“Thank God you’re below me. Next time you listen when I make strong suggestions, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Sure.” He was silent for several moments. Then, “Wow, what an incredible view!”



Robotics – Friday Flash Fic., Feb. 2


The guy was hot, there was no doubt about that. How he’d ended up aboard a Class D transport instead of a Class A fighter was beyond me. He looked like a Class A+++ fucking soldier.

We ended up at the same table in the cafeteria one day and I asked him about his arm. How he’d lost it. He’d blushed and said there’d been a stupid teleporting accident. He and a group of friends had been fooling around and hadn’t used the machine properly. Part of him had been left behind. He was just glad it had been something he’d had two of to begin with.

I told him I thought the mechanical arm looked pretty bad ass.

He’d smiled and winked. “I can do lots of cool stuff with it.”

The next day he’d deliberately sat across from me in the cafeteria.

“Is this seat taken?”


He put down his tray and sat that gorgeous ass down in front of me. “What’s your schedule today?”

I blinked. “Huh?”

“I mean,” He said quietly, picking up an apple and taking a big juicy bite. He chewed deliberately for a few moments, making me wait. “When do you get off?”

His choice of words left me breathless. Luckily I didn’t say Whenever you want to help me and instead coughed out, “In three hours.”

He nodded, checking me out. I sat up straighter and hoped my uniform was immaculate. He kept eating that lucky apple and all I could do was stare and hope I wasn’t drooling. Food was the last thing on my mind.

“Room 21337.”


“Meet me there. In three hours.”

“Okay?” I could barely make words. The desire in his eyes made them turn a dark, dark blue.

“If you want me to show you.”

“Sh-show me?”

He smiled slowly, flexing the fingers of his mechanical hand with a small buzzing of the motor that powered them.

“What this arm can do.”

He stood up, taking his tray and dumping the rest of his lunch into the trash. He turned to look at me again, the white flesh of the apple now fully devoured. He held up the bare core and showed me before tossing it away.

“See you there.”

I managed to keep from fainting but had to sit still for a long time before I could get up. I checked my watch. These would be the longest fucking three hours I’d ever have to wait.


Somerville – Excerpt

Somerville 4


Darrin Peters stared at the memo in front of him. Written there on the Peters & Mayhew Construction letterhead, in his office manager’s distinctly neat writing was the following simple phrase:

Please call Marco Zanetti at 1-902-749-4201 regarding renovations to the old house at Plover Point.

Marco Zanetti. Darrin hadn’t encountered that name in a very long time. For a second he wondered if it could be the same boy. Well, man. But the connection to the house at Plover Point left no doubt. It had to be him.

Darrin had heard through the Somerville grapevine that the lot had been purchased, but he’d never have guessed that the purchaser was Marco. And likely Sam Harris was a part of it.

Sam Harris. As far as Darrin knew they were still together. Had been together since that fateful afternoon.

Flashes of memory returned to him that were painful and pleasurable at once. It had been a hot summer day. They’d played a casual game of soccer with the other guys, and then he and Sam had convinced Marco to come with them to the beach. But Sam had planned this in advance and Darrin had agreed. He’d known what  might happen, since Sam had been interested in the soft-spoken introvert for some time. But, honestly, the idea of an afternoon threesome in the abandoned beach house had been entirely irresistible to Darrin’s hormone-addled brain at the time.

It was a good memory with a painful ending. He and Sam had introduced Marco to a whole world of physical pleasure amid the decaying wood and sea-salt smell of the house at Plover Point. They’d taken turns together, all three of them, until it was hard to know who was who anymore. Darrin remembered such a feeling of euphoria and excitement that he had never experienced before or since. But afterward, while he slept in a coma of contentment, Sam had told Marco of his strong feelings and Marco had succumbed to the invitation that presented itself.

Who could blame him? Sam in those days had been magnificent. Surfer blond sun-bleached hair, eyes the softest caramel, a perfect splatter of freckles on his nose and cheeks.

Darrin remembered other things too. The way Sam’s long cock looked all wet and glistening after Darrin sucked it, making the boy moan and whisper dirty things he wanted Darrin to do next. The way Sam’s musical laugh would bubble forth when Darrin’s intimate kisses tickled. The way Sam’s expressive face looked at the moment of orgasm.

Darrin cleared his throat as his cock swelled in his jeans. He shook his head, ridding it of those thoughts. That Sam was gone now. Grown older like the rest of them and living with Marco, he was inaccessible to Darrin and he might as well forget about the way things had been. It was ancient history.

He would like a general estimate on the cost of a full tear-down and rebuild.

Oh yeah? So they were going to do to the broken down shack what they’d done to Darrin that day? Losing Sam that way had been devastating, no matter how tough and uncaring he’d seemed on the outside. He’d gone to college with a broken heart and an aimless sense of his future. He’d had to rebuild himself from the ground up, forgetting the blond boy and figuring out what he was going to do for sex and love from now on. He’d figured out the first part all right, and fairly quickly too. But the second part still eluded him.

And now here was Marco, years later, contacting him for estimates. Well, contacting the company. He probably didn’t know that Darrin’s father had passed away, leaving Darrin in charge of the Peters portion of Peters & Mayhew Construction. He probably thought Darrin was long gone in some other direction.

His phone buzzed. “Yes, Melanie?”

“Your ten o’clock is here.”

“Thank you. Show them to the boardroom. I’ll be there shortly.”

Darrin pushed the note to the side of his desk and opened his laptop, checking to see who he was meeting with this morning so he could gather his thoughts.

But First, Coffee – Friday Flash Fic., Jan. 25


The final shot I wanted to get was of the luxurious Master bathroom with the view out the sliding doors to the hardwood deck and the sliver of beach, the expanse of blue ocean stretching to infinity. It took about five tries to get that perfect shot.

“And, done.”

Mr. Yanofsky grinned. “I can’t wait to see them. When will the issue be out?”

I looked everywhere but at Mr. Yanofsky’s intense grey eyes, because I felt safer behind the camera. Safer from my own desires. “Uh, well, it’s the July issue, so probably beginning of June. But they’ll send you a copy earlier.”

Mr. Yanofsky nodded, his hands in the pockets of his snug beige board shorts. “Would you like a coffee? I’ve got a lovely dark roast from Venezuela…”

I fiddled with my camera, pretending to readjust some settings before I put it away. “Sure, yeah. I could use some coffee.” I smiled, letting my eyes meet his and seeing something very attractive there. In a spur of the moment move I lifted the camera and took a quick shot of him standing, looking at me.

“Sorry,” I blushed. “Couldn’t resist.”

He smiled, and yeah, there was definitely something there. “Come on.”

I followed him to the absurdly beautiful main room of his luxury beach house where he bade me make myself comfortable while he moved into the adjoining kitchen and began to prepare a pot of coffee.

“How long are you in Fiji, Mr. Stone?”

I looked over at him from my seat on his white leather sectional. “Hmm? Oh, I go back Friday. I’m shooting two other homes while I’m here.”

“Will you have time for sightseeing?”

I nodded. “I hope so.”

“If you like I could take you around some of my favourite spots.” Mr. Yanofsky’s voice held a tenor of insecurity, like he wasn’t sure of my answer.

I was, however, positive. “That would be great. Sure.”

Mr. Yanofsky finished in the kitchen and set the coffee to brew, then walked slowly over to where I was sitting. He stood directly in front of me, a little closer than two relative strangers would normally be comfortable.

“Well, then. It’s probably a good idea to be on a first name basis, don’t you think?” He smiled down at me.

I straightened my position on the sofa, finally letting my eyes drift down Mr. Yanofsky’s trim form and back up to his eyes, in which the invitation seemed plain as day now.

“Jameson,” I breathed, anticipation and arousal swirling inside.

“Kevin,” Mr. Yanofsky said in a soft tone that seemed to stroke over my skin. “Of course you’ve already seen my very favourite spot on the island.”

“I have?” I said, clearing my throat and trying not to stare.

Kevin nodded, a pink flush spreading across his cheeks. He laughed softly and sat down beside me. “Well, that would be my bedroom.” He reached out a hand and touched the back of my own. “Would you, maybe, like to see it again? No camera this time?”

I flipped my hand over so his fingertips grazed the sensitive skin of my palm, and said, “No camera.”

When he leaned in and kissed me with a polite, testing pressure that only teased of the future possibilities here, my body responded.

He pulled back and assessed me with satisfaction.

“But first, coffee.”


Teaser, White Balance, Ch. 7


Jeremy stood just inside the door, staring at me. “Martin.”

I didn’t answer him. I pretended I hadn’t heard him.

“Martin,” he said louder.

I glanced up. “What?”

“What is your fucking problem all of a sudden?” He sounded angry and frustrated and I really couldn’t blame him. But all the careful restraint I’d imposed on myself for the past couple of hours disintegrated.

“My fucking problem is you’re going to be photographed by this creep of a guy and I have no power over what happens during that shoot.”

Jeremy dropped his satchel so that it made a loud sound hitting the floor. “What?”

“I didn’t like him.”

“Yeah, that’s obvious.”


“Me too. Because I’m really looking forward to what comes out of this shoot, Martin.”

I nodded, my left leg starting to jiggle with excess energy. “I know that. And I’m worried that might color your judgement.”

“What the fuck do you mean by that?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

Jeremy picked up his bag and placed it on the edge of the bed. Then he walked over and sat down beside me. He took the laptop from me and put it on the table.


I still felt angry, but he was speaking calmly and it helped to settle me down a bit. “What?”

“You cannot be jealous of Felix Kurek.”

“Oh yeah?”

Then Jeremy laughed. “Seriously? Come on! You’re fucking jealous?”

“Yeah, I’m jealous. Why is that funny?” I started to get mad again.

Jeremy laughed harder. “Because, for one thing, the guy is ancient. Yeah, maybe he dresses well and he’s got that whole artistic genius thing going for him, but I’m not even attracted to him.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re not?”

“Fuck, Martin. No.”

I felt some relief at that assertion. A little.

“Well, that’s something.”

“Isn’t it everything?”

I shook my head. “What if he tries something with you during the shoot?”

Jeremy stared at me, and I could see the wheels spinning. “So that’s what this is about.”


“You’re worried he’s gonna feel like you did when I came to your studio that first time. And the second time. And, hell, that third time.”

I couldn’t sit still anymore. I stood up and walked over to the window, gazing out at the rainy day that was beginning to brighten slightly.

“Don’t,” I said.

Jeremy stood and walked over to me. He moved close and his arms came around me. “Martin, what happened back then was fate. There was an instant attraction, remember? I definitely remember.”

I shuddered. “Jeremy…”

“What, Martin?”

“I was totally perving on you before I even knew if you were interested in me.” I remembered how I’d reacted to the photos I’d taken that first session.

You may not have known but I knew. I knew from the moment I walked into your place.”

I made a noise of frustration. He didn’t get it. “But I didn’t know. In fact I assumed someone like you would never be interested in me. And I still… I still…”

“You still what, Martin?”

God this was so embarrassing. But I had to tell him. “I jerked off to one of the photos I took of you that first day.” My voice was so quiet I wasn’t sure he’d heard me.

“Shit, Martin, really?” He whispered. “Which photo?”

I could see it as if I was holding it in my hand. “The one where you’d stretched your arms up.”

He nodded. “Oh yeah. And my t-shirt rode up a bit.” His hand started to make soothing motions on my belly over my shirt.

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s the one. I jacked off at my computer desk that night. Classy, huh?”

His breath hitched but I couldn’t tell if he was mad or…

“That is so fucking hot. I wished I’d known you were that out of control. I’d have taken advantage sooner.”

I let out a long sigh.

“You didn’t take advantage of me. I was the one perving on you.”

Jeremy started to gently pull the fabric of my dress shirt out of my pants. “Oh no, Martin. I believe there was an equal amount of perving going on. You just weren’t privy to it until I called you over to that chaise where you had me pose.”

He’d completely untucked my shirt and now carefully unbuckled my belt. Then his right hand slid beneath the waistband of my dress pants.

“I made the first move, Martin, remember? I told you I’d been hard for you since I got there.”

I made a small sound, remembering that moment as his hand found my semi hard cock and stroked it.

“You would never have said or done anything inappropriate if I hadn’t told you that.”

His fingers felt so good on my cock. I tried to turn but he wouldn’t let me.

“No. Stay still.”

I obeyed, but turned my head, meeting his gaze. “How do you know?”

“How do I know what?”

“That I wouldn’t have taken advantage of you.”

He kissed me softly on my neck and I could feel his smile. “Oh, Martin. Don’t you see? I was in control of everything from the start,” he murmured. “I saw something I wanted and I took it.”

Personality – Monday Flash Fics, Jan. 22


The most interesting person in the square was someone wearing a white cashmere coat over a dark red blouse with a floppy red bow at the neck. Perched on their head was a matching red fedora-like hat. I thought the outfit showed a lot of personality and a certain unwillingness to dress to convention.

The person had a closely trimmed beard and clutched a large brown handbag.

“Excuse me,” I said to them, after tapping them on the shoulder. “I’m a photographer from Ottawa. I love your outfit. Would I be able to take your picture?”

The person looked at me, surprised. But they nodded and gave me a guarded smile. “Sure.”

I thanked them and asked their name.


I nodded, giving them a genuine smile. “Nice to meet you, Martha. I’m Carson.”

Martha nodded, still seeming wary.

“You’re fine right where you are, Martha. Just be yourself.”

At that, Martha laughed, seeming to let down their guard finally. “Oh, that is who I always am, I’m afraid. I can’t seem to help it!”

I took some shots of them, and smiled. “It shows. I really like your outfit.”

The wariness came back. “You’re not making fun of me, are you? Setting me up for some kind of joke?”

I lowered my camera and shook my head. “No, I’m not. I think you have more personality in your little finger than most of the people here. I wanted to capture it.”

They stared at me, and a small smile finally broke on their friendly face. “Thank you. It’s been a long time since someone gave me a compliment.”

“I’m sorry.”

They shrugged. “I guess my expectations of people have been lowered since I started dressing the way I want. Living the way I want.”

I looked at them with sympathy. “That’s a real shame.”

“Yes, it is. But thank you for renewing my hope in people.”

“Would you like me to send you a copy of the photos, Martha?”

“Yes, I’d love that!”

We exchanged contact info and parted with a warm handshake. I left the encounter with a lighter heart and some fantastic photos on my camera.

Science Fiction Double Feature – Friday Flash Fic., Jan. 19


“Rocky, just sit back and enjoy the show,” Dr. Frank N. Furter suggested in his sensuously deep voice with a smirk of his luscious red lips. “It’s a science fiction double feature!” His pink tongue slid over those lips as he raised his eyebrows, clapping his manicured hands together. “My favourite!”

Rocky grunted, glancing at the man who had shocked him into consciousness just days ago.

Frank N. Furter was … well, he was something. Something Rocky was just starting to figure out.

Oh, he knew all about him physically. Frank had made sure of that, having created Rocky, he assumed, expressly for that purpose. And being new to the entire experience of living and fucking, Rocky had participated enthusiastically in that lesson.

Frank N. Furter was a gourmand in the excesses of the flesh. A veritable connoisseur of sexual pleasure. Nothing stood in the way of Frank getting what he needed or wanted but he was a seducer, not a cad. He made sure the objects of his affection were entirely willing participants in every delicious act of debauchment.

Something about him, something perhaps a bit otherworldly, convinced most people that Frank would enrich their experience and bring them home.

Rocky glued his eyes to the screen and tried to ignore what Frank’s hand was doing as it traced a path up his thigh to the very tight gold lamé trunks that had been given to him to wear. The movie was a classic B-Grade science fiction movie. Frank had explained the appeal of these movies to Rocky in vivid detail, and Rocky wanted to see for himself.

But he couldn’t help glancing down at Frank when the hand made it’s gentle way to…

“Oh Rocky!” Dr. Furter exclaimed when he reached his specific point of interest.

Rocky smiled down at the curly haired man in bustier, fish net stockings and high heels who appeared so very excited at the size of Rocky’s … endowments. Well, he’d been made to order, hadn’t he?

“You’re so … so … dominant! Such a perfect specimen of manhood! I’m so proud of you, Rocky.”

Rocky blushed, smiled and grunted again, this time with much pleasure and anticipation, the movie suddenly forgotten.

Wo oh oh oh oh,

At the late night, double feature, picture show…

The Rocky Horror Picture Show - Wallpaper #1

Tease – Monday Flash Fic., Jan. 15


Are you in the building?

I glanced down at my phone. It had buzzed as I’d exited the elevator on Sam’s floor.

Grinning at his eagerness, I texted back: Down the hall. Be there soon.

My phone buzzed again.

Don’t come in.

I stopped in my tracks, confused. That was unexpected. What? Why?

Because I have something to show you.

Now I was completely confused, but I made my way to his door. The number 325 stared back at me from the antique wood as I awaited further instruction.

My phone buzzed again.

Look through the keyhole, Gordon.

My heartbeat increased exponentially. What was Sam playing at? I couldn’t wait to find out.

A restored historic building, the doors still had keyholes which I’d pointed out was kind of a violation of Sam’s privacy and a security hazard. He hadn’t really cared.

And when I crouched down to look through the tiny opening, I was glad.

I could see Sam, straight ahead in the armchair from the corner that he must have carefully positioned in direct sightline of the keyhole.


He was dressed in only a pair of tight boxer briefs that outlined his swollen prick, leaving nothing to the imagination.

I loosened my tie, wondering what kind of game he was playing.

My phone buzzed again. I didn’t want to look down, but I did:

Can you see me?

My thumbs fumbled my answer: Yes.


My eyes flew back to the keyhole.

He stared right at me, knowing I was there. The shadow of dark stubble on his face followed the curve of his jaw and emphasized his cheekbones. He licked his full lips and brought his right hand to gently stroke the outline of his cock over the cotton of his boxers. His cellphone, resting on the arm of the chair, cast its soft blue light over him.

I shuddered, feeling like a pervert but loving every minute of this. Sweat had formed under the collar of my suit jacket. I glanced quickly to either side of me. Luckily, there was no-one else in the hall.

I tried not to let my breathing become too heavy but it was futile. Fumbling with my cellphone, I sent the following:

Take it out. I want to see it.

I watched as his phone became brighter and heard the small noise it made. He glanced down at it and laughed, glancing back at the keyhole where I was crouched, watching, waiting. Lifting his chin, he pursed his lips and sent me a kiss while he snaked his hand beneath his shorts and brought out the prize.

But he teased me even still, keeping his balls and the lower part of his cock covered, just showing me the leaking tip while he moved his hand back and forth, his thighs clenching with each stroke.

Christ, I was going crazy and my back had started to hurt. Plus I was sweating like a pig in my work clothes.

Ah hell. Please let me in. I texted.

This time he stood, peeled off his briefs and sat back down, lazily stroking himself and crooking a finger at me with his other hand before using it to type a new text:

It’s unlocked.

I let out a breath, not even realizing I’d been holding it, and cursed quietly.

Then I stood. But before I entered the room I texted him one more time. I wanted to make him wait now. You’re naked and jerking off with the door unlocked? What if some pervert gets in?

I waited a moment and was pleased when my phone buzzed quickly.

I’m counting on it. Get in here.

I couldn’t help the smile that spread over my face as I grabbed the handle and twisted.






Soulmate – Friday Flash Fic., Jan. 12


“So then Tucker hauls back and punches Jessica in the mouth.”


“Right in the fucking mouth! That’ll teach her to think before she uses that word again,” Mikah said with some satisfaction.

“Oh my God, that is EPIC. Also proves that just because a guy is gay, doesn’t mean he can’t have a good left hook,” I said.

I laughed again, maybe a little too loudly. A couple of people studying at the desks near the window shot me dirty looks but I didn’t really care. This was the best story I’d heard in weeks.

“Do you think she’ll – ”

“Excuse me, but you’ll need to keep it down if you want to stay here,” a deep voice murmured in my ear, so close I could feel the person’s breath on my cheek. I jumped and spun around, ready to give this intimate intruder a piece of my mind.

“I’ll what…I mean, what…I mean, pardon?” was all I managed because I was now looking into the vibrant, and somewhat pissed off, blue eyes of a veritable bear of a man.

The guy was huge, with a thick but neatly trimmed brown beard and soft brown curls peaking out from under a backwards baseball cap. My eyes flew to his huge biceps which were covered with tattoos.

I glanced over at Mikah, who was staring at the dude with an equally awed expression.

“This is the campus library, in case you weren’t already aware, and you need to keep it down.” His voice dripped like molasses over me.

I cleared my throat and let my eyes drift down over the dark jeans that encased muscular thighs and thick calves, to the pair of quality Vans on the guys’ big feet. I fleetingly wondered if – no, it was best not to go there right now.

“I’m sorry if I was disturbing you,” I said, “My friend was telling a funny story.”

Bear guy smiled, and if that smile didn’t light up his whole goddamn face so hard I started to hyperventilate…

“Are you all right?” he said, while Mikah moved toward me.

“Cam? You okay?” Mikah asked.

I nodded, embarrassed and aroused and freaking the fuck out. Who was this guy anyway and why was he busting my balls, and working them up as well?

“I’m fine. Name’s Cam,” I said holding out my hand.

Both Mikah and the bear guy looked at me like I was insane.

The bear guy took my hand and smiled again. I almost fainted.

“I’m Grady. And, as the campus librarian I need to ask you to be quieter.”

“The campus lib-” I stuttered. “You’re the campus librarian?”

I saw Mikah slice a hand across his own throat as if to say shut the fuck up right now. But did I? Fuck no.

“THE LIBRARIAN?” I said, more loudly than I’d been speaking before Grady had intervened.

Grady squeezed my hand and grimaced slightly, nodding. “Yes. Why is that so surprising?”

I gulped, gesturing at his beard and his arms and his tattoos. “Because. Well, because…because I’ve never seen a librarian like you before.”

He seemed to find that very amusing and gave me the neuron-killing megawatt smile once more. I swear the guy was going to kill me.

“Well, get used to it. I’m gonna be riding your ass for the next few months since I can now plainly see you’re a troublemaker.”

Mikah’s chin dropped at this blatant display of what appeared to be … interest? Was Grady flirting with me? In a really obvious and aggressive way? He didn’t seem to be mad so it was a logical assumption.

I squeaked out a meek, “Okay then. I’ll try to behave myself, sir.” as I saw his gaze drift over me.

He licked his lips. “Good.” Then he turned and walked away and I grabbed the nearby table for support.

The back of his t-shirt read:

Librarian – the hardest part of my job is being nice to people who think they know how to do my job.

I grabbed Mikah’s arm in a death grip. “Mikah?”


“I’m going to marry that man.”

Mikah’s chin dropped again.

“Or fucking die trying.”


Dilemma, Friday Flash Fic., Jan. 5


What am I even doing here? This is a mistake.

Jordan hesitated in the hallway outside Michael’s bedroom. Naked except for a pair of Michael’s boxers which were slightly big on him, he wondered if this was all just a huge, fucking mistake.

“Jordan?” Michael called. “You coming?”

“Um, just a second,” Jordan said, starting to panic.

On the one hand, Michael had shown him things in bed he’d only ever dreamed of. They’d already had a couple of fun romps but this time had been different. Jordan was feeling more than just the sex. But was Michael?

Maybe I should go. Make up some excuse and get out of here before I fall even deeper for someone who just wants a fun night here and there…

The bedroom door opened and Michael stood there, completely naked, with a puzzled frown.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his brown eyes searching Jordan’s.

“Thinking,” Jordan said.

“Can’t you do that in here?”

Jordan laughed nervously. “You’re a little distracting.”

Michael grinned. “Thanks, I guess. Whatcha thinking about?”

Jordan swallowed and scratched his head. “Um, you. Us. Is there an … us?”

Michael seemed taken aback. “Well, uh. I thought so. Until right this minute…” The vulnerability in his gaze raised a tiny hope inside Jordan.

“I mean, this is fun and all. But … is that all?” Jordan raised his eyebrows at Michael. “Because I think I’m having a little bit more than just fun right now. And I need to know if you feel the same. Because if not, then I need to go.”

Michael reached out and wrapped his hand gently around Jordan’s wrist. He only said one word but the look in his eyes and the touch were all Jordan needed.


Rock Solid – Monday Flash Fic., Jan. 1, 2018


“There. Stand on that rock with the pond behind you,” my sister, Martha, directed.

I glanced at Grayson and raised an eyebrow. He shrugged.

Martha took out her phone and expressed impatience. “Guys. Seriously. It’s your one year anniversary. I need a good photo. You need a good photo. It’s been a hell of a year.”

She was right. It had been a hell of a year.

I reached out and laced my fingers with his, leading him up the shore and onto the flat rock my sister had indicated. We’d hiked for an hour to get here and the view was spectacular. Might as well record it for posterity’s sake. And it was, in fact, the one year anniversary of me asking Grayson to move in.

He’d been reluctant, if only because he prided himself on his independence and worried about becoming that couple who always stayed in and never did anything exciting anymore. And, well, maybe we had become that couple in a small way, but it was only because we enjoyed each other’s company so much we didn’t feel the need for anyone else much of the time. We still made an effort to go out and meet up with friends at the bars and there were lots of family events too. We were lucky to have people who believed in us and our relationship and who celebrated us as much as our more conventionally married siblings.

As we stepped onto the rock, Grayson slipped and clutched my fingers.

“Shit,” he laughed, as I steadied him.

“You okay?”

He moved close to me and squeezed my hand. “I’m better than okay, Brian. I’m awesome.”

I smiled at him, my other half, my lover, my best friend. “Me too,” I said, leaning in to kiss him.

“Got it!” My sister said happily.

But we ignored her and kept kissing, content in ourselves and each other and the commitment we’d made.

New World – Friday Flash Fic., Dec. 29th


*This story is based on actual events.

I woke in the darkness and remembered that I’d had the nurses take my son to watch and feed in the night so I could sleep. Since my husband had gone home to look after our two-year old daughter, I was on my own this time.

I had slept. I had slept beautifully and deeply and now, even though it was barely past six am, I missed my baby boy. My semi-private room still had no other resident, so I didn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone as I got up carefully, noting the twinge of my incision and the dull ache in my belly from the previous morning’s scheduled surgery.

I’d opted for a planned c-section this time, since our daughter’s birth had turned into an outright emergency when she’d become firmly wedged in the birth canal. They’d had to use a “T” cut to get her out, so my uterus and cervix had been greatly compromised and it had taken long weeks — months — in fact, to fully recover. I didn’t want to go through that again, and did NOT want to risk an internal rupture during another attempted delivery.

So, at shortly past the scheduled appointment time, our beautiful son had been taken out of me during a peaceful procedure so different from the only one I’d experienced before. My husband had stayed for a few hours afterward to help me with, and enjoy, our new addition, and my parents had brought our daughter in to meet her baby brother after lunch. Then daughter and husband went home and I was left alone with our baby.

When my daughter had been born, finally, after two days of latent labour at home and another day of active labour at the hospital and then the emergency c-section, my husband stayed awake most of the night sitting in an armchair at the foot of my hospital bed – where I slept getting significant doses of antibiotics and morphine through the IV –  holding our new baby girl in his arms to keep her from fussing. They finally brought him a cot to sleep in and he was able to put her in the bassinet and get some manner of sleep in the early morning hours. We hadn’t yet learned that it would have been okay to entrust her to the care of the nurses for six-eight hours.

This time, with our second child, when one of the nurses asked at around eight pm if I’d like her to take the baby to the nurse’s station for the night, I nodded and thanked her profusely for that relief. She asked if I’d like him fed if he woke and I said yes to that also. This time, I wasn’t worried at all that it would affect his breastfeeding latch and I also new that my milk would come in quicker if I was well-rested and relaxed the next day.

Now I couldn’t wait to see my son again and I made my way carefully along the quiet halls to the “nursery”, which wasn’t an official spot at all since the staunch breastfeeding proponents had made most women feel guilty about spending any time apart from their new babies. But the compassionate nurses realized that some mother’s would still happily exchange a good night’s sleep for the “hardship” of letting their babies have a bit of formula and be cared for by professionals for one or two nights.

When I got to the small gathering of bassinets – there were three other babies there – the nurse on duty matched my wristband with my son’s and let me wheel him back to my room. Even though I was sore, I felt euphoric and exited that the birth had gone well, my son was utterly perfect in every way, and our small family was finally complete.

I positioned the bassinet next to my bed and looked down at the tiny sleeping face, feeling the powerful emotions rise inside. Carefully so as not to strain my incision, and gently so as to not wake him, I carefully lifted him into the crook of my arm and climbed slowly onto the bed, pulling the warm blankets over my lap as I sat propped against the pillows and gazed out the large window of my peaceful hospital room.

The sun had started to rise and the sky glowed multiple shades of purple and yellow, the snow on the roofed houses reflecting a soft blue. I held the brand new life in my arms and alternately gazed at his beautiful sleeping face and at the new, old world outside.


Unwrapped – Friday Flash Fic., Dec. 22


So this guy totally reminds me of the character of Sebastian from The James Lucas and The Loft trilogies.

A bit of background: Beyond the Edge (book 1 in The James Lucas Trilogy) tells the story of 27 year-old Tate who finally has a chance to sub for well-known and respected Ottawa Dom, James Lucas. But, surprise, surprise, James actually has invited another young man to sub alongside Tate during his much-anticipated BDSM weekend. As soon as Tate sets eyes on 23 year-old Sebastian and sits down with him for an introductory coffee the week before the big event, he knows it will be something extraordinary.

Sebastian eventually wins James’ heart as well, after James and Tate discover that they cannot be apart, and the three men establish a successful three-way relationship.

Sebastian is a natural submissive, enjoying everything about being dominated and under someone else’s control. He loves to do whatever James asks of him and he usually does it with little questioning and little delay whereas Tate enjoys aggravating James almost as much as pleasing him. But since James gets a kick out of Tate’s bratty nature, the relationship works.

In The Little Drummer Boy, my 12,000 word free NSFW, 18+, Christmas story, Tate is frustrated by James’ unusually busy work schedule and Sebastian’s need to study for his college finals but James promises and delivers some seasonal playtime in the loft, his attic playroom, after teaching Tate an important lesson in self control and denial.

For today’s Friday Flash Fic challenge, I will be writing about a little – well not so little – Christmas surprise that Sebastian has in store for Tate and James on Christmas morning, after the presents are all unwrapped.

Or are they?


After we’d finished the exchange of gifts on Christmas morning and gotten all the “Thank you’s” and “You’re welcomes” out of the way, James and I lounged on the sofa sipping our coffees while Sebastian excused himself to try on some of his new clothes.

James watched Sebastian’s retreating back with interest and some amusement.

“What?” I asked, since he seemed to know something I didn’t.

He shrugged.

I narrowed my eyes. “No, come on. What’s going on?”

James looked genuinely innocent as he said, “I really have no idea, except that he had me help him with something this morning that has my curiosity … piqued.”

“Really,” I said, wondering what Sebastian was up to, but too relaxed and happy to get up and follow. Besides, James probably wouldn’t let me, lest I “spoil” the surprise, whatever it was going to be.

I picked up the new tablet they’d pitched in to get me and started the registration process while waiting.

“I need a good password,” I said, looking at James expectantly.

“Hmm. How about ilikegettingmyassspanked?”

“Too obvious. Try again.”

“Okay. What about myasslooksbetterafteragoodhiding?”

“Too long. And, again, too obvious.”

“Let me think.” His brow furrowed.

After several moments he took the pad of paper and pen from the side table and wrote something down. He passed it to me. “That should fulfill all the requirements.”


“Paddle slut and sixty-nine star?” I smiled, nodding. “I like it. Still kind of obvious but, meh. It’ll do.”

Sebastian’s voice came from the kitchen. “Um, can you guys help me with something in here, please?”

James and I exchanged a glance. Then, picking up our mugs we made our way out of the living room.

What greeted us upon entering the kitchen area was a wonderful sight indeed.

“Oh yes,” James said, a huge smile on his face.

“Well,” I said, looking Sebastian over, “that’s just beautiful.”

The only pair of new clothes he had on were the red cotton boxer briefs I’d put in his stocking, which fit him perfectly. Meaning they were snug enough to show off the line of his semi-hard cock and the curve of his balls. I think my mouth might have dropped open after I’d gotten the words out.

On his chest, in black body paint, was scrawled: “Naughty or” and on the top of his six-pack the word “nice?” with a question mark finished off the effect. James must have done that for him this morning.

A Santa hat perched jauntily on Sebastian’s head while he pointed at me with a spatula. I felt a thrill of excitement before he said, “Tate, you’re gonna beat some eggs. And, James, you’re gonna chop some mushrooms and onions.”

James raised his eyebrows. “Shouldn’t I beat the eggs? I do have the most experience with beatings.” He winked at me.

Sebastian laughed. “Thing is, I don’t want them too beaten. They need to be beaten just right.” He said. “Sir.”

James looked supremely offended but shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever. As long as I get to sit here and watch you move around I’ll do whatever you want.”

I closed my mouth, realizing that Sebastian had entrusted me with the job of doing the eggs over James and feeling my chest puff out a bit. “Whatever you say, darling.”

“Good. That’s all I need help with. I’ll do the rest and you two can watch me whip up the best brunch you’ve ever had.” He gazed at me with fire in his eyes. “And then, after you eat what I cook for you, you can, um, have me for dessert? I mean, if you want?”

“I want,” James said, taking the cutting board and vegetables that Sebastian passed him.

“Hell, yeah,” I said, “Pass me those eggs.”

Luckily, it was easy to beat eggs while keeping my eyes glued to Sebastian’s ass in those tight boxer briefs as he moved around the kitchen. He didn’t cook very often and never attempted to make a complicated meal like James or I might. But he was pretty good with breakfast foods and would whip up scrambled eggs and pancakes for us every once in awhile. Never before while so alluringly underdressed, though.

James had a harder time with the chopping and dealing with blurry, teared eyes from the onions. He almost injured himself at one point. I’d never seen him quite so distracted.

“Fuck!” He said, as he almost sliced off his little finger. For the second time.

“Jesus, James, you need all your fingers,” I reminded him.

“I’ll be more careful.”

“Good. You can ogle him when you’re finished,” I said.

He stuck his tongue out at me, which was so juvenile a thing for James to do I burst out laughing.

My mouth was watering for more than food by the time Sebastian served us his masterpiece on the breakfast bar. While we ate I kept stealing glances at Sebastian’s naked chest and belly with the words “Naughty or nice?” painted there.

When I’d finished I wiped my hands on the napkins he’d provided and pressed my palms flat on the counter. “So, what are you?”

Sebastian looked up from his plate, chewing on a piece of bacon.

I pushed off the stool and rounded the bar, glancing at James who had stopped eating to watch. Turning back to Sebastian I gently made him put his utensils down. Then I turned him on the rotating stool and nudged his thighs apart.

He sat up straighter as I stepped close and poked the place on his chest where the word “Naughty” was written.

“Are you naughty?” My finger trailed down to the other word. “Or are you nice?”

“Fuck,” James said, this time without his finger in jeopardy. He watched us with wide eyes and licked his lips.

I focused on Sebastian who breathed loudly and didn’t seem to know where to put his hands.

“Hmm?” I pressed, leaning in close and licking syrup from his stubbled cheek. “I mean, I already know. But I want to hear you say it.”

“Oh fuck, Tate,” he breathed, his hands resting lightly on the waistband of my PJ pants. “I’m so naughty. So, so naughty.”

I nodded, licking syrup from the corner of his lips. “Oh I know just how naughty you are, Sebastian.”

James cleared his throat. “So do I,” he said, voice husky. “Maybe we can all be naughty up in my room?”

I nodded, leaning in and licking the lobe of Sebastian’s ear under the Santa hat, making him sigh.

“Oh, yeah,” I said, sliding my hands under the waistband of those red boxer briefs. “I think he needs a bath first. He’s just covered in syrup and we need to wash this paint off.”

Sebastian whimpered and turned his head, catching my lips with his. We kissed roughly, hungrily, until James cleared his throat again.

“Upstairs, the both of you. I’ve never seen two dirtier boys in my life. I’ll run the bath.” He made for the stairs while Sebastian and I kept kissing, unable to keep our hands off each other. I wasn’t sure we’d make it upstairs.

James enjoyed the view for a moment before he spoke again. “Hey. I’m not kidding. Upstairs now, or God help me I’ll tan both your hides this afternoon and make your asses as red as Rudolph’s fucking nose.”

We started laughing which effectively ended our kiss. I took Sebastian’s hand, pulling him off the stool. “I guess we’d better do as we’re told.”

He sighed. “Yeah. Even though a Christmas spanking sounds kind of nice.”

“Oh, you are naughty, aren’t you?” I said, leading him up the stairs and ogling his now solid bulge under the red cotton.

“As if there was ever any doubt,” James said.



Wishing you a very Merry Christmas and an extraordinary New Year, with many goals achieved and challenges faced!

Here’s hoping 2018 is full of fun times and sexy reads!







Dreams – Monday Flash Fic., Dec. 18


His dreams were magical, spellbound travels through unbelievable and mysterious worlds. He woke exhausted each morning wondering what had taken so much out of him. All he had were vague memories of stars, planets, rooms, mazes. What was real and what wasn’t real? He didn’t know.

He drifted through his life looking for answers, but never finding any. He was most comfortable when he laid his head on the pillow and opened his eyes to another world. Perhaps many other worlds.

Our world was not what he wanted. Our world could not match his night world. He knew he would be better off forgetting everything that happened in his dreams but sometimes those things seemed more real to him than anything.

One day he decided he only wanted to exist in his dreams after all, and the people who came and tried to wake him from his deep slumber did not succeed. He was in a coma, the doctors said. They didn’t know why or how this had happened.

In his hospital bed he lay stone still but still breathing and still alive, travelling at infinite speeds through galaxies and star systems that seemed endless and so much more real and believable than anything he had ever witnessed.


No Regrets – Friday Flash Fic., Dec. 15


“Dude, when are you getting that horrible tattoo covered up?” I asked, for about the hundredth time. I hated the thing — God is a righteous judge, a God who displays his wrath every day. It marred, in my humble opinion, an otherwise perfect body.

Dominic cuddled Shamus, our Golden retriever, closer. Shamus didn’t really like to be picked up, but he let Dominic do whatever he wanted. He was Dominic’s dog more than mine.

Dominic shrugged. “It’s expensive to get a tattoo covered up. Plus I keep forgetting it’s there. It’s completely irrelevant to my life now.”

“I still don’t understand what made you do it in the first place.”

He sighed and put the dog down. Shamus shook himself violently then raced toward the water.

“I was pissed off at my Dad. It was kind of a warning to him. That this “God” that he spoke of so often was judging him for what he did to me and mom, and not judging me because of the path my life took,” Dominic said angrily, picking up a rock and trying to skip it across the water. It hit the surface and jumped, then landed and sank. “Of course, he thought it meant I was finally coming around. Joke was on him though.” Dominic laughed, pursing his lips into a kissing shape and puckering at me.

“I just wonder if some people might read it and take it the wrong way,” I said. Anything remotely religious made me extremely uncomfortable. I’d faced bigotry and hatred most of my life and it was always from ultra-religious freaks who quoted God at every opportunity.

Dominic shrugged. “Who cares? I feel like it’s a private joke between me and,” he pointed up at the sky, “whoever might be up there.”

I nodded. I kind of got it. It did make sense the way he described it. Like the perfect flipping off of his Dad that kind of went under the wire until Dominic was ready to actually leave.

“I still think you should get it covered up,” I said, picking up my own rock and making a much better throw. I watched it hit the very top of the water once, twice and a third time before it disappeared. “Or at least get another tattoo that says I LOVE PATRICK MORRISON. Maybe on your ass.” I laughed.

Dominic smiled and rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know.”

He whistled for Shamus and we started back for the cabin.

“I’d settle for just my first and last name. One on each cheek,” I said archly, starting to run when I realized Dominic was chasing me.


Turning Back, Monday Flash Fic., Dec. 11.


Toby stared out the car window, wondering when his life had become so complicated.

Jason was driving and neither of them had said a word for about twenty minutes. They’d had a huge argument before leaving the house and the tense silence seemed full of recrimination on both sides.

Why were they always mad at each other these days? It hadn’t been like this for the first few years they’d lived together. They’d been gracious and gentle, treating their growing relationship with kid gloves. Somewhere along the line they’d traded in the kid gloves for boxing gloves. Little betrayals and inadequacies had become BIG DEALS and now they barely shared a kind word.

Toby sighed, looking out into the darkness at the lit up blue and red art installations as they passed by. They were a controversial addition to the city but Toby thought they looked kind of nice.

“Not those eyesores again,” Jason muttered. “I hate those fucking things.”

At least he had spoken. He had made an effort. But had he said the wrong thing?

Toby wondered if Jason thought he was an eyesore. Had they been together so long that Jason didn’t find him attractive anymore?

“What are we doing?” Toby said, before he realized he was going to say anything at all.

Silence for a few moments. Then Jason sighed and said, “I don’t know.”

He didn’t pretend to not understand what Toby was talking about. He slowed the car and pulled over to the side of the road, switching on the hazard lights and placing a broad hand over his eyes.

Toby felt his stomach churn and the bile rise in his throat. After a few more seconds he realized Jason was crying.

“It’s okay,” he said, in order to say something.

“No, it’s not,” Jason said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. With us.”

Toby felt tears at the corners of his own eyes. “I don’t know either,” he whispered.

They watched the traffic pass them by, like all the happy plans and dreams they’d had about their life together.

“It’s not over. It can’t be over,” Jason whispered.

Toby felt his heart break but he had to reply. “Maybe it is. Maybe it should be.”

They were silent for several moments. Then Jason started the car again. “I want to go home.”

“There’s nothing there,” Toby stated.

“Yes there is,” Jason said firmly. “It’s all there. Everything we ever wanted. We just have to see it. And keep trying.”

For the first time in a long while, Toby felt a tiny spark light deep inside. They could try. They could always try.




Scream – Friday Flash Fic., Dec. 8


Who would ever have thought? Who would have ever thought that I, Warren Christopher Joyce, would be working for a pittance at the San Diego Zoo, forced to do things like give a mountain lion a bath because it rolled in its own faeces and the other mountain lions were tormenting it.

Hmph. I suppose this is what an undergraduate degree in biology will get you these days.

The big cat gave a pitiful mewl as I washed between its toes, digging out the caked dirt and poop with my fingernails. I’d need a shower myself after this.

Still I felt a bit sorry for the gentle giant in the bath. He was smaller than most of the other cats in the enclosure and perhaps, just maybe, a bit slow? He seemed confused most of the time, unsure how a mountain lion was supposed to act, and the others picked up on that and used it to their advantage. He was the class nerd getting picked on by the jocks and the cheerleaders. Well, he was kind of, me.

Maybe I was as smart as they’d been, or even smarter, but I had a hard time showing it. So caught up in my own massive insecurities, knowing I was different but not sure why I didn’t fit in. I felt a bit of antipathy towards this awkward creature.

I noticed the softness of his fur as I lathered the shampoo and washed him with the warm water. His eyes were round and warm, deep and full of emotion.

He mewled again and looked up at me and I found myself caught up in those eyes. For a moment, my hands stilled and we communicated something to each other. Something that said I know what you’re going through but that’s not who you are. I blinked and tore my eyes away.

Maybe I’d got the crap job of cleaning the crap off this confused creature, but something about it made me feel better about myself. Better about all the crap I’d endured in my younger years and the stronger person it had made me.

Perhaps this big, loveable cat would eventually come into his own and demand respect. I doubted it, since the world of animal behaviour was much more rigid and simple than that of humanity. In most cases anyway.

Or maybe, demonstrated by the fact that here I was in this menial job, submissive to people who supposed themselves my betters, the human world wasn’t as unique as we supposed.

I stared at the big cat, so subdued and pliant in its warm bath. “Well, we just have to keep trying, y’know? And not put up with bullshit.”

He mewled. And then uttered a small screech that could be the beginning of a puma’s distinctive scream, and I smiled.

“There you go. Scream. Let them hear you.”


“Handcuff Me To The Goddamn Bed.”


While reading a wonderful Flash Fiction piece by my friend Patrick Colton, I was reminded of one of my favourite scenes from my debut published work, Exposure. I’m going to share it here with a reminder that you can read White Balance, the sequel to this novel, for free on my website as I write it. So far, we are up to Chapter Three with Chapter Four posting next week.

Exposure BlurbWhen 23 year-old Jeremy Trask wanders into Martin Lewis’ photography studio one bleak October day and requests photos for a modeling portfolio, neither man is prepared for the immediate and intense attraction between them. What follows is a series of progressively intimate encounters that leads them on a scintillating erotic journey together. But Jeremy has a secret. Will his revelation destroy the burgeoning intimacy between them? Or will Martin rise to the challenge of loving a ‘less than perfect’ man?


“Handcuff Me To The Goddamn Bed.” Excerpt from Exposure by Elizabeth Lister:

We ordered pizza for supper; Jeremy’s vegetarian and mine with sausage and pepperoni.
“Do you know how much sodium is in that stuff?” he asked.
I shook my head and took a big bite. “Never thought about it.”
He shrugged. “Okay, well, they’re your arteries.”
I picked up my beer. “Cheers.”
He laughed and bumped it with his glass of water. “Cheers.”
After we finished we lounged on the sofa. I flicked through channels for a while and suddenly felt self-conscious. I looked over to see Jeremy watching me with a look in his eyes I knew well.
“I was just thinking how hot it would be to handcuff you to your bed.”
I stared at him, my dick turning to steel. “Um…” I didn’t know what to say. Obviously, my eyes and the bulge in my pants spoke for me.
He grinned. “Hmm. You like that idea, don’t you?”
I took a shaky breath as he moved toward me. “Jeremy, I don’t think…we should do that right now.”
He stopped. “Why?” He looked confused.
“Well, it sounds kind of intense, you know?”
“Well, maybe we should just do something a bit more traditional, until your legs are better.”
He looked taken aback for a minute. Then profoundly disappointed.
I continued, “I mean, they’re improving, right?”
He nodded. He sat down next to me and looked at his hands. His lengthy silence made me nervous.
He looked at me with an expression of such sadness and regret that my heart dropped into my shoes.
“You’re telling me that we can’t play games and have fun with each other because my legs are numb and a bit weak?”
“Well, I just thought it would be better…”
“Only a hundred percent healthy people can have kinky sex?”
“No, I just—I don’t know, I thought it might be too much for you.” I could hardly speak with the fear of losing him. “I just want you to be okay.”
“So do I. But I’m not going to postpone all the things I enjoy until my legs are better. And, it’s just, if you’re gonna handle me with kid gloves from now on, this just isn’t going to work.” He went on. “I feel great, my symptoms are improving, and there is nothing better than a huge, motherfucking, explosive orgasm to send endorphins and positive energy through my brain and my body. Not to mention that I might wake up tomorrow with no feeling in my dick.”
My eyes widened.
“You didn’t think of that, did you?”
I shook my head.
“Listen, Martin.” He spoke quietly, as if to a child who had trouble understanding. “The most important thing this disease has taught me is to enjoy the fuck out of what life has to offer, every day. I do take care of myself. I eat well and I get as much sleep as I can. I’ve started this new medication and I swear I will take it religiously. Beyond that, I will not let this disease dictate how I live my life.”
I couldn’t say anything for a moment, the look he gave me so determined and strong. Then I took a deep breath and said, “I want you to handcuff me to the bed and do whatever you want to me.”
He looked at me and his eyes widened. Then his lip twitched.
“I want you to enjoy the fuck out of me.” I finished.
He smiled, and the tension and the heartache vanished, relief flooding through me.
“Are you sure?”
I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. “Jeremy, handcuff me to the goddamn bed.”
“Okay.” He looked me over hungrily. “Take off your clothes.”
I started to do so.
“No. Slowly, please.” He directed. “And look at me while you do it.”
Holy fuck. I was so his bitch right now and he knew it. I finished unbuttoning my shirt and slowly peeled it off, letting it drop to the floor behind me. My erection, scared away by the prospect of losing him, came back with a vengeance. I slowly unbuttoned my jeans and pushed them down, staring into his darkening gaze with an intensity to match it.
“Shit,” he whispered. “Do you even realize how hot you are?”
I pulled off my pants and stood there in my boxer briefs. I blushed. “Only when you look at me like that.”
He grabbed his cane and stood up. He held out his hand. I moved closer and took it.
“I want to show you something.”
He led me over to the mirror that leaned against the wall and made me stand in front of it. He stood behind me, to the side. I was embarrassed to look at myself. I averted my gaze, making a slight sound of protest.
“Shhh,” he quieted me. “Eyes forward, Martin.” And that directive, the one I’d used so often in our interactions, caused a jolt right to my cock. I obeyed, taking in the sight of myself in the big mirror.
“Put your hands behind your head,” he said and I did so, not even thinking about resisting.
He leaned his cane against the wall and stood behind me. We were almost the same height.
“You can close your eyes for a minute,” he suggested and I did so with both relief and a surge of excitement. Then I felt his hands on my own. He ran them lightly over my biceps, my shoulders, and down my back. He skirted them around my waist and slid them up to my chest, resting them over my pectorals. He must have felt my heart and its rapid staccato beats.
He kissed the back and side of my neck as he stroked his hands flat across my nipples, once, twice, causing them to harden and me to moan quietly. I could feel moisture leaking from my cock into my underwear.
All I could feel were his lips at my neck and his hands as they glided slowly down over my belly, his fingers slipping under the waistband of my boxers. I inhaled a trembling breath as he freed my erection and pulled my boxers slowly, oh so slowly, down. My eyes stayed shut but I stepped out of them and waited with held breath for his next move.
“Jesus,” he said. His warm hand wrapped around my aching cock. I moaned and he placed his other hand flat against my belly as he pressed his body against me. “Open your eyes, Martin,” he whispered in my ear. I could feel the excitement in his voice and his own hard cock pressing against me through his clothes.
I opened my eyes and stared in wonder at the image before me. There was a tall, fairly slim, very attractive naked man before me, his skin flushed and his eyes dark with lust; his erect penis jutting beyond the grip of another man’s hand and the man’s other hand splayed possessively across his abdomen.
“How fucking sexy is that?” He murmured in my ear.
I shivered and he stroked my cock as I watched in the mirror. “That is…really…fucking…hot…”
He suddenly let go of me and backed away, taking his cane from the wall.
“Okay, first lesson over. Now get your beautiful ass onto that bed, Martin, and I’ll see what else I can teach you.”

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Madness – Monday Flash Fic., Dec. 4th



“But, Alice,” George said with a tremulous lilt to his voice. “All I see is my reflection.”

Alice smiled gently, touching her hand to the small of his back. “Just relax and wait a moment. Trust me.”

George tried to do as he was told, taking a deep breath and looking again into the square framed mirror on the floor of the parlour. Alice had prepared him for something magical and all he saw was his tired face looking back at him.

At that very moment something moved over his shoulder. It wasn’t Alice. He watched the space again and drew back as a small animal popped its furry head up and … grinned.

“You see?” Alice said, laughing gently. “There he is.”

George leaned forward again. “There who is? A rabbit?”

“Not just any rabbit, George. The White Rabbit.” She leaned over his other shoulder so that her reflection appeared. “He wants you to follow him.”

“But how do I do that?” George asked, watching the rabbit hop away in the distance.

“You have to believe,” she said, taking his hand.

Suddenly, the mirror widened and they tumbled forward, falling through it and the floor and the world.

“What is happening, Alice?” George exclaimed as gravity seemed to pull at every part of him and he marvelled that he hadn’t bruised his head on the parlour floor. In fact, the parlour floor had disappeared.

“You’re coming with me this time, George! There’s someone I want you to meet. He’s absolutely divine and he throws the best tea parties!” She said excitedly as they continued to fall. “Some say he’s completely mad but, honestly, George, compared to some people in our house he seems refreshingly uncomplicated.”

“Really?” George said, intrigued and just wishing they could arrive wherever they were going. His stomach was beginning to turn.

As if on cue, they landed together with a thump on something soft. When George opened his eyes, both he and Alice lay on a carpet of bright green grass, looking up at a queer man in a very tall black top hat.

“I say, lovely to see you, Alice! Nice of you to drop in for tea,” said the man.

Alice giggled and sat up, dusting off her dress. “It’s wonderful to see you again!”

The dapper gentleman doffed his hat and gave George a most attractive smile. “I see you’ve brought a friend.”

Alice nodded. “Yes. This is George. I thought the two of you might get along.”

George sat up and brushed a twig out of his hair, offering the tall man his hand to shake. “Pleased to meet you, Sir.”

The handsome gentleman took George’s hand and pulled him to a standing position. Now George could see that the man was only a little taller than him in actuality, the hat he wore adding several inches. With his other hand he doffed it, and bent to one knee before George.

“And I, dear George, am delighted to meet you. People call me “mad” because of some of my pastimes, but I hope we can share them together. Alice understands me, and I know she would bring me a companion who thinks likewise.”

George stared at the man, wondering what he meant, when Alice said, “Hatter, I know that George is perfect for you. He struggles in our world and I thought he would like to be in a place where people may think him mad, but they will let him alone.”

The man that Alice called “Hatter” replaced his top hat, stood, and gestured to a table set up nearby, full of delicacies and several pots of tea. “Won’t you sit down?”

George followed Alice to a chair and sat, suddenly realizing that his companions at the table were various small animals dressed in their best Sunday clothes, including the dapper White Rabbit, who waved and winked at him.

He leaned close to whisper into Alice’s ear. “But the other guests aren’t human.”

She gave him a confused smile. “Well, don’t hold that against them.”

Hatter cleared his throat. “Ladies and Gentlemen, rabbits and foxes, toads and mice, and all the other creatures who have honoured me with their presence today. I’d like you to welcome my good friends, Alice and George. Alice I’ve known for ages and George I hope to know very well soon enough.”

The animals cheered and George smiled at the invitation in Hatter’s beautiful grey eyes. Could it be that Hatter was mad” in the same way as George? That is, did the feelings that rose inside George at Hatter’s intimate look rise in Hatter also? Could it be that here, in this wonderful place, they could be true companions the way George never could be with anyone of his choosing back home? Not unless he wanted to risk imprisonment or ridicule at the very least?

Suddenly overcome with unfamiliar self-confidence, George took hold of his teacup, which steamed with the hot amber liquid, and raised it to Hatter with a smile. “Cheers, Hatter. May we come to know each other well and explore our “madness” in every sense of the word.”

The animals cheered as they drank and Alice’s tinkling laughter drifted away on the breeze.