White Balance, Chapter One (September 15th, 2017)

5-questions-to-ask-before-hiring-photographer

Prologue

“Martin?”

I heard Jeremy’s voice and as usual it lifted something inside me. Something that had lain dormant for years and woken up three years ago when he’d walked into my photo studio.

“Martin? You home?” He said again, and then I heard him bounding up the stairs two at a time.

“In here,” I replied, gazing down at the clothes I’d put out on the bed. I had no idea what to wear. Thank goodness Jeremy was home.

He came into our room and skidded to a halt. You’d never guess he’d needed a cane to walk shortly after I’d met him.

“Hey, guess what?”

He glowed with barely contained excitement as he waited for my answer.

“Um, you found your long lost twin?”

“Eh, no.” He grinned, waiting.

“You finally realized that chocolate is not worth it?”

He looked at me and frowned. “Fuck no.”

“Just tell me. I’ll never guess and you know it.”

His grin returned and he shoved a piece of paper toward me.

I took it from him. “What is this?”

“It’s an invitation to model for Felix Kureck in London, England! He wants me to come to London so he can shoot me.”

I stared at the letter, reading the invitation. I’d heard of the guy of course. Everyone had. He was a famous photographer specializing in artistic photos of sexy men, who had personally requested that Jeremy’s agency send him, all expenses paid, to London England for a photo shoot for Kureck’s upcoming coffee table book, The New Man.

I understood why he was so excited and tried to match it with a similar enthusiasm, even though my stomach sank at the thought of him leaving me for two weeks. We hadn’t been apart for longer than a weekend since we’d met.

“Wow! That’s amazing.”

He sat down on the bed, shaking his head back and forth. “I know, right? I mean, he wants me. Me!”

I looked at Jeremy, once again shocked that this beautiful young man really didn’t appreciate how physically gorgeous he was.

“Everyone wants you, Jeremy. You’re a wet dream. Men and women have your magazine ads pinned to their walls. Trust me.”

He laughed. “Oh come on. You’re a little biased, you know, Martin.”

“Am I?” Sure, I was biased. I also knew what it was like to take his photo. To see him come alive under the lens of my camera. To see his image on my computer screen teasing me with what I thought I couldn’t have. Until he’d let me know in the next session pretty clearly that he wanted me as much as I wanted him.

And I still had a hard time believing it. Even when we were fucking and he was crying out my name, I wondered how I’d gotten this lucky.

“I want you to come,” he said then.

“What?” My mind was still wrapped up in erotic memories and I wasn’t sure what he meant.

“To London. Come to London with me, Martin.”

 

Chapter One

“What? I can’t just take off for two weeks,” I said, trying to wrap my head around what was happening.

“Why not? It’s not like you have a regular nine-to-five job. What do you have booked for the next little while?”

He was practically bursting with excitement and optimism and I couldn’t blame him. This was a BIG DEAL.

“Well, I — “

He stood up and approached me, grabbing my shoulders and staring into my eyes with an intense energy. “Come to London with me. Please.”

My head filled with excuses as to why I couldn’t or shouldn’t, but my mouth said, “Okay.”

He let out a whoosh of air that smelled like cinnamon. Perks of working at Starbucks. “Really?”

I nodded. “Sure, why not? I can just take out a second mortgage on this place.”

His face fell and I felt like I’d kicked my pet dog.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” I took his chin and kissed him softly. “It’s going to be expensive that’s all. But I’m just about to pitch a spread to Outside Magazine. If I can convince them a story about the New Forest would be timely, this just might work.”

“Oh shit, I forgot you had that meeting. What time?” His smile was back.

“An hour. Can you help me get some information together?”

“Of course.”

“And tell me what to wear?”

“Always.”

*****

Jeremy and I spent thirty minutes printing pages of information on The New Forest in England — weather patterns, indigenous animals and fauna, acreage, human encroachment. It would be a hastily put together pitch, but one I hoped would at least pique their interest enough to tell me to go for it. And pay some of my way.

After dressing in the outfit Jeremy picked out — dark jeans, leather oxfords, a white button-up and casual blazer — I kissed him at the door and left him to dream about modelling for a famous artist in one of the biggest metropolitan cities of the world and walked three blocks to the Lieutenant’s Pump.

I felt nervous because I had prepared a completely different pitch and now I needed to beg them to send me to England. I’d only been doing gigs for this magazine for a year and I didn’t know if I had enough of a reputation yet to snag myself an overseas trip. But the motivation to spend time in London with Jeremy drove me.

The editor from Outside, a Mr. Clarence Twomes, was already seated at a table in the corner of the pub. He stood when he saw me approach.

“Hey, Martin, it’s great to see you again,” he said with genuine warmth, shaking my hand enthusiastically.

“Mr. Twomes,” I smiled.

“Call me Clarence. I loved your piece on Gatineau Park, by the way. The images were incredible.”

I blushed, not used to so much admiration and respect. It bode well for my mission. “Thank you. It was something I’d worked on for awhile. I’m so grateful that Outside Magazine was interested.”

Clarence flagged the server. “What’ll you have, Martin? It’s on me. Well, it’s on the magazine, that is.”

“Oh? Great. Guiness please.”

The server left and in a few moments brought my beer. Clarence and I made small talk about the weather and then he toasted our meeting and asked what I was up to lately.

“Well, actually, that’s why I called you. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

“Anytime, Martin. Do you have another spread for us?”

I fiddled with the edge of the coaster. “Well, that’s the thing. I have an idea for one. But I don’t know if it fits your mandate or what kind of advance you can offer me.”

Clarence sat back in his chair. “Hit me.”

All right. Here goes.

“I want to do a piece on the New Forest in England.”

One, two, three, four — I counted silently to ten before launching into a rambling justification as I reached for my satchel. “I mean, there are — “

“I like it. The New Forest. That’s near London, isn’t it?”

Had he figured out this was all a ploy to go to London? Well, not really, because what nature photographer wouldn’t want to do a story about the New Forest?

“Well, yes, but —“

“I’ll check with the executive editor but I don’t see a problem. What’s your timeline and what do you need?”

I stared at him, speechless. How could it be this easy? I had expected to have to convince him. I left my satchel leaning against my leg.

“Um, well, I think, I’d like to go as soon as possible. Maybe the end of the month?” Jeremy’s photo shoot was on the 28th. Only a few weeks away.

“Okay. If you can submit something by the end of next month we can probably fit it into the fall issue. You’ll want your flight and accommodations taken care of I assume?”

I nodded, still a little out of it. This was not how I’d thought the meeting would go. I took a big swallow of beer.

“I can email you the forms and we can get this started. If you can get them filled out and back to me by tomorrow or Wednesday I can probably get you something by the weekend. Either an advance or a travel voucher.”

I blinked. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” I didn’t really know what to say.

He seemed suddenly to be aware of my surprise. “Martin, you’re very talented. And intelligent and well written. We’re pretty much interested in anything you want to put together, as long as it goes along with what we like to publish. A story about The New Forest falls perfectly within our interests. If it costs us a bit of money to get you over there, we’ll pay it.”

*****

When I got home, after a great chat with Clarence about the prospects of my trip and my excitement to shoot overseas, I raced upstairs and keyed open the door with enthusiasm. Jeremy, in faded skinny jeans and a t-shirt, turned from the stove, where he was stirring a pot of what smelled like pasta sauce.

I stopped dead, experiencing a strange, surrealistic moment of gratitude and disbelief that this man was mine. When I saw him like this, suddenly after a brief or long absence, in all his laid back, sexy splendour, I was reminded how lucky I was to have him. I stood there dumbly, my eyes raking over him as if I’d forgotten what he looked like. Which was ridiculous because the way he looked, the way he smelled, all the little habitual gestures, every nook and cranny of his exemplary body was indelibly etched in my memory.

“Hey. How did it go?” He asked, as if he hadn’t just given my eyes an orgasm.

“Good,” I said, walking into the living room and putting down my satchel. “Great.”

He raised his eyebrows, pausing his stirring. “You mean — “

I smiled. “They’re paying me to go to England with you.”

“Really?” He dropped the spoon and walked over to me, eyes wide with excitement and disbelief.

I nodded. “Well, I’ll have to take some pictures.”

He stopped in front of me, raising his eyebrows again and lifting up his t-shirt slowly to reveal his fine abdomen with its soft covering of hair. He moved his other hand teasingly across skin of his belly. “Oh, yes you will, Martin. Lots and lots of pictures.”

I laughed. “Of the landscape, dumb nuts.” I said with affection, although my eyes appreciated his nakedness. So did my cock. “Of trees and greenery and ponies.”

He smirked. “I can be a pony. I’d make a cute pony.”

My cock twitched. “I don’t think that’s what Outside magazine is looking for. However,” I said, assessing him. “I’m not dismissing the idea out of hand.”

He grinned. “Seriously? We’re going to England together?”

I nodded.

“For two weeks?”

“For two whole weeks.”

He reached out, grabbed my shirt and pulled me in, kissing my neck and ear and finding his way to my mouth. I tasted his excitement and that particular flavour that was Jeremy. When we parted he looked at me with some concern.

“We have to fly you know.”

I swallowed down the flare of fear that lit inside me. “Uh huh.”

“You’re scared to fly.”

I cleared my throat, looking down. “I’m not scared. I just don’t like to.”

“But you’ll do it for me.”

I looked back up, gazing into his brown eyes. “I’ll do anything for you.”

*****

By early the following week we had plane tickets and a hotel room booked for eight days on the magazine’s ticket, opting for a luxury King Suite and agreeing to pay any extra fee out of pocket. Then I booked us a campsite in the middle of The New Forest for the remaining four days. Jeremy’s shoot would be over and I could spend some time immersed in nature and take as many photos as possible. We could rent everything we needed for the same price as staying at a hotel for the duration.

I also booked an appointment with my doctor.

“Martin, what’s the problem today?” Dr. Acevitos asked in his usual, get-to-the-point-I-have-other-patients way.

“I, uh, I need something for my nerves,” I said, rubbing my hand on my pants. Just the thought of boarding that plane in a week sent me into a panic.

He raised his eyebrows. “Sit down. Let’s talk.”

I sat in the chair beside the examination table. “I’m going to England next week,” I said, looking him in the eyes. “And I’m terrified of flying.”

His expression softened. “Ah. I see. Will you be travelling alone?”

I shook my head. “No. My partner’s going with me.”

“Jeremy,” Dr. Acevitos said, and I remembered that Jeremy was his patient as well.

“Yes. But he doesn’t know how fucking scared I am.”

Dr. Acevitos nodded, straightening up. “You’re not alone, Martin. A lot of people are afraid to fly. Especially these days, what with all the terrorist atta —“ He stopped talking abruptly when my eyes went wide. He continued, “uh, never mind. I mean, it’s a common thing.”

“Is there something I can take before I get on the plane? Something that won’t knock me right out but will make me kind of forget why I’m scared? Or something?”

He smiled reassuringly. “Absolutely.”

He keyed something into his computer and the printer spat out a paper. He handed it to me. “This is a script for Xanax. Please read the information packet carefully and take only the recommended dose and only on the morning of the flight. Too much of this stuff is going to make you really loopy, and you don’t want that.”

Oh, hell, yeah I did. I wanted to be looped out of my fucking mind. I didn’t tell him that.

“Thank you,” I said with real gratitude.

“And think about telling Jeremy how you’re feeling. Sometimes talking honestly with someone who cares can help just as much as the meds.”

I doubted that. Jeremy loved to fly. He wouldn’t understand my fear at all. He was the bravest person I knew.

On Monday morning, four days before our flight, I watched Jeremy sit down at the kitchen table and unzip the blue nylon bag that contained his daily needles. He took one out and examined it, checking for tiny particles before removing it from the plastic and setting it on a clean towel in front of him.

“I guess you’ll have to remember to pack enough of those,” I said, nodding toward the syringe.

He gave me a reassuring smile. “You bet. I’m not risking even a day without taking this stuff.”

I nodded. “Good.”

Jeremy had Multiple Sclerosis, a fact he’d neglected to tell me when we’d met and experienced an instant attraction. A few weeks later, after a very stimulating and somewhat kinky encounter, he’d woken up in the middle of the night barely able to walk. I’d found him on the floor of my living room and he’d told me after several long moments during which I was imagining the worst that it was the MS. In the following days his doctor had put him on this daily injectable and he’d taken it religiously. He’d needed to use a cane for a few weeks but eventually recovered and had been well ever since, taking naps when he felt tired, eating healthy and exercising within reason.

I watched as he injected himself in the upper thigh, without a wince or a hiss or any sound of distress because he was so used to it. Afterwards he stood up, disposed of the needle in the Sharps container under the sink and threw away the cotton ball.

When he saw me looking he raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“I love you.” It was a simple statement of my pride and affection for him. Not schmalzy or sentimental, just a fact.

He smirked and pulled out a Star Wars reference. “I know.”

I cleared my throat, suddenly realizing Jeremy was in nothing but a pair of white boxer briefs that outlined his gorgeous ass and thighs and showed off the bulge in front. Okay, who am I kidding, I noticed that when I entered the kitchen.

“When do you have to work today?” I asked, running my finger along the counter, trying to look nonchalant.

“Not ‘till four. You?”

“I don’t have any bookings today.”

Our eyes met as Jeremy straightened. “Well. Isn’t that interesting,” he said, pretending to stretch and moving in a way that caused my mouth to go dry.

“You, uh, wanna go back to bed?” I asked with a small, hopeful smile.

“I should probably shower,” he said, sniffing at his pits, which also made my dick twitch.

I shook my head. “Uh uh. No point getting clean just to get…dirty.”

Jeremy couldn’t help but smile. “Well, if you say so.”

I gestured to the bedroom. “I’ll meet you on the bed in a second.”

Jeremy lounged on the bed, on his belly, still in his boxer briefs, looking at one of my Photo Lens back issues. I took a few moments to admire him before placing the bottle of honey I’d brought from the kitchen onto the bedside table with a soft thunk.

He looked over at it, then back at the magazine. “Hungry?”

I gulped. I loved the way he teased me. “Famished.”

I got up onto the bed on my knees between his spread legs and placed a hand on the sole of each of his feet, tracing up his legs very slowly as his breathing hitched and quickened. Continuing, I got to the edge of his white boxer briefs and pushed underneath, sliding my fingers to the crease of his buttocks.

He turned a page of the magazine, probably to cover up a quiet gasp, as if my actions hardly affected him at all.

I stroked my fingers along the edge of the crease for a few moments, then withdrew them and reached for the waistband of his undershorts.

“Martin,” he said calmly.

“Yes?” I breathed.

“I like where you’re going with this.”

I grinned, pulling his boxer briefs slowly down over the twin globes of his perfect ass. “Me too.”

He made a small noise when I bent my lips to kiss one, then the other. He smelled of soap and water. “Did you wash your ass?”

He giggled. “Maybe.”

“That’s a bit presumptuous, isn’t it?”

He snorted. “Not really. I know you can’t resist it.”

I grinned. “That’s fair. But now I’ll have to dirty it up again.” I stretched over him and grabbed the bottle of honey.

“Oh, God, no,” he said in mock protest. “Whatever will I do?”

I sat back in a comfortable stance and slapped his ass gently. “You’ll be quiet and take it, like a good boy.”

He groaned, and I knew I had his attention.

He didn’t say anything, just shoved the magazine aside as I placed a hand on his ass, spreading his cheeks with my fingers. I tipped the bottle of honey over him and squeezed, watching the amber liquid drip onto his pink hole and ooze down the crack of his ass, my dick hardening and leaking at the sight.

“Oh fuck,” he said.

“Yum,” I replied.

He whimpered as I bent my head and licked at the honey, my tongue a soft counterpoint to the stubble on my chin. I smiled against him as he squirmed and moaned, my technique having been perfected over the past few years. I’d only ever done this to one person and that was Jeremy.

And I loved doing this to him. I used my tongue and even my teeth on the tender skin there, causing him to make the most delicious noises and motions of desperation. His frantic pants, moans and whimpers spurred me on and I ate his ass like I was born to it. I brought my finger down to circle his sweet hole. He cried out. I did it again, jabbing my tongue at the same time.

He arched his back and stuttered my name. “Martin!”

“Mmmph, what?” I didn’t want to stop in order to answer.

“I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,” he panted.

I laughed, causing him to moan again. “No, you’re not,” I said. “You never come from just this.”

He groaned again and reached behind to grab my free hand, pulling it underneath him to his cock. I kept tonguing his ass while I wrapped my hand around him. He was hard as fuck and leaking like crazy onto the bed.

“Fuck,” I said.

“See?” He said in a hoarse, desperate voice.

“Yeah,” I gave him another swipe with my tongue and felt his dick jerk in my hand. “Okay. I’ll stop. Maybe.” I jabbed my tongue at his hole one more time and then sat up, dizzy with arousal. My own cock was so hard it was painful.

I let my hand slide from underneath him and grabbed some lube from the drawer, almost knocking the bottle of honey off the table. I slapped his left cheek again. “Up.”

He quickly obeyed my request, lifting his ass as he got up on hands and knees before me. He couldn’t keep still. “Hurry up. Fuck.”

“Would you hold on a minute.” Luckily I had licked most of the honey off so now concentrated on slicking him up with the water-based lube. At least I had his full attention.

“Oh, fuck, Martin, shit. I need you so bad.”

“This wasn’t even your idea. What if I’d left for an appointment or something?” I teased, using my fingers to prep him.

“What do you mean it wasn’t my idea? Why do you think I was prancing around half naked in the kitchen? You give me too little credit.” He moaned and shuddered as my fingers pushed deeper.

I shook my head. He was always one step ahead of me.

“Would you please fuck me already?” he whined.

“Say pretty please,” I told him as I withdrew my fingers and slicked my cock, moaning at the sensation of my own hand. I was so ready.

“Pretty please, Martin. Pretty please with a fucking cherry on top.”

I spread his cheeks and leaned forward, guiding my cock to his entrance. In one well placed thrust I was in.

He cried out in pleasure, his arms flexing and his hands fisting the sheets. I thrust in deeper, my eyes rolling back.

“Yes,” he moaned, “Yes. Go deep. Fuck me hard.”

Now I couldn’t keep still. My quick breaths scraped my throat dry as I fucked him, deep and hard, just like he wanted. Like we both wanted.

Soon I had him gasping and all but crying. I knew his sounds like they were my own. In fact I was pretty much doing the same thing. He felt so good and so right and I was almost there.

“Come inside me. Come inside me,” he groaned, arching his back and pushing back against my thrusts. “I want to feel you come…”

And that did it. With one more thrust I shuddered and emptied into him, waves of pure pleasure washing over me as I kept moving, knowing he was close too. I reached beneath him and grabbed his thrusting cock.

“Ah! Fuck! Jesus!” he yelled as he exploded, covering my hand with his wet spunk. Now he wascrying softly and saying my name over and over.

“I’m here, I’m here,” I said soothingly, as I withdrew and gathered him to me. He did this sometimes, so overcome by the raw emotions of our coupling. And I loved it. I loved that it shook him so deeply and I felt it too, even though I was able to control my tears. “Shhhhh, I’m here.”

RTC Readings/Excerpts

If you weren’t able to attend my reading last night at Romancing the Capital (there were many events going on) I’ve got them here!

Reading/excerpt #1, from Beyond the Edge (Book 1 in The James Lucas Trilogy):

BeyondtheEdge_432

“So dance with me…”
He started moving and, by God if, once he forgot about everyone else, he wasn’t a natural. I knew the boy could move, he’d fucked me crazy. He just needed a way to let go and apparently my command did the trick.
We moved together to the beat of the music, rocking our hips and flirting with each other, sweating and smiling and having fun.
Then the band started to play a slow, sultry number so I took Sebastian’s wrist, spinning him around, and took his other wrist so that his arms crossed in front of him. Then I pulled him back against me, making him move with me. I swayed my hips, pressing my hard-on against his leather-clad ass and holding his hands to his sides. His head lolled back against my shoulder, his eyes closed, and he swayed with me, pushing back against my erection. Heaven. The scent of him, the feel of his body against mine, everything swirled together into a hazy fog of happiness. I felt euphoric, aroused, and so excited by this beautiful boy and the possibilities ahead of us.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said in his ear, flicking my tongue against the lobe.
He turned his head, nodding. I let go of his wrists and in a moment we were kissing, sharing our passion with each other and the entire dance floor. My fingers wove into his hair, holding him still as I kissed those perfect lips, hungrily feasting on him until I couldn’t take anymore. His hands clutched my shirt and I could feel his need, not to mention my own. We had to go… I wrenched myself away from him. Some guys smiled at the two of us knowingly but I didn’t even care as I twined my fingers with his, holding his gaze and said, breathlessly, “My place?” As soon as we stepped out of the bar and headed down the steps, Sebastian said, “We could go to my place, if you want? It’s closer.”
“Sold,” I said, grabbing his hand and lacing my fingers with his.
He squeezed my hand, hard, as we stepped onto the sidewalk. “How fast can you walk?” He sounded breathless already.
“Watch me,” I said, pulling him along. We kept stopping to grope each other as we climbed the stairs to Sebastian’s apartment. By the time we actually got the door open and moved inside, I’d gotten his jacket off and was unbuttoning his white shirt.
“Tate…” he moaned, kissing me frantically and helping me with his shirt. “Oh…fuck!…I wanna…I wanna…fuck…you…” He breathed out between kisses.
I groaned, ripping the last button from his shirt as I wrenched it off him, pushing him backward into his room. I was desperate, so horny and wild for him. I shoved him roughly down onto his bed and started to strip. He nodded, his eyes like two blue coals, staring at me from under hooded lids. He lay back, taking his pants down and off and his cock rose, thick and red, before me.
“Well, goddammit…” I murmured, tossing my shirt on the floor and pulling my own pants off. “…If you think you can do the job,” I teased him, grinning.
He laughed. “Get over here…”
And I was on him. We struggled together, naked and both achingly hard and eager. He pressed me down on the bed beneath him, covering me with his muscular body, rubbing his erection against my own.
“Oh my God…” He looked down at me, blond hair falling in front of his eyes. He shook it out of them. “I want to fuck you so hard, Tate, so fucking long and so fucking hard…”
I arched my back, pushing myself up to him. “Then do it…do it now…”

Beyond the Edge, MLR Press

I will have hard copies of this book and the other two books in The James Lucas Trilogy at the book signing on Saturday (2-4).

~~~

Reading/Excerpt #2, from The Loft – Book One:

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As soon as we arrived home James took us upstairs. It had been ages since we’d been in the loft. We’d been enjoying the more informal aspect of being intimate in other spaces without the formality of the dedicated play space. But I think all three of us were glad to be here again.

“Sebastian, leave your clothes on. Tate, strip.”

Oh. So that’s how it’s gonna be.

I slowly removed my clothes while James and Sebastian watched. If we’d been in the bedroom I’d have asked them if they wanted to put on some music since I was obviously performing for their benefit, but not here. There was a certain protocol to be followed in this space where James had absolute control and a very low tolerance for flippant remarks. I’d best keep quiet and do as told.

“Sebastian, stand in the middle of the room, please, facing the cross.”

“Yes, Sir.” Sebastian, still in his church clothes—white cotton dress shirt, black pants and leather loafers—obeyed.

James approached me. “You, my friend, are going up there,” he said, nodding at the wooden beams of the St. Andrew’s Cross on the wall.

“Yes, Sir. Whatever you wish …” I said, determined to be the perfect little sub today. I’d beat Oliver at his own game.

James smiled. “Good boy.”

He positioned me facing outward, my wrists and ankles in the cuffs so that I stood spread-eagled and vulnerable. Walking over to the cabinet he said, “You know I haven’t forgotten your little outburst at the library.”

Oh shit.

He returned carrying a ball gag and a cock ring. He snapped the ring into place and stroked me quickly to an erection. “That will help keep you ready. Open your mouth.”

He placed the ball between my teeth and fastened the strap behind my head. Then he took my chin very roughly and made me look at him.

“That was quite the display of unwarranted jealousy. So today I’m gagging you and you’re going to watch me play with another man.”

Since the other man in this case was Sebastian I only felt jealous in the sense of wanting to be included in the fun. Being bound naked and helpless while they enjoyed each other would be very frustrating but I suppose I deserved it.

I murmured “Uh huh,” behind the gag as James kissed the corner of my mouth.

“Good boy.”

He backed up, admiring his handiwork, then turned to Sebastian. “Don’t move,” he said as he walked around behind him.

Sebastian stared at me with his lips open slightly but remained motionless.

James pressed himself close against Sebastian from behind and began to unbutton the blond man’s shirt, occasionally sliding a hand underneath the crisp cotton to fondle Sebastian’s bare skin. He took his damn time, every now and then glancing my way and slowly working at another button. Very, very gradually Sebastian’s shirt came undone. As James leisurely undid the second to last button I noticed smudges of red on the pale skin of Sebastian’s abdomen. My first alarmed thought was that it was blood, but it wasn’t the right color. Soon I could see that the red smudge was a letter.

What the hell had James done? Flashbacks to a particular personal debasement with a tube of red lipstick came to mind.

Oh hell.

James popped the final button and the sides of Sebastian’s white shirt fell away. They both stared at me as I read what James had written on Sebastian’s belly, just above his happy trail and the low-hanging band of his dress pants.

Property of James L. and Tate M.

I felt a jolt in my groin. I think I moaned.

James must have applied this mark of ownership in his distinctive cursive scrawl before Sebastian dressed for church this morning and while Sebastian sang in his fancy clothes and choir robes, his angelic voice reaching spiritual heights, only he and James knew of this private debasement.

My heart beat loud in my chest.

Sebastian stared at me with fire in his blue eyes and slowly smiled.

The Loft – Book One, MLR Press.

The Loft – Book Two will be out on Friday, August 11th from MLR Press!

The Loft by MP

 

Shower

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“In the shower, please. I want you to clean each other and I want it to be thorough. That means behind the ears and in the crack. Got it?”
“Yes, Sir,” we said. We stepped into the shower. It was only after I’d turned on my showerhead and turned around that I got a good look at Sebastian. If we were in a cartoon there’d be bombs going off in the balloon over my head. Jesus fucking Christ. If he wasn’t the hottest thing I’d ever seen. I mean, ever.
He was facing the other way and had tilted his head forward under the water to let it soak his hair. The warm rivulets ran over his defined muscles and smooth skin, down his long legs and into the drain at his beautiful naked feet.
I glanced at James. He sat there, watching us intently with a little hint of a smile on his face. I turned back to Sebastian, picking up the body wash.
“You can talk to each other,” James said, “but only about the task at hand, please.”
“Turn around,” I said to Sebastian.
Sebastian turned his head and smiled, twisting under the hot water until he stood before me in all his glory. He shook the water out of his eyes. We stared at each other for a long moment, during which we seemed to communicate our mutual pleasure at what was occurring.
“Get on with it,” James said sternly.
I broke from that blue-eyed gaze and poured some body wash into my hand. For the next fifteen minutes I soaped and lathered that beautiful boy from top to bottom, not missing a spot, delighting in his soft smiles and grunts of pleasure from my gentle ministrations. Afterwards, he did the same to me. This reciprocal bathing resulted in some pretty obvious signs of arousal by the time we’d finished. Our dicks looked like a matching set, although I noticed that Sebastian’s stood somewhat thicker and longer than my own.

We glanced at James. He had crossed one of his long legs over the other and watched us with a lackadaisical air that belied the bulge we could both see.

~ Beyond the Edge, Chapter Three.

 

 

Flashback

In The Loft – Book Three, James, Tate and Sebastian look back on some pivotal moments thanks to some archived CCTV camera footage.

 

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The next afternoon we set ourselves up in the basement with pizza and beer. James had already transferred all the files to a memory stick as Donovan had suggested so he inserted it into the USB port in the LG flatscreen.

“First weekend,” James murmured, clicking on the first .dvp file.

And suddenly there we were. I was transported back to that Friday evening as I watched Sebastian greet me at the door and lead me by the hand to the living room sofa. The image quality was actually pretty good. It was in colour and we could see everything pretty well. The only thing it didn’t have was sound.

“Jesus. Look how young we were!” I couldn’t help saying. I sidelined a glance at James. “Y’old pedophile.”

He laughed. “You were both legal.”

“Barely,” I said. “I mean, I was, but Sebastian looks like he’s about nineteen!” I’d been twenty-seven and Sebastian had been twenty-three or twenty-four, I couldn’t remember.

“That wasn’t even two years ago,” James said. “You’re being dramatic.”

Moi?

We continued and I was struck silent because I imagined James upstairs at the time watching this scene between Sebastian and me unfold on his laptop. No wonder he’d saved it.

In the video Sebastian undid my pants and bent to take my erect dick in his mouth as I tried to quell my pretty damn obvious excitement. We’d never even touched before this day and we were practically complete strangers. James had told Sebastian exactly what to do when I arrived.

I glanced at James. He met my gaze and smiled.

“See why I saved it? I could tell there was something special between you right from the start. But I had no idea at that time that it would take you away from me.”

We watched the scenes from that first weekend with rapt attention. Of course he didn’t have the shower scene. There wasn’t a camera in any of the bathrooms. I was somewhat relieved and a little bit disappointed.

When we came to the part in the loft with me tied to the bench and Sebastian on the cross with the dildo up his ass my breath caught.

“You have no idea how much I enjoyed that weekend.” James said softly. “It was the first time I’d ever had two subs to play with at the same time.”

“Shhh,” I said, leaning forward as I watched myself in the video crawl to Sebastian and take his cock in my mouth. By that time he’d been watching James play with me for a long time and he was ready to come. I watched, transfixed, as he shuddered and writhed, coming violently in my mouth. I saw the scene from an entirely different perspective. It was incredibly hot.

“That’s it,” James said as the movie finished. “What next?”

~ Elizabeth Lister, The Loft – Book Three, rough draft

The Second Coming

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When we got back to Michael’s I felt pretty tipsy from all the drinks I’d had. I tripped over the doormat and almost fell. He caught me.

“Easy…” he said. He unlocked the door and helped me inside. He closed it behind us and looked at me, assessing.

“What?” I said. A hearty belch escaped me. “’Scuse me.” I snorted, laughing at my own gracelessness.

“I don’t think you’re in any condition to top me tonight.”

“Chickening out?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Just taking a rain check.” He helped me out of my boots as I leaned on him.

“S-sorry. It just caught up with me all of a sudden. S’been quite a day.”

“Do you want to go to bed?” He straightened up and I reached for his belt.

“Yeah, but I’m not ready to sleep yet…” I fumbled with his buckle.

He took off his jacket. “Jack, wait. Let’s get inside at least…” he pushed my hands away and walked into the living room, switching on some lamps.

“Michael,” I said calmly, still standing by the door. I gave him the sternest look I could manage in my slightly drunken state. “If your cock isn’t inside me in the next ten minutes I can’t be responsible for what I might do. If you don’t want me to top you tonight then whip out that huge motherfucker and do me for Christ’s fucking sake…”

He stared at me, his mouth open. His eyes burned with lust. He looked fierce, suddenly, and as eager as I. “You want to do it here or in the bedroom?”

I moved toward where he stood by the black leather armchair. “Fuck, Michael, I’m not gonna make it to the bedroom.”

When I got near enough, he grabbed me. He pulled me against him, kissing me with his own desperate need. I felt his huge cock pressed, hard as steel, against me.

Suddenly, he pulled his mouth away. He turned me roughly so I was facing the chair. “You want me to fuck you over this chair?” he said, his voice shaky but determined.

“Fuck, yeah…” I felt his hands on my flies, undoing my jeans and tugging them down.

He pushed me so that I fell forward onto the chair. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

My whole body shook with need as I waited breathlessly for his return. I couldn’t believe how much I wanted him. And I didn’t want him to be gentle.

He returned soon. He’d taken off his shirt and socks. His grey slacks had the belt open and the top button undone. I could see how fucking hard he was.

He put the condom and bottle of lube on the side table. I felt his hands on my back, pushing my shirt up. “Fuck you look good like this…”

I felt his lips on the skin of my back. His hands slid along my sides to my hips. It felt exquisite. “Shit…You’re running out of time, Michael.”

He laughed softly. “I don’t think you’re in any position to threaten me.” He slapped me hard on my ass, making me shout, “Jesus!”

His warm hand caressed my ass, soothing it. “Was that too hard?”

I shook my head frantically. “No, that was fucking perfect. Do it again.”

He did. I groaned and pounded the chair with my fist. “Oh, fuck!”

“You really like that, don’t you?” He spanked me again.

“Yes… yeah… oh fuck, Michael…” I heard his breath come harshly as he spanked me a few more times.

“Oh fuck…” he said, “This is so hot…”

My ass burned but the heat radiated through my body. My cock leaked and twitched in response to the slaps.

“You have to stop or I’m gonna come before you even start fucking me…” I moaned, my voice breathless and desperate.

He grabbed the condom and lube. Soon I felt his slippery fingers in my crack, readying me.

Suddenly, his hot breath caressed my ear. He whispered, “Come for me, beautiful boy…” and I lost it.

The orgasm screamed through me. I heard my cries as if someone else were making them. I floated and fell and shattered into pieces. My cock exploded and I yelled like a fucking girl.

“Jesus!” Michael exclaimed. He stilled deep inside me and found his own release, shaking and trembling against me, yelling and cursing unintelligibly.

His orgasm seemed to go on forever while I kept seeing stars and planets and fucking galaxies. When I came back to earth, I felt his weight on me. I felt his heart hammering in his chest, matching mine beat for fucking beat, and I had never felt so connected to another person. His hands rested on my hips, his sweaty cheek against my shoulder.

After a few minutes, he said. “What… what the fuck was that…”

I groaned as an aftershock of pleasure coursed through me. “I don’t know…” I started laughing. I couldn’t stop. I laughed so hard that tears started forming.

~ Elizabeth Lister, The Crush, MLR Press 2011

 

Red Rope and Gold Paint

*This scene takes place before a highly anticipated fetish party at La Petite Mort, a private club in Gatineau, Quebec.

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Nori pulled his phone from his pocket. “I have an idea for something. I ran it past Catherine and she liked it. Please tell me what you think?” He approached the three of us and showed us a photo on his phone of a naked man covered in gold paint with flecks of real gold leaf applied at various random points, bound with red rope. The effect was gorgeous.

“That looks amazing,” Sebastian said, looking up at Nori with appreciation. “Is that your work?”

Nori nodded. “Yes. I did it for an art show in Toronto.”

James nodded. “Very impressive. And I think it would be perfect for this evening. Do you have time to paint them both?”

“Lilly said she’d help. She’s done some body painting before. It shouldn’t take long. I’m thinking more of a scattered approach anyway. I don’t want them like gold statues — I want them to have brushstrokes of gold paint and gold leaf sort of haphazardly placed. And just a bit on their faces, like they weren’t worth the effort of a complete paint job because, well, they’re just slaves after all.”

James grinned. “Brilliant. I love it. I’ll go find Lilly if you like.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

After James had gone, Nori turned to Sebastian and me. “I’d suggest you both empty your bladders now as you won’t have a chance again for while.”

Thirty minutes later, Sebastian and I stood in front of the large mirror while Nori and Lilly worked on turning us into living pieces of art. There was a chair between us so that we could hold onto if we needed to maintain our balance.

“That tickles,” I said to Lilly as she stroked the paintbrush across my buttock and down the back of my leg.

She giggled. “I’m so sorry. Well, not really. You have a lovely bottom.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m going to paint your penis soon. That will really tickle!”

“Dear God,” I said, glancing at Sebastian who stood still as a statue with a beatific smile on his face as Nori painted his chest and belly.

“He is very patient,” Lilly commented, bringing her paintbrush around in front of me.

“He can put up with a lot,” I said.

Lilly stared fixedly at my flaccid penis.

“What?” I asked, mortified.

“Well, it will be easier to paint if it is,” she giggled again, “you know, standing.”

Nori looked over with a subdued smile. “True. Perhaps your boyfriend can help.”

He lowered his paintbrush and before I really knew what was happening, Sebastian got on his knees in front of me, taking my soft cock between his lips. I gasped in surprise, the unexpected attention getting me hard quickly especially with the added bonus of being watched by Nori and Lilly.

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I looked down at Sebastian’s gold flecked face and thought of what the evening might have in store after our stint as the featured art piece. When he pulled off my prick stood at attention like a good little soldier and Lilly clapped her hands in delight.

“That is so much better! Try to stay still, okay?”

I tried. And I didn’t do too badly. It was pretty cute to see the look of concentration on her face as she wielded her paintbrush, gliding it along my erect penis from base to tip on all sides.

“We want this to be all gold, no?” She asked Nori.

“Good idea,” he said and proceeded to do the same to Sebastian’s cock which had behaved properly from the start. Sebastian was getting off on all of this.

The warm temperature of the room made the experience more pleasant than it might have been. When they finished they stepped back to look at us.

“Very nice!” Lilly commented. “They look beautiful!”

“Now the rope,” Nori said, all business.

“Ah yes, of course.” Lilly replied, bringing over the red ropes from James’ bag.

“I’ll do Sebastian first. Then Tate. Then we’ll have to get them into position out there.”

It took about twenty minutes for Nori to truss up Sebastian the way he wanted to, but boy did the kid look good when he was done. The red ropes criss-crossed his chest and abdomen, looped around his thighs and cock, and ran between his buttocks. James had decided against butt plugs for once.

Then it was my turn.

When Nori was finished I felt like a turkey ready for the oven. Until I looked at myself in the mirror.

“Fuck,” I said.

I didn’t feel like a turkey anymore. I felt like a captive Roman slave in the royal palace, prepared for the emperor’s delight.

We looked fantastic.

Nori checked his watch. “It’s eight thirty. Catherine said people will start arriving at nine. So, just enough time.”

A knock sounded and the door opened. James peeked in.

“I just wanted to see — Jesus Christ,” he said, coming into the room, his eyes roaming eagerly over the both of us. “If I didn’t have duties to fulfill — well, I mean, Christ.”

We’d rendered James Lucas speechless. It was a first.

I stood tall as he stared, his eyes wide and taking it all in. He smiled, letting his appreciation show, and then got back to business.

“They need ball gags and blindfolds,” he said.

~ Excerpt from The Loft – Book Two (coming summer 2017)

Skate Lace

When we got home we went upstairs to change out of our skating gear. My jeans were still wet from a fall and I imagine James’ clothes were also damp.

As I was arranging my stuff on the back of a chair to dry James called down the hall. “There’s lots of room in the shower if you’d like to join me.”

How could I resist?

The ensuite shower in James’ master suite, as I’d quickly discovered in those early days, was very large. Plenty big enough for two. Engineered as a wet room, the double ended shower had no glass door or curtain. Lined with grey tile and equipped with bench, cubbies for shampoo and other items, and state of the art rain shower heads, it was like being at a private spa.

“In you go,” James said, turning on one of the showerheads and directing me to stand underneath it. “I’ll be right back.”

I watched him walk out the door with some trepidation. He was naked, like I was, so I didn’t think he’d go far. But I was always a bit nervous when James did something unexpected. The guy was a virtuoso when it came to sexual game playing.

Sure enough, he came back into the bathroom carrying one of my skates.

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“What the hell are you gonna do with that?” I asked, starting to feel very worried. I’d just had the blades sharpened.

James gave me a sly look and laid the skate on the bathroom counter. Then he began to very slowly pull the lace out of it, glancing at me with mysterious intent as he did so.

What was he planning? I shook the water out of my eyes and continued to wash myself as he extracted the dirty white lace from the skate boot.

When he had it free he balled it up in his fist and joined me in the shower, luckily leaving the skate itself on the bathroom counter.

He came under the hot water with me and immediately captured my lips with his, kissing me with passion. Then he pulled back.

He held out his fist and opened it so that the black skate lace unfurled from its anchor point between his fingers.

I glanced at him, wondering at his plans.

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He held it under the water, wetting it thoroughly, and began to glide it over my skin, starting at my neck and shoulders but moving ever so slowly downward.

It felt like a tiny wet snake or sea creature caressing me. I closed my eyes to enjoy it even more, not knowing where it would land next. He took his time, sliding it over my wet buttocks, up my abdomen, over my shoulder, giving my skin the occasional soft kiss in its wake.

This was James’ skill. Taking something as simple and innocent as the lace from an old pair of skates and turning it into an implement of erotic seduction.

Finally, after teasing me for a very long time, he reached down and deftly tied the wet lace around the base of my erection, behind my balls, where it became the perfect makeshift cock ring.

“That will teach you to make fun of my skating skills.”

My chest moved with fast breaths as I stared at him, desire flaming. “Yes, Sir.”

He took the long end of the lace and wound it over and around the top of my balls, pushing the testicles down so that they ached with tension. He secured it somehow so that my junk was trussed like a stuffed piglet. It hurt, but in a good way – as usual. There were safety scissors in the bathroom vanity. There were safety scissors in every room of the house because James never knew where he might be inspired to tie one, or both, of us up.

“That will keep you quiet.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Reach up and hold onto the shower head.”

I did, my hands grasping the warm steel as the water coursed over my bent head and shoulders.

“Good boy.”

~ Excerpt from The Loft – Book Two, coming summer 2017

Excerpt #1 from Return to the Beach House

 

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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.