“No. No, no, no. Not athletic socks,” I protested, trembling with horror.
Ralph looked at me funny. “I’m sorry, what?”
I backed away, shaking my head from side to side. “I can’t do this.”
“What do you mean? I thought we were gonna…”
“Well, we were, before you took your boots off.” I sat down on the sofa and put my head in my hands, not looking at him. “I’m sorry but I can’t deal with this. I forgot to tell you that athletic socks are a hard limit for me.”
He stared at me. “Do you want me to put the boots back on?”
“Dear God. If you want any chance of this evening getting good, yes, you need to put the boots back on.”
He stared at me for a moment and I knew he thought I was crazy. Then he put his very sexy leather boots back on.
I sighed with relief and slumped against the back of the couch. “Thank you.”
Of course, now he was naked except for the boots. I peeked out from between my hands and took in that marvelous sight, trying to erase the memory of the athletic socks. But it was no good. As sexy as he was, it was no good.
“It’s no good. I can’t. I can’t look at you.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake!”
“Look, this is completely crazy.”
“I really thought tonight was going to be epic.”
“I know. Me too.”
“What if I take the socks off and put the boots on?”
I nodded. That might work. “Okay. Yeah, do that. Do you mind?”
He laughed but there was some bitterness there as well. “No, not at all. I guess a hard limit is a hard limit. I wish you’d told me before.”
“I’m sorry, I just assumed you’d be wearing something sexier.”
He stared at me. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. Lumberjack socks. Or even black socks.”
“No, not black socks. You’re right. They’re almost as bad as athletic socks.”
“Worse, in my opinion. So. Lumberjack socks, hmm?”
I nodded, feeling better now that he was sock-less in his boots. “Yeah, you know, they’re grey with red stripes at the top?”
“Those are acceptable?”
“Oh yeah. Cause, well, lumberjacks.”
He stared at me and I could tell he thought I was a little nuts. Mea culpa. I shrugged.
“I’m glad we got that cleared up,” he said.
“Now where were we?”
I grinned and undid my pants, pushing them down.
“Oh no!” Ralph said.
“You’re wearing actual boxer shorts.”
“I don’t do boxer shorts. Boxer briefs, briefs, sure, but not boxer shorts. They’re just so, baggy.”
I looked at him. I think he was making fun of me.
“Hard limit,” he said. “You’ll have to take them right off.”
Samuel stretched out on the cool grass, finding relief in the shade and quiet of the forest. He’d been up since sunrise that morning and knew he’d have to be careful to avoid falling asleep. He could hear the sounds of gunfire and screaming in the far distance but shut it all out. He’d had to run a fair way and now he just wanted to lie down and catch his breath.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Captain Miller, the rakish leader of the British Redcoats regiment that was attacking his village. That man had more sexual energy in his pinky finger than most had in their cocks. In fact, Samuel would give anything to have that pinky finger trailing over his skin, touching him in intimate places, poking his sensitive spots, while Captain Miller told him everything he would do to punish Samuel’s cowardice.
He shivered in the cool shade, his dick swelling in the itchy wool underclothes he wore. He’d ripped his white linen tunic off over his head as he ran, leaving it on the field as a tribute to his surrender. They could do whatever they wanted with it, just like they could with him. If they found him.
Suddenly, he heard leaves crunching and the sound of a twig snapping nearby. He sat up quickly, heart pounding. His eyes widened as Captain Miller towered over him, pointing his bayonet into the clearing. His brown eyes gazed fiercely down on Samuel.
Samuel shivered again, letting a soft smile break on his features. “You found me.”
Captain Miller nodded, resting his rifle against a broken log and falling to his knees beside Samuel. “Why did you run?”
Samuel shrugged, one hand brushing over the bulge in his own trousers. “It seemed like the best way of getting you to chase me.”
Captain Miller stared at Samuel with annoyance but soon his features relaxed and he laughed. He sat back on his heels, shucking off the heavy red coat and unbuckling his wide leather belt.
Samuel looked around, waiting to be surprised by others.
“What are you doing?”
He noticed the sounds of the battle had eerily silenced.
Captain Miller shrugged, unbuttoning his linen shirt. “They’ve all fucked off to the catered lunch. I figured I’d find you and we could enjoy a quickie before anyone missed us.”
Samuel grinned, sitting up and working on undoing his pants. “Good thinking, “Captain Miller”.” he said breathlessly, as the bigger man descended on him. “Y’know, when you offered me a job as an extra on this shoot I never expected it to be so fucking boring and uncomfortable. Or to have to get up so damn early. You can at least make it worth my while now.”
“Quiet, boy,” “Captain Miller”, a.k.a, Samuel’s boyfriend Matthew, ordered, flipping the young man over and roughly pulling his clothes out of the way. “You’ll fulfill your duty or you’ll feel the edge of my sword.”
Samuel smothered a gasp and a giggle. “Yes, Captain. If you’re fast we can even get some sandwiches after.”
Matthew’s soft laughter and unbidden groan joined the summer birdsong.
I just joined Helena Stone’s flash fiction Facebook Group because I desperately needed to write a short piece for this photo:
“Jason, you need to scrub it in.”
I thought I was scrubbing it in.
“I am scrubbing it. You want harder?”
I huffed fake annoyance and dug my fingers deep into his scalp, eliciting a deep groan. Okay then.
“Thank you, Sir,” I said, with only a bit of sarcasm.
“Watch it. Getting you to wash my hair is a pretty mild consequence for what you did earlier.”
My ears perked up, as did my cock. I mean, I’d thought it a little too mild actually. And kind of boring. Plus my fingers were getting tired.
“Too mild?” I asked, hinting.
He groaned under the flex of my fingers. “What do you think?”
“Yeah, maybe. I’m not a fan of mild. As you know.” I was a fan of intense. Maybe even painful. Definitely not mild.
“Well, then. Why don’t we finish up here. Rinse me.”
The smile spread over my face before I had grabbed the hand held shower, washing the suds from his black hair and wondering what he would choose; a spanking, maybe. I could definitely go for a spanking. I’d been a very naughty boy.
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, fromBeyond the Edge (Book 1 in The James Lucas Trilogy):
“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…”
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:
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.”
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.
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.
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.
“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.
Several years ago I stumbled upon the photography of Mr. Thomas Synnamon. I say stumbled upon but really it was an honest head-over-heels flip out when I saw this initial image from his Leather and Lace 2011 calendar:
Now, I happen to have a thing for androgyny. I also have a thing for men’s forearms. And another thing for men’s asses. Not to mention for leather, gloves and garter belts (The Rocky Horror Picture Show was a formative film for me).
I believe I nearly had a spontaneous orgasm when I saw the above shot. Then I had to find out who the photographer was. Which led me to discover that there was an entire calendar of these sorts of images.
Now a muscled hunky young guy in leather is one thing, but a muscled hunky young guy in leather with a tiny bit of white lace peeking out? That is a whole other ball game, my friend. That plays with my fluid idea of gender in a very, very fun way.
I searched up these images again because I am currently writing a gender bending scene in The Loft – Book Three, where James and Tate dress Sebastian in lacy lingerie. I needed inspiration and I remembered where I could get it.
I don’t think the calendar is still around, but luckily I was able to find the post at BeautifulMag featuring this outstanding work of Synnamon’s. I had a look at his website which has some stunning photos of mostly naked men, but he seems, sadly, to be focusing on conventional gender representation now. Which I suppose is where the money is so I don’t blame him at all.
But I find his work here to be personally so downright perfect, it’s as if he consulted me before each shoot to find out exactly what I’d want each model to wear. I would have enjoyed dressing these guys up in all the girly lace that looks anything but girly on them.
The only thing this photo shoot didn’t address was my boot fetish, but I can easily imagine all these models wearing docs or dirty work boots so it’s a win all around.
Now if I could only get Michael Stokes onside to create something like this in his studio…
In The Loft – Book Three, James, Tate and Sebastian look back on some pivotal moments thanks to some archived CCTV camera footage.
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.”
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