Private Lesson – Friday Flash Fic, Dec. 1st


The night before the archery competition I had a great dream.

You know how they say in order to calm your nerves before a public presentation or performance you should picture the audience in only their underwear? Well the dream kind of flipped this on its head because the star of my dream was Andrew, my extremely hot archery instructor and he was going over the finer points of technique in nothing but a skimpy pair of men’s designer briefs – grey with red trim – that showed off his, um, package, pretty darn well. I had to hand it to my powers of visualization because he was absolutely perfect down to his muscular arms, rock hard abs and powerful thighs. All he had on other than the briefs was a brown leather wrist guard – my ancient Greek olympic fantasy come to life!

In the dream, of course, this turn of events seemed perfectly normal. I can only imagine I had won some kind of raffle and received this opportunity as a coveted prize – a very private lesson on the finer points of archery from my scantily clad instructor. He carried on as if it were a regular class; as if I weren’t the only one standing close and paying attention; as if he wasn’t barely dressed and hot enough to send stauncher young men than I into paroxysms of unfulfilled desire.

In fact, as he pulled back on the bow, flexing his long arm and focusing on the target across the field, my heightened sexual energy stretched taut. Upon release, as the bow flew threw the air and slammed forcefully into the waiting target, I woke in a wave of achieved pleasure, sheets wet with the outcome of my vivid fantasy.

Panting and cold in the lonely aftermath I only hoped I could retain anything he had told me so that I might perform to the best of my ability at the impending competition. Hopefully my intense dream might bring more than a nocturnal emission and a sense of regret.

When I reached the contest grounds that afternoon it was with sadness to discover that my regular archery instructor could not attend due to a family emergency. The young woman in his place did nothing for my inspiration. Nevertheless, when it was my turn finally, I closed my eyes and imagined I was drawing my bow before the half naked man in my dreams. I concentrated as hard as I could on the target and let go, my arrow flying in a priapic arc across the wide field.

Astonishingly, it hit the bullseye square to the amazement of my peers, and myself if I am entirely honest. As whoops and hollers erupted and people came to congratulate me, I sent a silent prayer of thanks to the naked Adonis who came to me in the night, perfecting my technique and taking the edge off a long unrequited passion.

Monday Flash Fiction, Nov. 27 – Frostbite



I trailed behind the rest of my family as we trudged through the knee-high snow down to the beach. Although the sky was partly cloudy, the setting sun cast a triangle of shimmering light on the water.

I guess I could see why they’d wanted to bring us here, but honestly I would have been happier at home. My two younger sisters were more enthusiastic and had kept up with mom and Dad for the most part, even though the deep snow made walking difficult. I stayed a little way behind and let them enjoy what they’d come for.

My phone buzzed with a text message. I took my glove off and fished it from my pocket, checking the sender.

Malcolm. Finally.

The message said: I didn’t want to text you earlier because you sounded so miserable when I spoke to you last and I figured you needed time to stew. I’m sorry. I wish I’d never said it. 

I texted him back: It’s okay. I’m okay.

He replied quickly: Are you though? I didn’t mean to hurt you.

My fingers were getting cold but I didn’t want to leave this: You didn’t hurt me. It needed to be said. But I need to say something too.

I took a deep breath, then typed: I love you.

There wasn’t a response for a few moments and I felt time passing in slow motion. Finally, his answer came in.

Even after what I said?


You really love me?


I need to see you. Can I come see you?

I’m at the fucking beach.

The beach! It’s fifteen below!

Tell me about it. My family dragged me here. They are admiring the sunset while I’m freezing my fingers off texting with you. But I don’t care. I love you, Aiden.

He sent me a string of emojis of all kinds, most with hearts, some celebrating, some crying, and some very, very happy.

Then: I’d follow you to the beach in fifteen below in a heartbeat. You know that, right?

I grinned: I do now. I’m putting my phone away so I don’t get frostbite. Call you when I’m home?

I’ll be waiting.


Friday Flash Fiction, Nov. 24 – Distraction



My elderly neighbor, Mrs. Danstock, a sweet old lady if there ever was one, got talking to me about her tulips one morning. I’d been seeding the grass and setting up the sprinkler to water it when she’d come outside.

“Aren’t they beautiful, Mr. Monteith? It seems every year they come up better!”

“Oh yes, Mrs. Danstock, they’re marvelous! Your daffodils are lovely too.”

“Thank you. They are nice, aren’t they?” She blushed and pointed at our garden. “Have you planted anything new?”

I shook my head. “Not this year. Brendan and I have been pretty busy with doing up the inside of the house.”

She nodded. “Yes, I’ve seen the contractors in and out. How is it going?”

“Almost done, thank God,” I said. “This is the first weekend we’ve been completely alone in the house for months.”

I heard the sound of a throat being cleared. While Mrs. Danstock spoke of gardens and planting and offered to help us pretty up our front lawn, I took a few steps back so that I could see the entrance of our place, which was hidden by a tree and a slight wall. The sound had come from there and when I had a clear view, I almost fell into the hydrangea bush.

Brendan stood framed in the doorway, buck naked except for his glasses and an open book covering his crotch.

While I stood frozen and goggle-eyed, he held a finger to his lips. Then he grinned and crooked it in a come here gesture.

“Do you think I should plant some more impatiens this summer?” Mrs. Danstock asked. She craned her neck to see where I’d gone. “They did so well last year.”

I tore my eyes away from Brendan and took two steps toward her. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Danstock, but I just remembered I left a pot of soup on the stove,” I said quickly. “It was so nice talking to you!”

She smiled and nodded. “It’s always nice to see you, Mr. Monteith. You tell Mr. Cole to stop and say hi next time he goes for a run, won’t you?”

I nodded, already stepping back. “Of course! See you again soon!”

I ducked around the wall and frowned. Brendan had disappeared.


I stepped inside and shut the door, locking it. “Brendan? Where the fuck are you and where did you get that book?”

Luckily the windows were closed because of the air conditioning so Mrs. Danstock wouldn’t be shocked out of her support stockings.

“I’m upstairs and it’s your book and I put it back. And I still only have my glasses on.”

I raced up the stairs two at a time, unbuttoning my shirt as I did. Brendan lay on the king size bed, completely naked but for the glasses and now there was no book covering his junk. He looked as good as an Easter buffet and I was starving.

“What did Mrs. Danstock want?” he asked while I shucked the rest of my clothes and got on the bed beside him, taking his gorgeous cock in my hand and stroking it quickly to life.

“She wanted to talk about her tulips,” I said breathlessly. “I didn’t tell her what was coming up in my garden.”

Brendan laughed. “I wanted to get your attention. We have the place to ourselves finally. I don’t want to waste it talking to the neighbours.”

“Neither do I!” I said, rolling on top of him and taking his glasses off. I kissed him hard and placed the glasses on the side table beside my book. “Neither do I …”


Dinner and a Show – Monday Flash Fiction, Nov. 20


Just after I took this awesome shot of Cage at the diner he told me to put my phone away, that I was being a, quote, “technology-obsessed weirdo.”

“Fuck you. But you look so good. See?” I showed him the photo.

He cringed. “I look like an idiot. Does my hair always look like that?”

“It’s epic.”

“Epically awful.”

“Oh shut up. Let’s get some fries. And I could go for a milkshake.”

He raised his eyebrows and smirked.

“Oh my god, how old are you? Seriously.”

The server, a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard and grey hair, came over to take our order. After he’d left, Cage reached out and touched my hand gently, before pulling back and scanning for danger. But the room was almost empty at this hour.

“I had a good time,” he said softly.

I smiled, relieved. “Me too. It was … a good movie.”

“How do you know? We barely watched it.”

He had a point. “Well, the parts I actually paid attention to were pretty good. But the audience was better.” I winked and he blushed.

I’d never kissed a boy before. I’d never kissed anyone in public, ever, even the girls I’d dated once upon a time. Before Cage. Before my bisexuality became a fact and not just a theory.

It had been risky too, that’s for sure. But we’d been in the very back and the movie had been loud. And I just couldn’t help myself.

Our fries arrived and we ate in silence, sharing a paper cup of ketchup. All I could think about was the softness of his lips and the urgency of his kiss. I wanted more.

“Do you –” I said, as he said, “Yes.”

We both smiled and blushed.

“What were you going to ask me?” he said.

“Do you want to come back to my place?”

“Oh good. Because if it was Do you like mustard? I answered wrong.”



Family – Friday Flash Fiction, Nov. 17.



Danny stared at the black and white photo for several moments, reliving those winter days in London before he’d returned to Canada and asked Louis to marry him.

He remembered the weather, which had been unseasonably snowy, and the long lonely days while he sorted through his father’s belongings and helped his mother through the first few weeks of her overwhelming grief. But mostly he remembered the visceral way he missed his boyfriend of three years and that Skype and frequent phone calls were a poor substitute for the intimacy they’d been used to.

Louis had wanted to come with him, but his job simply wouldn’t allow it. Louis was needed in Canada and Danny had to face this life hurdle by himself. He’d loved his father although they’d not been particularly close for the last ten years or so. They didn’t have much in common. But Danny was eternally grateful that his father had supported him in the life choices he’d made, even if he wasn’t his biggest cheerleader. That job belonged to Louis and Danny missed that more than ever while he was in England.

By the time he’d returned home he’d known that he wanted to make his relationship with Louis a permanent one. Those weeks apart had confirmed the importance of what they had, and Danny wanted a life love like his mother, even if that meant eventually experiencing an overwhelming loss.

Love and loss were two sides of the same coin, Danny knew. You couldn’t have one without the other.

So he’d planned an elaborate proposal, because that was what Danny always did. Always made things bigger than they needed to be, perhaps because he always felt things so deeply and powerfully. He needed to make a grand gesture.

But when everything fall apart and the proposal ended up being a stuttered request in the middle of a soggy field, Louis had said yes. And it turned out that was all that the two of them had needed.

It had been five years since that trip to London to bury his father. His mother was sick now and being looked after by extended family overseas. Louis would accompany him in a few days to visit and Danny couldn’t wait to revisit the famed city with his husband.

Because family was blood but family was also what you made it.

Flash Fiction Monday, October 16 – Proposal


Caleb was dreaming. He was dreaming that someone had nestled a warm cat under his arm and he could feel it breathing and occasionally jerking in its sleep. It was a nice dream but as he emerged from it he was filled with regret, because he remembered that his actual cat, Double O Seven, had died weeks ago. The cat in the dream wasn’t Double O Seven, but it was a cat at least. A warm, snuggly…wait a minute, he could still feel the warm body of the cat under his arm.

Caleb opened his eyes and startled, causing the small puppy to jerk but it didn’t wake up. What the ? A puppy? He didn’t own a puppy! Where had this puppy come from? And how could he be snuggling with it like he’d gone to sleep with it?

He looked over the puppy, noticing that it was a yellow labrador, and cute as a button, like all puppies. But what was it doing here?

Slowly, as if not wanting to wake up if this was just another dream, Caleb lifted his eyes from the puppy to the room around him.

His eyes found a familiar person sitting in the armchair by the curtained windows.

“Hey,” the man said, smiling. “You were really asleep.”

Caleb smiled at Daniel, raising his eyebrows and glancing down at the puppy under his arm.

“I got him for you, Caleb. He’s yours.”

The puppy stretched and yawned, snuggling into the young man’s warmth. “But why?”

Daniel laughed, standing and walking over to the sofa where Caleb and the puppy lay. “Why not? You’ve been so sad the past few weeks.” He knelt down and placed his hand gently on the puppy’s head. “I can’t stand seeing you so sad.”

Caleb looked up at his boyfriend with a wide smile. “Thank you. I can’t believe you got me a puppy!”

Daniel nodded. “Not just any puppy. This puppy is very special.”

“He is?”

“He’s an engagement present. Seemed more meaningful than a ring.”

Caleb looked at Daniel, his features showing confusion. “But, but we’re not…we’re not engaged…unless…are you asking?”

“Yeah. I am. I figured if I got you a puppy you’d have to say yes.”

“I’d have said yes, anyway. Yes, yes and yes.”


Monday Flash Fiction, October 9th



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.

Flash Fiction Monday (September 25th)


The Set-Up

It was going to be the campout to end all campouts. A group of buddies of ours had committed to a four day camping weekend when one by one they all dropped out and it was just me and Jamie left. We thought about cancelling the whole fucking thing but the site was paid for and the forecast looked good. Plus there was this tiny little part of me that thought a weekend alone with Jamie might be awesome.

Turns out I was right. We bonded over the ridiculous instructions for setting up the tent, the multiple attempts at lighting a decent fire, the frustration over things we’d forgotten to pack and, really, the sense that it was the two of us against the world.

After a haphazard supper of hamburgers and hot dogs washed down with a shared bottle of whiskey, we stumbled into the tent and collapsed next to each other, not even bothering to get into our sleeping bags.

When I woke in the middle of night, Jamie’s hand was down my pants doing something wonderful and I didn’t think to interrupt him. Before long we were kissing and confessing to months of attraction we’d both been too scared to voice. Then we gave that stupid tent the show of its life, boy. It’s a good thing we were in a pretty isolated spot because it turned out that Jamie was not a quiet lay. And, frankly, neither was I. We might have scared some bears.

In the morning we stirred up the fire, made coffee and sat blushing together in the tent with our feet in our crazy socks sticking out, watching the waves lap at the beach.


Monday Flash Fiction, Sept. 18


Where the fuck did all these birds come from?

Here I am, trying to have a meditative sulk by the goddamn pond and I can’t even hear myself think.

See, things just aren’t going very well right now. This t-shirt I just bought is way too fucking big, this stupid sweater’s still itchy, and my love life’s in the toilet. At least, I think it is. Actually, I don’t know what it is.

I met this guy the other day. Well, met isn’t the right word. I fucked this guy the other day. This amazing, sexy guy, that I almost fell in love with right then and there while we were doing the dirty, and it was all good, fun and happening.

But he hasn’t replied to my text. Okay, texts. I may have sent him too many texts and now I am freaking the fuck out.

I’m standing at the edge of this goddamn peaceful pond trying to calm myself the fuck down, and this huge flock of crows comes out of nowhere, and I can feel my stress levels going into high gear.

It’s a good thing I have my phone on vibrate because I probably wouldn’t have heard the text notification that just buzzed my ass.

A little flame of hope rises within me as I pull the phone from my pocket and check.

It’s him. He replied. I’m smiling and my heart is joining the cacophony of caws and screeches as I read:

You sent me like a gazillion texts you moron. Next time just call.