Here’s what happens when Jeffrey sees Bruce after five years apart–he’s remembering:
Bruce. His lover, his soulmate, his best friend–seeing him after missing him all day. Standing there holding him, those dark curls sifting through his fingers, his nose buried in them as he whispered his name, over and over. His hands roaming over that delicious body. Those eyes, glazed with need for him, love for him. Lying in bed together while they held each other, listening to the nighttime rain falling like liquid diamonds in a soft patter–
Then laughing at the spongy, rhythmic drip-drip in the saucepan under the leaky spot in the roof.
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Oh how duplicitous a hostile corporate takeover can get–from my WIP Vows Of Heaven 🙂
(ps–Dear Mr. Armstrong has changed his shirt, I see 🙂 )
‘This is a secure line, Mr. Armstrong sir, but we don’t have much time,” Rossi whispered, leaning into the mic. “Bear with us if we suddenly have to sever the call.”
“Of course,” the man on screen nodded. He was dressed in a severe, no nonsense black cashmere business suit, the narrow lapels exactly matching the silk tie he wore against the crisp, starched white shirt underneath. His tented fingers cradled his sharp chin as he leaned his elbows on his desk, and heaven forbid if even one carefully styled dark hair broke formation with the rest. “What have you got for me?”
“We hacked into Dr. Easton’s private surveillance and came up with something interesting,” Rossi told him. “Sending the footage now.” Both men watched Armstrong peruse the footage on his secondary monitor, then smiled as he turned back to them.
“Interesting indeed,” he murmured. “Dear Pauline would no doubt have sent it to me herself, but the dear woman has no idea you two are working for me as well.” He brushed his palms together, leaning forward. “Keep an eye on young Mr. Winters; it looks like he’s imploding. Claude has some sort of secret that he’s keeping, so see if you can get more on that. Keep your eyes and ears open.”
Both men nodded. “Yes sir,” they told him at the same time, making Armstrong smile.
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Alasdair’s pouring it on, but–please, be careful Bruce–
From The Ancient–
There was an odor, a masculine smell that made Bruce excited and aroused. He felt himself getting hard again underneath his clothes.
But there was another smell underneath them all, one of great age, decay, and corruption. It reminded Bruce of the wet rotten smell that appeared when you lifted up a crumbling log in a forest to see all the creatures scurrying away from the light, or perhaps the sweet decaying stench of a mouse that had died trapped in a wall only to leave a lingering odor when its corpse had finally dried and decomposed. Bruce shivered as if he were chilled or scared, or a child anticipating something both wonderful and terrible.
Alasdair smiled, gently squeezing his hand.
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Here’s the latest from my WIP, Vows Of Heaven; Hamish is about to bust the shitstorm wide open, reading a very special card for Claude’s benefit (He’s opted to read the white cards all at once instead of repeating the black card–he’s such a drama queen):
“Let’s go, come on.” He barely gave a glance at the people who had long since abandoned their games, choosing to instead gather around the one table where the action was. He gave Rossi and Stern a wink, then drew a black card.
“When my uncle holds up Blank, he makes sure Blank sees it.” Hamish read the others one by one.
“Panties and Trump, rough toilet paper and Neil DeGrasse Tyson, a Bible and the ghost of Billy Graham, my laundry list and my Irish housemaid, and—” he held up the last card, not even needing to look at it.
“A broken sauna door handle and my dying father.” He threw the card at Claude, who, speechless with rage, stood up so quickly that his chair fell backward. Hamish smirked.
“I guess I’ll pick that one.”
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Here’s what happened after my Rainbow Snippet– the aftermath of the blowup:
The sudden slap of her open hand against his cheek startled Bruce, shocking him into silence. Vibrating with contained fury, tears stinging her eyes, she grabbed her phone, scrolling, hitting the number she was looking for.
“You might as well pack an overnight bag. I don’t want you here tonight, I’m too angry at you to look at you.” She tapped the phone as she waited. “I’m too angry at myself.” She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry I slapped you, but I think you should go stay at Dane and Shelley’s and you can drive to work with them tomorrow.”
Bruce rolled his eyes. “Aw, Mommy’s taking care of her little boy now?” he said, giving a little snort. She flipped him her finger as she put her ear to the phone.
“My, that’s really mature,” he said.
“Screw you, Bruce.”
“No thanks, honey. I’m not in the mood,” he said smiling. His expression resembled shards of glittering glass.
Bruce turned from her as he started throwing a few things together. This was actually perfect, this worked out. He knew Dane and Shelley would cover for him.
But if they didn’t, he didn’t care. For the first time, he didn’t care.
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This is a snippet from The Ancient, in which Bruce and Jules finally drag out all their dirty laundry–and Bruce has had enough–
“Sorry for my lack of a penis.”
Bruce stared her down, knowing she would be the first to blink. Sure enough, she was.
“Apology accepted.” He looked at her with contempt written on his face. “You never used to be so bitchy. I am a stand-up guy, just not with you anymore.” He got closer, staring at her. “And as for Jeffrey, it wasn’t the penis as much as the man it was attached to.” He shook his head. “Yes, I was remembering Jeffrey and yes, I still love him, in case you’re wondering,” he said. “I never stopped.”
He paused, determined to hurt her like she had him.
“I only married you because you looked like him. You were choice number two.”
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Here’s what happens after my Rainbow snippet, for those that were wondering 🙂 poor Bruce ❤ at least his office door is locked 🙂
Bruce was shaking. His own head fell back on the office chair, remembering that intense dream and how Alasdair’s skin smelled like mysterious foreign spices, how it felt when he stroked it with his lips and tongue. He felt Jeffrey when he heard his voice coming out of Alasdair, pleading, whispering with need, begging–
He felt that familiar halo in his head, that flush on his skin, and the clenching muscles in his core that signaled his orgasm coming. He couldn’t help it, he didn’t even have to touch himself. With a sharp intake of breath, he gripped the arms of his chair, the whites of his eyes barely visible as it coursed through him. He held his head back and clenched his teeth, a low moan escaping him as he half rose from his chair. He couldn’t scream, he couldn’t.
With one last ragged breath, Bruce looked down at his slacks. Thank God he had a change of clothes here. Trembling, he took the dregs of his coffee cup and poured them over his crotch, soaking the cushion on his office chair. That would disguise it.
He heard a small chuckle from the computer speakers.
“Oh, Bruce, my dear, you are one of the most sensual human beings I have ever seen. You are–amazing. I can‘t wait to feel you again, to taste you again.” Alasdair smiled.
“To have you feel me.”
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