Heart’s Embers

I decided to revisit the sequel to The Ancient today–this is a snippet in which Alasdair is sharing his true nature with Jon, Bruce’s physical therapy nurse:

 

“I couldn’t let you call for the police, or the highway patrol, or whatever other official agency you were going to notify,” he assured Jon. “We, all three of us, with Jeffrey taking point of course, are going to solve this problem.”

“How did you get me to listen just by telling me not to?” Jon said, his voice still quiet, but getting increasingly pissed off.

“I have that effect on people,” Alastair chuckled. “Ask Jeffrey.”

Jon turned to Jeffrey with an enquiring look.

“He’s telling the truth, Jon. Alasdair is an ancient vampire.”

“Ummm—yeah, and I’m Samuel L. Jackson.”

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The Moment

This is from my story about a college bound 18 year old, and the handyman who’s caught his eye–

“Hayden.” Donny’s voice was trembling, and he put his palm on the top of my head, running his fingers through my shaggy hair. “I think you’re feeling better now.”

I nodded, my face against his bulge. He could feel me shaking, so he reached down and pulled me up so he could whisper in my ear.

“We can’t do this, your—your dad will be home any time now, and you’re not ready.”

I shook my head.

“He won’t be home till late, I’m supposed to pay you when you’re done.”  I lay my palms on both sides of his face, and that helped to calm me down and focus. “I want this, I want you in my bed, and—and I know you don’t love me or any of that stuff, but—“

“But what?” he whispered. “I’m almost fifteen years older than you; don’t you want someone your own age?”

I backed up just a little, and swept my towel off the floor, holding it up against my groin. I didn’t really know what for, I guess I was just nervous, but I was determined to tell him everything.

“I’m a virgin, Donny, and I want my first time to be with somebody who knows what they’re doing.” I cast my eyes down, then looked into his eyes. They had concern, sure, but they held heat, too. “I don’t want to fumble with somebody from my softball team or something. I want someone to take care of me.” I put my hand on his arm while my other hand held the towel.

“Would you take care of me?”

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The Reality

Here’s a snippet from my story Hayden’s Handyman–Hayden’s latest and best peek from behind his curtain:

Donny had apparently been overheated, and he had taken off his shirt. Be still my beating heart, among other bodily parts. Those firm pecs, lightly dusted with dark blonde hair, those rosy stiff nipples, were on full display, along with that softly defined six pack and those plump biceps finally freed from the confines of those snug sleeves. I had caught him just as he was upending the rest of a bottle of cold water over his head, and that luscious liquid (that I was unreasonably jealous of) was sluicing down that chest and into those abs, following that treasure trail down. His head was thrown back, his delectable neck was exposed just like I imagined it would be during sex, just waiting for me to lick it and bite it—

—and then he had to open his eyes and look right at me, those sexy lips twisted in a smirk.

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Sexy man

Vows Of Heaven

This is a really raw small preface I dashed off to get me primed for my m/m contemporary adaptation of Hamlet, my very favorite work by the Bard–

I promised I’d tell his story, and I’m going to. I owe him that much.

I really owe him everything.

I’ve gotten a lot of flak for my name over the years; from kids at school, from adults who should know better, and they run the gamut from funny to outright cruel.

“Hey, Horsinia, come ride my horsie!”

“Horsinia the whore HAHAHAHA—“

All that only made me double down and use my full name everywhere I went, but do you know who never kidded me about it?

Hamish. He never did, not once. Even when he was in the depths of his despair, he never did. He always called me “Horsinia, my gardenia.”

Even while he died in my arms.

So here’s your story, my friend, the dizzying highs and the soul-crushing lows with your lover Oliver, and the depths with Claude and your entire odious shit-stained family.

I hope you enjoy it.

I hope it sets you free.

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Hayden’s Fantasies

This is a little snippet from a short story I’m whipping up before I delve into my Hanlet adaptation. Hayden’s been peeking out the window, wondering about the luscious man working on his house. His dad isn’t home, so—maybe the poor man needs something cold.

ps. and yes, he’s eighteen and legal 🙂

 

I’d reach out and cup his crotch, startled for a quick second at how big he feels under his zipper, then I’d slowly open his fly, reaching in to pull out my present as I dropped to my knees right there on the kitchen floor..

“Okay, that’s it!”  I shook my head, then looked down at what I was wearing. Grey sweats, slip on soft shoes, and a baggy t-shirt, but not just any t-shirt, no – an “It’s Britney, Bitch!” t-shirt. Talk about advertising.

I turned to the fridge and got out the jug of lemonade, then filled an ice packed glass with its oh so tart goodness.

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Chris and Homeboy

This snippet is from my first Circle story–In the present, our teen vamp Chris is looking for his buddy Homeboy at the rec center where he usually spends his days because he’s worried about him–after that little incident with Otis–

“No, not really, Ray, I’m looking for Homeboy. Is he around?”

Ray gets a weird look on his face.  “You haven’t heard yet, then?  About what happened at the shelter earlier this morning?”

My face would have gone pale if it weren’t there already.  “No, what?  I dropped him off there last night about midnight, he was a little drunk.  What happened?” I have a sick, sinking feeling.  No doubt it has something to do with our little adventure at the Marriott.

Ray’s voice drops.  “Well, the police came by about seven this morning asking about some incident down at the Marriott.  I guess some perv was found dead in his room, and they found lots of gay teen porn, some of it was movies of real guys.  They’re probably still going through it all.  One of the first DVDs they looked at had Homeboy’s name on it.”

My head drops.  Homeboy.  No wonder he knew about that sick fuck.  Now I wish I had torn a big hole in Otis’ throat.

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Hayden’s Handyman

This snippet is from a short story that I’m writing to ease myself into my next big project 🙂 Hayden’s peeking out the window at the handyman his dad called to tend to some odd jobs around the house before he left for work. This is his last summer at home before he leaves for college, and he’s wondering how to spend his day…

“I guess I’d better stay up in case that handyman needs anything.” I idled over to the back door window, trying to take a peek out without being obvious. There was a guy prying something off the side of the garage; the broken board that was holding the door, most likely. He had his back to me.

His very well-proportioned back, by the way the thin material of that oh so tight t shirt was stretching over it.

I sent up a silent prayer to whatever gods were responsible for the warm weather this early in the morning, knowing that it would only get hotter, necessitating the removal of said t shirt. Of course, being a thoughtful sort of guy, I would offer him a drink of water or lemonade, walking out to ask in my own tight t shirt and those brief shorts that Dad hated.

 

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