Release Day: Tidal Change

It's release day for Tidal Change! :) I'll be taking over Dreamspinner's Twitter account on September 22nd (2-3PM EST) and of course there'll be some giveaways. I hope to see you there!

Buy links:

Something draws history teacher Rick Grady across the school hall to German teacher Marty Lindson. Maybe it’s their shared love of the ocean. Maybe it’s just that Marty is so hot, but maybe it’s something more—something mysterious. All Rick knows is that every time he gets close, Marty pulls away. After another cancelled date, Rick goes to Marty’s apartment to demand an explanation. And what Rick discovers blows his mind.

The ocean calls to Marty because he’s a merman. He’s been afraid to get close to Rick, not just to keep his world a secret, but because Rick is his mate. And to claim his mate would change everything about Marty. No matter how much he loves Rick, he doesn’t know if he’s ready to alter his entire life.


Fabulous Five Blog Hop

I've been tagged by Skye Allen for this blog hop. Here are the 5 fabulous questions (plus my answers):

1. What am I working on?
At the moment, I'm revising two science fiction novels and a contemporary novella (working title is Despite the Odds). Work is incredible busy, plus I just released Secret Energy and in two days Tidal Change will release, so I have my work cut out for me. I hope to get back in the writing mood (and have time for it!) in the next few weeks. I'll most likely start on a sequel to Despite the Odds— I'm quite taken with the characters. :)

2. How does my work differ from others in its genre?
How does one answer such a question? I'm an animal-lover and therefore animals often play an important role in my books. Sometimes they're companions, like Kit's large dog Jackson in Seizing It, but mostly I love to write shape-shifter stories. My favorite stories are those in which the men shift into small animals—like Billy, who can shift into a red squirrel (The Wolf and His Diva), or Jay, who is depicted as a baby hybrid between red fox and wolf in Secret Chemistry.
Other people have commented on the slight sub/dom vibe in my stories, but I'm not sure if that's much different from other works in this genre. I try for my books to be lighthearted, with a touch of humor and warmth.

3. Why do I write what I do?
I write in the m/m genre, though I'd never say I'll never write m/f. Actually, I'd love to try my hand at a m/f story with a really strong female, but so far no idea seems to be working out. Within the m/m genre, I write in pretty much every subgenre. I write contemporary (suspense/thriller, sweet romance, light BDSM), fantasy, science fiction, and paranormal. I don't like to tie myself down to a certain genre because I like them all. I also read in every genre, though I tend to pick up paranormal books with shape-shifters. Anyone see a pattern here? ;-)

4. How does my writing process work?
Usually, I have more ideas for books floating in my head then I'll ever be able to write. When I go back again and again to an idea, I jot down some ideas, decide on names and location, and then set to work. Since I can only write on the weekends, or when I'm off work, (I can only write in the morning, only when I'm on vacation I manage to write in the afternoon or early evening as well) I pour out words and lose myself completely in my story. Once the rough draft is done, I set it aside for a while, then clean it up before I send it to my beta readers. If I'm lucky, I only need to revise the manuscript once before I submit it, but often enough it takes at least two to three rounds until everyone is satisfied.

5. Who’s next on the blog hop?
I'm on the tail end of this blog hop, so I had trouble finding anyone to play along. However, the fabulous Joy Lynn Fielding agreed to participate, so go check out her post next week (and while you're there, check out her books, too!).


Enchantress of Books Blog Tours presents “Americana Fairy Tale (Fairy Tales of the Open Road #1)” By Lex Chase

 Americana Fairy Tale 
(Fairy Tales of the Open Road #1)
Lex Chase

Modern fairy-tale princess Taylor Hatfield has problems. One: He’s a guy. Two: His perfect brother Atticus is the reincarnation of Snow White. Three: Taylor has no idea which princess he is supposed to be. Four: Taylor just left his prince (a girl) at the altar. Despite his enchanted lineage, Taylor is desperate to find his Happily Ever After away from magic, witches, and stuffy traditions. Regrettably, destiny has other plans for him. Dammit.

When word reaches Taylor that Idi the Witchking has captured Atticus, Taylor is determined to save his brother. He enlists the help of rakish and insufferable Corentin Devereaux, likewise of enchanted lineage. A malicious spell sends Taylor and Corentin on a road trip through the kitschy nostalgia of roadside Americana. To save Atticus, they must solve the puzzles put forth by Idi the Witchking. As they struggle, Taylor and Corentin’s volatile partnership sparks a flash of something more. But princesses have many enemies, and Taylor must keep his wits about him because there’s nothing worse than losing your heart… or your head.

Available to purchase 


“I’m getting a shower,” Taylor said and quickly shuffled into the bathroom. In the silence, Taylor pressed his back to the door and slid to the floor. He clamped both hands around the crotch of his shorts and hissed through clenched teeth, “Stop, stop, stop, please, stop.”
He had to stop thinking about his dream. And thinking about Corentin in that way. Corentin wasn’t even his type! And Corentin’s type was clearly not a raging homo-sheckshual. By all of Taylor’s understanding, Corentin’s breed of redneck was of the misogynistic racist variety. Taylor paused. Was he just telling himself that? Taylor mentally felt around the edges of the dream. He flinched with the dirty feeling.
Shower. He needed a shower. Now.
He picked himself up off the floor, then staggered to the tub. The enamel had seen better days, with that lovely rusty ring around it. The shower curtain seemed to be a repository for all assorted natures of DNA. Taylor gingerly touched it in an effort to move it just out of the way enough to turn the faucet. Scuffed up and mottled with rust, even the faucet made him wince. He ripped off a sheaf of cheap toilet paper to use to turn the faucet on. First the water belched into the tub, then after a few rude bubbling gurgles, ran in a steady stream. It wasn’t particularly warm, however. Taylor surmised he didn’t really need a hot shower anyway.
He disrobed, dropping his clothes in a heap on the floor. But on second consideration, he didn’t have anything else to change into. What he had on his back was it. Like his cum-stained cargo shorts. Yuck. He scooped his clothes off the floor and hung up his shirt on the towel rack. He’d have to do something about his shorts, because they’d smell and get uncomfortably crusty. He chuckled. He would never have predicted how contentious he’d become about cleanliness until he only had one change of clothes for the foreseeable future.
As the tub faucet ran to get some marginable level of lukewarm, he cranked the faucet in the sink. He let the water run over the crotch of his new shorts and scrubbed them as best he could with the questionable cracked soap bar.
Corentin knocked once on the door. “Come on, man. Gotta pee.”
“Hold your horses,” Taylor huffed. “Let me get in the shower first. Great Storyteller Almighty.”
Taylor hustled and wrung out his shorts. He hung them also on the towel rack and finally hopped into the shower before poor pitiful Corentin could have an accident on the floor. Some self-reliant huntsman he was. Couldn’t he go out back and take a piss on a tree? Of course, there would likely need to be some nature of tree on the premises.
Taylor jerked the curtain across the tub for privacy and instantly regretted taking a fistful of it in such haste. “Okay! It’s safe.”
“I heard princesses were prissy, but I didn’t think it applied to male princesses,” Corentin said as he walked in.
Taylor could see the outline of his body through the haze of the shower curtain. He pushed himself back against the far wall to gain some distance. A small gap remained between the curtain and the shower wall, and he carefully peeked. With a familiar clanking of a belt buckle followed by a zipper, Taylor instead sent his gaze upward to Corentin’s face and his bare shoulders. Corentin had done away with his shirt, and Taylor’s face heated with the view. Corentin was lean, like a panther, his tattooed skin pulled tight over his biceps and hard abs. He finished, flushed, and turned away to zip his pants. Taylor pressed his fingers to his lips at the sight of the rise of Corentin’s tight rear as he shifted to the sink and washed his hands.
He studied himself in the mirror while Taylor stared through the shower curtain.
Corentin swung open the door and called behind him, “Don’t use all the hot water.”
“O-oh-okay,” Taylor croaked, his face hot from gawking.
The door shut with a click, and Taylor sighed with the relief. He looked down at himself in disappointment. Taylor was filthy from dirt, sweat, and whatever else was lurking in Corentin’s disgusting truck. He turned, reaching for the cracked soap bar. The blacked grooves in the soap made him reconsider. He reached for the mini Johnson & Johnson shampoo bottle and uncapped it. After a careful sniff, he tried to make sure it wasn’t rancid and questioned if it was possible for shampoo to go rancid. Figuring he would chance it, he scrubbed himself down with the terrible No More Tears formula.
He breathed one more time, trying to cope with the lukewarm water, and then decided it was time to face the reality of a nasty motel room with a man he didn’t trust who made him blush. He shut off the water and carefully maneuvered out of the shower without touching the petri dish that served as a curtain.
Taylor considered his clothes. His shirt could use airing out, and his shorts were a definite no. His only option was a towel around the waist. He didn’t even like that option in high school, let alone in the middle of nowhere with the current company. Ringo was there, though. That made it better. Ringo would save him.
Covering himself, Taylor took a breath. On a mental count of three, he turned the doorknob.
And the chill of the overworked window unit hit him square in the bare chest.
Fuck,” Taylor gasped and scuttled to the bed. He immediately wrapped himself in the threadbare blanket, which didn’t help at all. He had a string of curses on his tongue when he finally glanced up and saw Corentin.
More specifically, saw Corentin’s tattooed torso.
Corentin, on the other hand, busied himself with making notes in his monstrosity of a book. His brow would furrow every time he underlined something with a determined gesture across the page. He seemed not to notice Taylor’s open staring at the intricate black ink of an oak tree drawn in the style of Gustave DorĂ©. The trunk of the tree was a full sleeve with the roots growing from Corentin’s left wrist, and at his shoulder, the branches twisted in a windblown manner across his collarbone, shoulder blade, and a few branches even curled at the base of his neck.
Taylor swallowed. At least it explained why Corentin was so covered up for June weather. But something was strange about the tattoo. There were seven boughs, but only one had leaves.
Corentin kept making notes and didn’t look up. His brow furrowed into an even angrier contortion, and he wrote faster. When he apparently ran out of space, he flipped his book to sit horizontally and wrote in tiny print in the margins. He hesitated, tapping his pen on the paper.
Taylor pulled the blanket higher on his shoulders. The steam from his body captured under the blanket helped in making the chill of the room bearable.
Corentin scribbled again in his book. He frowned and scribbled in a repeated gesture. He shook his pen with a flick of the wrist and tried again. He grunted and threw the pen. “Fuck,” he said and went fishing in his messenger bag. He feverishly reached around, looked in, and then reached around again. He puffed a sigh and upturned the bag onto the carpet.
A palm sized bottle of liquid bounced across the floor and Corentin scrambled to snatch it midtumble. He glanced at Taylor and offered a smile. “Hand sanitizer. Can’t go anywhere without it.” He quickly shoved the bottle into a side pocket of his bag.
Taylor said nothing, merely watching the bizarre display as Corentin poked through the crumpled receipts, hair ties, old cracker wrappers, and various unidentifiable crumbs and wadded-up trash. He also flipped through a collection of condoms in shiny magenta wrappers and printed with hearts and lips. Taylor tightened his grip on the comforter and his face heated. Well, at least they were cherry flavored or something?
Corentin shook the bag again, and Taylor remained silent.
As a roll of duct tape tumbled out.
And then zip ties.
Taylor’s eyes snapped wide. Corentin had fucking huntsman death tools on him at all times. He shivered and scooted back on the bed. He judged the distance from the bed to the door in case he needed to run at a moment’s notice. Obviously a naked guy running down the interstate would get some attention. But he hadn’t seen any cars on the interstate since they ended up here. He nibbled at his lip. Maybe if he stole Corentin’s truck? That seemed like a good idea.
“Ah!” Corentin said, clearly relieved he apparently found a pen, and ignored the zip ties and duct tape. He resumed his furious scribbling.

About the Author

Lex Chase once heard Stephen King say in a commercial, “We’re all going to die, I’m just trying to make it a little more interesting.” She knew then she wanted to make the world a little more interesting too. 

Weaving tales of cinematic, sweeping adventure and epic love—and depending on how she feels that day—Lex sprinkles in high-speed chases, shower scenes, and more explosions than a Hollywood blockbuster. She loves tales of men who kiss as much as they kick ass. She believes if you’re going to going to march into the depths of hell, it better be beside the one you love. 

Lex is a pop culture diva and her DVR is constantly backlogged. She wouldn't last five minutes without technology in the event of the apocalypse and has nightmares about refusing to leave her cats behind. She is incredibly sentimental, to the point that she gets choked up at holiday commercials. But like the lovers driven to extreme measures to get home for the holidays, Lex believes everyone deserves a happy ending. 

Lex also has a knack for sarcasm, never takes herself seriously, and has been nicknamed “The Next Alan Moore” by her friends for all the pain and suffering she inflicts on her characters. She is a Damned Yankee hailing from the frozen backwoods of Maine now residing in the burbs of Northwest Florida, where it could be 80F and she’d still be a popsicle. 

She is grateful for and humbled by all the readers. She knows very well she wouldn't be here if it wasn't for them and welcomes feedback.

You can find Lex at



Presented By



Louise Lyons: Conflicted

Please help me welcome fellow Dreamspinner Press author Louse Lyons with her book Conflicted. She's here to answer some of my nosy questions, share an excerpt, and she's also doing a giveaway.


Title: Conflicted
Release Date: 20 August 2014
Author: Louise Lyons
Author Twitter: www.twitter.com/louiselyons013
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Genre: Contemporary

Blurb: Two competing gangs of car and drag racing enthusiasts with a shared history of pain and rivalry leading to outright hatred. Two men from opposite sides of the tracks, yet more in common than they’d like to admit.

Paul Appleton is a troubled man who has never been in a relationship, having lost everyone he cared for in his life. His mother died when he was very young and subsequently, he lost his brother and his best friend. Now Paul is convinced love will always end in tears.

Greg was living on the streets after his parents died and was stabbed by a junkie, ending up in hospital. The Buchanans took Greg under their wing while doing charity work, and Greg joined their loving family when he was adopted. He and his siblings are also car enthusiasts with much more money and therefore better cars than Paul Appleton’s gang.

When they eventually find a connection, Paul fights his feelings and tries to convince himself his lover is only a temporary bit of fun, but Greg has other ideas.


1-Welcome Louise! Please tell us a bit about yourself and your release.
Hi, and thank you very much for having me. I’m over 40, single, and I have a day-job in the insurance industry. My book is my first release, so all of this is new to me and I’m finding it both exciting and scary at the same time. I’m sure many others authors know exactly what I’m talking about! The story is based around cars and drag racing, so I hope this won’t put readers (particularly ladies) off. Although that scene is an integral part of the story, it’s mostly focused on the main character, Paul, and his determination to isolate himself from love, for fear of being hurt.

2-In what locale is your book set? Why did you choose this setting?
It’s based in the fictitious small town of Stockton, about an hour north of London, UK. The reason I chose this was quite random. I picked a location for the drag racing venue, which forms the setting for the first few chapters of the story and then thought about where I could situate my town, which would require a few hours driving to get to the venue. I wanted an area with open countryside, but fairly close to larger towns/cities, so I studied a map and invented a town, rather that choose an existing one. I didn’t want to use my own favorite drag racing venue for the story, because the story includes an accident caused by lack of attention to safety and I’m sure the real venue wouldn’t appreciate me making out that their standards are any less than exemplary.

3-How long have you been writing?
Pretty much all my life. I started with stories about little girls and ponies when I was 8 years old, progressed into het romance in my teens and not too long after, I began writing M/M romance, featuring my favorite rock stars. Years later I discovered Fan Fiction and after I developed a surprisingly large following, I decided it was time to work on original stories and try to become published.

4-What compelled you to write this particular story?
I’m a bit of a tomboy and a big fan of the Fast & Furious movies. I also have a sporty car and am a member of an owners club, which I join at motor events and exhibit my own car. So this type of scene is something I’m very much part of and the idea for the story grew from that. I live less than 50 miles from a drag strip, and I go there on a regular basis (to watch, not race!)

5-What gave you the courage to submit your story to a publisher?
It was all thanks to my Fan Fiction readers. Some authors aren’t fond of Fan Fiction, I know, and some who have come from the same place prefer not to admit to it. But I’m proud of my Fan Fiction writing. My faithful readers there gave me the courage to try to become published and I found it an incredible launching pad for where I am now. Without it, I certainly wouldn’t have a published novel now.

6-When creating your characters, do you have models in mind or are they totally fictional?
I’ll often have the appearance of someone, or a particular personality aspect that I’ve seen in a person, or someone on TV and I’ll expand on that in my mind and create my character. Other times, a completely fictional character will come to mind, with physical attributes and personality gradually being “born”.

7-Why did you start writing m/m? Is there something special that draws you to this genre?
The first thing that attracted me was the movie My Beautiful Launderette starring Daniel Day Lewis. A friend showed it to me when I was about 15 and about a year later, I wrote my first M/M story, for my own entertainment only! I find two men together a lot more exciting than a man and a woman and the genre is pretty much all I read. It quickly grew into being the only thing I have the inspiration to write. I don’t find female characters so interesting to write and they don’t draw me the way males do.

8-What are you reading right now? Do you have a favorite author or genre?
Some of my favorite authors are Garrett Leigh, Grace R. Duncan, Wade Kelly and Taylin Clavelli. All of these naughty ladies have had me in floods of tears with their incredible ability to yank at the heartstrings. As for genres – that varies quite a lot. I like vampires and other supernatural beings. I’ve recently read some steampunk and BDSM, neither of which I thought I would be that keen on, but I’ve found two genres that I really enjoy there. Whatever I’m reading, I like angst, as long as it has a happy ending. At this moment in time, I’m not actually reading anything, but Taylin Clavelli’s novel Dakota Skies is out very soon and that will be the next book I grab for my Kindle.

9-What are you working on now?
I’ve been writing a few short stories for anthologies, but I’m planning two new novels. One involves domestic abuse. It’s something I’ve been through myself, so I can draw on the experience to apply to my male MC. The story will start after he escapes from the situation he’s in, but follows his attempts to leave it behind, and his struggles with self-esteem and confidence. That story is something I aim to work on toward the end of the year. In the meantime, the second one is a romance with some angst, set in the rock music scene of the 1990s, which was another big part of my life. I made many trips to one of the UK’s famous rock clubs, Rock City in Nottingham, which will feature in the story.

10-When you're not writing, how do you like to spend your time?
I have a lot of hobbies. I love animals and I have a dog, tropical fish and tarantulas, so I spend a lot of time caring for them. I like to run long distance and I do cross stitch needlework. Plus I have my much-loved car and also a motorcycle, which I like to work on, take to shows and so on.

11-What are your writing goals for 2014/2015?
I’d like to see another two or three of my novels published by the end of 2015, depending on how much time I have and of course whether the works are deemed worthy by publishers! I’m delighted that I’ve recently had two short stories accepted for anthologies so that’s a start.

12-Do you have personal goals for 2014/2015?
I plan to compete in the 2014 Great Eastern Run half marathon, in the UK. I’ve been training for it since July and it’ll be the 4th time I’ve run it. I’d like to beat my best time. I’d also like to be able to reduce the hours I work at a “proper” job to give me more time for writing, but that will depend on how well I do over the next 18 months with publishing my work and gradually building an income from it.

Would you like to share an excerpt from “Conflicted”?
I would be delighted. Here you go…

Greg went to the bar to get a beer and was just handing over the money when he noticed the very man he had been hoping to avoid was right next to him, nursing his own bottle of Budweiser.
I thought you went to a bar in Stevenage,” Paul commented without looking at Greg.
I couldn’t be bothered driving over there tonight,” Greg said and gulped some of his beer. He leaned against the bar and glanced at Paul. His gray T-shirt looked about three sizes too small and only emphasized the size of his shoulders and broad back. Intentional, no doubt. His faded jeans were even tighter, and clung to his muscular thighs and firm ass as if they were painted on. Damn, he was hot, and Greg wanted to kick himself for thinking that.
Not even in the new car?” Paul turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow. His eyes were deep brown and piercing, as if he were looking into Greg rather than at him.
Not tonight.”
Nice, by the way. Shame we don’t all have rich parents to shower us with toys like that.”
It was just what Greg expected – a brief compliment quickly crushed by an insult. He was immediately pissed.
You know nothing about it,” he growled.
Paul shrugged. “I can’t blame you. I wouldn’t have said no either.”
Listen, Appleton, I won’t pretend I’m not smug as hell driving around in an R34, but I didn’t ask for it and to be honest, I would rather have bought a car I can afford with my own money, which I do earn, by the way. I don’t just live off of them like a fucking leech!”
Alright, chill, I’m sorry,” Paul said.
Yeah, well, it gets up my nose that people think I’m rich and spoiled when I work hard like anybody else. I can’t help the fact that I got adopted by the Buchanans. I came from an ordinary family, same as most people, even you.”
My family was anything but ordinary,” Paul grumbled. “So how come you were adopted anyway?”
You actually want to know?” Greg asked in surprise.
Yeah, why not?”
Okay, we might as well get a seat, then.” Greg turned away from the bar and headed for a corner away from the main bustle, leaving Paul to follow if he felt like it. Greg wasn’t particularly delighted by the prospect of spending more time with him, but since he was here, there wasn’t much else Greg could do. Annoyingly, his pulse sped up as he made his way to an unoccupied corner bench and sat down. He chewed his lip. Paul was still at the bar, speaking to someone he apparently knew, but a moment later, he moved away and walked toward Greg. Fuck, those jeans were tight, and Greg would have bet Paul had no underwear on either.
Jesus, don’t stare. He shifted his eyes up – to bulging pecs. Heat rushed to his groin, and he tried to think about something else. The last thing he wanted was a hard-on, but too long with no fun except for his own hands, and now the company of the hottest guy in the pub, had him stiffening regardless. Greg wondered what the chances were. Would Paul be up for it? Greg knew nothing about him, but he couldn’t imagine him being shy. Greg would bet Paul would shag anything that looked twice at him – or certainly play around with them.
So? You were going to tell me where you came from,” Paul prompted, dropping onto the seat a little distance away, facing Greg.
Uh…um…yeah, well, my parents were just ordinary – my dad was a builder and my mum was a waitress. They died in a car crash when I was sixteen.”
Sorry to hear that,” Paul said with a frown. “Did they treat you okay?”
My parents? Of course, why wouldn’t they?” That comment puzzled Greg, but he carried on talking. Anything to stop himself imagining Paul’s hand, which was gripping his beer bottle, wrapped around Greg’s cock instead. “They had a huge mortgage, the house got repossessed after they died, and the system didn’t want to know. I lived on the streets for a year, then ended up in hospital, and Agnes Buchanan, who was there doing charity work, took pity on me. And the rest is history.”
That was lucky.” Paul nodded. “What put you in hospital?”
A bloke with a knife.”
So, how did you end up living with…Stewart Sanders, is it?” Greg asked.
It’s a long story,” Paul grunted. “I left home when I was sixteen, and he and Abby took me in.”
Why did you leave?”
Paul scowled and drained the rest of his beer before answering. “It’s not important.”
Humor me,” Greg said, genuinely interested.
I’m not here to entertain you!” Paul snapped and got to his feet.
Hey…” Greg protested. Hell, the guy had a chip on his shoulder. A huge chip. And he was about to walk away from Greg just when he was beginning to convince himself that they were getting along, and that he might possibly get his hand inside those tight jeans later. But Paul was already walking to the bar.
Shit!” Greg growled under his breath. He was annoyed that Paul walked away and more annoyed still that he was disappointed. It had seemed like they might be starting to move past what happened at Octane, and Greg hoped the stupid feud might have been forgotten too.
Paul hadn’t gone far. He had wedged himself between two men at the bar and was waiting to be served another drink. Greg stared at his ass until he turned around again and then quickly dropped his eyes and pretended interest in the last mouthful of beer in his bottle.
Sorry.” Paul appeared at the other side of the table, placed a fresh bottle of Bud in front of Greg, and then stepped over his legs and took up his original seat, maybe a foot closer to Greg than before.
No, I’m sorry. I suppose I come across as if I’m prying, but really, I’m just interested.”
The corner of Paul’s mouth twitched up slightly into a hint of a smile. “Just don’t ask me about family.”
Okay. So can I ask about your job at the club? Don’t they need you on a Friday night?”
They rotate the weekend days off. It’s my first in the month I’ve been there. It’s a good job – decent pay too, better than the shitty warehouse I was in before.”
Yeah, I imagine bouncers get paid pretty well.” Greg nodded. “Do you have to use your fists much?” Damn, Greg, what the hell did you say that for? He cursed himself.
Paul grinned. “Not really. You get more trouble with drunken girls trying to slobber all over you.” He pulled a face. “If there’s real trouble, you diffuse it rather than add to it. I do kickboxing and jujitsu to help with that.”
Cool,” Greg said. It was something they had in common. “I did kickboxing for a few years. I’ve been thinking about taking up something else too.”
Paul nodded and took another drink. Greg watched the movement of his throat as he swallowed and imagined his lips were wrapped around his cock instead of the bottle. He shifted awkwardly and rested his arm across his lap, hoping not to draw attention to the fact that he was getting uncomfortably hard. Paul lowered the bottle, and his eyes slid from Greg’s face, down his chest, and fixed on exactly what he was hoping Paul wouldn’t look at. He grinned and trapped the tip of his tongue between his teeth. Oh fuck. He was checking Greg out and way more obviously than Greg was checking him.
Should Greg ignore it, or go with it? Did he seriously want to get off with Paul? How difficult would that make things if they ran into each other at shows or something in the future? What the hell would the family say if they found out? What on earth was Greg thinking when he considered taking a chance with a person who went out of his way to make trouble for himself and others?
Greg thought for another minute and realized that it was going to be the only chance he had, at least for that evening. Besides, who was going to know? Paul didn’t want anyone finding out about him anymore than Greg did.
What are you looking at?” Greg grunted as a way of starting a sort of flirting interaction.
Isn’t it obvious? Like my company, do you?” Paul responded.
It seems like it, doesn’t it?”
Paul arched an eyebrow and leaned back. He shifted his ass forward on the seat and drew attention to the fact that the ridiculously tight jeans were virtually crushing him. Greg could make out the head of his cock pushing against the fabric. He wondered if it was his imagination or if he was more turned on than he’d ever been in his life.



Wednesday Briefs: Hope #43

Welcome to Wednesday Briefs, where authors post free fiction of 1000 words or less each week. I used: "What time is it?"

Hope #43

I opened my eyes, swallowing convulsively, and stared at my surroundings. It seemed we were in some sort of log cabin that consisted of one large room. On my left, I saw a rustic kitchen, done in dark wood, with gleaming pans hanging on one side of the polished stove. A counter separated the kitchen from the rest of the room, with a few high chairs lined up around the counter.
On my right, there was a wide area consisting of two large, dark leather armchairs, set about a round table crafted from glittering glass pieces. A bit farther ahead stood a high bookshelf, filled to the brim with books and rolled-up parchments. Behind the bookshelf was probably the largest bed I'd ever seen. It was from the same dark wood as the kitchen counter, and large pillows in deep blues drew my attention.
“Come on, we'll get you settled in bed,” Silvion said.
He took my hand in his large one, and I bit my lip at the moan that wanted to tumble over my lips. Silvion glanced at me, a small smirk playing, and I flushed, mumbling, “Shut up.”
He walked me to his bed, then turned me toward him. With efficient movements, he'd rid me of most of my clothes, so that I stood in just my shirt and briefs in front of him. Undeniable hunger lurked in his eyes. I shifted from foot to foot, enjoying the way he seemed to eat me up, but at the same time feeling utterly confused.
I glanced at Shane, who forced a tired smile on his face when he caught my gaze. I held out my hand for him and he rushed to me, engulfing me in his arms. “Shane,” I whispered, “I'm so confused.”
Shane's heart beat rapidly, and his hands roamed along my back, never settling anywhere for long. “So am I.”
“How about we all get some sleep?” Silvion asked. “The bed is big enough to hold all three of us.”
I shivered when I thought about the three of us in Silvion's bed. Wouldn't that become awkward? I was a cuddler and always nestled up against a warm body next to me. Not everyone appreciated that, though I didn't think either Silvion or Shane would mind. Just... what if I chose one and the other one got mad? After all, I loved Shane and Silvion was—
“Gil, breathe. I understand your attraction to Silvion,” Shane said.
“Are you still attracted to him?” I asked.
Shane cupped my face in his hands, then pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “No matter what I say, you'll be pissed off at me. Can I plead the fifth?”
“I think Gil wants to know if it's okay for him to be attracted to me while he still loves you,” Silvion threw in as he pulled off his robe. My eyes bulged when he revealed his body. A large, male body, packed with muscles and not an ounce of fat.
Shane chuckled before he let go of me and undressed as well. He pulled back the oversized duvet and ushered me to the middle of the bed. Shane climbed over me and pressed his front against my back. I groaned and closed my eyes.
“Shane,” I moaned. It was really him.
Silvion came to bed as well, straightening the duvet over the three of us. He turned on his side, facing me.
“Is the house secure?” Shane asked, a hint of anxiety in his voice.
“The wards are all on and working fine. You're both safe here.” Silvion pulled me and Shane into his chest, his right arm resting on top of our flanks. Shane sighed and his exhale tickled along my neck.
“What time is it?” I asked, the words slurring as sleep claimed me swiftly.
“Time for you to get some rest,” Silvion said, then pressed a kiss to my forehead. To Shane he said in a much firmer voice, “For you too. Later we need to talk.”
“Now I'll never fall asleep,” Shane muttered.
Silvion growled something before he lifted himself on his left elbow and smacked a kiss on Shane's mouth. Shane gasped but kissed back with vigor. I probably should've freaked out, but this just felt right. Smiling, I tugged at Silvion's tight shirt. “Get back here, I'm getting cold.”
Shane and Silvion laughed, then made sure I was sandwiched between them. I fell asleep shortly after.