A Pit Stop

“Are you embarrassed by me, Grant?”

Josh’s voice is quiet; that low, growling pitch that, depending on the circumstance, either has Grant pleased he’s rarely on Josh’s bad side, or falling to his knees in reverent worship the way only he gets to worship Josh.

“What? ‘Course not,” Grant replies quickly, wondering where Josh is going with this, and also what he’s done wrong. He’s been so tense about taking Josh home to meet his family, that he’s spent the week leading up to it overthinking every step, and overplanning every word.

“Then why,” Josh continues, slowly, making Grant’s heart thud loud, “do you repeatedly keep stepping away from me, as though I am not to be seen with you?”

Grant darts his eyes down the aisle of the supermarket they’re in and steps away from the cart he’s pushing, hands dropping to his sides. “Josh,” he begins, guiltily, trying to work out what to say, and coming up with nothing.

He feels tight, on edge being in his hometown, that’s full of narrow-minded people he’d avoided as much contact with as possible when growing up. And though his parents and sisters have welcomed Josh with open arms, there’s been several sets of other disapproving eyes on them wherever they’ve been. So perhaps he is holding back; not reaching for Josh in the usual affection he does when they’re back in their own home. He’s not meaning to do it, but if he’s hurting Josh by doing it—which Grant knows he must be doing from the look on his face—then he’s got to snap out of it, meant or not.

“Shit. Sorry, Josh. It’s not intentional at all,” and to prove his point, Grant leans over to Josh and gives him a sweet, apologetic kiss. Josh remains as still as stone.

“I’m sorry,” Grant whispers against Josh’s lips, then kissing along his cheek, and the edge of his jaw where he feels it clench beneath him. He has no problem with being seen with Josh in public, not one.

Josh nudges him until his back is against the shelves behind him, and Grant is convinced the entire thing rocks from the force of it. But he’s not caring at all; he’s too busy trying to keep up with Josh’s tongue as it fights its way around his mouth, and Josh’s hips as they grind up against him in claim.

Here? Do you have to, Grant?”

Grant feels Josh’s mouth pause, feels the indignance of being interrupted churning through his entire body, before he steps away from Grant and straightens his shirt for him from where he’s rucked it up. Josh turns away, indifferent, walking down the aisle behind Deacon, the owner of the store, who stands, glaring at Grant.

“Grant,” Deacon hisses, reaching up and covering his eyes in a sure sign of trying to keep his tongue in check. “I’ve got no problem with you or your boyfriend. But that shelving’s on its last legs; getting the whole place refurbed next month. And if that thing collapses on someone the other side with you two doing… whatever you were about to do, it’s on your head.”

Grant’s face burns with how much he’s blushing. Deacon’s been serving him since he’s been old enough to go to the store by himself. He mumbles an apology, bows his head to avoid eye contact, and pushes the cart to the checkout, where Tina, the store assistant helping Deacon, beams at him in mirth as she rings up his purchases.

Josh is folded armed and flush-cheeked against the side of the car when Grant gets outside, glancing at him guiltily as he begins to fill the trunk.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of—”

Grant presses Josh up against the car and kisses him hard, humming softly as Josh’s arms loop around him.

“I know you didn’t,” Grant agrees when they pull back, nuzzling against him.

“I know I shouldn’t let myself get insecure about this kind of stuff, and—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Grant smiles, kissing him again. “I’m sorry I did anything to make you feel insecure.”

Josh sighs, nodding, fingers toying with Grant’s shirt as they always do when he’s feeling a little out of his depth. But then he’s kissing him again, and this time it’s gentle, taking what they need from each other and forgetting everything else. And when they pull back again, there are easier smiles for them both.

“I still want you,” Josh tells him with a squeeze around his waist, and intent in his eye that leaves Grant swallowing awkwardly.

“And you can still have me,” Grant promises with a wink. “Just… maybe not right here.”

“It’s not like we can go back to your parents and disappear upstairs with some lame excuse,” Josh sighs, his thumb sneaking in between them, discreetly brushing along his length.

“No, it’s not,” Grant agrees, wide-eyed that Josh would even do that in the middle of this parking lot when he doesn’t ever do stuff like that back home. But then he gets an idea that’s likely to get them both into trouble, and he can’t think of anything else. “C’mon.”

Grant drives them to the edge of town where there’s a mid-sized restaurant sharing a parking lot with a new supermarket he’s adamant wasn’t here the last time he visited. Grant grabs Josh’s hand the moment they’re out of the car and tugs him forward, keeping his head down, determined not to see anyone he knows. He drags him inside, then once more into a restroom, and firmly bolts the door behind them.

Josh’s eyes are wide in surprise for all of a second, but then there’s a triumphant smile on his face. And as he saunters towards Grant he’s already unbuttoning himself, never taking his eyes off Grant’s, pressing on his shoulders wordlessly asking him to kneel, then utters a single instruction. “Suck.”

Which of course, Grant does, more than willingly. He pushes down Josh’s jeans and boxers further, gripping his fingers into his cheeks and kneading one minute, then cupping his balls gently the next. He licks, sucks, and teases in all the ways he knows Josh likes, then pulls off him to suck his own fingers into his mouth, and slowly presses one into Josh’s hole as he takes him back in his mouth.

Josh grunts, rocking forward a little as Grant strokes his finger slowly in and out whilst lapping his tongue over his head. But Josh wants more, apparently, because he pulls Grant up abruptly, backing him against the door and kissing him hungrily, as he unbuttons Grant’s jeans and shoves them down, boxers and all, as far as they will go.

He strokes him a little, grinning at the groan Grant gives in response, and then turns to look around the room in a sort of panic. Relief is instant; his eyes fall upon a vending machine, and he hits it in a way that makes a packet of lube and three strawberry flavored condoms fall out into the sink below. Grant’s cock twitches at the sight.

Josh tosses the condoms away—one of the many perks of being in a committed relationship for coming up to three years now—and turns back to Grant with a look of pure intent. Grant gulps at the sound of the packet being ripped open, and Josh does this magic thing that Grant loves; at least, he thinks it’s magic, it feels magic even though it’s probably not. But Grant is babbling to himself either way as Josh systematically slips his fingers slowly inside him one at a time, in time with his tongue thrusting into Grant’s mouth. Grant rocks down on Josh’s fingers, giving a little whine when the angle strikes just right against his prostate.

“I need to see you,” Josh says hastily, before somehow pulling one of Grant’s legs free so he’s standing with his clothes flapping around the other leg only. And then Grant’s holding on to whatever he can, as Josh lifts and spreads him wide open, slowly pressing into him with a long, appreciative groan.

Josh pauses for just enough time for Grant to adjust then is staking his claim, as fast and hard as he can without breaking either Grant or the sink he’s somehow gripping on to and fucking Grant up against. It’s not the most comfortable of positions, but it works. It’s efficient, hitting all the right angles in all the good spots, with them both muffling their groans in each other’s necks, just about conscious of the noise traveling beyond the door of the restaurant bathroom.

After, when Josh wipes Grant down, swiping away his come from between their chests with the bathroom tissue that’s sticking to him in chunks, the look in Josh’s eye is smug and thankful. They straighten each other up both grimacing at the mess they’ve made of each other, mumbling about how good a shower would be right now if they could only find an excuse for it when they get back to the house.

When they’re outside, Josh presses Grant gently against the wall outside the bathroom with one last long kiss, humming against his lips before pulling back with a smile.

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Getting Lucky

**previously published on Hot Chili Erotica** – suffice to say, this is not safe for work…


I am not this lucky.

Lewis stares up at his bedroom ceiling in a silence that only comes of it being the middle of the night, and lets his fingers creep across the mattress, until they come into the reassuring contact that is skin on warm skin.

Sebastian doesn’t even stir.

But even though there is bare skin right there beneath his fingertips, Lewis still doesn’t believe it, has to turn his head to the side to make sure there really is a warm body beside him in his bed, that his imagination is not that cruel, and is not actually taunting him with nothing but wishful thinking.

Because Sebastian looks like something out of a wet dream, yet is also someone who is warm, fun to be with, and smart as hell too. Those things don’t usually go together well in any good kind of combination, Lewis knows this from past experience. He still finds himself holding his breath, waiting for someone to tell him what the catch is. To tell him he doesn’t have the right to this at all.

It’s been eight months since his cousin introduced them, and from that first glimpse of hazel eyes and perfectly-styled hair, Lewis has been hooked. One well-behaved first date later, and Sebastian had invited him over for dinner. Somewhere between the main and dessert—because of course, Sebastian is incredible at cooking too—he’d led Lewis over to the sofa, spread his legs wide, and sucked him off with such skill, Lewis suspects he’s been ruined for life for anyone else.

And Sebastian knows this; Lewis sees it in the glint in his eyes when he’s unzipping him beneath the table at their local bar. He feels it in Sebastian’s palm when he’s got them slicked up and is fisting them together in the shower, making them both late for work. And he knows, from the late night messages he gets of Sebastian’s spent cock, cum pooling on his stomach and beginning to slide its way down his side, with the accompanying message this is what thinking of you does to me…

Sebastian also knows, it seems, when Lewis is not able to get back to sleep.

Fingers thread between his own where they’re steepled against Sebastian’s thigh, and there’s a soft yawn and a slight stretch, before Sebastian is arching against the bed, and waking himself up.

“Don’t,” Lewis whispers, because he never meant to wake Sebastian with his sudden rush of insecurities. But Sebastian is already awake, gripping his fingers softly, and anchoring Lewis there beside him without even needing him to ask for it.

“Lewis,” Sebastian says, his voice gruffer than it is by daylight, and gravel enough to have Lewis’ cock stir. He adds nothing else, but that grumbling of his name is enough to send a shot of desire flaring through Lewis, leaving him shifting as he begins to stir.

“Go back to sleep,” Lewis tells him softly, rolling on to his side as though that might stop the way he’s reacting, and pressing a light kiss to Sebastian’s shoulder as he loosens his fingers from beneath Sebastian’s, resting them on his stomach instead.

Sebastian shifts a little, humming with approval as he slots his fingers through Lewis’ against his skin. “Why can’t you sleep?”

With a shake of his head, Lewis kisses Sebastian’s shoulder again, splays his fingers to touch as much of him at once as possible, and rolls forward further until his front is pressing fully against his side. Sebastian circles his wrist to free it in the slight gap between them, wraps his hand around Lewis’s immediately interested cock, and gives a lazy pull.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Lewis tells him, his voice catching at the feel of Sebastian’s fingers around him, and that heat surging through as he hardens against his palm.

“But now we’re both awake,” Sebastian adds, with a long, languid stroke, and Lewis is lost. And thankful. And so utterly helpless when it comes to resisting Sebastian – and that voice he’s using right now.

Lewis slides his hand up Sebastian’s chest as Sebastian’s tumbles to the bed, grazing his fingers in circles over each of his nipples in turn, continuing the kisses to his shoulder, and smiling there as Sebastian arches up a little at his touch. Lewis lifts his head, trailing kisses up Sebastian’s neck that he echoes with soft bites, then down his throat to nuzzle, and finally settles his chin against his sternum, where he scratches his stubbled chin, looking up at Sebastian in expectation.

A second later, Sebastian has reached out to switch the light on so they can see each other properly, and is staring down at him with a smirk on his face that has Lewis’ breath quickens, making his cock give another twitch right there against Sebastian’s thigh.

“I don’t have a single objection to you continuing,” Sebastian tells him, and Lewis hears the lust there in his tone that just spurs him on. So Lewis does just that, wasting no time at all in sliding his way down Sebastian’s body, wrapping his hands lightly around his waist, and grazing his teeth and tongue over hipbones that, quite honestly, have been distracting Lewis since day one. Sebastian gives a low hum of approval, and Lewis manages a single, pained swallow, as Sebastian begins to swell and thicken under his attention, mere inches from Lewis’ mouth.

Another shift, and Lewis is bracing himself against the bed, hands flat on the sheets as he blows softly over Sebastian’s head, smiling at the way it jolts in response. Lewis is flicking his tongue out a second later, groaning in answer to Sebastian’s own, lapping against him, relishing the smooth hardness of his crown, and the way his slit glistens and leaks so quickly just from only those barest beginning of touches.

Lewis presses a kiss to his tip, unmoving and waiting for Sebastian to look at him again. And when he does, Lewis opens his mouth and slides down, lips stretching over that ridge, down his shaft, until Sebastian’s cock head is bumping at the back of this throat. Lewis hollows out his cheeks and sucks hard, groaning to himself at the way Sebastian’s thighs flex in answer, and how he’s reduced to these short, sharp breaths that are saying how good Lewis’ mouth feels on him.

Another hard suck and Lewis pulls off, but instantly takes Sebastian in his mouth again, starting up a slow, thorough slide up and down his shaft, one he continues without breaking eye contact, and always taking in as much of Sebastian as he can. He shifts a little to adjust his weight against the bed, and Sebastian echoes the movement to get more comfortable, splaying his legs a little wider to give him easier access. Then Lewis is pulling off altogether, nuzzling into Sebastian’s base, laving a long lick all the way up his length along the vein that Lewis swears tastes different to the rest of his shaft, and then over his head again, before kissing his way back down.

Lewis ghosts wet, open mouthed kisses up and down Sebastian, earning him whines of protest for more, a thrusting of hips that asks Lewis to swallow him down again, and fingers that grip frantically through his hair, pulling him ever closer, gentle but insistent. Lewis looks up at Sebastian, winks, and swallows him down as far as he can once more, smiling around him as Sebastian arches, groans, and trembles beneath him.

Lewis breathes out steadily in an effort to relax, takes in a little more of Sebastian’s cock, and pauses through the reflex of his throat to fight the intrusion of his cock head. Instantly, as though begging and inviting more, Sebastian parts his legs wider still; Lewis adjusts himself so he’s still comfortable then pulls off, slow, teasing, before swallowing down again, a little deeper.

Sebastian groans his name as Lewis continues this slow, controlled swallowing of him down, until his throat is full, and he’s having to breath out through his nose. There is a pause as Lewis settles himself, and then he’s swallowing around him, closing his eyes at the barrage of praise and obscenities it squeezes out of Sebastian as his throat constricts around his cock.

Lewis shifts his head slightly, grazes his thumbs lightly against Sebastian’s sides, wordlessly tells him what he wants him to do next. Sebastian is gasping, feet braced against the bed as he fucks up into Lewis’ mouth, his fingers twitching through his hair as he fights the urge to go rougher and faster.

Sebastian loves this; Lewis learned early on that deepthroating Sebastian is a surefire way to earn him whatever sexual favours he wants in return, and has also on three separate occasions led to breakfast in bed, as well as several lazy Sundays where he’d been left so spent, he’d barely been able to move. So Lewis holds on as long as he can through Sebastian’s thrusts and gasps, ignoring his own need as much as is possible, torture when he’s aching and leaking, hanging heavily between his legs.

But Sebastian knows Lewis well enough to notice the way he braces himself to try to hide the trembles surging through his arms, the shallowing of Lewis’ breath that says he’s getting tired, the slight rasping through the moan Lewis is giving that says his jaw is beginning to ache.

So Sebastian is moving, gently tugging on Lewis’ hair to tell him to pull off, then gripping him around the shoulders once he does and dragging him up the bed, on to his back. Sebastian kisses him hard, desperate, thrusting his tongue into Lewis’ mouth repeatedly in the most dirty of kisses Lewis thinks he’s ever been on the receiving end of. Yet another thing he’s come to really, really like about this man.

Sebastian’s hand is on him, thumb swiping up the precum leaking, and gripping him firm, fisting him at a pace that is going to bring Lewis over the edge in just seconds if it continues at that speed.

But it doesn’t.

Because Sebastian is shifting again, hand fumbling around in the drawer beside the bed and pulling out the lube that they’re getting through at a rate that talks of how much they love fucking each other. Sebastian coats his fingers; Lewis closes his eyes expecting the cool gel to graze over the pucker of his hole any second, but instead feels the bed dip either side of him. He opens his eyes instantly to Sebastian kneeling over him, and before he can comment or offer encouragement, Sebastian is spearing himself open, as though he is just desperate to be filled.

Lewis is helpless but to hold on to Sebastian’s hips and tilt him so he can watch more easily as Sebastian’s fingers arch and scissor him open, with accompanying moans that just make Lewis leak. And then Sebastian is lowering himself to straddle Lewis’ lap, holding himself open with one hand, and guiding Lewis cock with the other, until it’s slipping inside of him with a slick slide.

They both moan softly as Sebastian sinks down, until he’s fully seated and gasping. The tightness is narrowing Lewis’ focus to nothing but the feel of Sebastian squeezing around him, and Lewis’ hips are jerking of their own accord as Sebastian circles his hips to get comfortable, bracing his hand against Lewis’ chest.

Lewis splays his hands wide around Sebastian’s thighs, the tightness of strained muscles beneath his palms adding to the force behind the groan that escapes his lips from just how very good Sebastian feels clenching around him. Sebastian circles his hips a couple of times, groaning himself at the feeling of Lewis deep inside him, and then raises himself until Lewis’ cock head is catching and lightly tugging against his rim, only just keeping him in place.

Sebastian pauses, smirks, waits, because he knows how hungry Lewis is to look down at where their bodies are joined, at where Sebastian is now sinking down on him again and filling himself up. He does it again; raising himself slowly, his neck arching at the drag of Lewis inside him, pausing then lowering himself once more.

Lewis’ hands fall as though boneless to the sheets, his feet flush against the bed, knees spread. He spreads them further, and the movement as Sebastian sinks down on him again has Sebastian grunting and cursing out. Lewis curls his fingers to grip onto the sheets, eyes intently on himself slipping in and out of Sebastian, as Sebastian rides him slowly, his head thrown back with these soft moans that Lewis swears go straight to his own cock.

Sebastian brings up a hand to wrap around himself; Lewis’s mouth dries as he watches Sebastian circle his thumb over his own head and moan out loud again. Sebastian slicks himself up, finding a rhythm to fuck into his hand as he fucks himself down on Lewis, the most delicious of noises escaping out of him, until Lewis has to start taking some for himself.

Lewis raises his hands again, grips hard around Sebastian’s hips, braces his feet against the bed and thrusts up at the angle he’s learned will have Sebastian crying out his name. The stuttering, breathy Lewis he hears is the confirmation he needs to go harder, to grip tighter, to pound up into Sebastian without any further holding back at all.

Lewis is chasing Sebastian’s reaction every time his cock head glances over his prostate, eyes fixed on the way his lips form these little ohs each, and every time another one escape has Lewis gasping himself. Pretty soon Lewis is lost to chasing that warmth spreading out through his core that’s sending sparks and jolts of pleasure through him, urging him to drive up harder, grip tighter, take more, and he is lost to thinking of anything else but being inside Sebastian.

Sebastian is clearly eager for even more himself, slamming his hips down against Lewis’ thrusts, calling out a litany of dirty encouragement, grunting and groaning out one long, wordless sound. It is always at this point when they’re together like this when both of them lose control, littering the air with gasps of encouragement and the rapid slap of skin on flushed skin.

But Sebastian, it seems, has other ideas, ideas that mean prolonging this even more than they already have done at this early hour of the morning. He presses a hand firmly against Lewis’ sternum, wordlessly asking him to slow, and Lewis does that instantly, panting hard with exertion, pressing his ass back against the bed to fight against the way his own hips twitch for him to take even more.

Sebastian takes a stuttering breath, and then he’s back to raising himself slowly, sliding down on Lewis’ cock even slower, and circling his hips, the movements deliberate and slow so they can both feel every drag of Lewis’ cock deep inside him, making them both moan out long, desperate gasps.

Lewis watches Sebastian fighting against going faster, short, stabbing breaths speaking of the effort it’s taking him to keep this slow, to enjoy every languid thrust and stroke. Sebastian leans down for another kiss; there is something about being buried inside Sebastian like this and barely moving when they’re kissing, that has Lewis’ stomach jolt and flip in the most delicious of ways.

Sebastian raises and eases himself down on Lewis then, flaring his hips insistently so that Lewis is as deep inside him as he possibly can get. Lewis answers by fucking up into him at that just right, practised angle, and Sebastian grinds down on him hard, whimpering, and shakily wrapping his hands around Lewis shoulders to hold on.

Lewis holds on for as long as he can, but the heat is too much, Sebastian feels so good, so tight around him, and he needs to chase his release right now, because any longer feels impossible. Sebastian’s fingers tighten, and he’s spreading his knees a little wider, slamming his hips hard down on Lewis unrelenting, urging him to keep going, and looking just as desperate as Lewis feels.

Lewis’s grip around Sebastian’s waist as he fucks up into him is brutal enough to leave marks, and knowing how Sebastian will admire and smirk at the marks in the mirror and then kiss him for it just encourages Lewis on even more, bucking and driving up into him, crying out Sebastian’s name as he writhes and rocks on his lap.

Sebastian shifts and begins to fist himself faster, his desperate grip on Lewis’ shoulder slipping as he rides Lewis as hard as he can, and then he’s tensing, groaning, hot white spurts covering his hand and painting a stripe across Lewis’ chest as he calls out in a broken, desperate moan. Lewis groans as Sebastian tightens around him, that fluttering feeling proving the final push to take him over the edge as well. He grips Sebastian harder, gives two, three sharp thrusts, and arches up on the bed into Sebastian with such force, that Sebastian is jostled forward, landing with a huff on Lewis’ chest as he slips.

Sebastian rights himself once he’s caught his breath a little, grinning down at Lewis in wicked triumph, circling his hips a little sloppily now that he is slick with Lewis cum. To see him doing that has Lewis dropping his head back against the pillow with a grunt, his hands sliding up Sebastian’s sides as he presses their chests together. Lewis feels a rush of what he thinks must be contentment, as Sebastian kisses the corner of his mouth, nuzzles against his jaw, and drops his head down on his shoulder with a deep, satisfied sigh.

“Does this count as you getting lucky?” Sebastian asks, the mirth-tinged words kissed into his neck.

Lewis looks up at him questioningly when Sebastian pulls back, and Sebastian nods, leans back again, pressing gentle kisses along Lewis’s jawline, before turning his head and pressing open mouth kisses along his neck. He takes the time to stop, lathe his tongue there, then bite hard enough to leave a tiny trace his own marks on Lewis’s skin, pulling back enough to swipe his thumb there and smirk at his handiwork.

“You were talking in your sleep. Again,” Sebastian murmurs into his ear when he bends back down, nuzzling at the sensitive skin just behind it and humming to himself.

“Uh…” Lewis stumbles out, embarrassed, his heart racing at how many times those insecurities might have slipped from his mouth unchecked.

“We’re doing this. We’re good,” Sebastian tells him, those earlier dirty kisses replaced with tender ones that have Lewis rooted to the spot, feeling cared for and wanted in ways he’s not sure he’s ever known in the past.

Sebastian smiles at Lewis adoringly then, as though he can read his very thoughts. He kisses him once more, long, and thorough, then holds on to Lewis’ arm as he leans over the bed to retrieve his t-shirt from earlier, and cleans them both up a little with a lazy, sleepy swipe.

Sebastian lays beside him then, insistently pressing against Lewis’s shoulder to turn him away, just to pull him back firmly against his chest and tuck in his knees behind Lewis’ own. His splays a hand across Lewis’ stomach, and Lewis can’t help feeling claimed, but only in the best kind of ways.

There are soft kisses that follow to the back of his neck, growing increasingly softer the closer Sebastian gets to falling asleep. Lewis hears a soft but determined mine muttered into his skin, and then he feels the slackening in Sebastian’s grip that announces he’s finally gone. Lewis breathes out deeply, smiling into the darkness and feeling thoroughly sated, allowing himself the luxury of thinking that perhaps, once in a while, he really does get to have this kind of luck.

With a tiny stretch to get comfortable, Lewis finally allows himself to relax, and lets Sebastian’s warmth around him lull him into a dreamless sleep.

Whatever Comes First

whatevercomesfirst4002

Matthew isn’t looking for a relationship. Ask him, and he’ll say it’s because between work and studying there’s just no time. Ask his best friend, Sarah, and the story is a little different and involves a failed relationship that left him raw. 

Enter Joel, a childhood friend of Sarah’s recently back in the area. He’s not looking for love, either, but he’s not adverse to the idea of a little fun. Uncomplicated and on the same page: what could possibly go wrong?

Whatever Comes First. New book on Less Than Three Press.

 

As Nature Intended

 

When you first learn that you are an Omega, you learn all sorts of things you never imagined you would need to know when you were growing up. The essentials: Heat suppressants, scent masking, how to handle an Alpha that is scenting you, and of course, the laws that are in place to protect you, in a society that is accepting and progressive, yet still has elements of its attitudes stuck firmly in the past. You also learn that through no fault of your own, or conscious effort, it is possible for an Omega to adjust their body chemistry, to make themselves ready to do what some feel is their sole purpose in life: to breed.

Presenting as an Omega at the age of fourteen, Elliot has grown up cautious, distrustful of the world around him, yet determined to live a fulfilling life in spite of that. He is successful at work, has recently moved into a new apartment, and everything in his world appears to be falling into place. Which is, of course, exactly when his body decides to rebel, forcing ideas and urges into Elliot that he has spent his life trying to deny.

Enter reluctant Alpha, Oskar; as adamant as Elliot that he will not have his life disrupted by what he is, and just as horrified by his instincts as Elliot is finding himself about his own. Should they fight the inevitability that is their bond, that need they have for one another that will not get them a moment’s respite, or give in to just how easy, and effortless it feels between them?

Read here

In The Car

They have Josh’s younger brother staying with them for a long weekend, and in a surprising display of modesty, Grant had arrived home Friday night to a murmur from Josh about adjoining bedroom walls, barely able to contain a burst of laughter for Josh acting so out of character demure and only greeting him with a brief kiss on the cheek. But Josh’s comments about needing to keep their hands to themselves in Toby’s company, is apparently easier said than done for Josh. Because every spare second Toby’s been out of their sight, Josh is on him like a man starved. Grant’s not complaining, obviously, but he is thoroughly amused.

Toby hasn’t been out the car more than a second to pick up a book he’s ordered when Josh’s hand is in Grant’s jeans. Grant gulps in surprise, but he can’t help respond to Josh as he does, every single time. Besides, it’s technically been a few days.

Josh smirks knowingly over at him, pauses for a moment to lick his hand, then starts again, squeezing and pulling and stroking Grant in all the ways he’s learned will make him whimper the most. Grant’s head thumps back against the seat, his half-hearted protest long dead in his throat. His eyes drift down to watch Josh’s hand on him, and he moans, spreading his legs as far as the denim and confined space will allow.

Josh smears precum down his length, and Grant lets out a mumbled curse. He has a single thought of what a mess he’s about to make, but it seems Josh is a mind reader, because his mouth is then down and on him in less than a second.

Grant clenches and unclenches his hands, letting out a single grunt as he tries to writhe in his seat. He can’t move far; he’s being kept firmly in place by Josh’s forearm pressing hard into his thighs to keep him in place. Josh’s tongue swirls over his head, and he takes a moment to grin up at Grant, before sucking him down again. Grant lets out a grunt in response not having any words left in him.

He watches Josh bob his head up and down, feels himself building, wonders at his luck, and then comes with a soft huff of a groan, closing his eyes to the parking lot they’re idling the engine in since Toby had insisted he wouldn’t be long enough for them to have to pay to park.

Josh sucks him dry, roughly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he sits back up, and then reaches over to re-button Grant, who feels like he might not even be able to drive.

When Toby returns to the car, he has to search for it, surprised that they’ve pulled into a space instead of idling by the side. He ducks to peer inside and finds Grant snoring softly in the front seat, and Josh curled against the window with his eyes closed and a smile on his face.

Josh cracks one eye open as though he feels Toby watching, and his face morphs into a smug smile, seconds before he realizes he’s doing it. When his cheeks light up with blush, Toby snorts, thinking his brother still see him as a kid, and doesn’t know exactly what him and Grant would usually be doing if he wasn’t staying with them. He yanks the car door open hard enough to startle Grant awake, grins at him when he looks around, and stretches out on the back seat with a long suffering sigh.

Whatever Comes First

whatevercomesfirst4002

Matthew isn’t looking for a relationship. Ask him, and he’ll say it’s because between work and studying there’s just no time. Ask his best friend, Sarah, and the story is a little different and involves a failed relationship that left him raw. 

Enter Joel, a childhood friend of Sarah’s recently back in the area. He’s not looking for love, either, but he’s not adverse to the idea of a little fun. Uncomplicated and on the same page: what could possibly go wrong?

Whatever Comes First. New book on Less Than Three Press.

 

As Nature Intended – Extract

As Nature Intended Edit 2

Elliot remembered with painful clarity the events that had led up to the exact moment he thought his life might be effectively over.

One early evening the week after his fourteenth birthday during a sweltering summer, Elliot was stood on his aunt Ellie’s porch in the still blazing sun, sipping on homemade lemonade, when he first felt an unfamiliar ache in his lower back. He and his cousin Sebastian had been busy playing with the family’s new puppy, chasing it back and forth across the lawn, and in and out of the small cluster of trees at the bottom of the garden for most of the day, so it had taken him a while to notice, acknowledging far too late that the pain had been with him since early that morning.

By the time the sun finally set, Elliot’s skin was glistening with sweat, and a fever raged just beneath the surface like an itch he couldn’t scratch. His pulse raced, his heart trembled with a sense of anticipation, and coursing through his entire body was the palpable need to be ready, all radiating out from a point deep inside himself that ached in a way he didn’t understand.

Aunt Ellie had sent him to bed with pain relief and a soothing kiss to his temple, a grim set to her jaw that told Elliot even then, that she knew something that he did not. And when the following morning came, when that ache and need had him writhing and moaning in unaccustomed agony, leaving him trying to seek friction, and fullness that he couldn’t place, Elliot understood. With quiet horror, he moved, feeling a leaking slickness coming from him that soaked straight through his clothes and the sheets beneath him on the bed, leaving him unable to deny his new truth.

Omega.

An oppressive stillness had come to him then, forcing up memories of biology classes in school that he’d thought he’d tuned out at the time. About how somewhere along the line of humanity, it had become possible for both men and women to conceive offspring, and that from that development was borne the Alpha, Beta and Omega dynamic. Betas carried on much as regular people always had done throughout human history, but instinct drove Alphas to impregnate, and Omegas to get pregnant, with those needs underwriting every aspect of an Alpha or Omega’s life. During a period of population crisis, the allele for Omega had shifted from recessive to dominant, and Alpha to recessive, with geneticists theorizing it was because a single Alpha could impregnate many Omegas, and were therefore in an evolutionary sense far less essential. Elliot remembered joking about telling that to his Alpha friends, and the laughs it had gotten around the class.

Elliot also remembered from those classes the apparent fucked up way the human body chose to reproduce. How once upon a time, many, many generations ago, when the world was evidently an even worse state than it was then in Elliot’s lifetime, women could carry a healthy baby to full term at around nine months. But in Elliot’s lifetime, male Omegas statistically proved stronger breeders, had overall better fertility, could endure gestation periods of almost eight months, where most Beta women, if they made it at all, could barely cope with six. Omega women fell somewhere in between, and considered very rare, but were still at higher risk of complications than Omega men.

That only two genders were legally recognized, when an entire spectrum of creation, and existing was possible between people, would continue to baffle Elliot, even then, in that moment, trapped in a sterile waiting room where he was waiting for his results to be confirmed and unable to stop his thoughts from wandering, desperate for good news.

He had already paced around the room several times, pausing once or twice to glare at his reflection in the mirror to critique his appearance, taking in the family trait of strawberry blond hair that on his cousin Sebastian appeared red in places yet on himself Elliot could only think to describe as dirty. Pale blue eyes stared back at him, accusatory and mocking, goading him into actions he wanted no part of, until he had to turn away, only to be drawn back once again to looking at all his flaws, seeking out a visible reason for his predicament.

Elliot strained to hear the nurse beyond the closed door, but only muffled voices taunted him. The waiting left him incensed with fear, because the last thing he needed was for what was happening to him then to really be happening. But he could feel it intensifying in him, his instincts fighting to be allowed to surface and force him into wanting things he really didn’t want to think about. There was no other word for it; Elliot was frightened. He remembered that first, overwhelming heat, when he’d thrashed and begged for things he didn’t know, couldn’t understand, as his family stood by helpless and unable to do anything for him, and that aching sense of hard arousal so out of place in his innocent fourteen-year-old body that left him feeling wrong, and broken. Corrupted.

He remembered scaring Sebastian, only a year younger than him yet almost the same height, his petrified eyes peering at Elliot through a crack in the door as Uncle Bernard and Aunt Ellie tried to soothe him, tried not to look at Elliot as though he was different, something fearsome to them, because they didn’t really know what they needed to do.

Elliot remembered hearing Uncle Bern’s panicked call to his already-absent father, Carl, and his subsequent though much-delayed arrival, only to glance over Elliot with callous eyes that told Elliot one thing; this was his final failure as a son being what he was.

Remembering all those things, Elliot couldn’t, wouldn’t allow the Omega in him to rise and force such mindless need on him. It would not be his reality, and he would do all he could to fight it, whatever it took. He closed his eyes to the final assault of his most painful of memories. Of overhearing snatches of a phone conversation between his aunt and a doctor. Of being given sedatives, then picked up and carried in gentle, loving arms, bundled into a car and driven to an imposing-looking clinic to figure this out.

The Heat suppressants prescribed for him at the time, a carton of pills pushed across a pharmacy counter into his trembling young hands and clutched there as though they were his lifeline, had worked ever since. He’d lived normal – as normal as he could do, anyway, and more than that, he’d lived well. They couldn’t fail him, not after how hard he had worked.

Those muffled voices he still couldn’t make out were ending their conversation. Elliot swallowed hard and straightened in his chair, then leapt up to follow the nurse as soon as she appeared to beckon him into an office. He sat rigidly and watched her work, precise fingers typing furiously at a computer, not paying him any attention until she had completed what she needed to do.

“So?” Elliot asked, the moment she looked up at him, because patience was not a gift he’d been blessed with. “Tell me.”

The nurse looked at him kindly, and it was the worst look Elliot could have hoped to receive. Without her even opening her mouth, enough hesitance in the nurse’s expression for Elliot to know what she was about to tell him.

“It would seem, Mr. Roderick, that the reason your suppressors have ceased working to full effectiveness is because your body is ready for you to breed,”

***

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On The Way Home

“I want you.”

There is nothing, no other words that Josh can say that make Grant’s knees give so quickly, and his dick stand to attention so instantly.

He breathes it out in the gravelly tone that Grant is helpless to resist, to the point where it’s gotten them into many a compromising situation when around other people. Like now, when they’re on the way home after a night out with friends, probably less than twenty minutes from the privacy of their own apartment, and apparently Josh can’t wait.

“I want you,” he repeats, and Grant’s already dry mouth causes his throat to catch.

“Okay,” is all Grant can manage to blurt out in answer. Josh is already tugging on his hand, leading him through the gates of a car park they’d normally avoid at this time of night, before he can do anything at all.

There are some trees conveniently nearby, and that is where they head. Josh presses Grant roughly back against one and hungrily licks his way into Grant’s mouth, leaving no room for objection. Not that Grant would ever object.

He’s unable to resist anything that Josh ever does to him, and that’s why by the time Josh is tugging open his fly he’s already hard. Josh hums in approval, stroking him over slowly and smiling against Grant’s mouth as he groans. Josh’s fingers disappear for a moment and Grant hears the ripping of a packet. A moment later, Josh’s cold, lubed fingers are exploring, and Grant sags a little, splaying his legs.

Josh works him open easily since it’s not all that long since he’s last been in him, and Grant soon finds himself impaled, biting hard on his own lip to stop the loud moan he’s fighting against letting escape. He’s going to have scratches on his back from the tree trunk where Josh has pushed his shirt up; Grant’s already looking forward to inspecting evidence of this little interlude on the way home later.

He closes his eyes, wrapping his legs high around Josh’s waist and clinging on for dear life as Josh pounds relentlessly into him. Grant has one last lucid thought of thanking his lucky stars that he’s lucked out with a guy that can pick him up like he weighs nothing, but then Josh adjusts his angle and bites down hard on his neck, and Grant can’t concentrate on anything else.

Whatever Comes First

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Matthew isn’t looking for a relationship. Ask him, and he’ll say it’s because between work and studying there’s just no time. Ask his best friend, Sarah, and the story is a little different and involves a failed relationship that left him raw. 

Enter Joel, a childhood friend of Sarah’s recently back in the area. He’s not looking for love, either, but he’s not adverse to the idea of a little fun. Uncomplicated and on the same page: what could possibly go wrong?

Whatever Comes First. New book on Less Than Three Press.

 

As Nature Intended

 

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When you first learn that you are an Omega, you learn all sorts of things you never imagined you would need to know when you were growing up. The essentials: Heat suppressants, scent masking, how to handle an Alpha that is scenting you, and of course, the laws that are in place to protect you, in a society that is accepting and progressive, yet still has elements of its attitudes stuck firmly in the past. You also learn that through no fault of your own, or conscious effort, it is possible for an Omega to adjust their body chemistry, to make themselves ready to do what some feel is their sole purpose in life: to breed.

Presenting as an Omega at the age of fourteen, Elliot has grown up cautious, distrustful of the world around him, yet determined to live a fulfilling life in spite of that. He is successful at work, has recently moved into a new apartment, and everything in his world appears to be falling into place. Which is, of course, exactly when his body decides to rebel, forcing ideas and urges into Elliot that he has spent his life trying to deny.

Enter reluctant Alpha, Oskar; as adamant as Elliot that he will not have his life disrupted by what he is, and just as horrified by his instincts as Elliot is finding himself about his own. Should they fight the inevitability that is their bond, that need they have for one another that will not get them a moment’s respite, or give in to just how easy, and effortless it feels between them?

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