Lee's Musings

7/28/2015

Come Visit with Havan Fellows! #mmromance #malexmale #authorstuff

Hello everyone, welcome to my second home, it’s a pleasure to see ya’ll again. *winks* For the newbies out there—hey hey!—

Havan! Don't grope the readers!

Um…why not? Fine, hello newbies, my name is Havan Fellows. I’m an author currently published in the M/M romance genre and loving every minute of it. Seriously, I couldn’t find anyone who would listen to my babble on a regular basis so why not type it up and send it off to all of you to enjoy…my family and friends thank you for taking the bullet on this one. lmao

No need checking the blog address you’re on…it’s true you came to visit Lee Brazil and got me instead. I’ll take the lucky tally mark on this one. But you see, Lee is kinda to blame for me being here…

Oh naturally. You couldn't blame Will, could you?

I didn’t mean here as in your blog (which btw, Lee hasn’t found any locks that will keep me out yet). No, I mean here, here…in this delectable genre writing the tenacious men I do.

Not only that…but Lee had a big hand in the series I’m about to tell you about, also.

*blushes* I think you're giving me way too much credit on both counts.

He’s so modest, isn’t it cute? ;)

So…wanna hear a little tale about how I almost published a book called Geoff’s Fuzzy…or even worse, Fuzzy’s Geoff? Have a seat, enjoy some coffee and goodies, Lee always has the best baked yummies…

If you can get to them before Havan eats them all!

Back away from the cookies…I’ll share the muffins, but these bad boys are mine. Now where was I? Oh yeah…long ago, on a computer far far away (seriously, the computer is now thousands of miles from where I am)…

*whispers* Don’t worry Lee, I won’t mention the handcuffs…or the French cutie that said I could keep you…or the Crown Royal (it was Crown, right?)

It was Johnny Walker Black and so much for keeping secrets!

Hey, you never called sacred. Orgies!

Where? Are we invited?

Oh yes we are.

Soooooo, Lee and I write with a group of amazing authors called the Story Orgy. We post weekly snippets (they’ve kinda morphed into full-fledged chapters instead of snippets lmao) on Mondays based on some sort of prompt—be it a phrase, picture, item, etc…

Well, this is where Synchronous Seductions came from. First I wrote Harlan’s Ryde…and the feedback from that was so great that people wanted Ritchie’s story, and Emery’s Ritches was written.

Do you see a trend with the titles? That’s important…Lee helped me think them up and I thought the idea of making titles out of the two main characters’ names was so clever.

Until I hit a roadblock.

After Emery’s Ritches…people met Fuzzy and Geoff and wanted their story. Um…Fuzzy’s Geoff? Oh hell no I wasn’t gonna name a book that, but what did that leave me? Um, Geoff’s Fuzzy…

*shakes head*

I know, it was bad. What was I supposed to do? I was freaking out, I couldn’t change the format of the title, that would’ve killed me. And in comes Lee! *yay!!*

After he was done laughing at the Geoff’s Fuzzy idea *eyes* and we bounced a few other ideas off each other…he came to my rescue (oh he should be used to doing that by now lmao) and realized I hadn’t ever actually told Fuzzy’s real name yet…

(because no, his real name isn’t Fuzzy…really?)

But Lee was all like, “You should name him Theodore, so it could be shortened to Teddy and bam(!!) that’s where Fuzzy could’ve originated from…so call it Geoff’s Teddy?”

*angels sing*

You think I’m exaggerating…but ask any author, coming up with the perfect title is damn near orgasmic!

I can't really say as that's how I remember it… but sure. Geoff's Teddy is a terrific book J Rom Com at its best.

*hip bumps* so how do you remember it?

And Geoff’s Teddy ended up being the third and final installment in my Synchronous Seductions series, now available all in one great hot bundle.

Synchronous Seductions

Complete series including: Harlan’s Ryde, Emery’s Ritches & Geoff’s Teddy

Release date: July 20, 2015

Blurb:

Seven years ago one of them made a mistake.

That mistake will change six lives forever.

Today.

Ryder made a mistake Harlan can't forgive. Will Ryder cross a line no man should cross to obtain a second chance?

Ritchie won't admit he's heartbroken. Emery won't accept less than all of Ritchie's affection. How will arrogant Emery win snarky Ritchie for his own?

Fuzzy is an unsatisfied ladies' man. Geoff's a bear-loving man who satisfies. Problem? Convincing a straight man that satisfaction might be just around the bend.

Warning: This book is chock full of domineering men who don’t like to take no for an answer. If arrogant alpha men make your heart beat faster and other places tingle, this is the book for you.

172 pages

Categories: M/M Romance, Fiction, Gay Fiction, Humor, Contemporary, RomCom

Cover Artist: Allison Cassatta

EXCERPT

3

“Seven years, Ryde. You can’t just walk in here after seven fucking years and expect everything to be hunky-dory between us. Should we stroll into the kitchen and I’ll whip us up some of those banana pecan pancakes you love and we can laugh about old times over coffee?”

The sly smile Ryde gave Harlan made his skin tingle in an oh-so-good way, which ironically enough, wasn’t oh-so-good.

“So you remember my favorite breakfast, huh? That’s a start.” Ryde looked around the room again and nodded his head toward the hallway leading to the kitchen. “This way?” And off he went again, like he owned the place.

Okay, get through a quick howdy doody with him, and then send him on his way. You can’t go through this again; you can’t rely on something that never was there. It’s not fair of his damn still spectacular ass to come into your home and put you through hell again. Think of all the failed relationships thanks to this guy, think of all the walls you erected in his honor around your heart. Now here he is, six feet of mouthwatering, dunk-him-in-milk-and-eat-him-up goodness, and you are still the geek with a collection of gag gift pocket protectors. Get rid of him now.

Unfortunately, the only thing Harlan’s body wanted disappeared into the kitchen. Har had a brain and he had a mouth; the problem was that when they didn’t agree, neither of them worked properly. Apparently there was no getting the boys together today, either.

So the rambling started, and before he had his mandatory two cups of coffee. Not good. “If you think for one minute I’m making you pancakes, you have another think coming. I don’t even have any nuts for them, and if I did, I wouldn’t let you have them!” He winced and his eyes widened. Did he just say that? Aloud? To Ryde? Oh hell, he needed Ryde’s inhaler right about now.

You can find Synchronous Seductions here:

Amazon

All Romance e-books

Smashwords

Barnes & Noble

About the author:

I annoy, love, respect, scare, seduce, hurt, anger, infatuate, frustrate, flatter, envy, amuse and tolerate everyone. I just do it better in writing thanks to a little thing called…edits.

Okay no, seriously…I'm a simpleminded person who enjoys the escape from real life through a book. I write with the group Story Orgy and hope to continue doing so for a long time. I also am privileged to be with the Pulp Friction writers, creating intermingling books in a world all our own.

I recently took the drastic step of quitting my EDJ (evil day job) and am now living in the gorgeous desert in Arizona making a go at this writing stuff full time…and I can’t see me regretting this decision ever.

Just like every other red-blooded human—I get a little bouncy when I get mail (any kind too…email, comments, private messages…you wanna do it, do it with me *winks*). So feel free to drop me a line—whether it's on my blog, twitter, PInterest, or you track me down on FaceBook or Google +…it's easy to catch someone who wants to be caught.

I specialize in writing boyxboy though I read almost everything...and I fancy myself as slightly funny every once in a while. :)

Where to find the author:

Facebook Author Page: http://www.facebook.com/HavanFellowsauthor

Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/crawlinbedwithlee/

Pulp Friction Love FB Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/369329926547263/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/HavanFellows

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/havanfellows/

Blog: http://havanshawthaven.blogspot.com

Wattpad: http://www.wattpad.com/user/HavanFellows

Tour Dates & Stops:
27-Jul

The Novel Approach

Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words

Vampires, Werewolves, and Fairies, Oh My

28-Jul

29-Jul

30-Jul

31-Jul

3-Aug

4-Aug

5-Aug

6-Aug

7-Aug

Wicked Faerie's Tales and Reviews

Cathy Brockman Romances

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Now Available: Mark's Opening Gambit #erotic #mmromance #malexmale

Good Morning! Today I have exciting news. I was able to complete the re-release of another of my Breathless Press titles, Mark's Opening Gambit. This one features gorgeous cover art by BP artist Victoria Miller. It was originally published in 2012 and is one of the first stories I wrote back when I began my career as a writer. There haven't been any significant alterations since the initial edition. This edition is available at Amazon All Romance Smashwords (and its distribution outlets, to include B&N, KOBO, etc) and can be purchased direct from me, if you have a Paypal account, via the Payhip service.

MARK'S OPENING GAMBIT

The son of a wealthy business man, Mark Addison is an expert at chess and hiding. Mason Grant labors with his hands in a menial position; he's open about who he is and what he wants in ways that terrify Mark. Their paths shouldn't have crossed, but now that they have...

They came from different backgrounds, yet each adheres to his own version of family duty and responsibility. One would make any sacrifice for his family's well-being. For Mason Grant that means leaving school at sixteen and working hard while living as a man of integrity to set an example for his brothers.

The other would sacrifice anything to keep his family life calm. If that means hiding who he really is from his high society, narrow-minded parents, then that's what Mark Addison will do. He just wants to run his shop, host a few tournaments, play a few games of chess.

When Mason meets fussy, precise chess tournament director Mark, he isn't expecting much more than a few hours of uncomfortable sleep in his car while his brother plays.

One disdainful look from Mark changes that.

Purchase Links: Amazon All Romance Smashwords Payhip

EXCERPT:

Mason surreptitiously glanced around the neat interior of Mark's Opening Gambit. The café-slash-chess parlor wasn't his first choice of places to spend a Saturday, but when his brother begged a ride to the tournament, he'd caved immediately, despite the exhaustion and body aches he'd earned the night before. Unloading trucks and stocking shelves at the grocery store wasn't a mentally challenging job, but the night shift paid a dollar an hour more and the extra money came in handy. Times were tough, and a guy without a high school diploma didn't stand a whole lot of a chance of doing something better. It also left his mom free to take the day shift at the hospital where she worked, and Mason was available during the days to ferry his brothers around to their high school events and activities.

Such as chess tournaments hosted by button-down dress-shirt-wearing, hot as hell, snooty men. He might have been a bit more eager to play chauffeur if he'd realized the Mark his brother had spoken of glowingly was such an eyeful. He'd stepped through the shop door behind Johnny to find his gaze locked with a pair of eyes so deep and golden it was like he'd stepped into honey. He couldn't glance away for the longest time, and it took the other man's slow flush to make him realize he was being rude. That first sight of the tournament host had sent a warm awareness through him. He really wished that the sight of Mark Addison—Jesus, even his fucking name was holier than thou—wasn't so appealing. Mark was perfect. Fucking perfect, or perfect for fucking, with his neatly trimmed brown hair, touched with golden highlights, his slim, wiry body, not the product of a gym but of a man who led an active life. His lips enticed Mason, and he wanted to pull the puffy lower one between his teeth and bite down, to suck it into his mouth and devour the man with kisses. He wanted to touch the pale skin and see if it was as soft as it appeared, as cold as it seemed, to stroke away the distance in those eyes and make the Mark notice him.

The golden-brown gaze didn't warm in the slightest under his own admiring regard, but scanned his faded Levi's and tight T-shirt with disapproval. Mason half expected to be informed he didn't meet the dress code for the elegant little shop. Instead, Mark Addison looked him over and dismissed him as though he were beneath notice.

Shrugging off the snobbery, Mason slapped his brother on the back. "Go get 'em, kid. Or whatever you guys call it." Hoping to sleep in his car while his brother played, he turned to leave immediately.

He met Addison's eyes again, tried for a smile, but the arrogant host stared right through him. "Students participating in the tournament are to be supervised by adults at all times."

The inflectionless voice grated on his nerves as much as the pronouncement. It wasn't like these were two-year-olds, for God's sake. It was Chess Club. By virtue of their very geekiness, they were mature, well-behaved teens.

Too bad such a sexy voice and face belonged to such a prick. Unfortunately for Mason, he couldn't focus on Johnny's progress through the tournament. All he seemed able to focus on was that slim figure moving between the tables, the unconscious grace of the small man's movements, the seductive draw of tightening khaki across his backside as he bent to survey a board or pick up something from the floor.

Addison scowled as Mark glared at him again, turning and facing resolutely out the window into the parking lot. In the reflection the glass provided, he watched Mark excuse himself from Ainslie, the kids' coach, and head in his direction, a determined expression on his face.

Good. The self-righteous prick had noticed him. Mark stopped right next to him, and they stood gazing out into the parking lot together.

"Stop staring at me like that."

Mason snorted, turned to look down at the shorter man. "Like what?"

The older man twitched and licked his lips. Mason stifled the groan that wanted to escape. He shifted restlessly.

"You know. Like...that."

"Like I want to throw you over my shoulder and take you out of here and fuck you? Sorry. Can't do that." Fascinated, he noted the flush on Mark's cheekbones deepen, heard the hitch in his breathing, and knew that he'd been right. Chemistry burned between them.

"You..." Mark glanced cautiously around the shop at the kids concentrating so fiercely on their chess games, the proud parents and coaches peering anxiously at their little darlings. Mark stuttered to a stop before starting again. "Not here. We need to talk privately. Meet me behind the shop in ten minutes."

Whoa. He hadn't expected that. Maybe Mark's buttoned-down appearance was deceptive. Mason looked forward to cracking that calm reserve and proving to the man that the clothes they wore didn't define their roles. He nodded in acknowledgment, and Mark wandered away to check on the progress of the tournament. Mason headed straight to the front door, aware all the while of Mark's furtive glances. He exited the shop and headed to his beat-up old Jetta, so at odds with the shiny BMWs and SUVs that surrounded it in the parking lot.

A brief stop at the car to pick up some things he'd need, and he strolled casually around the corner of the building, thankful that the chess café was at the end of the strip mall and not in the middle. Behind the shop was a Dumpster, and strangely enough, a wrought-iron table and two chairs on the cemented area that should have been an unloading bay. Mason noted with interest the ashtray and coasters on the table. A few potted palms provided a bit of shade and some privacy, but not enough for anything too intimate. Mark had created a little garden back here. Mason's absorption in the details of the environment convinced him that he'd overestimated Mark's intentions. More private than the store itself, yes, but hardly secluded enough for any real interaction of a physical sort.

He spied Mark peering through the back door of the shop. At the grocery store where Mason worked, the back doors were battered and grimy. Not so at Mark's Opening Gambit. The door to the back room of the shop was a shiny, pure white, fresh scrubbed, or painted or whatever. Not so much as a fingerprint marred its pristine surface, much like not so much as a hair on Mark's head dared stray out of place. It made Mason want to grab a crayon and write on the walls, muss up the environment just like he wanted to muss up those locks of brown hair. Mark's sweet lips pressed tightly together, and his cheeks flushed, from anger or arousal maybe, as he caught sight of Mason.

Mason found his gaze drawn to those lips, wanting to pry them apart and soothe the tension from them with caresses of his mouth and tongue. He licked his suddenly dry lips in anticipation as Mark approached.

Honey-colored eyes sparkled with emotion as Mark came within touching distance. Mason fought the urge to yank him even closer as Mark halted, gazing up. He felt again the strange drowning sensation as he stared down into those eyes, unable to glance away. Thank God Mark seemed to experience it, too, because whatever angry words he'd been about to spout died on his lips as Mason ran a big, calloused palm along the smooth-shaven curve of Mark's jaw, feeling his indrawn breath as much as he heard it. The softness of Mark's jaw on his own work-roughened skin was thrilling, and Mason bent down, tilting his head to the side before smoothly bringing their lips together. With the merest brush of contact, he paused to allow Mark the chance to refuse the kiss, to pull away, to slap his face, to ream him out for having the gall to touch.

When no protest came, he sighed with relief. His eyelids drifted shut, and he pressed his parted lips more firmly on the soft, sweet lips below his own. Carefully, ignoring the throbbing demands of his body, he tasted the plump curves that had held his gaze. Not wanting to startle Mark, Mason ran his tongue lightly over those sensual lips, sliding his hand from the taut line of jaw around to the nape of Mark's neck, burying his fingers in the fine, silky strands of hair there.

Mark's unresisting acquiescence was far from the response he wanted. He guided the man's head to a better angle and slipped his tongue into the waiting cavern. Mark trembled in response. Mason wanted Mark to burn as he did, to feel the same urgent desire to throw caution to the wind and make love here in the open behind the shop. He wouldn't go that far in this public setting, of course, but he wanted to strip away the distance in Mark's eyes and make him a part of the present, force him to respond, to reach for Mason with the same urgency that Mason yearned for him.

He'd nearly given up when Mark shoved him abruptly away, glaring at him with angry golden eyes. Instead of the passion he'd hoped to inspire, the other man appeared scared, panicky even. Mason stepped forward, guilt urging him to offer comfort.

Mark scowled at Mason and pushed backward, dropped into one of the wrought-iron chairs, and reached into a pocket to pull out a packet of cigarettes. His gaze darted left and right as though searching for someone. "No. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Guilt at causing Mark's near panic, anger at being pushed aside, and, to some degree, sheer exhaustion had words spilling from Mason's mouth before he could evaluate them. "Hey, I get it. No means no. Yeah. Like I'd want to kiss a wax doll again anyway."

He spun on his heel and stalked away from the little oasis in back of the strip mall, ignoring Mark's harshly indrawn breath behind him. He shoved a hand into his pocket and curled his fingers tightly around the condom and lube he'd shoved there. Thinking with his dick. Fucking lucky he hadn't gotten knocked on his ass literally instead of figuratively.

7/17/2015

New Release! A Gentleman Never Does (2nd Edition) #malexmale #regency

Breathless Press, my publisher, closed its doors earlier this year. As a result, I received the rights back to many of my stories. Each of these stories will be making a reappearance, some with new editing, some with new covers, some completely overhauled. This is one of those stories.

This short, sexy regency tells the story of a couple torn apart in a time when love between men was a sin deemed punishable by death or deportation.

A Gentleman Never Does

A Regency M/M Romance

Short of funds, Gareth proposes to wager for love.

Does Gideon dare play out this hand?

While passing time at a debutant ball, Gideon Westwood encounters a man from his past he'd give anything to avoid.

Unfortunately for him, Gareth Belmain isn't in the mood to be pushed aside.

Wagers, romantic gardens, shared kisses and angry words overheard add fuel to the fire that flares between them.

Will a duel put an end to Gareth's hopes for a future together?

EXCERPT

"Why hesitate? It's the card room at a debutante's ball, not a den of iniquity or a Peninsular battlefield." The lazy drawl came just before Gideon Westwood became aware of the heady scent of bay rum, the warm press of a body aginst his in the doorway.

In front of Gideon lay a room full of men in evening garb, chatting idly and playing cards with practiced boredom, mingling with the occasional jewel-clad matron flirtatiously fluttering a fan. Candlelight flickered on bored faces and servants with trays of drinks moved silently among the crowded tables. There were a few open tables, and at some a great deal of money was changing hands. He wouldn't join those. A gentleman never played deep in mixed company. Serious gambling was for the clubs; this was just a way to pass the evening while doing his duty to his family.

His carefully tied neck cloth became a little too tight, sweat dampened his palms. Behind him lurked a ballroom full of white clad young misses, each determined to capture a prize on the marriage mart. Not that he was much of a prize; he was only respectably set up, a few thousand a quarter, and though he had a scattering of titled relatives, he was unlikely, barring a plague on the house of Westwood, to ever inherit any of them. If all a young lady's family required in a husband was passable good looks, a modest country home, and a merely comfortable existence, he'd be hounded to the altar sooner or later. No sense making it easy for them by haunting dance floors and such. He'd left his lady mother chatting with the other dowagers and his younger sister making up a set with a pimple-faced baronet, and fled for safer ground. His hesitation in the card room doorway had been intended to insure that he'd avoid an encounter with the gentleman who had just spoken.

Playing cards wasn't his only option; he could blow a cloud in the gardens. It was tempting to do just that, but he wouldn't put it past the gentleman behind him to follow him to the gardens either. Better to stick to cards. Being alone with Gareth was never a good idea. Gideon didn't take his gaze from the card players though his every nerve was on alert. Much as he hated to admit it, he recognized the person behind him as much by his body's reaction as by familiarity.

Gareth Belmain, languid dandy of the ton, stood behind him, entirely too close, even in the crush of people at Lady Biggles' eldest daughter's ball. Gideon stood his ground though. He was tired of giving way to the persistent pressure Gareth put on him. They were complete opposites, and Gareth seemed to take a great deal of interest in pointing out their differences. Gideon usually just gave way, turning the other cheek. He'd known Gareth since they were infants; their mothers were bosom bows, and their family lands adjoined. If either of them had had the misfortune to be born female, they'd have been engaged at birth. Instead, they were friends, then schoolmates, then something more, and now...uneasy acquaintances perhaps best described the current status of affairs between them.

Just thinking the word affair made heat rise in Gideon's cheeks. Damnation. He shifted restlessly. He had no interest in playing cards, but it was better than having his toes trodden upon on the dance floor, and better than making simpering conversation with foolish chits. He never knew what to say to them; females in general seemed to have a marked lack of interest in the things that absorbed him: fencing, fisticuffs, philosophy, horses. He couldn't talk of the Four in Hand Club or Gentleman Jack's to a lady.

"Are you planning to stand here all night Gid? There's a table opening up. Let's play a hand of piquet and pass the time until your mama comes to coerce you into dancing with some whey-faced miss."

Gideon straightened his full six feet and shifted to stare down at the slim dandy. Gareth was stunningly garbed in buff and claret, neck cloth exquisitely tied in some complex pattern that Gideon's valet probably knew the name for, and hell's teeth... "Are you wearing face paint?" He hadn't meant the shocked whisper to be audible, but a few titters from nearby gamers and Gareth's narrowed eyes told him he'd once again erred in his judgment.

"Oh, la. It's all the crack, you know. Now come on, I'm a little light in the pocket and I mean to make a monkey off you this evening to assuage the hurt your neglect causes me."

There was too much truth to the words for them not to cause Gideon embarrassment. He was uncomfortable with Gareth, and he did neglect his old friend as a result. But Gareth knew well why. His guts tightened and he couldn't stop the scowl that crossed his face, though he quickly assumed a blank expression. "Stop it. I apologize. I didn't intend for anyone to overhear, and you are well aware of that. This foppish playacting does you no credit."

Available at

AMAZON SMASHWORDS ALL ROMANCE

PAYHIP : A Direct from Author system allowing payment via paypal

7/12/2015

Available for Pre-Order! Regency M/M A Gentleman Never Does #erotic #regency #smashwords

This short, sexy regency tells the story of a couple torn apart in a time when love between men was a sin deemed punishable by death or deportation.

Currently available for pre-order, releasing on July 17th.

A Gentleman Never Does

A Regency M/M Romance

Short of funds, Gareth proposes to wager for love.

Does Gideon dare play out this hand?

While passing time at a debutant ball, Gideon Westwood encounters a man from his past he'd give anything to avoid.

Unfortunately for him, Gareth Belmain isn't in the mood to be pushed aside.

Wagers, romantic gardens, shared kisses and angry words overheard add fuel to the fire that flares between them.

Will a duel put an end to Gareth's hopes for a future together?

EXCERPT

"Are you planning to stand here all night Gid? There's a table opening up. Let's play a hand of piquet and pass the time until your mama comes to coerce you into dancing with some whey-faced miss."

"Oh, la. It's all the crack, you know. Now come on, I'm a little light in the pocket and I mean to make a monkey off you this evening to assuage the hurt your neglect causes me."

Available For Pre-Order at

SMASHWORDS All Romance

7/07/2015

The Captain's Cabin Previously Published Flash Fiction: #FREE #malexmale #NSFW

Great news! Some time back my publisher, Breathless Press, published a Flash Fiction anthology called Hot Shots. Since then, they've gone out of business and the rights to all these stories have returned to the authors. While I'm busy working on getting my novellas back on the market, I thought I'd share these super short, super hot, pieces with you. Hot shots had 5 stories... this is one of my favorites.

The Captain's Cabin

©Lee Brazil

Genre: historical fiction, m/m/m

Hot Flash/ Word Count: 1,000

Mick opened the portholes to let some air into the hot and muggy captain's cabin. The rest of the crew was ashore in the mangy harbor town drinking and fucking, so it was safe enough no matter how rowdy things got when Robbie and the Captain returned. The fresh sea air tempted him to linger, but he had a deadline to meet.

His lovers had rowed ashore with the crew to negotiate a shipment of rum for their next port call at Charleston in the colonies. He'd wanted to go too, to find his land legs, but Devlin had taken one look at the state of his cabin and assured Mick that if he wanted to sit he'd attend to his chores. The threat of a whipping hadn't caused Mick's frenzied cleaning though. No. It was Robbie's thoughtfully tacked on suggestion that perhaps Mick would be better punished by being made to watch the evening's activities from the captain's straight-back chair instead of occupying his accustomed position between the two men.

He'd rushed to get the place ship shape before they returned. The whitewashed cabin was neat as a pin, whatever the fuck that meant. It was something he'd picked up from Robbie. His lordship, the first mate. Mick shivered. Robbie was...if he'd had to choose between the Captain with his broad shoulders and piercing blue eyes, and Robbie's slender elegance, he'd have been hard pressed to decide. His captain could be rough, abrupt and harsh, but Robbie's punishments were always the more devastating.

Sweat dripped into his eyes as Mick surveyed his efforts. From the gleaming polished floorboards to the neatly hanging clothes, everything was secure. No fault could be found. He'd avoided dire threats of being forced to watch and not participate in his lover's activities.

Mick stripped down swiftly to his trousers, hanging his shirt on a peg. Shrugging, he pushed off the trousers and hung them as well. Just in case he'd missed something, he'd give Devlin and Robbie something else to think about.

Voices drifted through the porthole on the breeze. The captain's deep baritone followed Robbie's husky chuckle. Hastily he climbed onto the bed, pretending to sleep. The voices grew louder and footfalls echoed in the empty passageway. He forced himself to relax, but couldn't do anything about the way his cock thickened heavily against his thigh. The key clinked in the lock and the door hit the bulkhead.

“Now there’s a pretty sight. What do we do now?” Robbie's amusement was clear in his voice.

Mick struggled to keep the grin from stretching his lips and giving away his wakeful state.

“I’m sure I can think of something!” Wicked intent echoed in Devlin's husky declaration.

A rough hand gripped his thigh, and a slick hot tongue pressed between his open lips. Warm wet silk engulfed his cock. Mick's eyes shot open, and his back arched. He moaned low and husky into Robbie's mouth as he met eyes gleaming with laughter.

The heated tug of Devlin's mouth on his cock, the hungry stroke of Robbie’s tongue against his own set his heart to racing. Gasping, he pulled his mouth from Robbie’s. “I want to touch you.” His own temerity in making demands shook him.

Robbie leaned back, pulling his fine linen shirt over his head. Nimble fingers unfastened the fly of his trousers. Mick dragged his hands down the golden skin of Robbie’s lightly muscled chest. Sun bleached hairs, relics of the few times Robbie threw propriety to the wind and went shirtless on deck, wandered in a sparse trail down, and he followed them, pausing to allow Robbie to unfasten the last of the buttons. Together they spread the flaps of fabric aside, and Mick moaned in appreciation of the thick cock that burst forth. Robbie took his cock in hand and painted Mick’s swollen lips with the damp tip. Mick licked the moisture quickly away, then flicked the tip with his tongue.

"Mm."

The murmur sent a glow of satisfaction through Mick. His balls drew up tight to his body, and his cock swelled painfully. Licking and sucking, he spilled his release into Devlin’s mouth.

Devlin pulled back and crawled up between Robbie's thighs, licking and sucking two fingers.

Mick pause. He opened his mouth over Robbie’s throbbing cock, gliding down until his nose brushed the crinkled hair at the base, then settled into a familiar rhythm.

Robbie’s low moans mingled with Devlin’s muttered curses.

“Ung. Devlin, yes.” Robbie reached for Mick’s hand, guiding it under his balls to feel Devlin’s thick length sliding insistently into him.

“Mm.” Eagerly, Mick twisted to watch. Impatient fingers fisted in his hair, and he swiped his tongue a few times across the sensitive skin of Robbie’s balls before he licked and kissed his way up the shaft. He pressed a lingering kiss to the hand that held the cock, before reaching Robbie’s damp tip and taking his cock back into his mouth.

Closing his eyes, he accepted Devlin's rhythm, absorbing the sounds of pleasure filling the room. He caressed every inch of flesh he could reach, massaging the jut of a hip bone, stretching to draw his nails down a spine.

Devlin's groan mingled with Robbie’s feverish cry. Mick clutched Robbie's hips tightly, swallowing the salty cum eagerly, darting his tongue into the tiny opening to catch every drop.

Slowly his lovers wrestled him down onto the bed and he lay panting.The two men leaned forward, eyes locked to his lips and he trembled in anticipation. His mouth opened on a sigh just as two pairs of lips descended determinedly. They rubbed and pushed, fighting for possession, until first one then the other slipped a tongue inside to taste.

His moan of appreciation was met with muffled chuckles, and a few minutes passed in long exploratory wet kisses. When they lay breathless, cuddled together in the heat of the night, he was snuggly between his captain and the first mate, the two men he loved.

7/02/2015

Story Orgy Superheroes: A Man of Unusual Talent Part 10 #malexmale #superheroes

Welcome back and good morning all!

Who knew Monday came so quickly? Well, today I'm glad it did, because Monday is Story Orgy day!
Ready to get the low down on CC and Mat?

Story Orgy Superheroes: A Man of Unusual Talent

June 29: "Some things you'll never forget."

Warm. Soft. Cozy. Mm. Mat’s bedroom. Mat’s bed. Images of thick muscles and fine brown hair, of that crooked, sexy little grin, and the eager to please glint in blue eyes flashed in rapid succession behind CC’s closed eyelids. “Oh, yes please,” CC murmured, stretching so hard his joints cracked. He could so use more of the loving that had exhausted him before. CC stretched his fingers across the bed, seeking a hard body. Mat should be here…. And a casual, sleepy touch could lead to so much more.
When his fingers encountered nothing but rumpled sheets, he sat up and opened his eyes. Blinking, he observed the almond painted walls, the pale blue drapes, the oatmeal ceiling. He realized that yes, this was Mat’s bedroom, but Mat wasn’t sleeping next to him. So much for fantasies. Reality was waking up alone in a strange bed.
It’s not that strange. I did sleep here before… sort of.
Keep them separate. He reminded himself. Hurt threatened to well up, vocalize itself, but CC stamped it down into a tiny ball and swallowed it. So he woke up alone. Big deal. Wasn’t the first time some guy had left him snoozing in bed, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t been the one to do the leaving plenty of times either.
In fact, if her were perfectly honest with himself, then that’s exactly what he’d planned when he came home to watch superhero movies with Mat the other day. One night, fantastic sex, high school clashing with adulthood, creep out and get coffee on your way home.
CC slung his feet to the floor and stretched again. Thank goodness Mat had other plans. He’d hate to be feeling melancholy right now because of that night.
Oh you’ve got much better things to stress over, don’t you?
What?
Have you forgotten your little episode at the bank?
“Oh fuck me.” He dropped his head in hands and sighed deeply.
“I’d love to, really, but I have to go into the station. Dillon just called and he’s got something I need to see.” Mat stepped in through the open bedroom door, rubbing a towel over his head, grinning happily. Another towel was wrapped tight around his waist, “Sorry, Did the shower noise wake you? I tried to be quiet, but it’s an old house and the pipes do rattle.”
Great. Want to bet what his asshole brother wants to show him is the video footage from the bank’s security cameras? “Uh… I don’t know. Maybe” Focus idiot. You need to get out of here before he sees that tape. CC stood up. “It’s okay though. I have to go myself. I have work.”
Mat nodded thoughtfully, continuing to rub his hair dry with the towel. “CC?”
CC stared at his feet. “Yeah?”
“You never asked about the robbery. Don’t you… Aren’t you curious?”
“Oh. Yeah. So what happened after I passed out?”
“Well, after the freak hail of marshmallows started--”
“I saw that part.” CC interrupted, flinching. Freak. You don’t know the half of it, buddy.
“Oh right… well, it turned out to be two kids from the high school, trying to stage a prank.”
Oh fuck. And he knew just which two kids, too. CC nodded dumbly. His tongue too thick and throat to dry to force words out.
“Anyway, I thought you’d want to know.”
CC nodded again and pushed his way past Mat into the bathroom, shooting the lock with trembling fingers. Oh fuck.

***
“Little brother, there are some things you’ll never forget.” Dillon swiveled in his desk chair, one hand on the computer mouse, the other tapping out a rhythm on his desk blotter.
“Yes. Front row tickets to see Petty, losing your virginity, shaking the president’s hand… Pops saying he’s proud of you. I get it. Rare and wonderful moments in every man’s life.” Mat gestured impatiently at the screen. “Get on with it.”
Dillon paused, mouth twisting into a grimace as though those were not the things he’d thought of. “Okay, this isn’t quite on a par with that, but…”
“What’s up, guys?” Thorn’s thick head popped up next to Mat, accompanied by a sharp smack on the ass that made him jump.
“Thorn!”
“What?”
Dillon transferred his attention to their cousin. “Jesus, Thorn. It’s not the seventh grade locker room, get over that or someone will slap you with a harassment suit.”
Thorn blushed, “I… Sorry, Mat. Didn't mean anything by it.”
Mat blinked in astonishment. “No problem, Thorn. What…”
“It looks like that sensitivity training seminar is taking root after all.” Dillon muttered sarcastically. “Okay now… You have to see this.”
“Go on, play it.” Mat shifted to the side to let Thorn crowd in next to him.
Dillon clicked the mouse, and on the computer screen, the bank lobby popped up. Six customers, two tellers, skinny little Mr. Telfiori, and CC all stood frozen, staring at two kids in black suits and black shades, brandishing weapons. In the freeze frame, t was hard to believe anyone had actually thought those things were real, but Mat supposed that in the spur of the moment they might seem intimidating enough to cause panic.
Which is what happened as soon as the video started moving.
Without sound, it was still easy enough to follow. The people in the bank crouched against the marble topped counter, CC looked terrified, and strangely intense.
“This,” Dillon pointed one long finger at the screen. “Is where it gets weird.”
And weird wasn’t even the word for it.
In front of Mat’s eyes, right on tape, where it couldn't’ be faked, blobs of white started falling from the ceiling. Bigger than the plaster bits they’d already watched fall from the air pellet gun’s shot.
“Those are the marshmallows?” Thorn asked.
“Yessir. Big fat marshmallows, falling from a plaster ceiling. Did you ever see anything like that in your life?” Dillon asked, smiling slightly.
Mat shook his head, but he wasn't watching marshmallows anymore. He was watching the face of one man in particular. CC. Collin Crane. His face went from fear, to abject terror to intense determination at about the moment that the bank robbers broke for the door and the hail of marshmallows became more concentrated, directed into the revolving door, jamming it shut. As the door stuck and the hail of marshmallows stopped, CC looked exhausted, putting his head down on his knees, and slumping to the side.
“Not something you see everyday, no.” Mat acknowledged.
Dillon turned the video footage off. “No indication of where they came from or anything.”
“Nothing, huh?” Thorn’s voice was muffled, and he cast a furtive glance at Mat. “You ever see anything like that, Mat?”
“I just said I didn’t, didn’t I?” Mat responded testily, not sure why he was suddenly feeling edgy.
“It rained fish in Sri Lanka last year when I was on vacation.” Holly Briggs shrugged off their stunned glances. “I like exotic vacation spots?”
“Black birds fell out of the sky a few years back in Arizona.” Thorn nodded sagely. “This ain't’ any weirder than that.” On that pronouncement, he hurried off, casting Mat another furtive glance.
***
“Hello?” CC leaned over the counter and grabbed the phone. Deana squawked behind him, and he remembered the traditional, stupidly wordy greeting the corporate office insisted on, too late.
“Is this Collin Crane?” The voice on the other end of the line was familiar, and CC’s heart sank. He’d heard that voice in his nightmares for years. Not so much lately, not since he’d graduated high school and found out that outside the walls of Morrisonville high, things were better.
Shit. “Yes, Collin Crane at Azer’s Get-n-Go. How may I help you?” He’d been fucking dreaming again, and forgot it wasn’t his own phone he was answering.
“This is Terence Thorn with the Morrisonville police.”
Shit doesn't cover it. ***
“Can I help you officer?” His voice shook, and he had to set down the bucket of cleaning water in his hand, it trembled so badly. Bleach water sloshed over the sides of the pail, splattered on his nearly new Vans. Great. Find something awesome at the thrift store and turn it instantly into junk. Another fine talent you have there.
“We’ve been reviewing the footage of the bank robbery, and I need to talk to you.”
Security footage? He remembered looking up, following Mr. Telfiori’s gesture as he pointed out the two cameras in the bank lobby. Two shiny, blank black eyes staring down at them from above. “Uh…”
“I’m leaving the station now and should arrive in about five minutes.” The phone call disconnected.
CC stared blankly at the phone. How could he have forgotten about those security cameras? What kind of idiot was he turning into? “Fuck me,” he groaned. “What am I going to do now?”
What was on those tapes that would send officer Thorn… and good god, why did it have to be Thorn of all people? Chasing over here after him? Surely there wasn’t any way … The marshmallows just seemed to appear out of nowhere, didn’t they? “Why me?”
“CC?”
He snapped back out of his dark thoughts and met Deana’s concerned gaze. “Yeah?”
“Are you alright?” His manager stepped closer, pressed a warm palm to his forehead, like his mom used to do when he was younger and complained of not feeling well. “You’re pale, and clammy.”
“The police are coming to talk to me.” He felt chilled, and tension knotted his stomach. Maybe he should leave before they got here? Oh yeah? you think you’d make a good fugitive? Think Officer Thorn is too dumb to find your apartment? How far away do you think you’re going to go?”
“About the robbery attempt?”
“They didn’t actually try to steal anything.” CC felt obligated to point out in defense of the two teens. He felt some sort of… responsibility toward the boys. Their prank had been stupid, but if they’d gotten away with it, yeah, it might have been plenty epic. And it might have gotten his picture off that damned wall.
“Semantics. A hare-brained stunt by any other name. What the hell is wrong with kids today?”
“I don’t know. I just… why do they want to speak to me? I was unconscious for most of it.”
“Aren’t they the two kids who came in asking for you?” Deana grabbed a bottle of water from under the counter and handed it to him.
“Yeah. I didn’t see any faces at the bank though.” CC twisted the cap off the water and took a long gulp. “And even if I did, I couldn’t… ID them. That would be…”
The car that pulled into the parking lot wasn’t a police cruiser. It was a candy apple red Camaro-- someone’s second childhood, or erectile dysfunction on display. The blue uniformed man who climbed out of the low slung driver’s seat was definitely Terence Thorn though.
“Oh god…” CC moaned and gulped more water. “Deana… Can I take my lunch break?”
She glanced at him sharply. “CC… you can’t run off and leave that cop standing here. I’m sure it’s nothing. He’ll need an official statement from you, that’s all. Didn’t you say you went to the hospital before they could talk to you?”
“Yeah.” Eyes glued to the cop who approached the front door, CC nodded. “Yeah. I passed out. You’re right, that’s probably it.” His mouth formed the words, but his heart… and his mind didn’t believe them.
The bells on the door jangled. Terence Thorn, bane of CC’s sophomore year of high school, crossed the shop threshold. His gaze locked immediately with CC’s.
“CC. Can we go somewhere more private?”
“Is CC in some kind of trouble?” Deana interjected, sharply. “Because he didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I just need a private word, ma’am, so if he could take his break? CC?” Thorn stared at him, jaw working, eyes so intent CC wondered how his skin didn’t heat from the contact.
“Sure… not too long mind,” Deana waved at the bucket and the rags they’d been using. “We’ve got a lot more shelves to clean and we’re short handed as it is.”
“I’ll have him back before you miss him,” Thorn spun, opened the door, then marched through it.
Rolling his eyes, CC caught the door before it shut all the way, and followed. Outside, Thorn jerked his head at the passenger side of the sports car. “Get in.”
“Is this really necessary? Can’t I just stop by the station and make a report later?”
“No. Get in.”

If you enjoyed my post, click on over to the rest of the Orgiasts and read more!

Hank Edwards

Havan Fellows

EM WOODS

Top of the TBR #reading #rainydays #everyday

So, this week I've been reading something a little out of the ordinary for me...

Young Adult fiction. Kids books.

I went through a YA phase several years back... and even then I couldn't pass for a YA. But I did read Harry Potter cover to cover multiple times. All seven books. Then I fell off that wagon and couldn't get into things like The Hunger Games and Twilight. *shrugs*

Then I bought these books.

And Read them in one sitting. Now I"m stuck waiting until September for the next one to come out. Ooh how I hate the waiting game!

The Paladin Prophecy

Will West is careful to live life under the radar. At his parents' insistence, he's made sure to get mediocre grades and to stay in the middle of the pack on his cross-country team. Then Will slips up, accidentally scoring off the charts on a nationwide exam.

Alliance

After exposing the sinister underground society of students known as the Knights of Charlemagne, Will West stays at the Center over the summer to explore his newly developing physical and mental abilities. Meanwhile, his roommates investigate the Knights' shadowy purpose and discover unsettling information about their own backgrounds. Will and his friends must quickly figure out what's going on and separate friend from foe as they prepare for the coming fight.

If you're at all into Young Adult at the moment, give them a whirl. The writing is good, action flows well, and the characters are engaging. To be honest, I was half done before I realized it!

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