Pairing: m/m

Available soon from Loose Id

BLURB

Coming soon

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© 2010 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

He followed Izzy up the porch and into the darkened house but felt oddly reluctant to head to his room. He’d been having a good time with Izzy.

“Want a snack?” Izzy stood, just a silhouette in the entrance to the kitchen, backlit by the moonlight from the bay window.

Given an excuse, Rabin decided it was just that. “Nah. I think I’m just going to head on up to bed.” Bed. The word had a charge to it that made him look away. Even if he was feeling attraction — and that’s probably what it was, strangely enough — he wasn’t going to do anything about it. It was a weird night. One that should end before anything happened. “’Night.”

“’Night.”

Izzy didn’t move as Rabin headed up the stairs. It was a relief to walk into the darkness of the hallway. Rabin walked into his room, closed the door, and didn’t bother with a light. There was enough moonlight coming through the open window to see just fine. Besides, the chancy dark went with the feeling that he was missing something. It wasn’t even sex. It was… He shook his head, unable to come up with anything. Maybe he should head down to Brent’s studio and play for a while. Brent had told him he was welcome, and the guitar often helped him to make sense of his thoughts — or at least calm them. Yeah, do that.

But first, he needed to change. The leather pants and boots were stylish but not all that comfortable. His shirt was off, and he was sitting on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes and socks when the knock sounded at the door. He froze.

“Rabin?”

Don’t answer. Stupid. Izzy knew he was there. “Yeah?”

Without waiting permission, Izzy opened the door, a ghostly blue figure draped in the shadows that were his loose hair and dark jeans. His shoes were gone. He stared at Rabin, expression blank, unreadable.

“What’s up?”

Izzy approached, and Rabin had to force himself to remain seated, torn between equally strong desires to stand up and flee, or stand up and reach for the smaller man.

Izzy stopped at his knees and tried a smile. Long, thick fringe mostly hid his eyes. “Thank you for tonight.”

Rabin summoned a smile back for him. Nothing out of the ordinary here, nope. “You’re welcome.”

Izzy searched his face — for what, Rabin tried not to know. “Rabin, I…”

Rabin frowned, forcing his gaze from Izzy’s. “Look, Iz, we should call it a night.” He’d stay in his room; he’d go to sleep and not go downstairs. He’d do that as soon as Izzy left.

“You’re right.” A palm cupped Rabin’s jaw. “You’re right.”

Startled by the touch, Rabin tilted his face back up. Izzy was right there, swooping down like a falcon catching a meal. Lips. Soft lips. Eager lips. Pressed against his own. At first, Rabin’s eyes stayed open in shock, but the blurred sight of Izzy’s long eyelashes caressing the soft ridges of his cheeks was too much to focus on when sensation ruled. He opened instinctively, his tongue seeking more. With a soft, happy moan, Izzy invited him in, tongue caressing tongue to coax Rabin to explore. So sweet. Rabin forgot he was kissing a guy and just concentrated on the mouth that easily melded with his. When Izzy straddled his lap, it was only natural to take hold of slim hips to pull that warm, solid body close. He fit so well, his slight weight perfect. Rabin slid one hand around back, teasing up the shirt hem to caress soft skin, encouraging gorgeous little moans he could barely hear. Fingers tightened in his hair, that little bit of pain egging him on to tilt his head and open wider. His blood heated with a fine tremor of pleasure.

Slowly, as the kiss calmed, proper brainwave function reasserted itself. Rabin opened his eyes and tilted his head back, but not far enough to lose the little nips and licks Izzy gave his lips. Rabin’s cock was rock hard and uncomfortable in the leather pants, and Izzy’s body pressed warm and willing against him didn’t help matters any. “Wait.”

Izzy didn’t stop, his fingers warm against either side of Rabin’s neck. His hips rocked forward.

Rabin dug his fingers into Izzy’s waist and turned his head. “Wait.”

“No no no.” Izzy’s breath caressed his lips, fingers tight on his skull behind his ears. “Don’t think. Please…just…” They were kissing again. God, it was fantastic. How could Izzy taste so good?

Wait. “Izzy, no. This is –”

“This is fine.” Tender kisses along his jaw. “It’s okay.”

“No. I’m not –”

“It’s fine. I promise. Just this — no promises, no expectations, I swear.” Finally dark eyes focused on his from inches away, pleading. Izzy was trembling — not a lot, but when he was pressed this close, Rabin could feel it. “I need to be close to…someone tonight. And I think you do too.”

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Click here to keep up to date on Indigo Knights: Squire

This isn’t a long excerpt, just a quick look at when Rabin meets Izzy. And, yes, Brent would be Heaven Sent’s Brent Rose.

Keep up to date with IK1: Squire here

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©2010 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

When Rabin finally found the gate with the number Brent had given him, he was fairly bouncing with excitement. This place was fucking unreal. He leaned out his window to press a button on a pad mounted in front of the gate.

“Hey, Rabin.” Brent’s voice was crystal clear.

“How’d you know it’s me?”

“Cameras everywhere.” Brent laughed as the gate in front of Rabin began to slide open. “Come on up. Front door’s open.”

Daylight was slowly fading to twilight as Rabin parked his truck beside a dusty black Corvette and a recently washed white Mazda under the shade of a spreading tree. Rabin knew fuck all what kind of tree it was, but it sure was pretty, matching many of the other trees that surrounded the house and the embankment that led down from the house to the water. The house itself was two levels and looked like a huge cabin, complete with all the rustic finishes. Gorgeous.

After hefting his guitar case and the largest of his three suitcases from the truck, he headed toward the front door and found it open as promised. “Hello?” He stopped at the threshold. Loud pop music and a truly heavenly scent of some sort of cooking poultry lead him to his right and what he thought might be the kitchen.

Kitchen it was, all done up in dark colors to match the rural feel of the exterior of the house. The appliances were state of the art, lining the wall to the left of the opening that led into the room as well as the wall in front of Rabin. A huge island dominated the center of the room, complete with copper pots hanging above it. A four-seater table was built into a huge bay window overlooking the lake to Rabin’s right.

There was a young man who was very obviously not either Brent or Hell busy at the sink, his back to Rabin. He was on the short side, closer to Hell’s diminutive height than he was to either Brent’s or Rabin’s size. His hair was shining black, pulled into a tail that hung in gentle waves halfway down his back. He was singing and jiggling to the music, shaking slim shoulders, a trim waist, and a pert little ass. Reaching the chorus of the song, he belted out in a very nice if slightly off-key tenor. Tugging a towel from where it hung at the waistband of his jeans, he turned around, eyes closed as he sang into an imaginary microphone. Rabin grinned, enjoying the show. The kid was incredibly pretty. A softly rounded jaw and high cheekbones gave his face a gorgeous shape, and a long, thick fringe of that black hair hid his forehead, brows, and part of his eyes. Seen from the front, his snug, lime green T-shirt proclaimed Straight? So is spaghetti until you heat it up. Once the chorus was done, his dusky pink lips curled up in a smile and his eyes opened. Amazing eyes. Big and almond shaped, with irises as dark as chocolate bonbons and lashes any woman would die for.

Finally seeing Rabin, the young man stopped, eyes and mouth open wide in surprise. “Oh. Hi.”

Rabin felt like applauding but didn’t, since he still held his bags. “Hi.”

The kid’s mouth closed and his throat worked over a swallow while an embarrassed flush colored softly rounded cheeks. “You must be Rabin.” Tucking the towel back into his waistband, the young man hastily circled around the island toward him. One hand extended to go with a wide, welcoming smile. “I’m Izzy.”

New free story over at Fiction with Friction: Solo Vacation. ******NOT WORKSAFE******

Do yourself a favor and check out the other stories from the rest of the week too. Good stuff!

Another story was first posted at Pink Chair Diaries.Again, the rule was just that I needed to feature a bright pink blow up plastic chair with a dildo fastened in the middle of the seat.

PCD is down as I write this and while I’m sure they’ll get back up and running, in the meantime, here’s Patrick and Linnie.

WARNING: NOT SAFE FOR WORK!

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©2008 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

“There you are!”

Patrick looked up from the toolbox, distracted from his search for his favorite socket wrench. There, in the open front of his workshop stood Linnie, his insane next-door neighbor. Okay, maybe she wasn’t insane, but she was one of those people who wasn’t far from it. She sure was pretty to look at, though, especially when, as currently, she was wearing tight little cut-off shorts and one of those stretchy, shiny tank tops in vivid orange. The tank hugged her gorgeous little breasts just perfectly and the cheerleader legs extending from those shorts had starred in more than one of his late night fantasies.

Tossing back her loose wealth of nearly crimson curls, she hurried toward him, her flip-flops slapping on the cement floor. Her little hands reached out to grab his arm, heedless of the sawdust that coated the hair on his arm. “I need your help.” Her big green eyes were wide with concern.

Unthinking, he grabbed her elbow. “What’s wrong?”

She tugged his arm. “Come with me.”

He hurried after her, so caught up that he barely paused to enjoy the sway of her rounded ass as she led him through the break in the hedges between their houses and into her side door. Evidently, no one else was home, which wasn’t odd for a Saturday afternoon. Her sister, with whom she lived, worked down near the beach and frequently didn’t get home until after sundown on the weekends.

“Linnie, what’s wrong?” he asked as she hurried through the kitchen to the hall and the green carpeted stairs that led up to the bedrooms. Although he’d been in the house many times, he hadn’t ventured into the upper regions of the house for many years. Not since they were kids. That had been no man’s land since he’d hit puberty, a rule laid down by Linnie and Debbie’s father.

“Come,” she insisted, beckoning him from halfway up the staircase before she disappeared completely.

Helpless, he grabbed the banister, took a deep breath, and followed. Mr. Tanner didn’t live in the house anymore but the ominous parental presence lingered in Patrick’s mind. But, he’d never been able to deny Linnie when she needed his help. When he reached the top, he was assaulted with the smells of an all female household. Competing floral scents poured out of the open door of the pink bathroom to his left and a pall of vanilla clouded his senses from a potpourri dish on a delicate glass table on the landing.

“In here,” her voice came from an open door through which he only saw cream colored carpeting and the dark orange corner of a frilly bed.

Her bedroom. He knew that. He’d been in it before, when they were kids, when the walls had been wallpapered with pink bunnies. Her window was also directly across from the guest bedroom of his house. He’d never admit to it aloud, but during high school he’d had occasion to creep into the dark room at night with hopes of glimpsing her. He’d occasionally been rewarded and those images had fueled fantasies for years. Steeling himself, he took the steps that brought him to the threshold of heaven. The sight before him was odd enough that it took him a confused moment to figure it out.

Linnie sat cross-legged in the middle of her carpet, her back to the window that poured bright sunlight down on her hair, making the curls bloody red as they spilled over her bare shoulders. She had a mass of hot pink, see-through plastic in her hands that looked like one of those blow-up toys, half inflated. The pouting look she gave him would have rivaled any two year old’s. “I popped it. Can you fix it for me?”

Like a moth to the flame of those curls, he carefully stepped toward her, conscious of the dusty state of his workboots and the sweaty smell of himself. Seemed downright sacrilegious to be walking in her bedroom in such a state, but her helpless entreaty drew him. Easing down on his knees, he held out his hand. “What is it?”

She shoved the plastic into his grasp. “My chair.”

Curious, he turned over the plastic. “What’re you doing with a kid’s blow-up chair?”

“It’s not a kid’s chair,” she muttered.

A lot of the pink stuff remained in her lap as he studied it. A section of it seemed heavier than the rest, but he figured that was a lump of the plastic all stuck together. “Do you know where it burst?”

She grappled the plastic, turning it over some more until she found the spot. “There.” Along one of the seams, a tear had started. “Can you fix it?”

He reached up to scratch his skull, stopping when he saw the dust scattering from his short blond hair. “I think we’ve got some of those patches out back. The kind that come with pool rafts.”

Eagerly, she nodded. “Will that work?”

He shrugged. “It should. Won’t be the same color, tho.”

“That’s okay. Oh, can we go check?”

“Sure.”

Gathering the plastic to her chest and cradling like a darling pet, she stood. Unless he wanted to sit there and ogle her smooth, bare legs–which he did, but he shouldn’t–he had no choice but to stand and walk out of heaven with the prettiest of angels following at his heels.

He had her wait for him in the den while he want to the small shack out back to one corner of the pool. Took him a bit, but he found a dusty patch kit, still sealed in its own plastic, and brought it back to the sunny room that faced the pool. She again sat on the floor with the plastic in her lap, idly flipping through channels on the television. When he got back, she promptly turned it off.

“Evelyn’s not here?” she asked, thrusting the plastic into his lap when he sat on the rug before her.

“She’s staying with Ma this weekend,” he said, setting the patch down on the rug beside him as he turned over the plastic to look for the hole. “She…”

His world froze. He finally figured out why one part of the chair was oddly heavy. Not all of it was the inflatable plastic. One part of it was cylindrical, about seven inches long and an inch and a half around, made of hard plastic. Rounded at the end. Shape was familiar. It couldn’t be what he was thinking.

He heard her giggle but couldn’t tear his eyes from the thing in his lap. “Now you know why I couldn’t get anyone else to help me with this.”

He swallowed. “Is that…?”

“A dildo. Yeah.”

A dildo. A big, hard, pink dildo, complete with molded veins, stuck to what looked like the seat of her chair. “What…?”

Another giggle. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her rock back, hands gripping her knees so that she rolled back forward like a weeble. “It’s my favorite-ist chair in the world. Please fix it for me.”

Stunned, he raised his gaze to look at her. She beamed at him.

He’d known Linnie most of his life. She was one of his sister Evelyn’s best friends and their parents were as close as people could be. She and her sister had lived next door to them for years. Like he and his sister, they had continued to live in their parents’ house when both sets of parents had decided to live in one of those swanky old folks’ communities. He had always harbored a crush for Linnie. He knew. She knew. Everyone knew. But he kept it to himself and she never teased him about it.

Until now.

He frowned and looked back down at the plastic. Fine. Tamping his anger, he turned over the plastic, hiding the dildo from view. He knew she wasn’t a virgin. Lost it to that prick Howard Parks on prom night her senior year of high school. In the following two years, she’d hardly been a saint. He knew this even though he’d only recently moved back home to stay after living away during his four years of college. He wasn’t a virgin either and he could handle this.

Making no further comment, he found the rent in the plastic. He tore open the patch kit with his teeth and dumped the contents onto the rug while holding the pink mess in his lap. The dildo poked at his thigh, mocking him.

“Patrick?”

“Yeah?” He didn’t look at her, busy peeling the protective paper from the adhesive blue patch.

“You mad at me?”

“No. Why’d I be mad?”

“I dunno.” Her voice was soft. “You seem mad.”

“‘M not.”

She watched in silence as he carefully spread the patch over the hole. “Patrick?”

“It’s done.” Without meeting her eyes, he held the plastic out to her.

Pause. He glanced up to see her chewing on one corner of her plump bottom lip, a habit he’d always found heartbreakingly endearing. Her eyes were on his face, not on her toy, green irises darting back and forth as she studied him.

He shook the plastic at her. “Here.”

“Blow it up for me?”

“God damn it!” He threw the deflated chair to the rug and shoved to his feet. “Don’t tease me like this, Linnie.”

She scrambled up beside him, grabbing his arm. “Patrick, wait!”

“No.” He pulled his arm but she hung on like a kitten with its claws in his mother’s curtains. “I’ll put up with a lot from you but not this.”

“Wait!” Knowing he wouldn’t hurt her, she clung, winding both arms around his bicep to press it between her soft little breasts. “You’re getting this all wrong.”

“Let go, Linnie, I’m all sweaty and dirty.”

“I know.” Her breathy tone and half-closed eyes gave him pause. With a helpless little mewl, she dropped her forehead against his shoulder, which was as high up as she went when they were both standing. “God, I messed this all up.” She squeezed harder. “Patrick, I wasn’t meaning to tease you.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Okay, okay, I meant to tease you a little, but…” She hung on when he tried to pry away again, her head coming up so those amazing green eyes again held him spellbound. “Only at first. I want you, Patrick, I just…” she lost some of her nerve and ducked her head again, pressing her cheek to his bare arm, “I just wasn’t sure how to let you know.”

His thoughts just plain stopped, crashed into a wall like he’d seen in car testing videos. “What?”

She wiggled against him, making him aware that she’d managed to get her hips near his thigh. He wasn’t sure when she’d wrapped one slim ankle around his shin, but there it was. “I want you.” She inhaled deeply, moaning a little, “sweaty, dusty and all.”

A lock of her hair brushed the front of his tank top. “But…?” His gaze landed on the abandoned pink lump on the floor. “The chair?”

“A joke. Kinda. It is my favorite chair and I did burst it.” She wiggled again. “I was riding it, pretending it was you.”

His knees actually wobbled, nearly toppling them both over. Anxious, he reached out to grip the end of the couch to regain his balance. “What?”

One small, short nailed hand unwound from his arm and reached up to stroke the left side of his chest. The hair matted between tank and skin seemed to come alive at her touch, teasing him with sweet, soft warmth. “It’s true. I won it at Veronica’s bachelorette party last month. I’ve been riding it a lot, thinking it was you.”

He shook his head, reaching up to grip her wrist before she found his nipple. “You never told me.”

“‘Course not, silly. I was too embarrassed. But this afternoon, with everyone else gone, when it popped, I just…” She nuzzled his arm. “I’m sick of pretending it’s you. I want the real thing.”

“Linnie, if this is a joke, I’ll never forgive you.”

She finally let go of his arm and unwound her ankle so she could step around in front of him. “It’s not a joke.” He knew her serious face and that was the one she wore. Linnie had a joking streak in her, but she wasn’t cruel and he couldn’t believe that she’d hurt him that bad.

He still held her slim wrist. Without conscious thought, he used the hold to draw her in. Bending his neck, he brought his lips close to hers. His heart nearly burst to see her willingly tilt her head back, offering her mouth to his. “Linnie,” he breathed, closing the small distance to his soft destination.

Plush and warm, her lips parted beneath his, her tongue darting out to meet his. She tasted of strawberry lemonade and sweet woman. A delicious moan bled from her throat as she pressed into him, her free hand spanning over his heart as she tipped her head to the side to allow him better access. He took it, unconsciously wrapping a hand around her waist to pull her flush up against him. Her warm body felt oh so good against his, but the contact reminded him of the state of his own skin.

He pulled away and had to pry her hands from him when she whimpered and tried to stay in the kiss. “Linnie, stop. I’m filthy.”

She strained against the hands he had binding her wrists, a heavy fall of crimson hair falling over half her face as she struggled. “I don’t care.”

“I do.”

With a huff that sent the hair flying from her face, she stopped struggling. For a moment, she looked up at him, lust darkening her endless, emerald eyes. “I want you, Patrick. Now.”

He had to smile. “I want you too. But I want to be clean when we do this the first time.”

She actually shivered, grinning happily. “‘Kay. Can I watch you shower?”

“No.”

She pouted. “Why not?”

He felt the heated flush on his neck and cheeks and ducked his head. “Just… no.” Releasing her wrists, he stepped back.

Incorrigible, she stepped forward, pressing herself against him. This time one of those hot little hands pressed his cock through his jeans. “Mmmm, but you’re so sexy when you’re all dirty and sweaty.”

Hastily, he stumbled back. “Hey, stop that.”

Wearing an evil grin, she stalked him as he backed toward the hallway and the stairs. “Not a chance. I’m gonna eat you up.”

His eyes went wide. In all his imaginings of the many different ways she might eventually come to want him, this particular scenario wasn’t even close to matching them. Backed up against the bannister, he held out a hand, palm toward her. “Stop.”

She did, but looked ready to pounce. Her gaze raked him up and down, pausing significantly just below his belt buckle.

He swallowed in a dry throat. “I’m gonna go take a quick shower.”

She cocked and eyebrow, some wicked thought occurring to her. Seemingly obedient, she stood up, crossing her arms across her chest. “Okay. But make it fast.”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.” Hurriedly, he spun and took the stairs three at a time.

Stupid! He riled at himself as he grabbed a cleanish pair of jeans from the dresser drawer in his room and sped into the bathroom. She’ll be gone by the time you get out. But he meant what he said. Much as he wanted to take her before she changed her mind, he didn’t want to take her covered in cedar dust.

He washed as fast as he was able, but he’d been cutting wood for hours and was coated in a fine layer of dust and grime. He had to wash his short hair twice before it rinsed clean and he wouldn’t leave the shower stall until the water swishing down the drain at his feet was clear. At last he was done and he toweled off quickly. His skin was still damp when he jumped into his jeans, carefully tucking his raging hard on behind his button fly before he finally went to open the door.

All the blood rushed from his head into his cock at the sight he saw. “Jesus Christ!”

There she sat, naked, in the middle of his queen-sized bed. Her knees were bent, her back arched, her hands braced on the green and blue bedspread behind her feet. The pink chair, half inflated, was trapped between taut thighs. Her head was thrown back, crimson hair brushing her shins, as she rocked her hips. Mesmerized, he stepped toward her to get a better look at what little was visible of the pink dildo that was embedded within the prettier pink folds of her sex.

Her head came up and she regarded him through half closed eyes. “I couldn’t wait.”

Speechless, he took in the sight of her. He’d always known that his little angel was much more of a mischievous devil, but she was proving it to him now. Her pert little breasts swayed as she rocked, the surprisingly large rose-colored nipples swollen at the hard peaks. A fine sheen of sweat made her skin shine in the light from the window, sweet caramel where she was tanned and vanilla warm where her bikini had protected her more private parts. Private parts she now eagerly displayed for him.

Bracing her weight on one hand, she brought the other up and reached for him. “Patrick, help me.”

Swallowing, he knelt on the edge of the bed, hands hovering, unsure. “Help you what?”

She grinned. “Help me come.”

Delighted, he matched her grin. He made so bold as to reach out to take her hips in his hands, feeling the rock of her bones underneath his palms. “How do you want me to help you?”

Her hand latched onto his bare shoulder, fingers digging in. It was quickly followed by the other hand on his other shoulder so that he was now supporting most of her negligible weight. “Any way you want,” she gasped, jerking her hips hard. “Touch me.”

So many choices on where to start! He thought fast, then leaned into her. “Lay back.”

She let him lower her to her back, her head coming to rest in a cloud of crimson curls on his pillow. How many times had he wanted to see this? “Patrick!” she groaned when he hesitated too long.

“Sorry.” He braced over her, breathing softly over her lips. “You’re too beautiful. I have to look at you.”

She groaned, digging her fingernails into his shoulders. “Look later. Touch now!”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

He kissed her, but realized right off the bat that while she liked it, that’s not what she wanted. It was actually really easy to read her. At least, he hoped he was reading her right. No way to tell but to do. She sure as hell would stop him if he went astray. He trailed wet kisses down her throat, tonging her fluttering pulse. He let his hands slide down her sides, back to her still rocking hips. Her knees were fully bent, her heels up by her butt, but she was clearly comfortable. It reminded him of her cheerleader days, which just made him harder. He was really touching her! He was tasting the hollow of her throat. She was letting him nibble at the swell of one sweetly fragrant breast and she moaned, grabbing his head when he finally reached a nipple. Linnie’s nipple. In his mouth. Linnie’s little body, writing beneath him.

Linnie’s hips, riding a pink dildo. Okay, he had to fix that part.

In a second. First, the other nipple, a little candied nub between his teeth. Who knew she’d shake like that if he batted at it with his tongue? Would she do that when he sucked on her clit? Only one way to find out. Eager, he tried to contain himself as he left her breast and licked a path down her softly rounded belly to the neatly trimmed curls above her sex. Much darker here, a few shades lighter than her natural brown. Not that he didn’t like the red, but he ached with pleasure to nuzzle her here, inhaling her scent over the smell of the plastic and latex. Nose buried in curls, he lapped down with his tongue, nudging the hood that protected her clit.

Her hips jerked, a moan tearing from her throat.

Smiling, he spread his palms on her thighs and pressed them farther open. He took a moment to watch the thick pink invader slip a little from her folds, bringing with it a wash of fragrant wet. Her clit burst forth from his protective hood, shiny and swollen and begging for his kiss. Who was he to deprive it? Savoring the moment, he pursed his lips and slowly sucked her in.

Small, strong fingers combed through his hair. “Paaaatriiiick!”

Now that was music for his soul. He thanked her for it by lapping at her swollen nub, drinking in her juices.

“Oh, God, yes! Patrick, yes!” She writhed underneath him but the position of her legs kept her mostly trapped.

He kept his hands on her thighs and angled his head, making a meal of her. After a moment of tasting, he growled and reached down to pull out the dildo.

“Ungh!” she protested.

He tossed the plastic aside, heedless of her cry. With demanding hands, he moved her legs, bending her knees properly so he could settle between her thighs and angle her hips in order to get his whole mouth over her weeping sex.

“Oh, yes!”

Her thighs pressed his cheeks, her heels digging into the middle of his back. Desperate hands shoved in his hair. He was aware of all this on the outskirts of his thoughts but his attention was centered on the delicacy in his mouth and the sweet, swollen tissues he explored with his tongue.

“Patrick, God! Patrick, yes!”

A flood of warmth bathed his tongue as he wormed it as far as he could into her clutching center. He had to hold her hips had as she thrashed beneath him, crying out and scratching the back of his neck. The barely suppressed screams of her orgasm spurred him on and he was determined that he was going to devour her until she made him stop.

Which she eventually did. After two shaking climaxes, she clutched his hair, yanking. “Stop.”

Her breathless plea made his heart pound. No, his heart had been pounding, supplying blood to the neglected erection he pressed into the mattress. Looking up, he was mesmerized by the haphazard fall of red curls over one side of her face, the one green eye he could see simmering with lust.

She sat up, forcing him to his knees. Cupping his jaw, she wiped at her juices covering his skin and guided his lips to hers. He groaned when she lapped at his lips, tasting herself. “Fuck me,” she whispered. Licking him, kissing him, she drew away to demand it again. “Fuck me, Patrick.”

Hearing the growl in his own throat, he pulled away. “God, I hope I have a condom.”

As he stood, hands at the waistband of his jeans, she rolled over toward the edge of the bed. He shucked his jeans and she snatched up her shorts. Quick fingers dug a packet our of one of her pockets. “I’ve got condoms,” she announced triumphantly, sitting up. Her gaze dropped to his cock. “Oh man!”

Pride swelled his dick further, making it twitch and stand just a little bit more.

“Oh man,” she continued to stare, dropping the condoms on the bed beside her. “Have I been missing that all this time?”

“Yep.” Grinning, he knelt on the bed and picked up one of the packets.

She reached out to wrap a hand around his cock, making him pause. “How stupid am I?”

He had no answer for her other than a sigh of appreciation as she stroked him.

“I’m sorry, Patrick,” she whispered, lips brushing the hair over his right nipple. “I’m sorry I made you wait.” She lapped at his nipple. “I promise to make it up to you.”

Heart swelling to match his cock, he wrapped his arms around her, needing to hold her close, not quite believing she was real.

She held him back, nuzzling his chest, stroking his cock. Not until he felt the coolness of latex at the tip of his cock did he realize that she’d picked up the other condom and was smoothing it on him. When he looked down at her, she smiled, nipped his chin, then leaned back out of his embrace. He let her go, watching her sink back into his pillows. She held out her arms. “I want you inside me.”

Eager to comply, he lowered himself over her, settling into the cradle of her hips. Reaching down, he settled his cock at her entrance. In his fantasies, he’d never been quite sure that her tiny body could accommodate him. After seeing her with the dildo, he knew she’d have no problem. Watching her face, watching her watch him, he eased into her in one, slow push. Pleasure flushed her cheeks and shuttered her eyes, but she kept them open, matching his smile as they finally became one.

“You feel so good,” she sighed, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“So do you.”

She wound her arms around his neck, drawing him in. “Make me fly, Patrick.”

Groaning, he had to force aside many memories of when they were kids and he’d swung her around by the arms. That was certainly not what she meant now!

He pulled back and thrust in again, swallowing her squeal and topping it with a groan of his own. Her hands cupped the back of his head, her breasts crushed beneath his chest. He cradled her back with his hands, holding her firmly while pushing his cock to the hilt in her warmth. She met him thrust for thrust, proving all over again that she was stronger and more sturdy than she looked. She growled and clawed, spitting like a cat and throwing her head back when he evidently hit a good spot. “More!” she demanded and he gave her all he could, bracing his legs so he could slam into her like he always wanted. He was grunting like an animal but that was okay because she was growling like one. When she came, she clutched at him with arms, legs and pussy, swallowing him as best her little body could. It was plenty to force his poor helpless cock to burst and spill its load into the condom’s reservoir tip.

He collapsed, panting, atop her, holding himself on his elbows as best he could to avoid smothering her. She made it difficult, though, pulling him down, whimpering until he finally gave in and let her have his weight. Grunting like a happy little piglet, she wiggled and wrapped him in warmth, smoothing her hands over his back.

“Patrick.”

“Huh?”

She giggled. “You’re better than my favorite chair.”

This story was the first posted at Pink Chair Diaries.The rules for the stories was just that they needed to feature a bright pink blow up plastic chair with a dildo fastened in the middle of the seat.

PCD is down as I write this and while I’m sure they’ll get back up and running, in the meantime, here’s Ryan and Jason.

WARNING: NOT SAFE FOR WORK!

***************************

©2004 (2007?) Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

Jason froze just inside of the doorway. What the hell?

The door clicked shut behind him.

Ahead of him, Ryan entered the narrow room and tossed his backpack onto the bed against the wall on the right. He spun to sit heavily next to it, immediately turning to open the mini-refrigerator that doubled as a nightstand. He took out a Coke. “You want one? Hey, what’s wrong?”

Jason blinked at him, then blinked back at… it. “What’s that?”

Ryan glanced at the thing sitting between the bed and the desk, then grinned. “A chair.”

“It’s pink.”

Ryan opened the can. “Yeah.”

“It’s got a…” Jason swallowed. “Is that what I think it is?”

“You mean the dildo? Yeah.” He took a drink.

Jason’s mouth fell open. He was right?! He turned his attention back to the chair in question. It was a blow up thing, transparent, like a pool toy. The seat stood about two feet high and was smooth and round, the back stood up on one side kind of looking like four fingers together. The whole thing was a God-awful neon pink. He’d had a chair like it when he was a kid. But this was so very different. The difference that he was still trying to get his head around was the dildo sticking up out of the seat. Not a huge one, probably five or six inches long, maybe an inch and a half thick. But there it was, sticking straight up. Looked to be made of something substantial, not blow up like the rest of the chair. It was solid with a dull shine. The thing actually had veins molded into it. It was a joke, right? It wasn’t meant to be used.

Not by Ryan?

Jason’s mouth went dry.

“You like it?”

“Huh?”

Ryan chuckled, setting his drink on top of the fridge before he bent down to pull off his sneakers. “You like my chair?”

He couldn’t take his eyes off it. “Where’d you get it?”

“I ordered it online.”

“Why?”

“I thought it was hysterical.”

So it was a joke. A little of the tension leaked from Jason’s shoulders. “What’s it doing here?”

“It’s my chair.”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

Jason transferred his attention to Ryan, but that sight was just about as disturbing as the chair. Ryan was, in a word, hot. To use two words, he was adorable hot. The two words shouldn’t go together, but Ryan made it work. He looked younger than his twenty two years despite the fact that he was as tall as Jason’s five foot eleven. He had a sleek, surfer bleached blond look without looking washed out. His platinum hair waved slightly almost to his shoulders and his green eyes laughed at you over his wide, always smiling mouth. The adorable part was the freckles. He had them all over. If you were far enough away from him you couldn’t tell, but when you got close you could see them dotting his skin. It was fascinating.

Not that Jason was gay or anything. No, that was a gut reaction. Jason didn’t really know. He’d briefly dated a few girls in high school but nothing ever happened. He’d noticed guys but naturally didn’t do anything about it for fear of being lynched by his homophobic high-school friends. Two years of college still hadn’t quite convinced him which way he swung and the fact that he hadn’t slept with anyone of either sex didn’t help make up his mind.

Jason had known Ryan for nearly a year now, having shared some classes. Ryan definitely moved him but so far nothing more than simple friendship had been offered. He didn’t even know which way Ryan swung. The bulk of their conversations thus far had been around school topics. This wasn’t the first time they’d studied together but, Jason now realized, this was the first time they’d come to Ryan’s studio apartment right off campus to do it. Had to be the first time. Because he would have remembered the chair.

Ryan stared at him, his grin growing into a highly amused smile. “You’re wondering if I use it.”

Didn’t that just start a whole hell of a lot of vivid images in Jason’s brain! Start with Ryan naked. That he’d almost seen, at least from the waist up. There was a fountain on campus and they’d been sitting there on a really hot day and Ryan had taken off his t-shirt. Toned and tanned and the freckles were all over him. Wasn’t a stretch to wonder if the freckles covered other areas of his body. Were his pubes gold too or were they dark almost-brown like his eyebrows? Was his cock like the dildo? Oh yeah, the dildo. No effort whatsoever to picture Ryan straddling that low seat, easing himself down on that greased pink cock.

He slipped his backpack off his shoulder and held it in front of his crotch to hide the start of a boner. Hopefully, Ryan didn’t notice.

Jason shook his head, trembling. “Nah. I just…” he glanced at the chair, swallowing. “What have you got it out for?”

Ryan laughed. “It’s a great conversation piece.”

Jason looked at him. Saw the smile. Saw the joke. Laughed. “You fucker.”

“Well, it is. Hey, you coming in or not? We have a test tomorrow, remember?”

“Yeah.” He walked to the small, hard brown couch that sat parallel to Ryan’s bed. “I remember.”

Ryan stood just as Jason sat. The move put Ryan’s jean clad crotch within reaching distance and just about eye level. Shit! Jason dropped his attention to taking his books out of his bag. What the hell was he noticing Ryan’s crotch for?

Ryan went to turn on the stereo, which stood on a desk right beside the chair. Why was it next to his desk? Why was it next to his bed? Did he really use it? No way. That would be awkward as hell to…

Quit it!

Ryan came back to sit on the bed. They opened their books and started in on physics. Jason couldn’t quite get the chair out of his mind. He kept glancing at it. But he managed to focus most of his attention on the subject. He needed the help, after all. Ryan was really good at all that math stuff and Jason just wasn’t. Ryan was being a real friend to do this for Jason since he probably didn’t need to study at all.

“Here, I’ll show you.” Ryan switched from the bed to the couch, leaning into Jason’s shoulder as he pointed to the numbers in the text book.

The light scent Ryan’s cologne, faded this late in the day, drifted around Jason. He was pretty good at ignoring it. Took comfort in it, really. It was a familiar thing when they were studying. So it was frustration with the topic and not Ryan’s nearness that made him sigh and cast his gaze around the room for something to look at besides numbers.

He saw the chair. Equations fizzled from his brain at the vivid images of Ryan spread over that seat, the pink dildo wet and shining, appearing and disappearing as Ryan rose up and dropped down. Up and down. Would it fit inside him?

“Hey.”

Jason jumped, textbook clattering to the dingy gray rug. He sprang to his feet lest Ryan see the boner the book had been covering. “Gotta visit the john,” he muttered, heading for the door beside the couch.

He considered jerking off, but didn’t dare. Ryan might hear, even with the door closed and the stereo on. Plus, if he jerked off, he wasn’t sure he could picture anything except Ryan on that chair. Did he have the chair to tease girls? Or did he really use it himself? Was Ryan gay?

None of these thoughts were making the boner go away. Jason settled for taking off his sweatshirt and tying it around his waist. The dangling arms covered his crotch okay. He should probably leave soon anyway.

When he went back, Ryan was laying belly-down on the bed, propped on his elbows over his textbook. He glanced up. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He caught himself glancing at the chair. The thing was like a fucking magnet for his eyes! He dropped onto couch, bending to pick up his bag. “I think I should go. My brain’s overloaded.”

He heard shifting and looked up to see Ryan roll over onto his side. God he was pretty! Like pretty pretty. Like a girl pretty. Especially when his long bangs fell over his eye like that. It made you notice the other eye more. Also made you notice that pert little nose with those freckles. Fucking freckles!

Ryan smiled slowly. “We could take a break.”

Shit! Was I staring? “Nah. I should go.”

“Jase?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna watch?”

Jason frowned at the papers and books stuffed in his backpack. He looked up. “Huh?”

Ryan glanced toward the end of the bed—toward the pink chair—then back at Jason, his smile taking on a wicked tilt. “You’ve been looked at the chair ever since you came in.”

Jason sat up straight, fist gripping the strap of his pack. “I haven’t…”

“You wanna watch me use it?”

Jason’s jaw fell.

Ryan’s hand drifted to the space where his t-shirt had come untucked from his jeans, exposing a stripe of skin. Smooth skin with freckles you didn’t really notice too much until you were looking hard.

Looking hard…

Shit, really?! “No! I… I can’t.”

In one smooth move, Ryan sat up, bent his legs over the edge of the bed, and whipped off his t-shirt. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Guh!

“You’re dying to know if it’s possible. Admit it,” Ryan said, blithely tossing the t-shirt aside.

“But…”

“No worries. It’s like watching another guy jack off in the shower, right?” He reached down under the bed and pulled up a bottle of lube. Half empty.

Where’d the other half go?

“Ryan, you don’t have to.”

He passed by Jason without a look, heading for the chair. “It’s okay. You’ve got me thinking about it now.” Watching him from behind, Jason could tell he was unbuttoning his jeans. Unzipping.

Stop him!

But he couldn’t. He just… couldn’t. Now that the offer was out there, he was transfixed. He couldn’t move, couldn’t say a word, could hardly breathe.

Ryan set the lube on the desk near the chair then put both hands to the waistband of his jeans to pull them off. Evidently, he pulled off whatever underwear he might have been wearing too, because when he bent over, all Jason saw was tight little naked ass. Tight. Two perfect handfuls. The skin was lighter than his back or legs, but still kind of gold. He almost groaned when he saw the freckles. A lighter scattering of them here, which made them more noticeable. He turned and Jason tried to swallow in a dry throat when he saw the boner. It stood out straight from his body, a lot redder than the rest of him.

Ryan chuckled, wrapping fingers around it. “Sorry. I get hard thinking about the chair.”

Gaping, Jason forced his gaze to Ryan’s smiling face. “Y-you do?”

“Oh yeah. It feels so good.”

“No way.”

“Oh yeah.”

He stopped caressing his dick and reached back for the lube. With it in hand, he knelt in front of the chair.

Jason crawled to the side of the couch to get a better view. The couch wasn’t as long as the bed, when he knelt up and braced his thighs against the arm, he was at just the right angle to watch Ryan pour a handful of lube then transfer that handful to the pink protrusion on the seat of the chair.

How the hell is that hot? Jason wondered. He was caressing a pink dildo on a blow up pink chair, for God’s sakes. That shouldn’t’ be hot! Maybe it was the way Ryan caressed the thing. He didn’t just wet it, he was loving it. Like he might caress a real dick.

Jason’s dick pushed at his fly, wanting to see.

Ryan, apparently satisfied, poured a little more lube on his fingers then put the bottle back on the desk. He stood and turned his back to the chair, reaching behind him.

Jason flinched when he realized Ryan was fingering himself. “Doesn’t that hurt?” he heard himself ask.

Ryan chuckled, eyes closed, showing no sign of discomfort or pain. “Not when you’re used to it.”

Oh man, yeah. He was used to it. He sure seemed to enjoy it, whatever he was doing. Oh man. He backed up. His dry hand braced on the edge of the desk and he lowered himself until his wet hand could take hold of the dildo. Hold it. Guide it. Jason watched, wide eyed. Part of him wanted to get up and go over there, see it from behind, see the head of that pink thing prod what was probably a pink hole and force it open.

Oh man.

Slowly, inch by inch, Ryan squatted lower. Lower. His face with it’s closed eyes and that lower lip trapped by his teeth, showed no sign of discomfort, only pleasure. He kept going, steadily lower, until… He did it! He was sitting on the fucking chair!

“Shit.”

Ryan smiled, peeking up at Jason from beneath long gold bangs. If Jason didn’t know better, he’d think Ryan was just sitting on the chair normally. Sitting on the chair, naked, with a big fucking hard on.

Jason should probably be embarrassed, but he couldn’t find room for anything except awe. And lust. That was too fucking hot.

Ryan braced his lubed hand on the inflated seat behind him, forcing his chest to arch out. His cock curled up toward his belly. Drops of precum shone on the tip. Using both hands for balance, Ryan drew his hips up. The dildo reappeared slowly, all slicked up. It was probably warm, heated from being inside Ryan’s body. It must be tight. His ass couldn’t be anything but tight on something like that.

Tight.

A sigh of pure pleasure floated out of Ryan’s mouth. His head fell back, hair dangling. His nipples were hard, pink pebbles on flat disks surrounded by a very fine layer of shining golden chest hair. Ryan started to work it slowly, raising and lowering on the dildo. His head rolled, he moaned softly. The skin of his chest and neck started to get redder.

Abso-fucking-lutely beautiful.

“Do it.”

Eyes locked on Ryan’s bobbing cock as Ryan again eased down to the seat, Jason didn’t immediately know what he was talking about. He looked up to see Ryan’s eyes on his crotch. Lowering his gaze, Jason saw his hand splayed over his imprisoned dick, pressing.

“Take it out.”

Jason closed his eyes, feeling his cock jump at the sound of the rasp in Ryan’s voice. Before he could give it much thought, he ripped open his button fly, pulled down his briefs and released his aching cock into his palm. That feels good, he moaned, squeezing.

Ryan was watching him through half-closed eyes, the muscles of his arms and legs bunching and releasing as he fucked himself a little faster on the chair. What would it feel like? To be the chair? To be that part of the chair? To stick his dick into what had to be a greased, tight hole? The arm of the couch bit into his thighs as he pushed forward into his hand.

“Ah, Jason.” Ryan really worked it now, the chair bouncing beneath him. It had to have something weighting it down underneath because the way he was moving it should have skidded out from underneath him. “Jason—“ Ryan had to stop saying his name like that because it was too hot! “—bring it here. I want to suck you.”

Whoa! No! Yes!! Only a portion of his brain paid any attention to the “no” and it wasn’t the part in charge. He was off the couch and across the room before he could think about it.

Ryan sat hard on the pink chair and stilled, reaching forward to yank Jason’s pants and briefs down to almost his knees. His hands came back up to grip Jason’s ass, bringing him closer to his open mouth. Green eyes turned up to look at him as Ryan’s mouth opened and his tongue pressed against the head of Jason’s cock.

Oh shit! That was hot. Jason watched helplessly as Ryan closed his lips and suckled the head, his tongue doing some amazing shit within his mouth. “Oh man,” he groaned, hands going to Ryan’s head, fingers in his silky soft hair. He didn’t push, exactly, but he kind of did. Hoping.

His eyes crossed, closed, as Ryan’s sweet fucking mouth slid down his shaft, that tongue working the underside. He pulled back and pressed down, moaning like he had the best ever treat in his mouth. Jason was too into what he was doing with his tongue to think about that too much. He stared, mesmerized as Ryan’s red, wet lips slid up and down his shaft, leaving behind shining saliva. He popped the head out of his mouth, making Jason grunt, then ducked his head to lick Jason like a fucking lollipop from base to tip. And again. He peeked up and smiled big before taking the head between his teeth, holding it so his wicked tongue could probe the tip.

“Oh shit, Ryan!” Jason moaned, too far gone to worry that it was a guy who was sucking him. A naked, pretty man sitting on a pink blow up chair with a dildo up his ass.

Up his ass.

Groaning, Jason leaned forward, bracing a hand on the wall behind Ryan. The angle didn’t let him see the dildo. God, he wanted to see!

Lips popped off the tip of his cock and a wet hand pumped his shaft. The tip of him slapped Ryan’s tongue a few times before Ryan slurped him in again.

Jason clawed the wall, paint chipping underneath his fingernails. His knees were trembling and his hips were bucking all on their own. “God, you’re good at that.”

“Fuck me.”

Jason blinked at the ceiling. The hand pumping his cock was distracting. Did he hear what he thought he heard?

“Jason, please, Jason, fuck me, please.”

He looked down. Ryan’s lips were around his cock again, his cheeks hollowed as he sucked hard enough to make Jason’s vision go blurry. With a pop, his lips came off.  Fuck me with this,” Ryan said, rubbing his cheek against Jason’s cock, cradling it like it was a favorite pet. “So hard, so beautiful.” Green eyes locked on Jason’s face. “I want it inside me.”

“I… I’ve never…” He shook his head.

“It’s okay. I’ll do all the work. Just lie down and let me ride you.”

“Ride… me…” Like he rode he damn chair! Jason moaned. His knees went out. Ryan released him as he melted to the floor.

Ryan followed him, pushing him hard. He fell mostly on his side on the carpet between the couch and the bed. Ryan pushed his shoulder, arranging him on his back.

“Be right back.” Ryan jumped up and rummaged quickly in the desk. Then Ryan was back on top of him, straddling his thighs.

Shit, this is happening? “Ryan, wait…”

“Please Jason,” Ryan whimpered. Fucking whimpered. Like he had to have it. He tossed aside something Jason vaguely realized was a condom wrapper, then his hands were rolling the thing on Jason’s cock. “I need this,” he muttered, squeezing with both hands when he got to the base.

Jason groaned, falling back onto the floor, throwing an arm over his eyes. He wasn’t going to last through this. He felt the orgasm building already.

Ryan was moving again. Jason knew what he was doing and didn’t want to watch. But he had to watch. He moved his arm in time to see Ryan rear up above him, just like he had for the chair. One hand was braced on Jason’s chest and the other was behind him, gripping Jason’s sheathed cock. There was pressure and a warm, unheard pop. Jason moaned. Ryan closed his eyes, bit his swollen lip. It was in. Jason shook. That felt good!

“Don’t come,” Ryan crooned, sinking down slowly. “Oh please, don’t come. Hold it. Not yet. Let me… God, you’re big!”

Jason tried to hold it. He wanted to hold it. Feeling all that pressure closing around his dick was fucking fantastic! Better than anything he’d ever managed with his hand. Oh God, he was inside Ryan. Ryan’s ass was clutching his dick. That freckled, fucking adorable body was arched over him. “Ryan,” he moaned.

“Oh yeah, baby,” Ryan moaned, leaning back, bracing his hands on Jason’s thighs. His back arched, his head fell back. Ryan pulled up and pushed back down. “Oh, fuck you feel good. Hold it for me, baby, don’t come yet. Let me… Ah! Your dick is amazing.”

Jason was pretty sure he was going to die. His hands shot down to clutch Ryan’s hips and that brought his attention to Ryan’s cock and the way it bobbed above Jason’s belly, spilling pre-cum onto his t-shirt. He did two things. One, he pulled his shirt farther up his chest. Then, he wrapped his hand around Ryan’s dick.

“Oh shit, Jason, don’t…” But it wasn’t a real “don’t”. Even in his inexperience, Jason could tell that. Ryan froze, ass spasoming around Jason’s cock.

“Jay-son bay-bee,” Ryan sang, rocking his hips in time to his words.

Jason spat on his palm then returned it to Ryan’s cock. If he focused on Ryan’s dick, he could hold off the explosion waiting to go off in his groin.

“Oh yeah, work it, baby. Work my dick.”

Jason tried, but Ryan kept messing him up, riding him now like he was a fucking bucking bronco. Or the God-damned chair. Jesus, he was so deep in Ryan’s heat.

Something boiled deep in Jason’s belly. “Ryan, I can’t…” His grip faltered.

“Come for me, baby.”

It might have been the words, it might have been the speed, it might have been an extra squeeze. Jason couldn’t tell. But something or everything went boom in his gut. He yelled, arching, hands back on Ryan’s hips to slam him down as he came.

“Oh yeah,” Ryan moaned, replacing Jason’s lost grip on his cock with his own. He pumped furiously, hips jerking a little with his movements, his ass squeezed Jason’s imprisoned cock as it shot its load.

Actual fucking tears broke out in Jason’s eyes at the painful pleasure that extended his orgasm. He was going to break apart if this lasted much longer.

“Oh bay-bee!” Ryan wailed. Warm spurts splattered on Jason’s belly.

Jason lay there, eyes closed, trying to breathe. He was afraid to move, afraid that anything would bring back that terrifying pleasure and make him come again. Above him, Ryan didn’t move for a few moments except for where his ass caressed Jason’s gradually wilting boner.

Finally, Ryan moved. Jason’s eyes opened as Ryan fell forward onto his arms, hands to either side of Jason’s head. Gold hair a little damp with sweat fell to either side of Ryan’s face as he smiled. His eyes, however, were serious as he searched Jason’s face. “You okay?”

Jason swallowed. “I’m not sure.”

“That was—“ Ryan shook his head, showing a certain degree of awe akin to what Jason experienced, “—incredible.”

Jason nodded.

Ryan shifted his weight to one arm, lifting the other hand to brush Jason’s cheek. “You freaked?”

“A little.”

“Just a little?”

“A lot.”

“Should I be sorry?”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“Then it’s kind of stupid to be sorry.”

Ryan smiled, a little sadly. “I am sorry if this means you’re going to avoid me now.”

Jason stared up at that pretty face, trying to decide if he wanted to kiss Ryan or punch him.

Ryan bit his lip, not helping matters any by looking so flushed and sexy. “I’ve tried to hide that I wanted you because I really do like being friends with you but… God, Jason, you’re so beautiful.” His fingers traced Jason’s lips. “When I got the chance, I just had to…” His smile faded to a look of worry. “Don’t hate me. We don’t have to do it again. I know it was your first time with a guy…”

“Ever.”

“Huh?”

“That was my first time. Period.”

Ryan’s eyes went wide. “Oh shit! I thought you meant you’d never done it with a guy. I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay.”

“Jason, if I’d known…”

Jason laughed. “You probably still would have done it.”

Ryan wanted to look shocked, Jason could tell, but he couldn’t manage it. He smiled sheepishly. “Yeah.”

“It’s okay.”

“Is it? I wasn’t even sure if you were into guys or not.”

Jason laughed. “Neither was I really.”

Ryan blinked, hand stilling on Jason’s cheek. “Are you?” He glanced down to where his now quiet cock lay against Jason’s spunked-up belly. “Now?”

“I don’t know.” Jason slid his hands up Ryan’s thighs. Gripping Ryan’s waist, he pulled up to sit, forcing Ryan up as well.

Ryan watched him warily, moving with him and never taking his eyes off Jason’s face.

When he could, he slid his arms around Ryan’s waist, keeping the other man straddling his lap. “But I’m into you.”

Ryan opened his mouth then closed it, grimacing. “Ha-ha.”

Jason smiled. “Kiss me.”

“You sure?”

“No. But we’ve already fucked. Kissing is the least of it.”

Soberly, Ryan shook his head. “No. A lot of times a guy will fuck you but won’t kiss you. Kissing means you’re making love. Not kissing is just sex.”

It was Jason’s turn to blink. Just how many guys had Ryan fucked to learn this? And why was he getting all jealous at the thought?

Huh.

“Okay,” he said slowly, sliding one hand up to slide into the hair at Ryan’s nape. So soft. “Kiss me.”

Only because they were so close did Jason feel the tremor that took Ryan’s body. Green eyes dropped to Jason’s lips and the hand was back on his cheek. “God, Jason,” Ryan breathed, sliding his arms around Jason’s neck and leaning to seal their lips.

Kissing Jason had done. With girls. But this was different. This was… more. He opened his mouth and slid his tongue between Ryan’s lips, finding Ryan’s tongue in a wet caress. Ryan tasted sweet and dark. Jason held him close and drank his fill. There was no hurry. His sated body was content to rub against Ryan’s smooth skin, melt in the man’s embrace.

But his knees weren’t happy. They were still imprisoned in his jeans and sticking straight out behind Ryan. Jason pulled out of the kiss.

Ryan whimpered softly, transferring little bites to Jason’s chin.

“Rye…”

“Yeah?”

“Can we move this to the bed?”

“We can do anything you want, baby,” Ryan crooned happily.

He scrambled back, took the condom off Jason, and stood. He turned with the condom toward the wastebasket as Jason stood. He grunted as his legs wobbled. His thighs had that marching ant sensation of having gone to sleep.

“You okay?” Ryan asked.

“Yeah.” He reached for his jeans. About to pull them up, he glanced at Ryan, who was watching from the door of the bathroom. Smiling, he shoved his pants off.

That made Ryan smile. He disappeared in the other room.

Smiling himself, Jason turned toward the bed.

And saw the chair.

Unable to help himself, he reached out to finger the dildo. Still wet but nowhere near as warm as it probably had been. He knew what it felt like now to be deep inside Ryan.

He chuckled. “Ryan?”

“Yeah?”

He glanced over his shoulder as Ryan appeared, towels in hand. He pointed at the chair. “Promise you’ll let me see you do the chair again?” He grinned big. “I wanna watch.”

Pairing: m/m

The powers that be at MLR Press asked for it and I, weak as I am, agreed to do a sequel to About Something.

BLURB:

Turns out life as a drag queen isn’t what Shawn thought it would be. He loves the costumes and dressing up, but he’s found he’s better suited to performing from a script than vamping onstage. Too bad Shawn figured this out long after breaking up with Roscoe when his bossy director boyfriend told him he didn’t have what it would take.

Two years later, Shawn may not be wildly happy but he’s content. That is until Roscoe shows up to ask him to reprise his role as Beatrice in Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing. Roscoe is as magnetic as he’s always been and the spark between them is still burning bright.

When Roscoe turns on the charm for a more personal reunion, can Shawn resist? Does he even want to?

*********************************

© 2010 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

Roscoe folded his forearms on the bar before him, one of his elbows brushing Shawn’s. “It’s a paying gig. Equity. You could get your card.”

“Aha.” Shawn took a sip of his drink, keeping his eyes on the bar. “I get it.”

“Get what?”

“Why are you showing up, out of the blue, with an offer?”

Some of their audience had drifted away, but Shawn had no doubt those who remained would spread the word.

Didn’t seem like Roscoe cared who heard. “I told you. I need you. Play’s not the same without you.”

“Why that play?”

“I like that play.”

“You going to call Bonnie in California to come play Benedick?”

When there was no answer, he slanted his gaze at the other man.

Roscoe stared at the array of bottles on the mirrored wall behind the bar. He shook his head, not smiling now. “No.”

“What? You don’t think she did great?”

“I do, and you know it.”

“Right.” He took a healthy drink then carefully set his glass down. “But you weren’t sleeping with her.”

Ever aware of his performance, on and off stage, Roscoe gave it a beat, turned to face Shawn then sat back, putting some distance between them. “My offer is sincere, regardless of our past.”

“I’m sure the offer’s sincere. But it doesn’t make anything that happened between us right.”

He heard the disgusted snort even though he wasn’t looking Roscoe’s way. “Who said I was trying to make anything right? I’m trying to offer you a job.”

Shawn faced him. “A real job.”

Roscoe tilted his head.

“Go ahead, say it. You want to.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

They had a silent, rapt audience now. The only sound was the Eighties music pumping through the speakers overhead.

Shawn was not adverse to giving them a show. These people would be on his side. “Why not? I know what you want to say. What the hell are you doing slumming here anyway? You hate places like this.”

The older man shook his head. “I never said that.”

“Oh, okay. Then you just hate me being in a place like this?”

Roscoe glanced at the people surrounding them. “You sure you want to do it like this?”

“Why not? They like it here.”

The calm facade dissolved and finally Roscoe showed some anger as he crossed his arms over his chest. “My God, still the drama queen, are we?”

“Fuck you.” Shawn slammed his hand on the bar and stepped back. “I don’t need your hand out, Mr. Big Shot Director. Why don’t you go somewhere else and find someone who’s willing to bend over and take it from you.”

In one sudden move, Roscoe rolled to his feet, leaning over and into Shawn. “You used to do it willingly,” he murmured, lips just inches away from Shawn’s.

Shawn barely managed to keep himself from jumping up and wrapping himself in Roscoe’s embrace. As it was, he caught himself leaning toward the hard strength he knew was inside that shirt. Nostrils flaring, he glared up into Roscoe’s face, determined not to back down. “Not. Any. More.”

Roscoe stayed where he was, staring Shawn down. The air around them vibrated, and no one within hearing spoke.

Finally, Roscoe licked his lips. “Fine.” He took one step back. “You think about it. The offer stands, but I can only hold the role open for a week or so.”

“Don’t bother.”

Roscoe’s jaw worked from side to side, a sign to Shawn that he was reviewing and discarding a number of parting lines. In the end, he just said. “By the way, I caught your act. You were great tonight.” He turned and walked out.

Flummoxed, Shawn could only stare. He’d seen Shawn’s act? After all he’d said about how Shawn couldn’t succeed as a drag queen? Trust Roscoe to find words that would bite.

* * * * *

Thoroughly annoyed, Shawn refused to answer any questions that were pelted at him after Roscoe’s exit stage right. He fled to the haven of the dressing room and changed into his jeans and tennis shoes. After cleaning off all his makeup, he shouldered his backpack, checked his wallet to make sure he did, indeed, have cab fare then left by the back entrance.

Hailing a cab from the corner was easy, but just as he was about to duck in the back, someone came up behind him to hold the door. You don’t live in the city long before you develop a healthy dose of suspicion, so Shawn immediately straightened and jumped away.

It was Roscoe. He tilted his head forward so those black eyes peeked at Shawn over the horn rims. A lock of silky black hair dipped down to shade his eyes from the harsh street light. “Mind if I join you?”

If Shawn’s heart hadn’t already been hammering from the mild scare, it jumped into triple time now. “If I say no?”

Two years as this man’s lover had taught him what that wicked glimmer in those eyes meant. “Don’t say no.”

All blood rushed south to fill his cock and Shawn suddenly had trouble remembering why, exactly, he wanted to keep his distance from the man. Why would he decline that offer? He shrugged and climbed into the backseat, aware of the man crawling in beside him. Okay, yes, Roscoe was probably just pushing his point about the play. Mr. Director rarely gave up after only one volley. Shawn didn’t intend to give in, but, since he very well knew the tools of persuasion Roscoe had in his arsenal, he didn’t see why he couldn’t have a little fun. Yeah, he told himself as he settled in his seat, no harm in making him work for it.

“Where to?” asked the cabbie, glancing back at them through the dirty safety shield.

Shawn opened his mouth but Roscoe answered first, giving the address of his building. Before Shawn could continue to give his own address, Roscoe grabbed his arm to stop him.

He leaned closer. “Come home with me.”

Shawn swallowed, watching those gorgeous lips caress the words. Home meant a lot more when Roscoe said it, since the home he meant had been Shawn’s once too. “Why should I?”

Roscoe’s lips parted, that tongue again swiping over his bottom lip. “I want you to.”

Shawn snorted, clutching at the backpack he held in his lap. “You can’t always get what you want.”

“But you can get what you need.”

****************************

Click here for the site’s main page for Much Ado

Happy New Year!

It’s not Max and Ferris from Obsession and As A Plate, but how about Grant the photographer and Nicky, a model?

Make Me Yours

http://selenaillyria.com/2009/11/paranormal-thanksgiving-week-jet-mykles/

Available in ebook from Loose Id

FYI, this story is a big spoiler for One For The Team. If you haven’t read it and don’t want to know what happens, stop here.

OFTT is a m/f story. This story is about Jason and Davey, two of Jen’s best friends. I assure you, it becomes m/m but it starts out m/f/m.

BLURB:

Others might be fooled into thinking Davey is just a computer nerd, but Jason knows better. He knows his geeky best friend is wicked to the core. So, he shouldn’t be surprised when Davey lures him into a threesome on the night of their friends’ wedding. Two guys and one girl turns out to be a pretty terrific thing, especially when watching Davey have sex is almost as exciting as knowing Davey is watching him. And the girl doesn’t seem to mind either.

One threesome leads to more, but then something changes. Now, when Davey touches him, it’s a whole new ballgame. Jason likes it…a lot, and he likes it even more when they try sex without the girl. Who knew?

But Jason’s troubles are just beginning. He sees newfound depths in their friendship. Depths he’s willing to explore. Too bad Davey doesn’t feel the same.

The past has taught Davey that happily ever after doesn’t exist and Jason is afraid he’ll never be able to change Davey’s mind.

Will Jason be able to convince his stubborn friend that true love is possible for their two man team?

Here’s a taste of the first chapter as it now stands. Takes place right after Jen and Ken’s wedding.

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©2009 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

They’d all figured Jen could handle it. None of them had intended to change their friendship or turn it into anything long-term. Just friends having fun. Then Ken had thrown a wrench into the works. Or, as he claimed, Jen had mucked it up by sleeping with Jason, Bart, and Davey but refusing to sleep with him. Jason had to admit that would have ticked him off too. Looking back on the one night when the five of them had been together, Ken was the only one who hadn’t done more than kiss Jen. Of course, she’d stayed the night with him when the rest of them had gone home. That was the night Ken had seen the proverbial light and asked Jen to marry him. Jason was happy for them. He was. Looking at them now, he wondered why no one had seen that they were meant for each other before.

But that didn’t help him tonight. Clearly, if he was going to find companionship, he would have to go elsewhere.

Setting his glass down on the pristine white tablecloth, he stood. Jen and Ken were busy, so he chose not to bother them. He’d already bestowed his congratulations on the happy couple, and he’d see them at work on Wednesday anyway since they weren’t going on their honeymoon until November. Because the restaurant was open for regular diners tonight as well, Bart would be busy.

Where was Davey? The little snot was his ride home, which was the only reason he was still drinking. Last time he’d seen the other man had been when there were still people dancing on the miniature floor. That had to have been an hour or so ago. As he meandered toward the door leading out of the banquet room, Jason pulled out his cell and sent a text to his friend: Where r u?

Once out of the room, he edged around a small dining area toward the buzz of conversation that surrounded the bar. The area was pretty typical of an upscale restaurant like Bart’s. Up two steps and Jason was surrounded by shining polished wood, mirrors, and muted lighting. A few minitables were scattered in the open area on one side, but the main focus was the long bar with the bottles of booze behind on mirrored shelves. There were only about a dozen people there, and he recognized a few from the wedding. He waved to Ken’s sister with her hubby and Tina and Dan from work, but headed for the end of the bar. He took a barstool and watched a few pitches in the Pirates/Brewers game while he waited for Jake, the bartender, to finish up and bring him another.

“Damn,” he muttered to himself, watching the roll of scores across the bottom of the plasma screen mounted on the wall. Mets won again. That meant his beloved Braves were another game down. It was a damn sure bet they weren’t going to make it to the play-offs this year.

He was halfway through another Black Russian and well into the next inning of the Rockies/Giants game when Davey finally texted him back. He flipped open the phone to read the message: Come. Back lot.

The parking lot in the back? “Why?” he asked the phone aloud, knowing full well it wouldn’t answer. So he texted it: Why?

A moment later came the reply: Just come.

Typical Davey. No explanation, just an expectation of obedience. Had he moved his car? If so, why? No telling with Davey, of course. He followed his own rules for everything.

Sighing, Jason stood, then downed his drink and paid for it while grimacing at the onslaught of rich coffee liqueur down to his gullet. He hoped whatever Davey had in mind was worth it. He didn’t drink Black Russians often, and he preferred to savor them.

Well acquainted with the layout of the restaurant, he headed for the darker hallways that led to the restrooms. Beyond the johns was another hall that led both to the manager’s office and employees’ lockers. There was also a fire door that led to the back parking lot. Once outside, he took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the harsh fluorescent lighting directly overhead that cast faux moonlight in the immediate vicinity. The parking lot in back only held ten spaces, meant for kitchen staff and managers. Bart’s Beemer sat directly outside the door.

It took a moment, but Jason finally located Davey leaning against the dark shadow of his deep blue Mustang GT at the very edge of the halo of light. His white dress shirt and light-colored slacks stood out against the black background of the trees that stood beyond the pavement, as did the bright pink T-shirt of the girl pressed against him.

What the hell? Jason scowled. Was he going to have to find another way home? That little shit.

Having heard the door open, Davey waved him over with one arm while keeping the other wrapped around the girl.

Muttering to himself, Jason descended the three cement steps of the stoop and crossed the lot. He really shouldn’t begrudge his buddy finding a date. Wasn’t he hoping to do the same thing?

She was cute, too. A little under Davey’s height, which put her around five feet four or five, she had that hair that wasn’t quite brunette and wasn’t quite blonde but was kind of both, cut short, level with her rounded chin. She had a slim little body with a tight belly shown off by the way her T-shirt rode up because her arms were around Davey’s neck. When she turned to grin at Jason, he guessed she was around their age, with a bright smile and carefully plucked eyebrows. He couldn’t tell the color of her eyes because it was too dark in the lot.

Jason stopped a few paces away from them and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks. “What’s up?”

Davey grinned, the lenses of his thick-rimmed glasses catching a glint from the light behind Jason. “This is Tacy.”

The girl unwound her arms and turned to face Jason but kept her hip snuggled up against Davey. She extended a hand to Jason. “Stacy without the S. Hi.”

He took it, mustering a smile. Maybe she had a friend inside. “Hi.”

Her fingers slid over his palm as their hands parted, and she gave him a warm little grin that he couldn’t decipher.

Keeping his eyes on Jason, Davey rubbed her back, making her T-shirt ride up her belly a little more. With the dip of her low-rise jeans, there was a nice bit of soft flesh visible. “Tacy’s never had two guys at once. I told her we could probably accommodate her. What do you think?”

Jason blinked. Then his jaw dropped. “Huh?”

Tacy giggled, propping her back up against Davey so he could slide his arms around her from behind.

Davey wasn’t even fazed by what he’d said. “Tacy wants to do us.”

She giggled again. “Or you do me.”

One of Davey’s thumbs tucked into the waistband of her jeans, right behind the button. “Some of both.”

Jason’s gaze snagged on that thumb, his imagination filling in what was right near it. “You guys are serious?”

“Oh yeah,” Tacy assured him.

“Do I know you?”

She pulled away from Davey and closed the distance to Jason. Blue. Her eyes were blue. “Not yet.” She let that blue gaze rake him up and down before she spread her palms over his chest, slipping them underneath the lapels of his jacket to lightly press his nipples. “But we can fix that.”

He glanced over her shoulder. Davey remained where he was, arms now folded across his chest. His head was cocked to the side, shiny, straight brown hair falling to the side from the tilt of his head. That smug little grin he almost always wore was right there, challenging Jason to take up the offer.

A few months ago, Jason might not have considered it. But after what had happened with Jen this summer, he was caught. That night the five of them had shared sprung to mind. It had been sexy as hell watching the other guys fuck Jen, knowing they were watching when he was inside her himself. All too vividly he could conjure up the memory of Davey, naked and sheened with sweat as he plowed into Jen from behind. He remembered the fevered glee in Davey’s unshielded eyes when their gazes had met over Jen’s back, Davey fucking her while Jen sucked Jason’s cock. It was the single most erotic thing he could remember doing in his life.

The light in Davey’s eyes told Jason he remembered the same thing. And wanted to do it again.

Why the hell not?

His thoughts had taken mere seconds. His gaze returned to Tacy’s by the time she spoke again. “What do you say?”

He grinned down at her, setting his hands on the curve of her hips. “I’m game if you are.”

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