It`s time for Tuesday Tales.
Today we have an excerpt from A Star-Crossed Christmas, which is a
Cayuga Cougars short story being written for a hockey holidays anthology coming
out later this year!
Our word prompt today is “Pocket”. In
today’s scene, the growing passion building between our leading men breaks free
in the same place it did two years previously, the basement of Shaun’s
grandmother’s quilt shop.
This story may have gay erotic scenes,
strong social issues addressed and mature language. If those things offend now
is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!
We parked in front of the quilt shop
and Shaun unlocked the front door then relocked it after we were in. Not that
crime was a big problem in Liberty.
“I keep telling her she needs a
better security system,” Shaun said, flicking on a small light over the
register in the corner. The shop was packed with bolts of fabric, ceiling to
floor, shelves and shelves of them. There were racks that held more bolts
all over the place, so walking through the store was always this kind of jig
and dance, turn left, turn right, do-si-do and do not spin your partner round and round.
“Good luck with that,” I replied,
padding to the tables by the front window to gather up several bolts of holiday
material in my arms. Shaun joined me, and I handed mine to him and picked up
eight more. A couple trips should do it. Then we could go to Shaun’s parent’s
house and vegetate while enjoying Jabber and the gang. Sounded like a perfect
way to end a perfect day.
“I know, but come on, someday some
tourist punk kid is going to break in just to be a dick.”
“Probably.” There was no arguing
that fact. “Still, I don’t see her installing anything without a fight.”
“That’s all truth. Watch the steps
down, okay?” He kicked open the cellar door which sat behind the register. The
hinges cried out. “They’re old and super steep.”
“I remember.”
I led, going down only after Shaun had
hit the light switch with his elbow. The basement was dry, wide, and filled
with material, sewing stuff, and a couple old sewing machines on equally old
sewing machine stands. It always smelled a little off down here or something.
Not super gross but just off. Dusty and dank. Like old dirt or something.
We stacked the bolts on a table,
filled our arms with Valentine’s material, and climbed back up the stairs. We
did that four times. On the final trip down, we paused and looked at each other
across the long folding table heaped high with holiday colors.
“You think we’re ugly corporate
types, hauling out Valentine’s Day stuff when Christmas isn’t even over yet?” I
enquired.
“You know those quilting ladies.
They like to get a head start.”
“Guess so.”
“Remember the last time we were down
here?”
I shoved at a bolt trying to slip
off the mound with my elbow since my hands were in my pocket as I looked at Shaun. “Like four minutes ago? Yeah.”
“No, not that time before. The time before two years ago.”
“Oh.”
The lonely naked bulb by the stairs
threw Shaun into all kinds of shadow. It worked for him, giving his lush mouth
and cheekbones some alluring valleys and accents.
“I was so happy then. Like, floating
on air. I’d told my parents that I was gay, and they were so cool about it. And
then you pulled into town with all
your goofy smiles and those cute ears, and all the Hanna-Barbara love, and I
got swept into the feelings that I’d been carrying around for you.”
“Got to love Jonny,” I nervously
joked, plucking at my Jonny Quest
t-shirt.
Shaun came around the table. I stood
my ground; the dry and dank air now filling with heat and want. You could taste
desire filling the cellar, feel it.
“I made a move and kissed you. You
were so stiff, so scared, and I knew as soon as I’d done it that I’d ruined
things for us.”
“No, you didn’t. I was just…that
kiss confused me.”
He now stood in front of me, the
smell of Shaun mingling with the hot pheromones slipping into my sinuses. Need
coursed through me, plumping up my cock. I stared at his mouth.
“I know. I handled things badly. I
just – it was just stupid of me to do that. I didn’t give you any chance to say
no, or anything. I just kissed you. So, like, now, if you wanted to say no I
would be fine with that. We don’t have to kiss now, or even ever. I mean, I’d like to kiss you now or maybe sometime
later, and maybe date and talk about travel and hold hands and—”
“You’re talking too much.” I grabbed
his face and pulled his mouth to mine. It was kind of funny to feel him stiffen
momentarily, as I had a couple of years ago. Then the shock melted away and his
arms slid around me. His lips were soft and pliant under mine, opening on a hot
exhalation when I shifted my hip to the side a bit. I could faintly taste blood
from my split lip.
It
was Shaun that touched the tip of his tongue to my lower lip, running it over
the split, easing back on the pressure I was applying in my fumbling rabid need
to get him close. I lapped at his tongue gliding over the injury. He tipped his
head, my fingers still pressed to his cheeks. There was no hesitation on my
part. I opened wide, twisting in his embrace, my body now thumping with lust.
Copyright 2018 ©by V.L. Locey
*~*~*
Click on the link below to return to the Tuesday Tales main blog
for more great reads from the Tuesday Tales authors.
