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 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.”
“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.”
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
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