Bad Moon Rising

STORY EXCERPT

Quinn sighed and scrubbed his tired eyes with the balls of his fists. If that damn ticking didn’t stop, he was going to climb up on these crappy plastic chairs he’d been sitting on for nearly two hours and tear the clock off the wall. He folded his arms across his chest and slid down the seat. His legs stretched across more than half the cramped waiting room. He didn’t even know why he had to come to these stupid appointments anyway. All that sour-faced old bag ever did was ask him how he felt in various ways. What the hell? How did she think he felt, having to drag himself out of bed at the ass crack of dawn to get some piss-stinking bus to the middle of nowhere to sit for an hour and talk about—Quinn grimaced—feelings.

An involuntary shudder went down his spine as he gazed around the gray waiting room. He supposed the color was meant to be calming, peaceful, but all it did was make him feel cold and lonely. He frowned. Even the white artificial flowers that stood in a vase on the shelf opposite him did nothing to brighten up the stuffy little hallway they called a waiting room. How long could one nutter talk for really? Chewing on his torn thumbnail, he wiggled his numb ass and sighed. He would give her another five minutes. Then he was out of there, the three-hundred-dollar-an-hour fee be damned. He scoffed. It wasn’t like he was paying for it anyway.

He’d already read all of the sticky magazines on the table next to him. Well, he’d looked at the pictures. Someone of Quinn’s size didn’t really need to know how to get a “beach body in seven days.” Not to mention that he only needed to look at a picture of the sun and he’d get burned. He shook his head, closing his gray eyes. No, beaches were for narcissists and idiots anyway. Quinn would much rather curl up in bed with a good book. Next time he should bring his copy of The Iliad with him. He’d have enough time to read it while waiting for her to finish with the other patient anyway. Despite himself, he quirked the corner of his mouth at his inside joke.

Four minutes—that would do. Scrubbing a heavily tattooed hand across his face and back through his glossy black locks, he heaved himself to his feet, wriggling his toes in his holey sneakers. He glanced at the wretched ticking machine above his now-vacant seat. Ah, good. He still had enough time for an Egg McMuffin if he hurried. He scooped up his threadbare backpack and flung it over his shoulder. He grimaced as the contents clinked loudly within the material. Quinn turned on his heel and ambled toward the exit. As if on cue, the sound of a door handle jiggling echoed around the drafty room. He rolled his eyes. Damn, no breakfast today then. No change there. Quinn craned his neck round to see silver light pouring through the doorway around two silhouettes, one broad and one not so much.

He eyed the twitchy little man who stepped from the bright room first. He was small, mousey, and his eyes darted around the room as if he was trying to determine if anything in the vicinity would hurt him. Quinn wrinkled his nose. The man reminded him of a rat. Ugh, he hated rats. Little did Rat Man know what had been running through the black-haired young man’s mind during his first hour of lingering. The rat man held his head low as he muddled past Quinn and out the door without so much as a word. Knitting his brows, Quinn looked back to the doorway and cocked his head. Standing there, in a curiously celestial hue was a figure much taller than Dr. McCubbin.

Quinn’s heart stopped and then started again with a painful jolt that left him breathless. He knew from the broad shoulders; the narrow, tapered waist; and the long legs that he wasn’t looking at Dr. McCubbin. He shuffled from one foot to the other as he stared at the other man. He looked tall, but that wasn’t hard considering that Quinn was probably what one would call pint sized. His hair was a shock of blond, trimmed neatly, just gracing the top of his perfectly shaped ears. His jaw was square and elegant like the carving of a marble statue, but his eyes made Quinn’s breath hitch. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but they appeared golden in the morning sun.

The man before him cleared his throat, rolling up the sleeves on his crisp, white button-down shirt. Shit. Had he been speaking to Quinn? The young man blinked slowly, hating the way his palms felt clammy and how a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. Quinn’s mouth worked, but nothing came out. His tongue had all but dried up, and he could feel color rising in his cheeks. The blond man tilted his head a little and moved to the side, indicating back into the office with a lithe, outstretched arm.

ADULT EXCERPT

The air seemed to crackle around them with energy as Franklin’s eyes turned dark with lust, and he cupped Quinn’s face and began to kiss down his freshly shaven jawline. He shuddered beneath the amorous touch of Franklin’s fingers as he brushed them over his sensitive skin, leaving hot trails of pleasure. Franklin’s hands were large and manly, but they were soft and sensitive at the same time. Quinn could control himself no longer. He ground against the older man with abandon, feeling the swelling in the front of his pants brushing against the toned body in front of him.

He roved his hands up and over the sculpted globes of Franklin’s shoulders, stopping at the sharp pressed collar he still wore. He gazed up, wide-eyed. He wanted to ask if this was okay, if he could continue, if he should, but the words clung to his tongue when Franklin smiled sweetly and nodded as though he could read Quinn’s thoughts.

With fumbling fingers, Quinn began to unbutton the shirt. His mouth practically watered at the sight of the golden flesh. Soon, his inked hands were sliding over the compact muscle of Franklin’s pecs as he pulled the soft cotton from his body, watching it float to the floor. Burrying his face in the taller man’s chest, he took each of his power pink nipples into his mouth, one by one. He swirled his tongue around each and tugged lightly at them with his teeth as they became hard little stubs.

Puffing like a pair of athletes after a triathlon, Quinn felt his stomach flip when was lifted from the floor and his back was pressed to the cool wall. He shivered a little, but more from excitement than anything else. His cock was straining painfully against his trousers. Automatically, he wrapped his legs around Franklin’s tapered waist as they kissed ferociously once more. His heart pounded violently when, all too suddenly, he became aware of Franklin’s large bulge pressing against his stomach while his own cock trapped snuggly between their thighs. Color began to rise in his cheeks, but he knew he wanted this. Quinn had wanted nothing more in his life.

He flung his head back, his mouth agape as Franklin massaged his ass and nipped and sucked as the patterned flesh of his neck. His moans fueled the fire burning in his loins. The look in his eyes told Quinn that all he wanted was to get him of those clothes before he exploded. Allowing him to slide down over his hips, he shuddered and groaned aloud as their pricks rubbed hard against one another. Franklin sank to his knees and hooked his fingers in the loose waistband of Quinn’s sweatpants which were tenting comically at the front. As he pulled them down, Quinn heard his breath hitch when a long, thick cock sprang free, its ruby head glistening as it bobbed toward his nose. He groaned in anticipation.

More elaborate designs covered Quinn’s thighs. Franklin slid his hands up over the smooth skin, tracing over the drawings. He blinked when Quinn slid his hands into his blond curls. He tugged him forward toward his woefully neglected cock. A slight smirk spread over Franklin’s lips before he opened them wide, and he flicked his tongue out and grazed the underside of Quinn’s helmet. Shivers coursed through him as he wound his fingers in the glossy tresses of hair on Franklin’s head, urging him forward harder and harder. Quinn needed to feel him. He needed to feel that hot, sweet mouth around him. Franklin dropped his jaw and slid along the length of his shaft.

Franklin ignored the tug on his scalp as he pumped his neck back and forth. His own swelling erection was pressing painfully against the zipper of his trousers. Keeping one hand on Quinn’s taut thigh, he massaged his swollen cock, panting past the rod of flesh in his mouth as pleasure pooled in his groin. Deviously, he slid his tongue around Quinn’s prick, his groans eventually becoming unashamed moans as his chest heaved, and his crushed his blurry eyes shut. Franklin knew, if he didn’t stop now, it would all be over too soon. It seemed Quinn was of the same mind as he slid his cock free. Franklin’s lips were swollen and red, glistening with moisture as he rose.

In a quick jingle of a buckle and the rustle of fabric, Franklin shucked out of his pants and stood in just his tight black boxers, massaging his covered prick with a glint in his eye. Quinn swallowed as his gaze caught the prominent swelling between Franklin’s thighs. Smoothing his hands down his sharp hipbones, Franklin pulled him toward him, grinding their leaking cocks together. Before Quinn knew it, he was being spun on his heel. He braced his hands against the cold wall and bit his bottom lip savagely as his cheeks were spread. He curled his hands into tight balls when a hot, wet softness smoothed over his quivering entrance. He pounded on the wall, not caring who heard them now.

Franklin swirled his tongue around Quinn’s pretty pink bud, occasionally sliding inside, enjoying the way the man before him went stiff, then shuddered every time he did. He massaged rough circles into Quinn’s ass cheeks as he went about his business, lapping at Quinn’s asshole like a thirsty pup. Then he added his fingers, driving them into the smaller man in long strokes. Franklin’s own cock twitched when he heard Quinn gasped as he began to stretch him as far as he could go. Franklin was sure he was pretty close to ready. At least he hoped he was. He didn’t think he would be able to contain his own arousal much longer. Straightening, he pulled his aching cock from his boxers and slid his hand from its root to tip roughly, smoothing the precum over the burning flesh.

Waking the Demon

STORY EXCERPT

Why did he have to clean up that awful mess? He didn’t make it. It just wasn’t fair. He rolled his eyes dramatically. He supposed that was life. Well, his life anyway. Matt threw down the rag he was using to wipe the counter and glared at his balding, overweight manager. Resisting the urge to spit in his aging face, he huffed in a sharp breath and gritted his teeth. That fat bastard always did this to him. He gave him the shit shifts, and as soon as some fucker had had too much sauce, he was the one that was cleaning stomach contents off the floor… and walls… and chairs… and sometimes ceilings. He grimaced and ran a pale hand over his face. Surely these punters were too old to still be doing that every night of the week. He tutted to himself. Clearly not.

If he didn’t need the damn job, if he didn’t need the money, he would have told the manager to stick it up his fat ass a long time ago. As it was, Matt had been working in the crappy dive, on minimum wage, for more than four years now. It was supposed to be a stop gap, something whilst he saved up enough money to get out of Illinois. He always wanted to go to New York, but those dreams were becoming more and more distant with every soul-destroying shift he took at The Pound. Sidling out from behind the counter, he suppressed the shudder that crept up his spine when he felt the old man’s eyes rove over his back. He knew that stare was lingering on his tight ass.

Matt’s stomach dropped as he reached the cupboard in which they kept the cleaning supplies and he heard the croaky rasp of the nicotine-stained manager’s voice again.

“Oh, and, Murray…” Matt froze. He hated being referred to by his surname. “We’ve run out of mop heads, so you’ll have to use a cloth.”

Matt nodded briskly, not trusting himself to answer. Crouching low, he pulled open the door with one hinge and grabbed the only cloth left in the cupboard. Tucking it in his pocket, he thrust his hand in again and waved it about, but there was nothing else in there. He sighed and dropped his chin to his chest.

“Also, I didn’t order any gloves, so make sure you wash your hands thoroughly after…”

Still not turning round, Matt’s top lip curled up. He could just picture the smug grin on his lips. Damn, how he wished he could smack that expression from his stupid face. Half expecting another grim instruction, he waited a few seconds before he rose and stalked off. Matt muttered empty threats to himself as he snatched at the mostly empty bottle of bleach on the side. He was painfully aware of the only reason Clyde had hired him, and it was nothing to do with experience or his witty repartee. Both of which, he had been so reliably informed on more than one occasion, were somewhat lacking. No, standing at six feet one, set with compact muscle and a face that could make even Da Vinci swoon, he was just the eye candy of the bar. He should have known the first time he stepped into the dingy, stinking place by the way the few regulars that were perched on broken stools at the bar followed him with their gaze and licked their chapped lips.

Matt didn’t mind the attention, not really. A boost to one’s ego, no matter where it came from, was always good, even if it was from dirty, old men. He had long since realized he wasn’t like the other boys at school. When they were all playing kiss chase with the girls, Matt had spent his time locked away reading fantasy novels, dreaming he was the one being swept off his feet by the handsome hero, taken to live in a vast castle, served by numerous sexy slaves in skimpy outfits. As it was, he’d never found his knight in shining armor, just a bunch of scumbags with no jobs, hopes, or dreams. In fact, he was beginning to think that he was destined to be alone forever. Friends, well, the few he had would try and cheer him up sometimes but always said the same thing.

“You’re only twenty-three. You’re too young to worry about being single. Go out and enjoy yourself,” some would say.

“You’re so gorgeous, you’ll be snapped up in no time,” others would offer.

Neither made him feel any better. He wasn’t stupid. He knew he was good-looking with his glossy, brown locks and big, dewy eyes. That had never been an issue. The real problem was his taste in men. He had always liked older guys, the sort that were mature and interesting but still looked good. He would have been lying to himself if he didn’t say that he liked the idea of them having money. Basically, he was looking for a gay Johnny Depp. Could he find one in this asshole of a town, though? Despite himself, Matt scoffed and rolled his eyes. All he was good for was a quick fuck and nothing more. Relationships weren’t the done thing round here. They meant loyalty, fidelity, boredom, at least to the sleazebags that frequented The Pound. 

ADULT EXCERPT

“You know, for someone who had the audacity to follow me halfway around town, you do seem very nervous, Matthew…” Bellamy said with a quirked eyebrow. “Come, sit with me. Make yourself comfortable.”

Doing as he was bid, Matt walked over and perched on the edge of the cold leather. Suddenly, he felt a cool hand around the back of his neck and he was pulled forward. Soft, warm lips closed over his. Matt sighed and melted into the embrace. Snaking his arms around Bellamy’s tapered waist, he pressed his chest hard against the other man. Already his prick was making a tent of his impossibly tight jeans. His tongue was like a snake, slipping into his mouth, massaging his own and brushing over his teeth. Matt shuddered as the tingling in his pants intensified, but he had little time to think, or even breathe, as Bellamy pushed him roughly against the couch and straddled his hips. He looked down at him with lustful eyes, and the corner of his lips quirked up.

Matt’s breath caught in his throat as the black-haired man began to grind ruthlessly against his aching cock. His lithe fingers popped open the buttons of his creased shirt easily and quickly. He tugged the two halves of material away to reveal Matt’s muscular chest. Bellamy licked his lips. Running his fingers over the velvety skin, he stopped when he reached the rosy buds of Matt’s nipples. Twisting them gently, he leaned down and took Matt in in a possessive kiss again, never once stopping the devious work of his demonic hips.

“Do you like that?” Bellamy whispered as he leaned low and kissed down Matt’s neck.

He asked again when he received no answer. Matt groaned, tossing his head from side to side at the overload of sensations gripping him. He bit into his bottom lip and squeezed his eyes shut. Oh man, that felt awesome. How was this man so damn good at this? He hissed when he felt the other man suck ruthlessly at the delicate skin on his neck, but he didn’t stop him. Matt smoothed his hands over the broad planes of Bellamy’s back. The sounds of moaning filled the air as slowly they peeled their clothes from their damp skin, leaving the material to fall to the floor with a dull thud.

Standing swiftly, Bellamy took handfuls of glossy brown hair and pulled Matt into a sitting position. His eyes widened when he caught sight of the long, thick cock coming toward his face. It was quite possibly the biggest he’d ever seen. He knew what was coming. Breathing deeply, he dropped his jaw as wide as it would go and slid his mouth over the ruby head. Bellamy stiffened, and his fingers curled tightly into the hair on Matt’s head, tugging him farther down the hot rod of flesh.

“Yes, Matthew, that’s right. Take it all.” He gasped, flinging his head back.

Tears streamed from the corner of Matt’s eyes, but he didn’t want to stop. Even when the glans hit the back of his throat like a battering ram, he continued to pump his head back and forth. He relished the guttural sounds erupting from the black-haired man as he thrust evermore enthusiastically into his mouth. Spittle spilled over his lips as he sucked and slurped greedily. Maybe he was drunk on lust, but he was sure that Bellamy’s erection was growing as it slipped farther and farther down his throat with each movement. He swirled his tongue around the juicy helmet and licked along the leaking slit. Fuck, Matt had forgotten how good another man could taste.

Taking his own neglected prick into his hand, Matt slid his fingers up and down the velvety skin, moaning around the fat cock that filled his mouth. Bellamy hissed, freeing himself from Matt’s mouth. Pulling Matt up by the huge globes of his shoulders, he cupped his face roughly and allowed their tongues to duel for what seemed like a lifetime as their members slapped and bounced against each other. Matt shivered, despite the heat burning through him. He wouldn’t be able to wait much longer. Bellamy was just too damn delectable. Twisting on his heel, he pressed his pert ass against Bellamy, enjoying the way their sweat-slicked skin slid against each other as he swayed his hips teasingly.

Leaning forward, Bellamy slid an arm around Matt’s naked body and began to jerk at his veiny cock. He slid the fingers of his other hand into his mouth, slurping at each one in turn, leaving saliva to slide down each one in silver lines. Matt shivered as he felt a wet finger, drastically warmer than earlier, slide along down his crack. Bellamy parted his fingers, opening Matt’s cheeks a little. Rubbing a single digit around Matt’s tight entrance, he began to press until the tight ring of muscle expanded, allowing him access. Matt gasped. Pushing another in, Bellamy whispered sweet nothings into Matt’s ear as his back arched and he bit into his bottom lip. He wasn’t a virgin by any means, but it had been a while since anyone had taken him like this. Pushing back gently, he moaned his name aloud when Bellamy began to move his fingers in a scissoring motion, stretching him farther than he’d ever been stretched before.

Whimpering lightly when he felt those devious fingers slide free, Matt turned his head over his shoulder to stare into Bellamy’s gray eyes. He didn’t know why, but for some reason, he felt safe, safer than he had done in years, despite the ridiculous circumstances that had led to this moment.

“Please…” he muttered into his collarbone, never once breaking eye contact.

“Please what…?” Bellamy pressed, the corner of his lip turning up.

He bit his lip and dropped his gaze.

“Please, just fuck me.” Matt sighed.