Friday, 31 July 2009
Sunday, 19 July 2009
Night Bond
It was the middle of July, the middle of the night, a world so far from Earth that to say 'Earth' was to say 'Atlantis'. It must have been lovely, but no one's seen it in a very long time. Humidity crowded the air, clinging to Yin's skin. Heat, maybe that's what kept the moisture hanging in the night. It wasn't guilt, shame, not like you could even feel those, or wipe them off your skin, even if regrets were just small little particles like moisture in the air. Life is a night with thick air, like breathing gauze and dreams are the stars, so beautiful and distant. So that even if they look small enough to be cupped in one's hands, your own hands are never going to be big enough.
Yin stretched out one leg, an arm across the back of the park bench. End of story. That's it sometimes. The air is just too thick to breath.
"Hello."
Looking up, Yin found himself staring into dark brown eyes, warm coffee brown, dark lashes. They were smiling eyes.
"This is my bench," Yin said, looking away. "I'm not a pleasure worker."
"It's not your bench," Brown Eyes said. "Don't be an asshole. What if I'm a pleasure worker?"
"Then I don't have any money," Yin said, leaning his head back, a grin lazy on his face.
"As it happens, I'm not. You have a beautiful smile."
"Shit if I do. That's like one of those tree falls in the forest statements. I'm not good company. Go away."
"I think you have a beautiful smile. I'm only in port for a night. Twelve hour pairing? No questions asked. I have my med card. I'm disease free. No names or anything, no strings, just spend the night with me." Brown Eyes winked.
"Wah," Yin said, mouth hanging open just a little. "I don't have a med card and those customs went out a long time ago. You've been reading history books."
"It's not illegal and there's nothing wrong with it. I'm not that hard to look at, am I?"
"Hell no," Yin said. Brown Eyes was easy to look at, really. Think brown hair hung down to his shoulders, neatly trimmed, bangs across his forehead suddenly called to Yin's fingers, making him want to run his fingers through the shiney thick hair. His face was long, but delicate, almost feminne and really, Yin realized he'd been assuming that Brown Eyes was a man. "Are you a man or a woman?"
"Does it matter?"
"No," Yin agreed. "Not really. What'll I call you for the night?" Yin turned, on knee bending and coming up on the bench. "You can call me Yin."
"Okay, Yin," Brown Eyes agreed. "You can call me Oxford. Shall we say until noon, tomorrow?"
"Dawn," Yin hedged. "Just until dawn, but no lies, no bull shit. Neither of us does anything we don't want. Deal?"
"So protective," Oxford said, grinning. "I like that. I agree, until dawn, complete intimacy. I want to blow you."
Yin stretched out one leg, an arm across the back of the park bench. End of story. That's it sometimes. The air is just too thick to breath.
"Hello."
Looking up, Yin found himself staring into dark brown eyes, warm coffee brown, dark lashes. They were smiling eyes.
"This is my bench," Yin said, looking away. "I'm not a pleasure worker."
"It's not your bench," Brown Eyes said. "Don't be an asshole. What if I'm a pleasure worker?"
"Then I don't have any money," Yin said, leaning his head back, a grin lazy on his face.
"As it happens, I'm not. You have a beautiful smile."
"Shit if I do. That's like one of those tree falls in the forest statements. I'm not good company. Go away."
"I think you have a beautiful smile. I'm only in port for a night. Twelve hour pairing? No questions asked. I have my med card. I'm disease free. No names or anything, no strings, just spend the night with me." Brown Eyes winked.
"Wah," Yin said, mouth hanging open just a little. "I don't have a med card and those customs went out a long time ago. You've been reading history books."
"It's not illegal and there's nothing wrong with it. I'm not that hard to look at, am I?"
"Hell no," Yin said. Brown Eyes was easy to look at, really. Think brown hair hung down to his shoulders, neatly trimmed, bangs across his forehead suddenly called to Yin's fingers, making him want to run his fingers through the shiney thick hair. His face was long, but delicate, almost feminne and really, Yin realized he'd been assuming that Brown Eyes was a man. "Are you a man or a woman?"
"Does it matter?"
"No," Yin agreed. "Not really. What'll I call you for the night?" Yin turned, on knee bending and coming up on the bench. "You can call me Yin."
"Okay, Yin," Brown Eyes agreed. "You can call me Oxford. Shall we say until noon, tomorrow?"
"Dawn," Yin hedged. "Just until dawn, but no lies, no bull shit. Neither of us does anything we don't want. Deal?"
"So protective," Oxford said, grinning. "I like that. I agree, until dawn, complete intimacy. I want to blow you."
second excerpt...
"I’m going to look for help," he told the unconscious form in his bed. "Just stay where you are, and keep breathing, ok?"
There were no lights on the road to the station, but the moon shone overhead and he found the way with little difficulty. The tree stood where hedges defined the corners of two fields. The rough bark felt familiar beneath his hand, and William stood awhile. Usually he brushed his fingers over the tree as he passed, greeting it silently on the way to and from the train. He had always talked to trees, but had never imagined they would start to respond in kind.
"Hi," he began awkwardly. "Umm... you probably don’t notice me, but I come this way most days when I’m going to work and... I’m hoping you have a dryad, because I really need someone to talk to right now." He paused to clear his throat. A car passed him on the road, the lights briefly dazzling. "They cut down the yew tree on the village green, and its dryad is dying. He’s in my house and I want to help him, but I don’t know how to. I took some cuttings from what was left of his tree, and I’m trying to get them to grow. I thought it might help, only it doesn’t seem to be making much odds. I don’t know what to do. I’m desperate. I don’t want him to die. Please, if you can hear me, please talk to me!" William fell silent. Having poured out his heart, he felt foolish and self-conscious.
"You are a rare creature, I’ll give you that much." She stood a few feet from him, moonlight glinting off her naked skin.
"Oh my god," he whispered. He’d never seen a naked woman before, and although her form did little for him, he could not help but gaze at her curves in fascination. She had luminous eyes, and short, boyish hair. He could not have guessed her age, but she looked kind enough.
"Which god?" she asked, sounding amused.
"I don’t know. Any god that cares for dryads, I suppose."
She nodded slowly. "He had no offspring tree ready to take him in."
"No."
"But something of his old tree lives?"
"Yes."
"Then you might save him."
"I’ll do anything!"
She stared hard at him for a few seconds. "Anything?"
"Yes."
"Give your life for his, if that were called for?"
William paused a moment to consider his answer. "I’m nothing special. He is. I want him to live, and if the cost is my life, I can do that." He stood a little straighter, lifting his head.
There were no lights on the road to the station, but the moon shone overhead and he found the way with little difficulty. The tree stood where hedges defined the corners of two fields. The rough bark felt familiar beneath his hand, and William stood awhile. Usually he brushed his fingers over the tree as he passed, greeting it silently on the way to and from the train. He had always talked to trees, but had never imagined they would start to respond in kind.
"Hi," he began awkwardly. "Umm... you probably don’t notice me, but I come this way most days when I’m going to work and... I’m hoping you have a dryad, because I really need someone to talk to right now." He paused to clear his throat. A car passed him on the road, the lights briefly dazzling. "They cut down the yew tree on the village green, and its dryad is dying. He’s in my house and I want to help him, but I don’t know how to. I took some cuttings from what was left of his tree, and I’m trying to get them to grow. I thought it might help, only it doesn’t seem to be making much odds. I don’t know what to do. I’m desperate. I don’t want him to die. Please, if you can hear me, please talk to me!" William fell silent. Having poured out his heart, he felt foolish and self-conscious.
"You are a rare creature, I’ll give you that much." She stood a few feet from him, moonlight glinting off her naked skin.
"Oh my god," he whispered. He’d never seen a naked woman before, and although her form did little for him, he could not help but gaze at her curves in fascination. She had luminous eyes, and short, boyish hair. He could not have guessed her age, but she looked kind enough.
"Which god?" she asked, sounding amused.
"I don’t know. Any god that cares for dryads, I suppose."
She nodded slowly. "He had no offspring tree ready to take him in."
"No."
"But something of his old tree lives?"
"Yes."
"Then you might save him."
"I’ll do anything!"
She stared hard at him for a few seconds. "Anything?"
"Yes."
"Give your life for his, if that were called for?"
William paused a moment to consider his answer. "I’m nothing special. He is. I want him to live, and if the cost is my life, I can do that." He stood a little straighter, lifting his head.
Immortal Fire excerpts
Sneak peaks from the newest tales in the Immortal Fire series...
The tree spirit fell silent, an odd expression on his face. "Do you remember when you first came to the village?"
"I do."
"With the other man. Peter. Do you remember how you and he spent summer nights in the garden, so close and so naked?"
William flushed crimson at the memory. He and Peter had been happy then, and thoroughly into each other. Sex happened in every room of the house, and in the secluded garden. "You saw us?"
"How could I not? I saw everything that happened around the tree." He shook his head, features tight with grief. "What you shared, seemed so intimate, so important to you."
"It was."
"Would you hold me like that? Touch me? I have never been touched by a mortal."
The request startled him, and sent a flush of warmth across his skin. "Do dryads have sex with each other?"
"We can and do, if we find a kindred spirit growing close by. But we cannot travel far from our tree. I have been alone for a very long time. I do not want to die alone."
William’s heart leapt within him, full of compassion. It would be so easy to love that shapely body, to explore every inch of the tree spirit’s form. "Whatever I can give, is yours."
"I honour your generosity."
Extending his hand he said, "Come to my bed."
"I took these from the tree cutters. Your people do not go naked," the dryad said, apologetically.
"You are so lovely, you don’t need to hide yourself," William responded, as he pried away the sackcloth. He paused, drinking in the sight before him – lean, hard flesh and a proud erection greeted his hungry gaze. Awareness of his own shortcomings followed all too soon. Working as a museum curator, he had no muscles to speak of and little colour in his skin. Although he walked to and from the train station each day, a persistent layer of fat lurked at his waist. As too many people had told him since childhood, he was nothing much to look at. A forgettable, middle aged man slowly going to seed.
"Do I not please you?" Jack’s sorrowful tone pulled him up.
"Forgive me! It’s awe, not dislike." He reached out, trailing a single finger down the dryad’s hard chest.
"If you don’t want to share your body with me, I understand. I am not like you, and I am dying. Perhaps it was too much to ask."
He panicked at this, afraid of having injured his lovely playmate. "No! Please don’t think that! It’s just... I feel so unworthy of you."
"But you are so full of sweetness and giving, so tender, so warm. I feel that in you."
"I’m too old and nothing much to look at, I’m afraid."
The dryad reached out to him, touching his cheek with a cool finger. "I have lived thousands of years. You are not old to me. Your body is a human one, full of mystery and life. I don’t understand why you feel ashamed of it."
"Other humans have said... I am not good to look at."
"You are everything to look at!" he took William’s hand and kissed it. "Your soul shines in your eyes, fills your skin." He turned the hand, kissing the tender palm. "Don’t fail me now, I beg you."
The tree spirit fell silent, an odd expression on his face. "Do you remember when you first came to the village?"
"I do."
"With the other man. Peter. Do you remember how you and he spent summer nights in the garden, so close and so naked?"
William flushed crimson at the memory. He and Peter had been happy then, and thoroughly into each other. Sex happened in every room of the house, and in the secluded garden. "You saw us?"
"How could I not? I saw everything that happened around the tree." He shook his head, features tight with grief. "What you shared, seemed so intimate, so important to you."
"It was."
"Would you hold me like that? Touch me? I have never been touched by a mortal."
The request startled him, and sent a flush of warmth across his skin. "Do dryads have sex with each other?"
"We can and do, if we find a kindred spirit growing close by. But we cannot travel far from our tree. I have been alone for a very long time. I do not want to die alone."
William’s heart leapt within him, full of compassion. It would be so easy to love that shapely body, to explore every inch of the tree spirit’s form. "Whatever I can give, is yours."
"I honour your generosity."
Extending his hand he said, "Come to my bed."
"I took these from the tree cutters. Your people do not go naked," the dryad said, apologetically.
"You are so lovely, you don’t need to hide yourself," William responded, as he pried away the sackcloth. He paused, drinking in the sight before him – lean, hard flesh and a proud erection greeted his hungry gaze. Awareness of his own shortcomings followed all too soon. Working as a museum curator, he had no muscles to speak of and little colour in his skin. Although he walked to and from the train station each day, a persistent layer of fat lurked at his waist. As too many people had told him since childhood, he was nothing much to look at. A forgettable, middle aged man slowly going to seed.
"Do I not please you?" Jack’s sorrowful tone pulled him up.
"Forgive me! It’s awe, not dislike." He reached out, trailing a single finger down the dryad’s hard chest.
"If you don’t want to share your body with me, I understand. I am not like you, and I am dying. Perhaps it was too much to ask."
He panicked at this, afraid of having injured his lovely playmate. "No! Please don’t think that! It’s just... I feel so unworthy of you."
"But you are so full of sweetness and giving, so tender, so warm. I feel that in you."
"I’m too old and nothing much to look at, I’m afraid."
The dryad reached out to him, touching his cheek with a cool finger. "I have lived thousands of years. You are not old to me. Your body is a human one, full of mystery and life. I don’t understand why you feel ashamed of it."
"Other humans have said... I am not good to look at."
"You are everything to look at!" he took William’s hand and kissed it. "Your soul shines in your eyes, fills your skin." He turned the hand, kissing the tender palm. "Don’t fail me now, I beg you."
Thursday, 9 July 2009
Gawain
Just a teaser.... I'm giving away the whole thing as a series at http://www.short-fiction.co.uk - the first chapter is up, the second should be a long in a bit!
Gawain turned his head slightly and raised his eyes. The deep brown of Arthur's irises held him prisoner, infusing him with feelings of hope and confidence.
"You will come back," Arthur said. "You will face your ordeal with honour, and you will triumph."
"Has Merlin foreseen this?"
"He has not. His glimpses of the future are never frequent. This is my own certainty speaking not his magic. You will come back to me, Gawain."
Gawain knew hot tears were welling in his eyes, and lowered his lids, unable to meet Arthur's gaze with such a torrent of emotion stirring in his breast. The firm hands on his shoulders lifted, only to descend lightly upon his face, cupping his chin. Gawain felt Arthur's thumbs stroking along the line of his cheekbones, wiping away the tell-tale tears. He could feel the rough calluses on the King's hands. The gesture was painfully tender and racked Gawain's already aching heart. He had no desire to leave this place, to part from the people he loved most and seek the end of his young life. Arthur was the sun in his sky, Camlan his heart's true home.
"You will return to me," Arthur reiterated. He brushed a kiss against Gawain's forehead.
The touch of his lips was fleeting, but Gawain's skin burned from the contact for a long while afterwards. The kiss thatcovered his lips was sweeter yet, with the warmth of Arthur's mouth pressed against his, the rough stubble of the older man's short beard raking Gawain's cheek as his hands sought his King's narrow waist. They clung to each other, Gawain's face pressed against Arthur's shoulder, Arthur's hands in his hair.
"Never lose heart, Gawain; do not doubt that you will return."
Secure in the arms of the tall and powerful monarch, Gawain had little inclination to break away and set out on his bitter quest. He steeled himself; inhaled deeply and let his arms fall to his sides. Arthur released him wordlessly.
Gawain turned his head slightly and raised his eyes. The deep brown of Arthur's irises held him prisoner, infusing him with feelings of hope and confidence.
"You will come back," Arthur said. "You will face your ordeal with honour, and you will triumph."
"Has Merlin foreseen this?"
"He has not. His glimpses of the future are never frequent. This is my own certainty speaking not his magic. You will come back to me, Gawain."
Gawain knew hot tears were welling in his eyes, and lowered his lids, unable to meet Arthur's gaze with such a torrent of emotion stirring in his breast. The firm hands on his shoulders lifted, only to descend lightly upon his face, cupping his chin. Gawain felt Arthur's thumbs stroking along the line of his cheekbones, wiping away the tell-tale tears. He could feel the rough calluses on the King's hands. The gesture was painfully tender and racked Gawain's already aching heart. He had no desire to leave this place, to part from the people he loved most and seek the end of his young life. Arthur was the sun in his sky, Camlan his heart's true home.
"You will return to me," Arthur reiterated. He brushed a kiss against Gawain's forehead.
The touch of his lips was fleeting, but Gawain's skin burned from the contact for a long while afterwards. The kiss thatcovered his lips was sweeter yet, with the warmth of Arthur's mouth pressed against his, the rough stubble of the older man's short beard raking Gawain's cheek as his hands sought his King's narrow waist. They clung to each other, Gawain's face pressed against Arthur's shoulder, Arthur's hands in his hair.
"Never lose heart, Gawain; do not doubt that you will return."
Secure in the arms of the tall and powerful monarch, Gawain had little inclination to break away and set out on his bitter quest. He steeled himself; inhaled deeply and let his arms fall to his sides. Arthur released him wordlessly.
Sunday, 28 June 2009
Looking for Immortal Fire?
You might want to visit these places... (check out www.loveyoudivine.com for details of the contest.)
http://www.nixwinter.com/The_world_of_Nix_Winter/poetry.html
http://www.clarelondon.co.uk
http://jaime-samms.net/
http://www.adriannebrennan.com/ http:// lavengra.com/
http://thepaganandthepen.wordpress.com/
http://www.nixwinter.com/The_world_of_Nix_Winter/poetry.html
http://www.clarelondon.co.uk
http://jaime-samms.net/
http://www.adriannebrennan.com/ http:// lavengra.com/
http://thepaganandthepen.wordpress.com/
Immortal Fire starts today
There's a chat at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/hisandhiskisses/ today for the release of the first two stories in the Immortal Fire Series. Jaime Samms Black Roses and M King's Almost Human both release today from www.loveyoudivine.com
Do drop into the chat for freebies and more news about this exciting series.
Do drop into the chat for freebies and more news about this exciting series.
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