Welcome to my blog. Here you'll find a diverse assortment of characters from all my stories. You'll meet brooding vampires, love-stricken ghosts, mystical guardians, deceptive demons, honor-bound lycans, sexy selkies, devilish aliens, brawny barbarians, as well as a few good old fashioned cowboys. So I invite you to grab a cup of something pipin' hot, pull up a chair, and get lost in my vivid imagination.
Life is truly beautiful! Richard actually asked me to marry him, do you believe it? Of course there’s a small hurdle we have to cross – namely that gay marriage isn’t legal here in Missouri. But it’s a start, right?
Things are looking up for us, now that I know the truth about Richard. Our careers are doing well, we’re blissfully happy together, and Mother has given us her blessing! My sister Diana is going through boyfriends like some people change clothes, I wonder if she’ll ever find Mr. Right? Cat’s cousin has turned out to be a real interesting character, and the most interesting thing is – he’s a werewolf! And more disturbing than that, I think that maybe my father (that shadowy figure who’s never figured in my life) might just be someone named Jason. It’s a long story.
Just when I thought I had things figured out, they change, and I find out that what I thought I knew was just so much nonsense. In other words – lies. Who can I trust? Other than Richard, of course. And what should I believe? And why does it seem like the world is trying to shake me out of my lycanthropic closet?
What’s a gay werewolf to do?
Now, where were we? Oh yes, Richard and I have our lips locked together like a couple of love-starved fools, and we're crying and laughing at the same time, and I've just agreed to marry him….
Yes, I did say marry, and I know there are those who will look upon us askance. Gay marriage is far from an accepted lifestyle in this country, even in this supposedly enlightened day and age. In fact it is not only frowned upon, but largely banned. And mostly by people who are afraid of us. Why? Good question. I won't even get into religious ethics, or a discussion of the Bible, nor Christian precepts. Let me just say that disliking or hating someone on the basis of their sexual orientation is just as wrong as hating them for the color of their skin, or for their religious beliefs. And forbidding people to legally wed for the same reason is simply wrong. Where do you draw the line? Mixed race couples, mixed religion couples? What happened to loving one another, regardless of who they are? We are not sinners, we are simply human….
Anyway, we are here and warm… and touching, and loving, and all of the bad air has been expelled, and all that is left is the love in our hearts, the love we bear for one another, which envelops us and cradles us gently. Now we truly begin….
Principessa, our darling King Charles spaniel and our only child, is running circles around us now, excited by our excitement. Her daddies are together again, and very obviously happy. We break the kiss to bestow caresses on our baby. She clambers in between us and we manage to cuddle around her.
"Max, I'm so sorry…"
"Shhh." I lay a finger against his lips. "No apologies, no regrets. Just us and the future. Our future. Together."
He nods solemnly. "I'll never leave you again, Max," he swears, "I'll never disappear without a word, I promise. I'm yours for as long as you'll have me."
"And I am yours," I echo, "'til death do us part."
Our lips come together with soft sighs, and sensual shivers that run between us like electrical charges. We haven't touched at all since the ill-fated night of the last full moon, and the undischarged desire we bear for one another is enough to jump-start a dead car battery.
"I've missed you so much," he murmurs into my lips, "I need you, Max, I always will…."
"And I need you Richard," I reply softly. "Nights without you are far too long… and lonely…."
He moves closer now, his tongue seeking and receiving permission to enter my mouth, his fingers winding through my hair. We are content to let our lips do all the talking. No need to rush, we have all the time in the world—now that we are together again, never to be parted. Our eyes locked in mutual admiration. Our hearts bound in mutual bliss. Our puppy becomes bored with us, and our apparent inactivity, and settles down for a nap, watching us with those big, brown spaniel eyes. We stretch out together in the grass, oblivious to what we might be doing to our three-piece suits. Stains are made to be removed, are they not?
He rolls me over to take the dominant position above me—I love when he does that, for just between us he does dominate and I do tend to submit—it's simply the natural order of our lives. He catches my wrists in his strong grasp, pulling them over my head, holding them against the soft grass, showing me who’s in control—not that I don't know that already.
"Tell me what Max wants." He rubs against me suggestively; the material separating us only serves to enhance the friction between our hardening cocks in a delightfully maddening way.
"Max wants Richard," I respond promptly, predictably. "Max wants Richard to come back home, where he belongs… in Max's bed… their bed…."
"Our bed," Richard echoes, licking my chin softly, squirming against me.
God, I want him so badly.
"And by the way, who's been sleeping in Richard's bed while he's been gone?"
"Not the wolf," I chuckle softly, "that would be Rachel. She's been staying with me. I let her have the bed and I'm in the library, on the couch. All alone…."
"Not tonight, sweet thing." He moves his tongue along my jaw line, sending chills all through me. "I hope Rachel doesn't mind, but she is officially dispossessed."
"She won't mind, now she can go back to Mark. I'm sure he'll be happy, too."
"I'm sure," he replies. "Max, you wanna take a shower?"
My cock twitches at his suggestion. "I think we can do that." I attempt to maintain an air of casualness, but I fail—miserably. I’m far too excited to be suave and detached.
He brushes his fingertips lightly over my cheeks. "Max could use a shave too," he observes. "I can do that for him, if he likes?"
If he likes? I purr warmly at his touch. Max the recluse hasn't been as diligent as he should have been in keeping the five o'clock shadow at bay. Not that it's much of a shadow, my hair is too light for that, but being a wolf does have its disadvantages. One of them is a tendency toward hirsuteness. But this works out, 'cause I love the way Richard handles a straight razor—deftly, surely, and very, very sensually. I’m about to tell him so, but Swan Lake begins. Damn, someone has horrible timing.
I try to ignore it, but some people don't take a hint.
"Max, go ahead and get it, they'll just call back," my lover points out, releasing my hands. With a sigh, I squirm, raising my hips so that I can pull the phone from my pocket.
"Max?" It's Juliet. Interruptus maternus. "You were supposed to call me…."
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