*****Giveaway!*****CLOSED

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The giveaway is now closed. And the winner is…

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5stars Gayle Offerjost! 5stars

Congrats to Gayle and thank you to everyone that took part : ) x

I’m doing a giveaway as part of Victoria Sue’s Release Party on Facebook for her new book, The Beginning. I’ll be online there between 9-9.30 pm BST tonight chatting about werewolves and stuff, and answering questions about Home Is Where You Are and The Alphas’ Homestead series, so come and say Hi!

To celebrate me finally managing to get actual printed books made, I’ll be giving away a paperback copy of Home Is Where You Are. I suppose I can even sign it for the winner…if you want. I’ll also throw in some other bits and pieces of swag too.

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All you have to do to enter is leave me a comment on this post.

That’s it.

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Then tomorrow (I’ll give it 24 hours so 9pm BST Friday), I’ll use a random number generator to pick a winner, and announce it…everywhere.

While you wait, you could always sign up to the newsletter with the widget at the bottom of the page. That way you can take part in more giveaways, get exclusive news and offers.

Or you could check out the Home Is Where You Are page for buy links, info, reviews and whatnot.

Or take a look at some of the things in the menu, like blurbs for future books or free stories.

Or, of course, you could drop by the release party to ask a question...or if you miss it, there’s a facility on Goodreads where you can do that any time : ) x

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Paperbacks…finally!

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It’s taken me far longer than it should have, but I finally managed to navigate Createspace and get the paperback edition of Home Is Where You Are up on Amazon. Fingers crossed, the edition looks okay –– although the cover turned out a little darker than shown online –– but if there are any issues you know where I am x

Buy Links

Amazon.com
Amazon.co.uk

Rainbow Snippets – 24.07.16

Rainbow Snippet time! If you’re new to Rainbow Snippets, it’s a Facebook group where authors of LGBTQ fiction post a six-sentence snippet of a WIP, a published story, or a recommendation, every weekend. You can see all the snippets here.

This week, a few lines from Returning Home, the follow up to Home Is Where You Are, which will be out –– fingers crossed –– in about three weeks. In which the boys are heading back to New York.

*****

Jacob snorted as the rocking carriage made their interlocked legs bump together. He looked across at his mate and tilted his head. “I believe your exact words were, Let me take you home to be married, Jacob. It’ll be romantic, Jacob. The pups will behave I promise, Jacob.”

Caleb huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, well. I don’t remember you having any objections at the time.”

“Well, given what you were doing to me at the time, you could have hardly expected otherwise.”

On Value and Creativity

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So, the other week when social media was blowing up because some asshat thought it would be a good idea to blatantly disrespect every author on the planet by asking which pirate sites were best to illegally download books, I had a thinky thought while I was out walking my dog.

You’re gonna have to bear with me. I’m gonna ramble. This is a little incoherent but there’s a point in here somewhere.

Click for rambling, ranting and a fair bit of swearing

I did a bad thing.

I did a bad thing. Okay, not so much bad as stupid and unthinking…which I guess is pretty bad.

But I’m blaming the fact that it was 5.30am and I’m a sucker for a pretty face.

It started last week.

Click to read more

Cover Reveal – Returning Home

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Coming soon, so keep your eyes peeled. Or subscribe to the newsletter and get to see it first.

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Rainbow Snippets – 18.06.16

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Blummin’ ‘eck, Rainbow Snippet time already! If you’re new to Rainbow Snippets, it’s a Facebook group where authors of LGBTQ fiction post a six-sentence snippet of a WIP, a published story, or a recommendation, every weekend. You can see all the snippets here.

This week, a few lines from the first draft of Returning Home, the follow up to Home Is Where You Are. The boys are getting ready for dinner.

*****

Caleb sighed and rubbed at his beard. “Is it ridiculous that I’m worrying I’ve forgotten which fork to use? I remember there being more than one but not for what purpose.”

Jacob balled up his shirt and threw it on the bed. He stepped forward and took hold of Caleb’s hand. Placing it flat on his bare, taut stomach, Jacob guided Caleb’s touch up the trail of pale hair that ran from his crotch to his broad chest, then up to his neck. As Caleb wrapped his fingers around Jacob’s throat, licking his lips and shuddering out a breath as he did so, Jacob asked, “You were saying something about forks?”

Caleb shook his head and sighed. “It doesn’t matter.” He tightened his grip and pulled Jacob up to kiss him. “I’ll just eat with my fingers.”

Rainbow Snippets – 12.06.16

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Rainbow Snippet time! If you’re new to Rainbow Snippets, it’s a Facebook group where authors of LGBTQ fiction post a six-sentence snippet of a WIP, a published story, or a recommendation, every weekend. You can see all the snippets here.

Today, a selfish plug for “Home Is Where You Are” which is now available for purchase : ) Reviews welcome.

…….

When Jacob’s hand came up to cup Caleb’s jaw and pull him closer, Caleb braced himself against a jolt of revulsion and disgust. It never came.

Jacob was the one to pull away this time. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

Caleb caught him by the wrist and held on tight, not letting him move more than a few inches away. He grappled with his thoughts, and finally found the words to say, “I–I can’t make you any promises.”

Jacob stared for a moment, then shaking his head, whispered, “I never asked for any.”

First of the buy links.

The first buy link for Home Is Where You Are is up.

25% off if you press the social media button.

Buy on Payhip

Sooooooon

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Keep your eyes peeled. Before June 10th with any luck.

Sooooon

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Rainbow Snippets – 24.04.16

Sunday, Maybe Monday

Rainbow Snippet time! If you’re new to Rainbow Snippets, it’s a Facebook group where authors of LGBTQ fiction post a six-sentence snippet of a WIP, a published story, or a recommendation, every weekend. You can see all the snippets here.

More from the WIP. Time is passing, and the boys are starting to figure each other out.

…..

“Tell me how you hurt your hand again?” Jordan gave him a sly smile, and raised his eyebrows at the mark on the wall.

“Arm wrestling Karen.” When Jordan had asked him back at the hospital why his hand was strapped, Adam had come up with some other bullshit excuse. He hoped this one would get a smile, which it did. “Hey, she’s stronger than she looks.”

Jordan huffed out a laugh, and started to awkwardly scoot back on the bed, his eyes flitting around the room at the entirety of his life piled in black garbage bags.

Rainbow Snippet – 16.04.16

Sunday, Maybe Monday

Rainbow Snippet time! If you’re new to Rainbow Snippets, it’s a Facebook group where authors of LGBTQ fiction post a six-sentence snippet of a WIP, a published story, or a recommendation, every weekend. You can see all the snippets here.

A little more from Sunday, Maybe Monday, and Adam should have maybe asked this question about twenty minutes earlier, if you know what I mean : )

…..

Something about Jordan’s body language changes in a way Adam doesn’t quite expect. He glances up to find a sheepish look on Jordan’s face, and a shiver of worry passes through him. “Please tell me you’re over twenty-one.”

Jordan swallows hard. “I’ll be twenty in a few weeks.” There’s an uptick at the end of the sentence that makes the statement sound like a question, and Jordan sound his age.

Groaning, Adam buries his face in his hands.

Turned On

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When I was in art school (yeah yeah, laugh it up) we often joked about there being some kind of shop where we could go to buy ideas because, back then, that seemed like the hardest part of the creative process. Figuring out what to draw/paint/make in the first place.

Click to read more

Rainbow Snippet – 09.04.16

Sunday, Maybe Monday

Rainbow Snippet time! If you’re new to Rainbow Snippets, it’s a Facebook group where authors of LGBTQ fiction post a six-sentence snippet of a WIP, a published story, or a recommendation, every weekend. You can see all the snippets here.

Today’s snippet is a little something from a short/novella I’m working on at the moment. One day, I’ll write a character that isn’t broken…honest.

…..

What really caught Adam’s eye though, were the deep purple and green bruises on Jordan’s forearm. Jordan quickly stowed his coat on the hook where his backpack was already hanging, hurrying to roll down his cuffs to hide the marks. He buttoned them at the wrists, as he turned.

“You want some ice for that?”

Jordan looked up, startled. But finding Adam’s face neutral, without blame or pity, he swallowed hard, and shook his head. “They…they don’t hurt or anything.”

Adam shrugged and went back to unpacking, laying trays of tomatoes on the countertop side-by-side, feeling strangely proud of the way he was able to act like Jordan’s injuries were nothing, when, inside, he was boiling with vengeful rage.

Monthly Newsletter

The monthly newsletter will feature a round up of blogs posts, content I’ve posted elsewhere, new cover reveals, up-dates on WIPs, excerpts and snippets, questions from readers, release dates, and free books and other stuff to give away…when I actually have something to giveaway…and anything else I can think of that might be interesting.

Unless something stupendously exciting happens, I won’t be sending anything out more than once a month, but there’s a handy-dandy unsubscribe button if you find the content is not for you.

I’m always open to suggestions for what to include, so feel free to comment or email me if there’s something you’d like to see included.

What kind of monster offers two kinds of bar stools?

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Last weekend, I travelled up to London to meet up with a group of m/m authors and readers, and it was really rather nice. We all sat around in a pub and chatted, and drank, and ate. Some people knew everyone, some people were brand new to the group, but the whole thing was relaxed and friendly and fun.

I wanted to write a little something about the day, but it’s taken me a while to get my thoughts in order. Writing this now, I’m still not entirely sure what I want to say about it. I met some lovely people, I got some great writing advice, but I guess one of the main things I’ve been thinking about since, is that everyone I’ve told about the day has asked me if I enjoyed myself: did I have a good time? To which, of course, the answer is, yes. But also, it’s not quite that simple.

Click to read more

Rainbow Snippet – 19.03.16

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Rainbow Snippet is brought to you today by the letters W, I and P, and the number, 9. Very early days with this one. See all of the other snippets on the Facebook page.

…..

Drew was sitting on a gurney in one of the less than private bays in the ER when he heard Adrian’s frantic voice from behind the thin blue curtain.

“You called him?” Drew did his best to glare at the lieutenant who had stood tight jawed in the corner since they brought Drew in.

Eric shook his head and glowered at the sound of Adrian yelling, as if he thought his stare could penetrate the material surrounding the bed. “No. No, I did not.”

Drew sighed, then winced at the twinge in his rib cage. “Better get this over with then.” He matched the infuriated look Eric shot him with one of his own. “You know damned well, he’s only going to keep yelling.”

Rainbow Snippet – 12.03.16

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Rainbow Snippet time! If you’re new to Rainbow Snippets, it’s a Facebook group where LGBTQ authors post a six-sentence snippet of a WIP, a published story, or a recommendation, every weekend. You can see all the snippets here.

My contribution was my WIP from last week, now a free read in the links above. Or clickety here. Whatever.

…..

“How much for the night?”

The question takes Drew by surprise. He shakes his head. “You can’t be serious?”

Adrian pulls out his wallet, takes out a bundle of cash and puts it on the coffee table. It’s so high it spills down like a landslide. “How much for the night?”

Short – No Lie

A short story – 2.5k words – Explicit

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Drew can’t believe his luck when the dark blue sedan pulls up. Until he sees who’s in it.

It’s fucking freezing. Luckily, the spot he and Chris work from is out of the wind. He feels sorry for the girls around the corner, wearing next to nothing under the moth-eaten fur coats their management so generously allowed them to keep on; as long as they hold them open for the slow parade of curb crawlers running their headlights over them. At least he gets to wear pants.

Not that they provide much protection in this weather; cold fingers of night air penetrated the thin leather hours ago. Maybe if there was a sliver of air between the leather and his skin he might have felt a little warmer, but they were so damn tight there was no chance. He thanked Heaven that he’d decided to shove a rolled up sock down his crotch before they came out; it was the only thing stopping his balls from dropping off.

Part of him wondered why they were bothering tonight. A couple of the girls had been picked up, but there hadn’t been so much as a nibble in their quarter. Not even any of Chris’s regulars had shown up. And he always did well on a Friday night. Hell, he did well every night; laying on that thick southern drawl, as he tipped back his battered cowboy hat and chewed on a toothpick. It was mesmerizing. Christ, Drew would do him if he could afford it. But instead, they both stood there shivering under the street lamp’s mocking glow, pulling their jackets close over the thin, clinging t-shirts beneath, and praying for the sun to rise, or Prince Charming to show up.

So, yeah, that blue sedan looks like it could be the prince in question. The window rolls down as Drew walks over. He tries his best not to shiver when he allows his coat to fall open to show the way his nipples have hardened in the cold. The old letterman’s jacket that he found in a goodwill store is a little ridiculous, but it works. He looks a lot younger than he is – he’s twenty-five but with the right clothes, his preppy blonde hair spiked up and the right light, he can pass for seventeen on a good day. Young sells, so he figured it couldn’t hurt. The first time some guy asked him to wear nothing but the jacket, he figured it was worth the twenty bucks. By the time the tenth guy asked him, it creeped him out.

When he leans on the open window of the car, he goes from thinking he might make his rent, to hoping he’s going to make it back in one piece.

“You working?” The guy’s beautiful but his face is like thunder, and practically growls out the words.

Drew raises his eyebrows, and nods at the gold badge glinting on the guy’s belt. “Are you?”

The badge clatters into the glove compartment with a flurry of cursing. “Just get in the fucking car.”

Drew hangs his head, then dutifully opens the door and gets in. He sees Chris take a step forward, looking worried, but Drew winks and smiles to reassure him, even if he’s already thinking it’s a bad idea.

As soon as he closes the door, the guy hits the gas, and pulls away with his tires screaming. Drew glares, and fumbles with the seatbelt. “You in a hurry, Detective?” When he gets no answer he swivels in his seat to get a better look, while he warms his hands on the hot air blowing from the vents in the dash.

The guy looks exhausted, and on edge. His eyes are deep set in dark rings, his skin pale. His tall, muscular body is slumping, but his fingers beat out a tattoo on the steering wheel, like he’s got caffeine instead of blood keeping him upright. Dark hair curls behind his ears, the strands lank and greasy from the repetitive motion to keep them there. His dark blue suit is rumpled and unpressed, much like the rest of him.

“Bad day?”

The guy doesn’t say anything, just grips the wheel tighter. Drew’s about to start his spiel, when finally the guy awkwardly stutters out, “Do you have…is there a…where’s your–”

“No.” The word seems to take the guy by surprise, and he chances an infuriated glance or two at Drew. Drew stands – or rather, sits – firm, and folds his arms across his chest. “I’m not fucking a cop in parked car under a fucking bridge tonight.” The detective looks outraged, then accepting. Drew figures it’s tiredness rather than lack of discretion for the guy to think of something so stupid. “Your place or mine, I don’t much care which. Or drop me back on the corner.”

The cop’s apartment is a mess. Drew can’t quite believe his eyes, and he squatted with Chris in a crack house for three months. There are clothes and rotting half-empty takeout containers strewn about the place. There’s a thick layer of dust over every surface, and an ungodly smell coming from the kitchen. There’s a penicillin factory happening in a mug on the floor. The filthy coffee table seems to have some police reports open on it, showing crime scene photos and mug shots. When Drew wanders over there, they’re slammed shut suddenly, with a mountain of New York’s finest standing guard over them.

Drew hears a weird noise. He lifts his foot, peels the sticky candy wrapper off the sole of his sneaker, and holds it out. “Is it the maid’s week off, Detective, or–?”

“Don’t keep…Adrian. Just call me Adrian.” Adrian reaches out and takes the wrapper, adding, “Please.”

Drew smiles, and hopes it looks alluring. If there’s one thing he knows how to do, it’s bury his feelings of disgust to get a thing done. He shrugs off his jacket and throws it on the arm of the couch, next to a stained pillow and rumpled blanket. He thinks he’s subtle when he sneaks a peek at his watch, but he’s obviously not subtle enough.

“How much for the night?”

The question takes Drew by surprise. He shakes his head. “You can’t be serious?”

Adrian pulls out his wallet, takes out a bundle of cash and puts it on the coffee table. It’s so high it spills down like a landslide. “How much for the night?”

Drew looks at the money, ignoring Adrian as he steps towards him. Drew is tall, but he has to look up when Adrian hooks his hand around Drew’s neck, and pulls him into a searing, biting kiss.

There’s nothing pleasant about it. It’s teeth and stale coffee breath, and fingernails biting into the back of his neck, but Adrian’s paying so Drew lets it happen. It’s not the worst thing he’s experienced this week. Still, when Adrian releases him and steps away, his face all shame and rejection, Drew thinks that might be.

The way Adrian hangs his head makes something like fury rise up in Drew. He knows what Adrian’s thinking. That he’s taking advantage of Drew like all the other perverts out there; the ones that slap his face red raw before they come on it, or make him beg and call them daddy. Adrian’s standing there full of self-loathing, makes Drew want to shake him. Maybe if the cop wasn’t still wearing his gun he might have. Instead, Drew grabs Adrian by the wrists. “I’ll stay. But let’s get cleaned up first.”

The bathroom isn’t much better than the rest of the apartment. Drew resists the urge to offer to disinfect it before they shower, and tries to ignore the layers of dust and scum, and filthy underwear on the floor. He doesn’t bother trying to be sexy when he removes their clothes, aiming instead for tender. He figures what the guy needs more than anything is a little TLC. And, judging by the way Adrian seems to come to pieces as Drew strips them down, he’s not wrong.

Drew’s a little afraid that he might have to hold Adrian up in the shower, but he seems solid enough when they step under the hot spray. Drew takes his time soaping Adrian down, working his fingers against his tanned, muscular body, and through the dark hair that trails down the center of it. Drew cleans every inch, slowly and methodically. Every now and again, Adrian lifts his hand to brush against Drew’s nipple, or to cup his bicep or ass, but mostly he just stands there, watching in silence, gasping only when Drew’s fingers get close to his crotch.

Drew saves that until last. He works the lather through Adrian’s thick dark pubic hair, and around the side of his balls. He smiles a little to himself when Adrian opens his legs just a fraction, so Drew can slide his soapy fingers back to Adrian’s twitching pucker. He keeps his hand there, alternately working small firm circles over Adrian’s asshole, or rolling his balls between his fingers.

The other hand soaps Adrian’s dick. It’s half-hard, and getting heavier by the second, so Drew pushes Adrian back a step so the spray cascades over his shoulder and washes the soap away. Drew pulls him forward and goes to his knees in one motion. As soon as Drew’s tongue makes contact, Adrian keens above him. He tries to ignore the sounds Adrian’s making, and concentrate on getting his lips around Adrian’s cock before he comes himself.

He finds he’s not so much sucking, as tasting. Adrian tastes wonderful. Drew has a whole slew of skills in the cock-sucking department – he’s had to listen to how his mouth was made for it since junior high – but it’s like he’s forgotten them all. It’s pure pleasure to taste Adrian, to feel the velvet soft skin in his mouth, the sweet tang of pre-come as his runs his tongue along Adrian’s slit. He can’t help but hum with the pleasure of it.

Then he’s being yanked to his feet. “Not here.” Adrian sounds like he’s the one that’s had a cock down his throat. “Come to bed.”

Apart from a few clothes slung over a chair, the bedroom is pristine. It’s almost more of a shock than the rest of the place. Drew half expects Adrian to pick him up and throw him onto the bed, but Adrian pulls the covers back and waits for Drew to slide in before joining him.

The bed is cold, almost clammy. Adrian scoots right up to Drew, pressing the line of his firm body against him and starts rubbing Drew’s arms to warm him up. Adrian’s face is so earnest, Drew can’t bear it. He leans forward and presses his lips to Adrian’s. Adrian freezes, before relenting and kissing him back.

It’s not like before. It’s soft, and chaste in its own way, even though they’re naked, and rubbing against each other. Adrian’s lips are gentle and attentive; he’s lightly mouthing, sucking and licking Drew just the way he likes it. Drew could spend all night doing that – could probably come from just that – but he senses Adrian’s tiredness and pulls away. He smiles slightly, feeling strangely awkward. “I’ve got lube in my pants. I should–”

He starts to move but Adrian stops him and flicks open a drawer in the bedside cabinet, producing a tube with a half-hearted flourish.

Drew takes it and sits up. Adrian starts to protest but Drew pushes him back down on the pillow. He folds the covers back, and takes a position between Adrian’s legs, facing away from him. He doesn’t do this; put on a show. At least, he hasn’t for a while, so it feels a little embarrassing to start with. But by the time he has three fingers in him, he’s forgotten all about that. It helps that he can hear Adrian’s heavy breathing, and feel his hands kneading his ass cheeks, holding Drew open with his thumbs to get a better view.

“Christ, Drew.”

Drew turns, his legs shaking with anticipation, and straddles Adrian. Adrian’s hands are shaking too as he holds his straining cock up against Drew’s open hole. Drew has a moment of panic.

“Ade…if you want to use something…”

“Do you do this with anyone else?”

There’s such agony in Adrian’s face when he asks that question, Drew can hardly stand it. He looks Adrian dead in the eye. “Never. I promise. Never.”

With that Adrian lifts his hips. There’s a delicious pressure on Drew’s hole before Adrian’s cock head breaches him. It’s been a long time. Drew had forgotten the sting, and how damn big Adrian is. But his lover waits, stroking his back and his thighs until Drew is ready to move again. It takes a while for Drew to fully seat himself, then even longer for them to build their momentum. They start in small tentative movements; Adrian sliding easily in and out of Drew, both of them relishing the drag and the sloppy sound they make, moaning in unison with it. When Drew starts to bounce, his hard, dripping cock bobbing in front of him, Adrian wraps both arms around Drew’s waist, and pounds him; tilting his hips to hit Drew’s sweet spot, and make him yelp. And when Drew comes untouched, Adrian milks every last drop out of him before coming himself with a shout, thrusting hard and filling Drew with everything he has.

˜•˜

“So…bad day?” Drew is the little spoon, so when Adrian doesn’t answer, it takes some effort to turn under Adrian’s heavy arm to look at him.

Adrian sighs, knowing he can’t get away from it now that Drew’s eyes are on him. “Five year-old, beaten into a brain hemorrhage for not taking out the trash.”

Drew purses his lips. It was a stupid question. There’s rarely a good day in homicide. “You wanna talk about it?” Adrian shakes his head, and pulls Drew closer, burying his face in Drew’s neck.

Drew strokes Adrian’s hair, and kisses his ear before asking, “You wanna tell me why you’re sleeping on the couch?”

Adrian keeps his head down and shakes it again. Drew sighs and waits, and eventually Adrian forces himself to look Drew in the face. “Because I can’t stand it. I can’t stand sleeping in here without you.”

“Ade, we talked about this–”

“I know, I know–”

“It’s called ‘deep cover’ for a reason–”

“I get it, I do, I just–”

“And if you blow my cover, it’s three years work down the drain–”

“They don’t suspect you, do they?”

“No…no, of course not.”

It’s not a lie. Not really. Drew just doesn’t want to explain to Adrian how his pimp thought he might be an informant when he’d found out Drew gets picked up by a cop once in a while. That the first time him and his goons half-beat Drew to death after catching him coming out of Adrian’s car, the only reason they stopped was his pimp realized that Drew’s ass was full of Adrian’s come. After that, he was quite happy to take whatever money Adrian paid Drew, as long as he got to see the proof. But the indignity of bending over so the bastard could check every time was offset by Drew imagining throwing him, and the rest of his people-smuggling friends, in a deep dark hole forever.

“How much longer?” Adrian always asked.

“Six months. Maybe a year.” Drew had been saying that for almost two years now.

Adrian pulls him in, kissing his husband hard. Then snuggling close, and closing his eyes, he finally looks rested for the first time all night. “And then no more. This is the last assignment, right? Then you quit vice for good?”

“Yes…this is the last time.” That’s not a lie either. Not really.

The End

© Alex Jane 2016 All Rights Reserved

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