WIP - Living a New Song - 36792 Word count

“I said no Johnny! Besides, no young hottie like that is going to look twice at an old relic like me.” Brett emphasized even as he turned away from the too young twink he was referring to and aimed a glare at his friend.

“Oh, come on Brett! You’re only forty and you’re fit as a gazelle.” Johnny said, giving Brett’s impressive physique a once over.

Gazelle? Brett wasn’t sure where John got that analogy.

“Stop it! We’ve been down that road. I just want to have a quiet drink and go home. Besides, what would people think?” Brett was pretty sure he knew what people would think. Cradle robber came to mind.

Johnny sputtered and then glared back at his friend. “Who the fuck cares what other people think? You deserve someone Brett, even if you don’t think so. And I know you like young guys. Like him!” Johnny pointed at the blonde gyrating on the dance floor.

Well, Brett couldn’t deny the boy, no young man was hot, just the kind of man Brett did like. But he’d be kidding himself if he thought he had a chance with someone like that. He was old. He’d been called gramps, old man, and grandpa by more than one man whenever he made the effort. He was even mortified when he’d been called Daddy once. He was sure as hell not some guy he wanted to fuck’s Daddy. And even after getting over the shock of that name, he was not into being a sugar daddy. He wasn’t rich so some young stud could use him and live off his hard earned money. And to top it off, that kind of rejection could weigh a man down quickly. Besides, he was just too tired for the whole hook-up, one night stand thing. He’d been there, done that for way too many years. Brett wanted someone he could connect with, someone to spend the rest of his life with. And, if he were honest with himself, he didn’t think such a person existed. In all his forty years, he’d never been in love. Never. He wasn’t even sure how it would feel. And, ultimately, he didn’t want someone who was going to fawn all over him if…no when they found out who he was.

“Brett, it wouldn’t hurt you to at least dance with the guy.” Johnny interrupted Brett’s morose thoughts. “And don’t give me that shit about not being able to dance. You forget, I’ve seen you on stage.” He added in a lower voice.

Brett turned back to stare at the young man on the dance floor. “I don’t know Johnny. Looks like he’s plenty occupied at the moment.” Brett’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

Johnny turned and then snorted. “Yea, well, he is hot. So he’s got, what, four guys dancing with him? You can be number five.” Brett could tell Johnny was only half joking.

He turned back incongruously towards his friend. “Are you serious?”  

Johnny laughed. “No, you dumbass.” Johnny punched Brett in the arm lightly and then grew contemplative. “Brett, really man. You need to lighten up. Get yourself out there some so you can meet guys. You are never going to find someone if you don’t.” Johnny said earnestly.

Brett’s gaze shifted to past Johnny’s shoulder. “Easy for you to say.” He murmured under his breath as Johnny’s wife walked up to join them, her arm going around Johnny’s slim waist, a look of sympathy on her face. Brett dropped his eyes. He hated pity.

Brett sighed. Johnny and Karla had been together nearly twenty years. Johnny was near Brett’s age, for Christ’s sake! But, as Johnny and Karla had met when they were both in their twenties, it just wasn’t the same scenario. Even Johnny being in a rock band as the lead guitarist hadn’t broken them up. Brett’s longest relationship lasted exactly three weeks. Thank fuck they hadn’t moved in together or Sonny would have stolen him blind, he was sure. Brett’s other friends were the same. He was the only one single anymore. Even Johnny’s brother Jeremy found someone to handle his hyperactive, ditsy self and Brett didn’t think that would ever happen. It didn’t help, that the majority of his years he had to hide what he was, who he was. Something that had nearly destroyed him.

Johnny cleared his throat. “You know, if some of these guys knew who you were, you wouldn’t lack company.” Johnny said hesitantly.

Brett’s head snapped up. “NO! I will not use who I was to snag a man! We agreed years ago. Don’t even think about it!” Brett nearly yelled, then looked around, his face growing hot with embarrassment.

“Ok, ok Brett.” Johnny conceded.

Brett sighed again and lowered his voice. “Besides, I’m not that man anymore, and no one who might find out would want me for just…me. I was falling apart back then John, you know that. You were there. I just couldn’t hide who I was anymore.”

Johnny nodded. “I know Brett. But you’re still hiding. You dropped off the scene, never to be heard from again. I told you how many reporters come sniffing around, even now, wanting to see if they can find out what happened to Drake from me.”  

Bret stared at his friend. “You don’t say anything, right?”  

Johnny shook his head. “No man, I don’t say a word, just like we agreed. I can’t speak for Shane and Mouse is gone now, but I think you would know if they’d leaked anything.” Johnny said, and then took a sip of his beer.

Brett nodded silently and finished the last of his drink. “Think I’ll head home.” He said quietly, not even sure if Johnny heard him. He stood and grasped Johnny’s arm giving a squeeze. He leaned over and gave Karla a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll see you guys next month.” He said in Johnny’s ear just as a Black Dominion song came on. Brett groaned. Would he never get away from his own voice? Ignoring the music, Brett made his way through the hot, male bodies and finally pushed out the door, thankful that Johnny and Karla were willing to meet him at gay bars.

The fresh, cold air hit him in the face and he took a deep breath. As habit, he glanced around to see if he was being followed. The paparazzi didn’t know who Brett Manchester was, but if they even had an inkling that Drake Knight was standing here, they would be all over him like white on rice.

Drake had been Black Dominion’s lead singer for fifteen long…very long years. Brett had never regretted the music, only that he wasn’t allowed to be himself. No one wanted a faggot for a rock star. Especially one of Drake’s caliber. To numb all that he couldn’t do, all that he couldn’t be, Drake had succumbed to drugs and alcohol. Only Johnny’s hard and persistent care and tough love kept Drake from being another rock star overdose statistic. A fate that had taken Mouse from them nearly seven years ago, about four years after Drake disappeared off the face of the earth. Mouse, aka Dennis Baylor, was Brett’s drummer. He’d gotten the nickname because he was small for a drummer and very quiet. All Mouse cared about was the music and getting laid. Brett always thought Mouse had more courage than him, was stronger, because Mouse didn’t care the gender of his lovers. The drummer would fuck anything. But learning Mouse had taken his own life with a needle had Brett rethinking things.

Brett made his way to his car, noting a few undesirables hanging around the Jag. When they saw him coming they scattered. Not that Brett would have even been a match for even one of them. He was not a big man at 5’ 9” and of slim build. Brett snorted. He never could figure out what Johnny’s thing was about Brett being so fit. Johnny was as straight as they came and been married to Karla for over twenty years. He was also the only one that knew about Drake’s preferences for all those years, and the one band member he reconnected with each month now. Mouse never knew and if Shane knew, he’d never said a word. Brett didn’t have contact with his bass player anymore. Shane was living in Canada, having met and married his soul mate. Brett had heard through Johnny that Shane was up to his fifth kid now. Brett shook his head as he started his car. Shane had been almost as promiscuous as Mouse back in the day, though the bass player had preferred only women. It was really hard to resist when you have beautiful groupies of both genders throwing themselves at you. It was the only reason Brett had ever slept with any women and had found out the hard way, he didn’t like them. But unlike Mouse, he’d never had the courage to take a man to his bed. He could bet there were other progeny running around out there with Shane’s black hair and blue eyes. Maybe even a few with Mouse’s dark brown hair and green eyes.

Black Dominion was Brett’s first and only band. At eighteen, fresh out of high school, Brett had big dreams. Dreams that came true, despite how things ended. Black Dominion was multiplatinum, had played at the biggest venues in the world. They’d even scored a gig for a Super Bowl half-time show. That show was the last they played together. Drake Knight disappeared, never to be seen again. Brett Manchester checked himself into a rehab facility in Paris and never looked back.

WIP - Justifiable Love - 1779 Word count

Jamison Clark stepped beyond the iron gates, and then sighed when they clanged shut behind him. Holding the small plastic bag that held what little he owned in it, he looked around. He took a huge breath of freedom. Jamison was still reeling from the fact that Conrad had gotten his Manslaughter sentence reduced to Justifiable Homicide. Fifteen years too late, but Jamison would have happily rotted in prison as long as Blythe was safe. Jamison would have died to keep Blythe Erickson safe. He was brought out of his musings by the honk of a car horn. He twisted around  and grinned to see his little sister waving enthusiastically at him out the window of her car. He strode over and climbed into the passenger seat. He chuckled when Shelby nearly crawled onto his lap to hug him tightly. “Oh Jamie! God, I am soooo happy for you!!” Shelby gushed, then settled herself back into her seat, pulling her seatbelt on. Jamison pinched her cheek playfully. “Let’s go sis. I want away from this place.” He said. Shelby beamed and drove off.

Jamison planned on staying with Shelby and her husband until he could find a job and get his own place. Jamison wasn’t sure how Parker felt about that, but it was better than going home. Jamison’s parents would not talk to him. He’d been crushed at their rejection. But all the angst that had come out in the trial was too much for them to handle. Jamison would have felt sorry for them if it wasn’t for the fact that him being gay seemed to be their motivating factor in shutting him out of their life. Only Shelby ever believed in him, supported him, harassed Conrad and came to visit him regularly. Without Shelby, Jamison wasn’t sure he would have survived the last fifteen years. And the tenacity of Conrad Edwards. Jamison owed that man his life. A life he was hoping he would be able to get acclimated to, though it would be hard. He’d entered prison at eighteen and freed at thirty three. It was going to be a long, tough road. And a lonely one. Not once, during the whole trial had Blythe looked at him. His love had sat between his parents, frozen, his head down, face unreadable. Jamison had never told Blythe how he felt about him, but the act that had sent him to prison in the first place should have made it abundantly clear. It sure was to everyone else.

“Jamie? Want to grab a bite to eat before heading home?” Shelby cut into Jamison’s thoughts. “Not really, Shelby. I’m tired. Having my freedom without any strings is a heck of an emotional overload, if you know what I mean. Can we just grab something at your house?” Jamison asked. He watched Shelby give him a compassionate look. “Sure, Jamie. No problem.” She said then concentrated on her driving. Jamison stared at his baby sister while she drove. She was barely twenty, had married her high school sweetheart Parker Garring, worked at the police station and was one of the strongest people Jamison knew. He’d adored her as a child, and loved her more as an adult. Outspoken, stubborn and with a volatile temper, she was a mini female version of himself, in personality anyway. They didn’t look much alike physically. Shelby had taken after their mom with her dark fiery red hair, alabaster skin and pale blue eyes. Jamison looked exactly like their father. Tall, at 6’2”, with naturally golden skin, dark brown hair and dark blue-green eyes. They had joked in their younger days that Jamison had ended up with the light smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks, when Shelby was the one with the red hair and no freckles. Jamison smiled at the memory. He felt a small hand on his knee. “You ok?” Shelby asked as she turned into her drive and shut the engine off. “Yea, sis. Just thinking. Did a lot of that. Wasn’t much else to do.” Jamison said. He stared at Shelby when she laughed. “Sorry. Except for work out. Jesus, Jamie! You’re ripped! All muscle.” Shelby said as she gestured for him to get out of the car. Jamison shook his head. He needed to quit waiting for orders, guidance or instruction. He wasn’t in prison anymore. He could do what he wanted, when he wanted. He didn’t even have parole or probation. Conrad had explained that Justifiable Homicide was not considered a crime and there was no laws for punishment. It had taken days for that to sink in at the appeal hearing. Jamison was too skeptical to believe it. Till he walked out of those prison gates…a free man in every sense of the word.

Jamison followed Shelby into the house, thinking on what she’d said. Yea, he’d been withdrawn in prison, keeping to himself and having way too much time to think. And he’d worked out. He’d started prison life as a scrawny eighteen year old. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out that if he wanted to protect himself, he was going to have to get bigger. So he started lifting weights. It had taken a long time for him to reach the size he was now. And for a while, it had not stopped some of the inmates using him for sex. He was just glad he was gay, or the emotional ramifications probably would have killed him. He glanced at Shelby as she led him to the spare bedroom. Shelby didn’t know Jamison liked men. He’d never had the courage to tell her. Her good opinion meant too much to him to risk losing it. She’d once boldly asked if he was being…raped. He lied and told her no. What was the sense in making her feel bad that he’d endured such torment? And, as he saw it, he’d not really been raped. He liked men, so what happened to him was more along the lines of rough hook ups. Not that he’d had any such things before being incarcerated. The only thing he didn’t like about the bouts of sex was the ridiculous feeling of cheating on Blythe. He knew his feelings for Blythe would never be returned. Shelby had been too young, only five, during the trial and didn’t know why he’d done what he’d done. They had talked about it, the details, but never the motivation.

“Ok, Jamie. Here we are. Your room until you are back on your feet. I’m off to the grocery store to get something for dinner. Have anything special you want?” Shelby said, looking up at her brother. Jamison gave Shelby a grin. “Steak!” He exclaimed with enthusiasm. Shelby laughed. “Yea, I suppose you didn’t get much of that in there.” She said. “Try never.” Jamison answered. “Then steak it is.” Shelby said. She stood still for a moment, and then gave Jamison a hard hug. “I am so glad you are here.” She said softly. Jamison hugged her back, being careful not to squeeze too hard. Just last week, Shelby had said she was expecting and Jamison sometimes didn’t know his own strength. He waited until Shelby left and then went to take a shower….alone. God, it was so nice to be by himself and not have men eyeing him or forcing him into a corner to service them, or fucking him. Of course, that hadn’t happened in the last five years or so when Jamison had exceeded even the biggest men in general population. Jamison had ended up being one of the largest men on his cell block. Then he started getting propositions from the smaller, younger men to service him or have him fuck them. He never took advantage of that. His heart belonged to another and he wasn’t willing to betray that, despite it being a lost cause.

When Jamison came out of the bedroom, freshly showered and hungry, he saw Parker was home. “Hey.” He said awkwardly. Parker stared at him for a minute, and then smiled. “Nice to see they saw the light and let you go.” Parker said. Jamison could feel the tension leaving his shoulders. He hadn’t been sure what Parker would do, or say. Shelby had said she never told Parker why her brother was in prison and Jamison really didn’t want to explain to the younger man. “Yea, it’s good to be out.” He replied, stifling a moan at the double innuendo. Jamison followed Parker into the kitchen, but kept silent. He didn’t know what to say to the younger man anyway. He still felt awkward to be in his sister’s and her husband’s home.

“Care for a beer?” Jamison asked, pulling out one for himself and turning to see if Jamison wanted one. Jamison started to say no, but then realized, he could have a beer and nodded. Parker pulled another out and handed it to him. Jamison had never had any alcohol. He was incarcerated at eighteen. He twisted the top off and took a swig and promptly began coughing, his eyes watering. Parker looked at him, obviously torn between sympathy and amusement. “I guess you’ve never had a beer.” Parker said rhetorically. Jamison was still trying to get his breath back and just shook his head. “You might want to take it easy then.” Parker added and walked out of the kitchen.

When Shelby came home, it was to find her husband and her brother sprawled out on the couch in front of the TV watching a game. “Parker, can you go get the grocery bags from the car?” Shelby set her purse down on the counter and removed her jacket. She hurried out to the living room and dropped down next to her big brother. “So, I see you and Parker are getting on.” She grinned at Jamison. Jamison smiled back. “Yea, but I still want to move out as soon as possible, sis. As grateful as I am for you allowing me here, I need to find my own way.” Jamison said, rubbing his sister’s head in affection.

Shelby swatted at his hand. “I know Jamie. I’ve got a call into my friend Carson. He hasn’t called me back, but I’m pretty sure the bouncer job is still open at Mysteries.” Jamison nodded. Shelby had told him she thought her friend Carson could get him a job once he was released. Jamison wondered if Shelby knew that Mysteries was a gay club. He wasn’t about to bring it up though. He didn’t need his sister questioning his sexuality, not that she would.

WIP - French for Love (Book 3 of Valley Love) - 7335 Word count

My inspiration for Jarred

Jarred rushed down the hall. He hated being late for class, but his mother had been in a bad state this morning and he couldn’t just leave her. He knew, soon, he was going to have to find a job so he could hire a full time caretaker for his mother. The money he’d received from Kagen wasn’t enough to pay for such a luxury. Not that it was a luxury. His mother needed someone there that could fix her meals, make sure she ate them; made sure she took her medication and helped her with her personal hygiene. It was tough for Jarred to help his mother with such things as the latter. It embarrassed both of them, despite his love for her. And Rachel Duncan knowing her twenty two year old son was gay only added to the awkwardness.

Jarred slipped quietly through the door and took a seat at the top of the tiers, not wanting to disturb the lecture going on. Usually, he sat at the front, to better concentrate. He smiled at the man he sat next to and then pulled his text book out, only to do a double take and look back at the man sitting next to him. Damn! He’d never seen such a pretty man before. Thick sandy blond hair with light blond streaks, and the deepest blue green eyes he’d ever seen. He couldn’t believe he’d never noticed him before. Jarred’s palms became sweaty and he unconsciously rubbed them on his jean covered thighs. Jarred was painfully shy by nature, so just stared, then blushed when he realized he was. He ducked his head and opened his book, trying to get the racing of his heart to slow down.

“Excusez moi?” The man next to Jarred said. Jarred turned and stared again. Oh, Jesus! How sexy was that? The man was French. Jarred couldn’t stop the coil of desire that warmed his stomach…or the twitch of his cock at the smooth, rich voice. “Iz my first day. Can you help wiz what page to see?” The man asked in a sultry voice.

Jarred nodded, and then snapped his mouth shut when he realized he was gaping. Christ! He needed to get a handle on his suddenly out of control libido. “Uh, page 39.” Jarred said, pointing inanely at his own text book. The man leaned over; brushing his shoulder against Jarred’s to see what he was pointing at. Jarred couldn’t help but inhale the man’s scent and wished he hadn’t when the warmth in his stomach turned to an inferno.

“Oui, merci.” The man said, then turned to a young woman next to him and fired off a sentence in French. Jarred took a few deep breaths to calm down. He’d never had such a reaction to anyone. He tried to ignore the hushed tones of the man and woman speaking in French next to him.

An hour later, and Jarred couldn’t have said what the lecture had been about, he hurried over to the exit. He looked back and noticed the man and the woman looking at him. The man smiled, and oh, what a glorious smile it was. Jarred’s stomach did a flip flop and he turned away quickly, blushing again. He spent the next four classes in a daze. How stupid, he hadn’t even asked the man his name, not that he would have had the nerve anyway. When he entered the lecture hall for his sixth and last class for the day, he chose a seat in the back again. Method Finance was his least favorite class. Mainly because the professor was a total, homophobic ass. It wasn’t common knowledge that Jarred was gay, but he didn’t hide his preference either. And Professor March didn’t hide his disdain for anyone that swung that way. Jarred wondered how he kept his job with such prejudices. Jarred didn’t pay attention as someone sat down next to him. Method Finance was a required degree class, so the lecture hall was crowded.

“Excusez moi?” Jarred heard and spun around to look at the pretty man from his first class. “Zo, we meet again.” The man said and gave Jarred another smile. Jarred’s stomach went into free fall and his tongue froze to the roof of his mouth. “You help me again, s’il vous plait?” The man asked. Jarred swallowed audibly, gave the man a shy smile and nodded. “Merci. The man responded and his smile turned into a blinding grin.

“My name is D’Arcy. Quel est votre nom? What iz you?” The man asked. Jarred blushed.

“Jarred.” He replied.

“Jhar-ed.” D’Arcy said, rolling Jarred’s name in that smooth, rich voice. Jarred’s blush deepened. D’Arcy gazed at Jarred. “Merci, mon timide l’un.” D’Arcy said in a soft voice. Jarred had no idea what D’Arcy said, but didn’t care. It was just thrilling to hear him speak. By the end of class, Jarred was going crazy. The man was just so sexy. And nice. Not that they’d spoken that much. Jarred had already gotten several glowers from Professor March. He didn’t want to get into trouble, but it was D’Arcy who was talking, not Jarred and again, Jarred wondered how the professor could keep his job. When Jarred stood to leave, he felt D’Arcy grab his arm and couldn’t contain the shiver that went through him at the contact. “Je souhaite avoir du café avec vous.” D’Arcy said and Jarred just shook his head. He didn’t know French.

D’Arcy stood up next to Jarred and Jarred sucked in a breath. He hadn’t realized how tall D’Arcy was. He had to be at least 6’1” or more. Jarred’s heart stuttered. “Jhar-ed, I wish to have coffee with you.” D’Arcy repeated in English.

Jarred blushed again. “Really?” Jarred breathed in shock. D’Arcy was stunning. Jarred thought that he would have every girl on campus at his beck and call and wondered why he wanted to have coffee with him. He watched D’Arcy’s face soften.

“Oh, mon timide l’un, oui.” D’Arcy said.

“Um, ok.”  

“Ca va. Où un café est? Where iz a café?” D’Arcy asked.

Jarred’s nerves were jumping. “Follow me.” He said and turned to lead D’Arcy to the campus café. They ordered their coffees and then sat at a small table. Jarred noticed the looks they were getting, but didn’t know how to interpret them. He was pretty sure D’Arcy was straight, though Jarred’s gaydar had never been very good. He’d not known Kagen, his best friend and former boss, was gay until he told him.

The silence was awkward, and Jarred kept sneaking glances at D’Arcy. “Um, so…you are from France?” Jarred asked, trying to fill in the void. Smooth Duncan. Now he’s going to think you are an idiot.

D’Arcy smiled at him. “Oui, I am student. In ze US on visa.” D’Arcy answered him.

Jarred didn’t get to say anything else as the woman he’d seen in his first class walked up to them. “Bonjour, cher. Que faites-vous ici?” The woman asked D’Arcy what he was doing there and leaned down to kiss D’Arcy on the cheek. “Avoir le café avec mon nouvel ami. Il est très timide. Mais je l'aime si. Beaucoup.” D’Arcy answered her, giving her a peck on the cheek in return, letting her know he was there with Jarred because he liked him. A lot.

Jarred turned his head, a stab of jealousy making his stomach clench. Where the hell had that come from? Jarred figured the woman was D’Arcy’s girlfriend.

“Jhar-ed, this is Adalicia. My soeur.” D’Arcy said, and then looked at Adalicia for the English word.

Jarred had no idea what a soeur was, but figured it meant girlfriend or something.

Adalicia put out her hand for Jarred to shake. “Jhar-ed, nice to meet you. I am D’Arcy’s sister.” Adalicia said.

Jarred shook her hand in surprise. “Oh, not his girlfriend?” Jarred blurted out, and then blushed again. His blush deepened when they both laughed.

“Oh, il est enfant mignon. Vous l'avez mauvais, n'est-ce pas?” Adalicia said to D’Arcy, smiling at her brother because he was so smitten before turning to Jarred. “No, D’Arcy would not have an amie…a girlfriend. He likes garcons.” Adalicia said.

Jarred was lost. What the hell were garcons?

“Adalicia!” D’Arcy exclaimed and blushed.

Jarred stared. It was the first time he’d seen D’Arcy blush and damn, but it was hot. “Garcons?” Jarred asked.

D’Arcy’s gaze grew intense, almost predatory and Jarred’s breath hitched in his throat. “I like men, Jhar-ed.” D’Arcy said. “Je vous aime, mon timide l'un.” He added, though Jarred had no idea what he’d said.

Adalicia laughed. “Je vous partirai seul poursuivre votre home.” Adalicia said to D’Arcy, gave him another peck on the cheek and left, after telling him she’d see him at home.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know French, so I don’t know what you were saying.” Jarred said softly, embarrassed.

D’Arcy smiled at him. “No need for sorries. I said, I like you.” D’Arcy told him.

Jarred didn’t know what to say, though he suspected there was a lot more to what was exchanged between D’Arcy and Adalicia then that. “Oh… Really?” Was what came out and he blushed again. He nearly creamed his pants when D’Arcy reached across the table and took his hand. He’d been half hard around the guy anyway, and now his cock stood at attention, pressing against the fly of his jeans almost painfully.

“Oui, you are very…beau. Beautiful.”  

Jarred dropped his head shyly. No one had ever called him beautiful before. He’d always thought of himself as average, nothing special. His last boyfriend had been nearly four years ago. He’d been so caught up in his studies, working for Kagen and taking care of his mother, that he’d not had time to have any kind of relationship. “Um, thank you?” Jarred hesitantly said.

“De rien, mon timide l'un.” D’Arcy said. Jarred went silent, not knowing anything else to say.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and nearly jumped in surprise. They’d been at the café for nearly an hour and he needed to get home to his mother. “Um, I’m sorry. I need to go home. My mother is waiting for me.” Jarred said reluctantly.

“You no stay on campus?” D’Arcy asked.

Jarred shook his head. “No, my mother can’t be left alone all the time.” He replied.

“Ah, donc doux pour s'occuper de votre mere.” D’Arcy said and Jarred gave him a confused look. D’Arcy smiled. “So kind of you to take care of your mother.” He translated. Jarred gave him a shy smile.

“Thank you. Um, would you like to come with me?” Jarred asked. He was astonished at his boldness, but was enjoying being in D’Arcy’s company so much, he didn’t want to part.

“Sûr, j'aimerais à. I would like that.” D’Arcy said with a smile.

Jarred led D’Arcy out to his beat up BMW. He couldn’t help the butterflies in his stomach since D’Arcy didn’t let go of his hand. He glanced around to see people’s reaction. It was fairly mixed. A few envious looks from girls. A few frowns of disapproval and some smiles from both men and women. And one very deep scowl from Professor March. Jarred looked quickly away from him.

D’Arcy noticed Jarred tense up and glanced over to the professor. “Do not let ze professor upset you, mon timide l’un.” D’Arcy said, frowning at the teacher. “L'idiot stupide et ignorant.” D’Arcy said under his breath and Jarred understood those words perfectly. It made him smile. D’Arcy let go of his hand when they made it to his car. Jarred spent the ride answering D’Arcy’s questions about the sights they passed, pleased that he could talk to D’Arcy without sounding like a complete moron.

They pulled into the drive of Jarred’s modest home and he led D’Arcy up to the door. D’Arcy had taken his hand again, but dropped it once they entered. Jarred thought he might know why and looked up into D’Arcy’s ocean colored eyes. “She knows I’m gay.” He said and smiled when D’Arcy took his hand again. “Mom! I’m home.” He called out. They found his mother in the kitchen in a huge mess. “Oh, mom.” Jarred said, dismayed.

“I’m sorry Jarred. I was just trying to make myself something to eat.” Rachel Duncan said, her tremors a bit more pronounced than usual.

“Mom, go sit. I’ll clean up and fix you something. Did you remember your medication?” Jarred said and let go of D’Arcy to help his mother to the kitchen table. He saw his mother looking curiously at D’Arcy. “Mom, your medication. Did you remember it?” Jarred tried to get her attention.

“Oh, yes, I think so.” Rachel answered absently, brushing at the floured mess on her shirt.

“Me permettre d'aider.” D’Arcy said and started gathering up dishes.

“What?” Jarred said, distracted as he helped his mother.

“He asked to help.” Rachel said, smiling at D’Arcy.

Jarred looked at his mother in surprise. “You know French?” He asked, astonished.

“Yes, four years in high school, three in college, before I had you.” Rachel answered.

“Iz no problem, I help. I work at home for the personnes âgées in la France.” D’Arcy said as he started water to rinse the dishes.

“Personnes agees?” Jarred mangled the pronunciation as he pulled his mother’s pill bottles from the cupboard. 

“A nursing home for the elderly.” Rachel said.

Jarred just shook his head. “Mom, this is my friend D’Arcy.” Jarred belatedly introduced them. “D’Arcy, Rachel Duncan, my mom.” Jarred set the bottle on the table and opened it for his mother.

D’Arcy wiped his hands and took Rachel’s in one and kissed her knuckles. “Très agréable pour vous rencontrer, mme Duncan.” D’Arcy said.

Rachel blushed. “Nice to meet you too, D’Arcy. Thank you for helping.” Rachel said.

“Mon plaisir pour la mère de mon timide l'un.” D’Arcy said and returned to the dishes.

Rachel’s blue eyes rounded and she looked over at Jarred, then back at D’Arcy. Jarred didn’t notice her look as he opened the dishwasher to put the rinsed dishes in it. D’Arcy saw it, smiled and gave her a small nod. Rachel smiled back. She knew her son had been lonely and she felt guilty that he had to take care of her. He’d been taking care of her for nearly ten years, ever since she was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. She’d once thought that Jarred and Kagen might get together, but Jarred had always said Kagen was just a friend, then they had attended Kagen’s and Croy’s commitment ceremony. Jarred hadn’t acted upset about it, but Rachel could see the sadness. She only hoped D’Arcy was as gentle and kind a soul as Kagen was. She didn’t want her son to get hurt. He’d had enough pain in his life.

“Mom, take your medication. D’Arcy, would you like to stay for dinner?” Jarred told his mother and then asked D’Arcy shyly.

“Merveilleux, oui.” D’Arcy said, and Jarred blushed. “Si doux, mon peu timide l'un” D’Arcy said in a whisper as he looked at Jarred, and then cleared his throat when Rachel stared at him. “I wish to help, s'il vous plait.” D’Arcy said in a louder voice.

Jarred nodded and began to pull ingredients from the fridge. An hour later, with dinner finished, the dishes done, Jarred helped his mother get ready for bed. When he had her settled, he turned to leave and she grabbed his arm. “Jarred. He’s a very nice man. Do you like him?” Rachel asked her son.

Jarred blushed. “Yes.” He said awkwardly.

“I’m glad. I know you have been lonely, even if you spend time with Kagen and Croy.” Rachel said, giving Jarred’s arm a squeeze. “Don’t let him go. I think he could make you happy.” Rachel said.

Jarred nodded, feeling uncomfortable talking about this. Despite the fact that his mother had no problems with his sexuality, he didn’t like discussing it with her.

Rachel laughed, knowing she was embarrassing Jarred. “Go on. Spend some time with your man.” She said lightly.

Jarred blushed again. “He’s not my man, mama.”

“But you want him to be. I can tell.” Rachel retorted with a chuckle.

“Yes.” Jarred said softly, and then left his mother’s room.

When he came back out to the living room, he found D’Arcy looking at the photos lined up on the bookshelf. “You were very cute as a child.” D’Arcy said as he gazed at the pictures.

Jarred stayed silent. What was he supposed to say to that? He sucked in a breath when D’Arcy turned and looked at him. There was no mistaking the heat in the man’s aqua eyes. “Um, are you ready for me to take you back to the campus?” Jarred asked nervously.

“No, I wish to stay here with you.” D’Arcy replied as he made his way over to stand in front of Jarred. Jarred stared down shyly. D’Arcy gently cupped Jarred’s chin and raised Jarred’s head. He leaned down and pressed his lips against the smaller man’s. Jarred was about to combust at the contact. D’Arcy’s lips were soft and warm and when D’Arcy lightly traced his tongue against Jarred’s lower lip, he opened for him. D’Arcy didn’t swoop in like so many men did. He explored gently, his tongue dancing slowly, sensually. Jarred was so aroused, it was painful.

Jarred felt D’Arcy wrap his arm around him and pull him tight against his hard body, his other hand caressed Jarred’s cheek and neck as the kiss deepened. Jarred couldn’t get over how gentle D’Arcy was. No grabbing or groping, and yet the kiss and D’Arcy’s hands on him still spoke of unbridled passion. It was true foreplay, something Jarred had never experienced before. Jarred finally broke the kiss, in dire need of oxygen.

“Show me your bedroom. Je souhaite faire l'amour à vous, mon timide petit l'un.” D’Arcy whispered. 

“What?” Jarred asked in confusion.

“Your bedroom. I wish to love on you.” D’Arcy repeated and Jarred’s heart nearly stopped beating. D’Arcy wanted to love him? Make love to him? To fuck? Jarred suddenly felt panicked, felt as if he was going to pass out, his knees going weak. No man had been so bold, so forthcoming with him and Jarred’s self consciousness overwhelmed him.

“Jhar-ed?” D’Arcy said, feeling Jarred trembling violently. “What scares you, mon timide l’un?”

Jarred just shook his head. What was he supposed to say? He wasn’t scared of sex, just that he would not be what D’Arcy expected. Wouldn’t be any good at it. Afraid D’Arcy would be disappointed in Jarred’s slight frame and average cock. Jarred knew he was no looker. Richard had made that very clear when he’d dumped Jarred. Plus, Richard was Jarred’s only sexual encounter. And Richard had constantly complained about Jarred’s lack of experience, despite knowing Jarred was a virgin when he hooked up with him. Jarred, too embarrassed over his naivety, never said a word when he knew Richard was cheating on him…with women.

“Mon timide l’un, s'il vous plait…please, tell me what upsets you.” D’Arcy said softly, his aqua eyes staring into Jarred’s brown ones. “Do you not wish my love?” D’Arcy added.

“No! I mean yes, but you won’t…I’m not…I have no experience. Only one boyfriend who didn’t like…who didn’t …love me.” Jarred managed to stutter out, his face going crimson at the admission.

D’Arcy’s lips pressed against Jarred’s again, tenderly. “Then he is a…a.. idiot sans valeur…a…” D’Arcy stopped, obviously frustrated. “He is worthless…not worthy of your beauty.” D’Arcy finished. “Come, show me to your bedroom.” D’Arcy repeated and turned Jarred to the hall that led off the living room.

Jarred shook his head. “No, not that way.” He said, and then led D’Arcy back toward the foyer and through a door off the right of the front entrance, down a flight of stairs to a large family room and then to a door in the corner. He opened the door, thankful his mother had taught him from a young age to always keep his room neat. He stood in the center, feeling awkward and unsure what to do, his hands clasped so tightly together, his knuckles were white, his eyes staring at his queen sized bed. D’Arcy had followed him closely and now pressed up against his back. Chills ran up and down Jarred’s spine when D’Arcy leaned down and nuzzled the tender skin of Jarred’s neck below his ear.

He sucked in a breath when D’Arcy’s arms came around him and began to unbutton his shirt. As each inch of skin was revealed, D’Arcy’s fingertips caressed. Jarred was nearly panting by the time D’Arcy pulled his shirt from the waist of his pants and slid it slowly from his body. “Telle belle peau.” D’Arcy murmured, and Jarred wondered what it meant. “Your skin, pleasing…very beautiful.” D’Arcy murmured again as he turned Jarred around to face him. Jarred ducked his head down, unable to look into D’Arcy’s eyes. But D’Arcy didn’t make him look up this time. The rustling of material is what made Jarred glance at D’Arcy. D’Arcy was removing his own clothing and Jarred couldn’t help but stare.

When D’Arcy pulled his shirt over his head and his muscular pectorals and tight washboard abs were revealed, Jarred’s mouth watered. The man was truly stunning. Jarred’s heart went into overdrive when D’Arcy undid his pants, toeing off his shoes. When D’Arcy pushed his pants down, showing that he had nothing on underneath, Jarred’s whole body lit up with overwhelming desire. A trickle of sweat dripped down Jarred’s temple and he trembled in arousal when his gaze landed on D’Arcy’s engorged cock. Shit, but the man was hung like a fucking horse! Jarred’s hole pulsed with need, his own cock, amazingly, growing harder still. His gaze snapped up to D’Arcy’s face when he heard the man purr. D’Arcy drew close, took Jarred’s hand and wrapped his fingers around his cock, D’Arcy’s larger hand over Jarred’s smaller one. D’Arcy used Jarred’s hand to stroke himself and Jarred reveled in the warm, silky skin over rigid flesh. Jarred was torn between watching D’Arcy’s pleasure filled face, and his hand around D’Arcy’s large shaft.

“Continue.” D’Arcy said as he let go of Jarred’s hand, allowing Jarred to stroke him unaided. D’Arcy undid Jarred’s pants, and Jarred’s breath hitched in his throat as D’Arcy pealed back his fly, then pushed his pants and briefs down to his knees. A flush of embarrassment crept up Jarred’s chest and face when his own hard cock was revealed. The sparse hair on his lower abdomen was wet with pre-cum from his leaking dick. His breathing stopped altogether when D’Arcy wrapped his large, but soft hand around Jarred’s aching cock and began to stroke with firm pulls in time with Jarred’s stroking. Jarred couldn’t help the moan that escaped him. “Oui, so good, si très bon.” D’Arcy gasped. Jarred could hardly believe he was at the edge already, pre-cum leaking profusely and slicking his cock for D’Arcy’s tight grip. “D’Arcy…” He warned, even as his hips began to rock. “No, not yet, mon amour.” D’Arcy said and let go of Jarred. Jarred moaned in agony. “Je veux être dans vous quand vous venez. Jhar-ed, I wish to be inside your body when you climax.” D’Arcy said his voice husky with desire, his turquoise eyes nearly consumed by the black of his pupils.

Jarred only nodded, unable to get any words out. He let go of D’Arcy’s shaft and shuffled around his bed to the nightstand on the far side. He pulled open the drawer and withdrew a condom and lube. He quickly checked the expiration date of the foil packet, hoping against hope that it was current. It was…barely. He’d not had need for them in so long. The lube, however, was a new bottle. He turned to hand them to D’Arcy, only to find the taller man had followed him. He leaned down and nuzzled Jarred’s neck, taking the items from him and then gently pushing him onto the bed. Jarred removed his pants and briefs the rest of the way off his legs and scooted to the middle of the bed, his heart slamming against his chest. He could barely breathe; he was so excited and nervous. He started to turn over, only to have D’Arcy stop him. “Non, sur votre dos. Want to see when I enter your body.” D’Arcy said. Jarred’s pulse hitched up another notch at the sensual suggestion. Richard had always taken him from behind; stating seeing his face was too intimate. Jarred had wanted that intimacy, but figured out after Richard dumped him, why the man hadn’t been interested in such intensity. All he’d been interested in was fucking Jarred and denying he was gay, or even bi-sexual.

D’Arcy set the lube and condom down next to Jarred and crawled up the bed until he was hovering over Jarred’s body. He gazed down at Jarred, his blue-green eyes soft, but intense. Jarred couldn’t seem to look away. He suddenly closed his eyes when D’Arcy lowered his body onto Jarred, the warm skin contact nearly overwhelming. D’Arcy shifted until their cocks were aligned and rocked gently into Jarred. Jarred gasped at the sensation. Everything that D’Arcy had done so far was new to Jarred and he was overcome with emotions. He could feel his eyes stinging and bit his lip to keep from crying. No one had ever been so gentle, so loving, so focused on him. “Dieu, vous êtes si beau. Si sensible. Si parfait.” D’Arcy whispered as he nuzzled Jarred’s neck. He continued to kiss and lick down Jarred’s body, paying special attention to Jarred’s nipples, making Jarred arch uncontrollably into him. So caught up in the passion, Jarred cried out when his aching cock was suddenly wrapped in a warm, wet cocoon. He thrust upwards, unable to stop himself, and felt D’Arcy use his large hands to hold him down as he took Jarred’s length all the way into his throat. Jarred cried out again when D’Arcy swallowed around the head of his cock. Jarred’s entire body was vibrating with need and he knew he wasn’t going to last. “D’Arcy…” He warned even as his balls drew up tight.

Jarred actually groaned in frustration when D’Arcy released his cock, then berated himself. He should be thankful that D’Arcy was doing anything at all. He had his eyes squeezed shut, his lower lip caught between his teeth, biting hard enough to almost draw blood. “Jhar-ed.” Jarred heard D’Arcy say his name. But he didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes. He heard the pop of the lube cap and his breath hitched. He then felt D’Arcy’s gentle fingers circling his hole, occasionally pressing. He unconsciously spread his legs, giving the other man better access. D’Arcy purred in approval, leaning down to kiss Jarred. D’Arcy’s tongue slid into Jarred’s mouth at the same time one finger slipped into his body. He almost hissed at the burn, but held it in, not wanting to dissuade D’Arcy. He couldn’t help the jerk of his body at the slight pain though. It had been over four years since Jarred had had sex, and he knew this was going to hurt, especially given the size of D’Arcy’s impressive cock. He could feel sweat building up on his body as D’Arcy prepared him, another finger joining the first. D’Arcy had moved his mouth to nuzzle, lick and nip at Jarred’s neck and Jarred bit his lip again as he worked through the pain.

Jarred’s body tensed when D’Arcy added a third finger and he nearly groaned when D’Arcy stopped what he was doing, leaning up and looking down at Jarred. “Jhar-ed…look at me.” D’Arcy said and Jarred opened his eyes. The concern in D’Arcy’s gaze made Jarred’s eyes sting again. “I am hurting you, mon timide l’un.” D’Arcy said and Jarred shook his head. “Do not lie, Jhar-ed. How long?” D’Arcy asked. Jarred’s face turned crimson and he lowered his eyes, not wanting to see D’Arcy’s reaction at his words. “Over f..f..four years.” Jarred stuttered with embarrassment. “Le bon Seigneur, vous êtes pratiquement vierge.” D’Arcy exclaimed. Jarred didn’t know what D’Arcy had said, but he figured it couldn’t be good. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the rejection that was sure to come. He felt D’Arcy remove his fingers and Jarred tried to turn away. D’Arcy wouldn’t let him. “No, my little virgin. We will go slower. I do not wish to hurt you, mon timide l’un.” D’Arcy said and then manipulated Jarred’s body until he was on his side, with D’Arcy behind him. “I wish to zee your face when I take you, but this will be easier.” D’Arcy said and then Jarred felt D’Arcy’s fingers renew their invasion. Jarred wasn’t sure what to make of the virgin comment. He wasn’t a virgin, but nearly so. It had been so long. Maybe he was.

Jarred tried to make his body relax to make it easier, but he was too tense, too overwhelmed, too self-conscious. D’Arcy’s lips were on him again, kissing the nape of his neck, his shoulders, behind his ear. He shuddered at the sensations. D’Arcy’s other hand was slowly, gently running his fingers through Jarred’s hair, soothing. Jarred finally felt his body relax some as D’Arcy’s fingers worked their way in and out of his entrance. That was until D’Arcy curled his fingers slightly and white lightening shot through Jarred’s body and he cried out, thrusting forward on instinct. In theory, Jarred knew that D’Arcy had just hit his prostrate, but Richard had never managed to do that in the few times he’d fucked Jarred. It was an incredible feeling and Jarred found himself pushing back, searching for that feeling again. D’Arcy gave it to him, rubbing across the little bump and making Jarred’s body shudder violently. His cock was engorged more than it had ever been, leaking so much that a string of precum hung from the tip to the mattress. Jarred’s body felt as if it were on fire, and with relief, he felt himself open up to D’Arcy’s fingers. “Oui, oui, that’s it, mon amour, that’s it.” D’Arcy said, his voice husky with need.

D’Arcy removed his fingers, Jarred whimpering at the loss. “Aucunes inquiétudes. Je vous ai, l'amant.” D’Arcy said and Jarred wished he understood French. But just the sound of D’Arcy speaking French to him was sexy as hell and aroused him more than he thought possible. He waited, panting, his heart racing as D’Arcy reached across him and grabbed the condom. He wished he had the courage to ask D’Arcy to let him roll the rubber onto him, but he was too shy. The next thing he felt was the cool, slicked blunt press of D’Arcy’s considerable cock. Jarred sucked in a breath and waited for the pain. D’Arcy wrapped his arms around Jarred, pulling him tightly to his chest, one hand wrapping around his cock and squeezing. Jarred moaned and thrust into D’Arcy’s grip. So caught up in the wonderful friction of D’Arcy’s hand, he didn’t realize that D’Arcy had pushed forward until he felt the man’s pubic hair on his ass cheeks. Son of a bitch!! D’Arcy was completely inside him and he hadn’t felt any pain. There was no pain now either, just an incredible fullness that made Jarred’s dick pulse.

D’Arcy began to move, pulling almost all the way out and thrusting forward, long, deep, slow thrusts that raked across Jarred’s gland. Jarred couldn’t help the groans, moans, whimpers and gasps that escaped him. He’d never been so vocal. He knew he wasn’t going to last, feeling the tingling traveling up his spine as D’Arcy’s thrusts grew faster and deeper. He was on the edge, about to go over when D’Arcy shifted; lifting his thick muscled thigh over Jarred’s hip and started thrusting in short hard fast jabs into his body. Every one of those jabs pegged his prostrate and Jarred grabbed D’Arcy’s leg and cried out as his cock erupted all over D’Arcy’s hand and the sheets. “La baise, mon amour, baiser. ..so bon, donc bon!” D’Arcy shouted from behind him and suddenly ground himself against Jarred’s ass as Jarred felt D’Arcy’s cock thicken and pulse and a warm sensation filled his insides. Knowing D’Arcy was coming inside him threw Jarred into a second orgasm that had him gasping and crying out again and completely stunned.

As they caught their breath, Jarred had to hold in a giggle. Each time one of them shivered in aftershocks, it set the other one off. Not something that had ever happened with Richard. Richard would get off, pull out and usually leave, never once considering Jarred’s need. Jarred had never climaxed with Richard in him, and certainly never climaxed twice and then reveled in the feeling of the other man staying buried within him. D’Arcy didn’t withdraw, for that matter; he pulled Jarred closer, wrapping his much larger body around him. Jarred was flabbergasted at the sensation of D’Arcy in him, around him, over him. He’d never felt so complete before, so protected and wanted. But, he wasn’t stupid. He knew this was a onetime thing. D’Arcy was too gorgeous and sexy to want to be with him. Dirty blond hair, brown eyes, shy…boring. Average. Nothing special. But Jarred would take what he could get while it lasted and wiggled further into D’Arcy’s embrace.

He must have fallen asleep, because he woke up to complete darkness. He stayed still, taking stock. It wasn’t hard to figure out D’Arcy was still here, considering he was still buried inside Jarred’s body. His strong arms were wrapped around Jarred’s chest, one hand cupping Jarred’s soft cock. It was an intimate hold, and had Jarred’s eyes stinging again. It was with little shock that he knew he was half way in love with the sexy man. But that revelation came with the knowledge that it was going to hurt when D’Arcy moved on. A whole lot more than when Richard had dumped him. Jarred sighed, and then froze when he felt D’Arcy stir. The bigger man very gently pulled from his body, but Jarred still winced. He was going to be sore for a while, not that he was going to complain. To feel that was wonderful and he would be sad when the feeling went away, knowing it would never happen again. “Mmmm, mon amour.” D’Arcy mumbled, his hands starting to wander across Jarred’s body, his lips grazing the tender skin below Jarred’s hair on the back of his neck. Jarred shuddered and felt himself hardening. Damn! It took so little for D’Arcy to turn him on. D’Arcy’s large, soft hand began to caress Jarred’s shaft, his fingers manipulating his balls gently, Jarred’s breathing getting ragged. Just minutes later, Jarred was at a full erection and aching.

He gave a startled squeak when D’Arcy grabbed him and flipped him around to land on top of the bigger man. His widened eyes, but could only make out the silhouette of D’Arcy’s face in the dark room. “Love me Jhar-ed. I want to feel you inside me. S'il vous plaît, mon amour. Faire l'amour à moi.” D’Arcy said in a raspy voice. Jarred was stupefied that D’Arcy wanted Jarred to fuck him. No one had ever wanted Jarred like that. “S'il vous plait…” The pleading voice was too much for Jarred. He rooted around until he found the lube, and then groaned, knowing he was going to have to get up to grab another condom. “Wait. I have to grab a rubber.” Jarred said regretfully, starting to pull away. He was so worried that D’Arcy would change his mind at the delay. “No, I am clean. You no need the préservatif.” D’Arcy replied pulling Jarred closer and wrapping his long legs around Jarred’s thin waist. Jarred was torn. He didn’t know D’Arcy well enough to believe him, and D’Arcy didn’t know if Jarred was clean, even though he was. He felt D’Arcy’s body grow soft with understanding, his legs dropping to the side to allow Jarred up. “My test iz in my wallet. You wish to zee, mon amour?” D’Arcy said quietly. Jarred shook his head. That D’Arcy carried it with him was enough. Jarred’s latest test was in the nightstand drawer if D’Arcy wanted to see it.

Jarred shifted to the side and popped the cap to the lube. He squirted a generous amount on his fingers, and without looking towards D’Arcy’s face, moved his hand between D’Arcy’s legs. The moment Jarred’s first finger breached D’Arcy’s entrance, he had to stop and breathe deeply before he exploded like a teenager. He only hoped that D’Arcy enjoyed what he was going to do since he’d never topped before. And he sure as hell had never done bareback. “Mmmm, so good, mon amour, so good.” D’Arcy mumbled and rocked, pulling Jarred’s finger deeper, spreading his legs wider to give Jarred room. Jarred searched and then gave a little smile when he found D’Arcy’s prostrate and the man bucked and cried out. “Plus, Jhar-ed, me donner plus!” D’Arcy pleaded, his hands clenching at Jarred. Jarred added another finger, reveling in the feeling of D’Arcy’s body, the muscles constricting under his hands, D’Arcy’s breathing ragged. Knowing D’Arcy was hard, Jarred’s mouth watered and he scooted down to lick at the drops of precum pearling at the tip. D’Arcy tasted exquisite and Jarred wrapped his lips around the engorged head, his tongue dipping into the slit to taste more. “Baise! Dieu oui, Jhar-ed!” D’Arcy cried out as his fingers buried into Jarred’s hair, his large hands guiding Jarred’s mouth to take him deeper. Richard had never wanted Jarred’s mouth on him, but Jarred had given a few random blow-jobs in the back rooms of gay bars and was eternally thankful that he had no gag reflex. He could deep throat, though he wasn’t sure he was any good at it. He let D’Arcy’s considerable shaft slide deeper until the head bumped the back of his throat. The man was long enough that he couldn’t take his full length, so Jarred used his free hand to stroke what his mouth couldn’t reach.

D’Arcy was literally thrashing under Jarred and Jarred’s heart swelled with pride and arousal to know he was giving D’Arcy such pleasure. He added a third finger to D’Arcy’s hole as he sucked the man as deep as he could. He wanted to taste D’Arcy’s release, wanted the man’s seed to fill his mouth, but D’Arcy had other ideas as he pulled Jarred’s mouth from his dick with a pop. “Maintenant, Jhar-ed, j'ai besoin de vous maintenant. Avoir besoin d'à vous me remplir.” D’Arcy grated out, his voice husky with need. Jarred didn’t know what D’Arcy had said and so didn’t know what to do. He needn’t have worried as D’Arcy pulled him up onto his body and wrapped his long, muscular legs around Jarred’s slim hips again. “Penetrate me Jhar-ed, love me.” D’Arcy whispered and then kissed Jarred with an intensity Jarred had never experienced before. With some awkwardness, and difficulty with the way D’Arcy was clinging to him, Jarred managed to slick up his aching cock. He wasn’t nearly as big as D’Arcy, so once the lube was applied, he slammed into D’Arcy’s open and willing body. D’Arcy didn’t even grunt at the invasion, but Jarred held still, allowing D’Arcy to accustom to his thickness and for Jarred to keep from shooting his load right then and there at the tight, hot moist grip around his bare shaft. Jarred didn’t even have words to describe the feeling.

“Move, mon amour, love me.” D’Arcy groaned and rocked up against Jarred. That was all the encouragement Jarred needed. He pulled completely out and then thrust back in. He fell into a rhythm, not fast or hard, but steady, soaking up the sensation of D’Arcy’s channel gripping him, the heat nearly unbearable in its intensity. D’Arcy lifted to meet every thrust. “Harder Jhar-ed, make me feel you forever. Make me yours.” D’Arcy said, his voice rough and low. D’Arcy’s sensual words spurred Jarred on and he hiked his body up, pushing D’Arcy’s legs further up and apart and gave the bigger man what he wanted. He leaned somewhat to the side, and used a hand to grip D’Arcy’s bobbing cock, stroking it roughly. “Come for me, D’Arcy.” Jarred said, ignoring his shock at being so aggressive. He’d never been so bold, but the dark room gave Jarred courage he otherwise wouldn’t have. Jarred had always been the passive bottom, but he hoped D’Arcy’s responses to what he was doing were genuine, unable to tell without seeing D’Arcy’s face. The man’s writhing, bucking and groans made Jarred feel as if he couldn’t do anything wrong. He tightened his grip on D’Arcy’s length; twisting his hand each time he reached the leaking head, smearing the precum to ease the friction. D’Arcy was rocking violently back and forth between Jarred’s hand and his cock. Jarred was on the edge, nearly panting with the exertion, sweat painting his body. Suddenly, D’Arcy cried out an intense string of French, his cock thickening and pulsing and long strings of white come shot out, hard enough to coat D’Arcy’s neck and chin. As D’Arcy’s channel squeezed around Jarred, he couldn’t hold out any longer. “Fuck! D’Arcy! God….” Jarred yelled, thankful his room was so far removed from his mother’s. Jarred ground his hips against D’Arcy’s ass, thrusting his cock as deeply as he could as it emptied into D’Arcy’s body. Knowing he was filling the larger man up with his seed without the barrier of latex lengthened Jarred’s orgasm until he felt like he would never drag another breath in. He felt tears streaking his cheeks, and didn’t understand why he would be crying at a time like this. At the last few spurts of his cock, Jarred froze, his body trembling with aftershocks before he collapsed on top of D’Arcy’s sweat soaked body. D’Arcy instantly wrapped his strong arms around Jarred, holding him gently, but tightly. Jarred barely noticed as he fell asleep still buried inside D’Arcy’s body.

WIP - To Love or Not (Book 4 of Valley Love) - 27216 Word count

November, 2000

Jersey clutched his side as he ran trying to relieve the stitch that was making it hard to breath. His cheek hurt where the guy had punched him. His body ached and throbbed in places it shouldn’t. He’d thought the shelter would be a safe place. He’d been wrong. He kept his light brown eyes on the crumbled sidewalk, saving himself from any nasty spills on the ice. He’d lost his jacket when he’d fled the run down building that housed the transients of Trenton. He hadn’t had any idea where he was headed when he’d left the shelter, but anywhere had to be better than there. He could feel the cold sting of tears on his face. He just wanted to go home. But that was no longer an option. He had no home anymore. His father had made that very clear…with the back of his hand. Parson Devonshire had never laid a hand on Jersey before, and Jersey had been so stunned, he’d not defended himself. He’d cried like a baby. Sobs that matched his mother’s. Then, his father had called him an abomination against God and shoved him out the door, his mother screaming for him to stop. It had made no difference. Jersey had found himself alone, abandoned and nearly freezing hours later.

He’d come across the shelter by pure accident. He’d been standing in a doorway, trying to get out of the biting winter wind when a girl, not much older than him, had told him about the shelter. She’d taken him there, and then disappeared into the night. Jersey had thought her to be an angel of mercy, until he found out she was a runaway and prostitute. Jersey’s religious upbringing had forced him to forgive her. But then, he really didn’t think he had room to be judgmental anyway. The people who ran the shelter had been kind, though persistent in trying to find out where he lived and why he was out on the streets at fifteen. He couldn’t bring himself to tell them he wasn’t a runaway. Couldn’t bring himself to tell them why his father had turned his back on him. He stayed at the shelter for days. Until he started being harassed by some of the older men. Men who wanted something from Jersey. Something he wasn’t willing to give. Soon, he was full of bruises for fighting back, protecting himself. He wasn’t very good at it, being so small. Only 5’4” and barely weighing a hundred pounds. There had been too many close calls. Mostly at night, when Jersey tried to sleep and the workers of the shelter were not around so much. Then came this night, when his fighting back was useless.

He’d gone to bed on the cot assigned him, pulling the thin blanket tight around him. He’d been given a few clothes, warmer clothes and the precious jacket. He never took anything but the jacket off and his threadbare shoes. Hadn’t dared take a shower in all the time he’d been there. He was almost asleep when he felt a large weight settle on his body. He tried to shove the man off, but couldn’t. The man’s cheap alcohol breath choked Jersey. He felt cold, callused hands shove the blanket aside and pull at the fly of his pants. Jersey heard a whimper of fear and realized it was from himself. He struggled, but the man was too large. One big hand grabbed his wrists and held them tight enough to hurt, the other managed to pull Jersey’s pants and briefs down until he was exposed from waist to knees. Jersey wanted to scream, but his breath was frozen in his throat. He pulled in enough oxygen to beg.”Please…no…no. Don’t…please.” He managed in a whisper. The man laughed cruelly. Jersey couldn’t stop the man from removing his pants and briefs the rest of the way off and shoving him onto his stomach, the cot creaking from the weight. Jersey felt as if his heart was going to burst from fear. He could feel hot skin and wiry hair against his butt, and the man’s hard shaft. Something wet trailed from the end of it. Seconds later, the man was completely on top of him, his knees pushing Jersey’s legs wide and his hard manhood shoving into Jersey’s body. Jersey finally screamed as white hot pain shot through him. The man’s big hand clamped over Jersey’s mouth and he suddenly couldn’t breathe. He bucked in panic, but that only made the man sink deeper into his body and increase the pain. Jersey concentrated on choking back sobs and breathing, even as the man began to grunt with each hard thrust. Jersey felt as if he were being ripped apart, the agony was so great. But even through the overwhelming pain, Jersey felt something that made his own manhood harden. Humiliation and self-loathing filled Jersey. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. Why was his body hardening when he was being brutally assaulted? An eternity later, the man’s panting and grunting changed to a long low moan, his body thrusting and holding against Jersey’s and Jersey felt as if hot lava was filling all his insides. Seconds later, the man’s heavy weight went limp on Jersey’s. Jersey shoved and the man twisted and fell to the floor. “You little whore!” The man snarled as he stood up, fixed his pants and loomed over Jersey. The man grabbed Jersey’s hair and punched him hard across the face. Blackness invaded Jersey’s sight and he lost consciousness.

When he came to, he was laid out on his stomach on his cot, naked from the waist down. Everything ached, but fear made him move. He hurriedly grabbed his pants, pulling them on and ignoring the stinging pain they caused and the sticky wetness that traveled down the back and insides of his thighs. He shoved his feet into the old tennis shoes he had and ran. He heard someone call out, but ignored it as he hit the door and kept going. Sobs robbed him of breath and he stopped long enough to gulp a few lungfuls of frigid air. A noise behind him had him speeding away again. When he could go no further, he sank to the ground, pulled his legs up against his chest, wrapped his arms around them and hid his face against his knees. He was trembling with cold, fear and disgust. He knew that man raping him was his fault. He was tainted. Was the abomination his father had called him. He’d heard enough times how pretty he was. That’s why he attracted men. Knew deep down, he welcomed the attention…sometimes. Jersey suddenly leaned over and vomited, his self-loathing overwhelming him. He wanted God to strike him dead that very minute. He thought about cutting his own wrists, but he was already going to hell for just breathing and absurdly didn’t want to add another sin to his soul.

WIP - Unlawful Protection - 18903 Word count

Kirk sat in the back of the court room, eyes riveted to the defendant. The man was a deviant. He could see it in the way he held his shoulders, though he couldn’t see his face, not to mention the arm length police file on the guy. His hazel eyes wandered over to the witness. He could see the fear in the young man’s face. The witness would be Kirk’s responsibility once the trial was over and today was the defendant’s sentencing, the last step. Kirk liked working for the Jefferson County Witness Protection Program. Of course, it helped being a Federal Marshal as well. It gave him more freedom to place witnesses. The judge’s gavel brought him out of his musings. Kirk held in a smile as the man was given life without parole. He stood and exited the courtroom quietly.

The local law enforcement would bring the witness to him. He already had the witness’s new paperwork in an envelope under his arm. He strode down the hall, his boots echoing despite the press of bodies. He sideswiped several media people and entered a small room near the end of the corridor. Minutes later, the door opened to reveal the witness, two police officers flanking him.

“Mr. Parness.” Kirk greeted the man. They sat at the small table, the officers standing by the door. He explained the program, pulling the information from the packet he carried and watched the young man’s face carefully. He didn’t look happy. But who would, knowing they were to start a whole new life, leaving their old one behind and having no contact with anyone they knew, family, friends, coworkers. But if the man wanted to live, it was what had to happen. Just because the defendant was going to jail for life, didn’t mean his associates would allow this witness a moments peace until he was dead.

Task done, he left the man in the company of the officers to begin his new life and headed out to the parking lot. The Kentucky humidity hit him full in the face, though the air was cool. He was meeting Lori for dinner and didn’t want to be late. He hurried home, intent on getting a shower in before heading to the restaurant. He’d just started his car to go to the restaurant when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and groaned. He really didn’t want to speak to his father right now. It wasn’t that they were estranged, but Lawrence Mathison supported Kirk’s brother’s career. A career that was demeaning and dangerous and Kirk despised it. It wasn’t Sander’s lifestyle that Kirk objected to; he knew his little brother was gay since they’d been teenagers. Hell, he could hardly object when he’d had his share of blowjobs by men at the academy. But to be in porn? To be fucked by strangers for money? As far as Kirk was concerned, it was glorified prostitution and the fact that their father supported it was beyond what Kirk could understand.

“Mathison” He answered his phone as he drove to the restaurant.

“Kirk.” Kirk hated the hesitation in his father’s voice.

“Yea dad.” He replied, trying to ignore the guilt. He’d not spoken to his father in weeks, hadn’t spoken to Sander in months, nearly a year and he’d never speak to his mother or sisters again.

“Um, I just….well, Sander’s….” Lawrence started and then trailed off.

Kirk sighed, loudly. “What dad? Is he ok? Something happen?” Once Kirk asked, he felt an icy knot of fear in his stomach. He may hate his brother’s choice in a job, but he loved his brother.

“No! No…I mean, he’s fine. Actually, he’s better than fine. He’s….met someone.” Lawrence started again, and then paused, letting Kirk absorb that information.

“Met someone?” Kirk repeated.

“Yes, he’s, well, he’s getting married. As married as he can, anyway.” Lawrence said, and then added “He’d like you to be there.”

It didn’t escape Kirk’s notice the wording that his father had used. It meant Sander had met a man. A man he apparently fell in love with. Kirk had never thought that could happen, not with Sander being in porn. What man would put up with and tolerate his spouse…partner…significant other…whatever…being fucked every day by others? “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Kirk answered; well aware it would disappoint his father and possibly Sander.

“Ok, son. I just had to ask. Chastity and Marilynn will not be there as well. Nor your mother.” Lawrence said.

Kirk sighed again. He knew his mother wouldn’t be there, her religion making her think Sander was an abomination against God. There was nothing he could do about that. He also knew his younger sisters had the same frame of mind, enough so that he didn’t think Sander had ever met their nieces and nephew. He shook his head as he pulled into the restaurant parking lot, looking for Lori’s Camry. He saw she was already there. “I have to go dad.” He said as gently as he could and heard his father’s sigh.

“Yea, ok son. I’ll talk to you…whenever.” Lawrence hung up.

Kirk tried to ignore the churning in his stomach that happened every time he talked to his father. Usually, he could ignore the guilt associated with his family. Seemed tonight he wasn’t going to be able to do that. He was happy for Sander, but couldn’t fathom the idea of his little brother getting married. How could someone tolerate Sander’s choice in employment? Thoughts swirling around the implications, he walked into the restaurant. Lori was waiting by the door and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“You’re late.” She said, somewhat annoyed.

“Sorry. I was working, and then got a call from my dad.” Kirk replied absently. They were shown to a table, both silent for the moment. Once they ordered, Kirk looked up to see Lori watching him intently.

“Are you going to tell me why your father called you?” Lori asked, glossing over Kirk’s job completely. She knew not to ask about Kirk’s work. He wasn’t in a position to tell her anything anyway.

“Sander’s getting married.” Kirk said, watching Lori’s face.

“Really? Nice. So who’s the lucky woman?” Lori said in a conversational tone. Kirk had never told Lori his brother was gay. He’d heard enough derogatory comments from her over the few months they had been dating to know better. It angered him, but he kept his mouth shut then and now. He shrugged, ignoring the question. “So, how was your day?” He asked to change the subject. He watched Lori’s surprised look change to animation.

“I am so excited. We have a new exhibit opening up at the museum.” She started and Kirk gave an inward sigh that his ruse had worked. He didn’t want to discuss his family with Lori. They’d only been dating for about six months. Much too short a time to go into private matters. And Kirk’s fucked up family was never something he wanted to talk about anyway. Especially as it would lead to the huge blow up that kept Kirk from going home, even for holidays.