Samhain Publishing Ltd, Ebooks and Books in Print

Taboo Desires

Cole buried his hands in the pockets of his jean shorts and continued down the beach. His gaze wandered out over the frothy blue-green water, where surfers sat perched upon their boards, waiting to catch the next big wave. It was a beautiful August day, the kind meant to be spent outdoors.

Other than escaping the monotonous cycle of waking up, going to work and then home to sleep, Cole hadn’t had a destination in mind when he’d left his apartment. All he’d wanted to do was get away from his life for the afternoon and think things through. Meandering about on the beach, feeling small in comparison to the vast ocean, always had a way of putting things into perspective.

Two weeks had gone by since Karen broke things off with him. True to her word, she hadn’t accepted any of his phone calls and had returned each and every bouquet of flowers he’d sent. Things were well and truly over between them. He simply wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

Karen had been a part of his life for so long that he didn’t quite know what to do with himself without her. A part of him was relieved she was gone—the same part that whispered in his ear about how wrong it felt to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. The other half of him screamed for him to go crawling back to her on his knees and beg for forgiveness before it was too late. He knew she would take him back, if only so she could have the “Mrs.” moniker before her first name.

While that would have been the easy, safe thing to do, he couldn’t make himself give in to her demand. Simply put, he didn’t want to marry Karen. Not now, not ever. And it wasn’t fair to keep stringing her along so he wouldn’t have to admit to things about himself he’d rather not face.

Loving someone wasn’t the same as being in love with them, and that’s what he wanted for Karen. He cared enough about her to want the best for her, and that wasn’t him. She deserved someone better, a man who would love her the way he couldn’t.

Cole shook his head, almost amused by how depressing his thoughts were. What he needed to do was go out and have some fun. Maybe call up one of his single buddies from poker night and see if they wanted to… Oh, wait. That wouldn’t work. The last of his single buddies got married back in June, so getting anyone to go out with him on a Tuesday night was probably a no-go. Hell, it’d probably be out of the question on the weekend too. Did married people even go out with their single friends? He sincerely doubted it.

The tide hit the shore, washing seaweed in right along with water. A slimy green clump of vegetation landed atop his foot. He stepped back, jiggling his left foot to dislodge it, even as the back of his right knee ran into something cold and hard.

“Hey, watch it!”

Arms swinging out, he tried to right his equilibrium, to no avail. His ass hit the ground, not really hurting anything besides his ego. Face flaming in embarrassment, he glanced up and around, trying to see who or what he’d run into.

The first thing he saw was the neon purple surfboard he’d tripped over. Right next to it sat the owner. Cole blinked and did a double take, seeing the flesh and blood version of his every fantasy sitting in the sand, smiling at him.

The man was the epitome of everything Cole had ever dreamt of. Sun-bleached blond hair, sheared close to the scalp on the sides and longer on top, fell into a face so classically beautiful it rivaled Michelangelo’s David. Sharp cheekbones and a straight, tip-tilted nose led down to a full mouth the color of fresh strawberries. His neck was long and graceful, leading to leanly corded shoulders. His skin gleamed golden-bronze in the sunlight. His pecs and biceps were nicely defined, not too much muscle, just enough to broadcast health and fitness. Tiny copper nipples, pierced with silver barbells, sat above a chiseled, washboard stomach.

Heat rushed from his face to his groin, filling Cole’s shaft with blood. He was damned glad he wasn’t standing up. The pup tent in his shorts would have been mortifying.

Cool azure blue eyes, the color of the freshest mountain stream, met his and he could’ve sworn he felt the earth move. So what if it was just the tide hitting the shore? It felt a hell of a lot more life altering than something that simple.

“Cole? Cole Winchester? That you, man?”

Cole’s brow wrinkled in confusion. How did this kid know his name? He couldn’t be more than twenty years old, if he was a day. Studying the man’s face more closely, he saw a familiarity in his features, but was unable to place him as anyone other than the specter haunting his fantasies.

Custom Ride

Ryan felt like an idiot sitting out here with the a/c running, would feel even dumber wandering around the lot. It wasn’t as if he didn’t like cars, especially classic cars, but if he got out, it would be like he was looking for an excuse to run into tattoo guy; if he sat in the car, it was like he was avoiding him.

He shut off the car. Heat hit him instantly. After two minutes, the air was impossible to breathe. He opened the door. A bike was between his car and the back entrance to the garage, and he examined it as he passed, chrome blinding in the sunlight.

With the shimmering heat, the dark opening was too tempting to resist, and Ryan ducked inside the garage. It was cavernous, cluttered without being messy. David was off in the far corner at some kind of counter and even at this distance, Ryan could see the light brown brush cut on the mechanic settling his brother’s bill. He went back out into the heat and glare.

Ryan checked out the bike again, tried to picture himself on it, laughed and walked down past a line of cars in the back lot. He stopped between a gleaming late 60’s Camaro and a disintegrating car from a 1930’s gangster movie. The car looked like it had given birth Alien-style, with a gaping hole exploding out from the roof. He tried to figure out what caused it.

“Thanks, Rye!”

He glanced up in time to see his brother peeling out of the lot in the Mustang. He ought to head back to his car, but the sun baked in a lassitude that kept him looking at the rusted-out car. Maybe it was a relic from a real gangster, taken out when police had launched some kind of explosive into the backseat. He was reaching a hand toward the fragmented metal when a voice said, “Tree.”

“Huh?” He turned. Tattoo guy had come up behind him.

“A tree did it. Grew right through the floor and tore right through the roof. It’s going to be gorgeous when we get her fixed up though. A ’37 Buick.” The guy’s voice curled over Ryan’s ears like smoke, a deep graveled edge hugging the words.

The guy was definitely not taking gay for a test spin. He was subtly teasing the edge of Ryan’s space, his eyes holding his a little too long to be misinterpreted as anything but interest. Ryan wondered if he even remembered him from that night.

He returned the look, watching the way the unbuttoned grey work shirt stretched across his shoulders, framing a grease-smeared white undershirt, sweat-stuck to hard pecs. Ryan wished mechanics still had names stitched above the pocket.

As if he were reading his mind, the guy stuck out a hand. “Jeff.”

He reached for Jeff’s hand, but before he could offer his own name, Jeff was saying it in that husky voice. “Ryan, right?”

“Yeah, how—”

“Your brother.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t wait to get that phone call.

Jeff shook his hand firmly, but not in some kind of out-to-prove-who’s-butcher way, and then didn’t let go, leaving them fused at the palms.

“I remember you.” Jeff broke the ice, but Ryan felt hot all over. “From the club.”

“Oh…”

“Or should I say, I remember your ass a hell of a lot better.”

Catching A Buzz

Buzz asked him out again the next day, while they were working the side-by-side water slides in the children’s area.

“We don’t have to, you know…” Putting a thumb and forefinger together in a circle, Buzz made a decidedly lewd gesture with his other hand. “We can just catch a show or something.”

A blush crept up Adam’s neck and into his cheeks. “Good grief, Buzz. Do you have to do that?”

“What?” Buzz lifted a towheaded toddler into position at the top of the slide and nudged him down the yellow plastic slope. “Are you worried about the kids? C’mon, they don’t know what that means.”

“Doesn’t matter. What if one of them goes home and shows their parents the neat hand gesture they learned from the guy on the slide? You’d get fired.”

“Good point.” Buzz waited until Adam sent a little girl in a SpongeBob swimsuit down the slide, then leaned close enough for Adam to catch his sun-and-sweat scent. “So what about it? There’s a poetry slam at Darkshines tonight, wanna go?”

He’s courtin’ you, Scarlett purred. You’re not going to turn him down again, are you? Such an attractive young man.

“No thanks,” Adam answered, ignoring Scarlett and her prodding. No way was he spending his evening listening to a bunch of emo kids recite their overwrought odes to misery, even if he did want to go out with Buzz. Which he didn’t.

Really.

“We don’t have to—”

“Yeah, you said that,” Adam interrupted before Buzz could make it even clearer. “I’m not really a fan of poetry slams.”

Buzz shrugged. “Suit yourself, dude.”

He turned back to his work, seemingly unaffected by Adam’s refusal. To Adam’s annoyance, part of him felt stung by the fact that Buzz didn’t continue the pursuit.

Stop it, he admonished himself, helping a gangly preteen boy settle his baby sister on his lap for a trip down the slide. What are you, an eighth-grade girl? You don’t want to go out with him anyway. He’s not your type.

Inside his head, Scarlett chuckled. Honey, that boy’s hotter than blacktop in July, and he’s got a hankerin’ for you. Tell him you changed your mind.

“But I didn’t,” he blurted. “I don’t want to.”

Shoving his sunglasses on top of his head, Buzz shot Adam a puzzled look. “What’d you say?”

Adam cringed. When would he learn not to answer Scarlett out loud? “Nothing,” he mumbled. “Just talking to myself.”

Buzz laughed. “You’re weird.”

You have no idea. Adam kept that thought to himself.

Nut Cream

“Sure you don’t want to come with?” Mick asked.

“Have I ever gone with you?” Toby looked up at the oh-so-fascinating ceiling and ignored his brother. They’d been bothering him to go running since he came back home. As much as he wanted to, he was afraid of giving away his feelings for Cliff.

“Come on, Tobe. Live a little,” Cliff said, popping his head into the room beside Mick.

“No thanks, maybe another time.”

Mick shook his head, turning around to walk back to the living room. Toby waited for the door to shut. When it didn’t, he glanced back to see Cliff standing in the doorway, an uncharacteristic frown on his face.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to join in, Toby. We are all the same. No one is going to treat you any differently now that you’re back again.”

He huffed, twisting his body to lie on his stomach. It was rare for any werewolf to move outside the area. The pack tended to stay together—they were stronger when they were all in one place. There had been more than a few protests when he left Calgary to accept a teaching job outside the city, but he couldn’t risk staying here and letting his feelings for Cliff get stronger. His parents might not have known why he was so adamant to move away this past year, but they supported his decision anyway. His dad had even butted heads with some of the elders over it.

Reaching over the bed, Toby picked up his headphones. He was terrified that Cliff would want to talk to him more. Every time he got near the man recently, Toby feared he would start to stutter, or say something infernally stupid. He didn’t want Cliff to realize how far gone Toby was for him. He wasn’t unintelligent, he was sure Cliff didn’t have feelings for him. Hell, Toby’d never even seen Cliff with another man. He was probably as straight as could be. It would be better for all involved if he could just fall out of love and move on to someone he could actually get. He sighed in defeat.

“Fine, I can see I’m not going to change your mind today.” Cliff shook his head.

Toby pointedly ignored him, jacking up the volume. He’d get the hint and leave, and then Toby wouldn’t be surrounded by his appealing scent. The soothing sounds of the Traveling Wilburys filled his ears. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead on his bent arms.

He jerked when something hit his back. Trying to sit up, he was caught by the lean body that bent to keep him in place. Two tanned hands landed on the bed to either side of his face. Cliff lowered his body, sitting squarely on Toby’s ass. He leaned his head in to smooth his cheek along Toby’s.

Cliff neatly plucked off Toby’s headphones, replacing the voice of Bob Dylan with his rumbling growl.

“I may joke around, I may even tease, but I will not be ignored. Is that clear?”

Toby nodded, breathing hard. Cliff shifted forward on Toby. He felt an increased pressure on his lower back, the slow rise of Cliff’s cock. Toby stayed absolutely still, stunned at the feel of the body on top of him. He smelled his own arousal decorating the air with the scent of his escalating passion. Cliff inhaled noisily. He ground his cock into Toby, causing him to squirm despite his attempts to stay still.

Cliff chuckled, scraping his teeth along Toby’s jaw.

“Are you coming or not?” Mick’s irritated voice interrupted.

“Not yet,” Cliff crooned in Toby’s ear. “But your brother is damn close.”

“Jesus, Cliff. Enough,” Mick barked.

Cliff snickered, pausing to brush his lips along Toby’s cheek before gracefully arching up, swinging his leg over and landing beside the bed. Toby pressed his face into the covers below him, waiting until he heard the snick of the door closing. With a shuddering groan, he looked up. His brother and Cliff were gone. What the hell had just happened?