Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four (122 page)

Franklin felt himself blush. “I’ve had them for a while. There’s

human in my lineage. As there is in yours.”

Sly nodded. “You’re really … you’re really …”

“Still young?”

“Not so much.”

“Still a nuisance?”

Sly laughed. “Not more than I can handle.”

“Then what? I’m really what?”

“Different from what I remember. Yet . . . not.” Sly cleared his

throat.

“Aren’t you infuriated with me?”

“Why should I be? I fucked up. I know I fucked up. The Elders

are only doing their duty, and so are you.”

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“I don’t think you … fucked up all that badly.” Gods, Franklin

thought, I really need to get comfortable with these idioms.

“Sure I did,” Sly countered. “Just look at me. Fairies are supposed

to be graceful, ethereal creatures. But emotional attachment to humans

makes us more bound to the earth than the air.” With a self-

deprecating chuckle, he lifted and dropped his arms. “I’m about as

graceful as a golem now, all clay and bruises.”

Franklin couldn’t share his humor. “I think you’re beautiful,” he

said earnestly. He refrained from saying more. It would’ve been too

much. He’d confessed enough—for now.

“Do you really?” Sly asked.

Warmth suffused Franklin’s face. “Yes. I wouldn’t have said it if I

hadn’t meant it.”

“Do you remember that I used to call you Petal?” Sly was smiling

again, tenderly.

“I do, and I hated it. Because I wasn’t a girl.”

“I’m sorry. I meant it jokingly, affectionately. You were sweet.

You were pretty. You still are.” Sly hastened to add, “In a different

way, of course. A masculine way.” His gaze wandered down

Franklin’s body. “Yes, I’d say in a very grownup, masculine way.”

He’d faltered through his explanation, and in spite of his

embarrassment, his voice had gone low.

Their eyes met. Franklin moved closer. He hardly noticed the

pavement scratching at his shins. He was responding to the stir of

Sly’s heightened interest, which trembled toward a feeling with a

keener, glowing edge, and responding to the stir of his own years-long

love.

“You don’t have to go back, you know. If you don’t want to.”

Franklin tried to mute the eagerness in his voice. “You can stay. We

can help each other. I need a mentor. And you need restoration of

your power through contact with your own kind.” He placed his hands

on Sly’s knees, a gesture that didn’t seem nearly as forward as it

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 746

would have ten minutes ago. “We could become reacquainted.” The

insinuation was intentional.

Sly glanced at Franklin’s hands. Desire, that’s what he’d begun to

feel. The gorgeous, clumsy, eccentric, vulnerable Savva Pen-Erp had

finally begun to desire the doting boy, now a young man, who’d

always idolized him.

“I remember . . . how you used to make me smile,” Sly said.

“Without even trying. I always looked forward to seeing you.”

“You did?”

“All the time. The day seemed brighter when you were around.

You with your sunny innocence and silly questions, and those odd

little songs you used to sing. Like poems you made up and set to your

own music.”

“That’s exactly what they were.”

Sly smiled wistfully. “I guess you had a crush on me, huh?”

Blushing furiously, Franklin nodded.

“You were special to me, Frenni. I’m sorry if I’ve let you down.”

He sounded genuinely saddened, and penitent.

“Stop it,” Franklin said, surprised he could even find his voice.

“You haven’t let me down at all. Your heart shines even brighter

now.”

Emboldened by the realization that Sly was genuinely fond of

him, Franklin slowly slid his fingers up the insides of those sturdy

thighs. The damp fleece of Sly’s leg hair thinned and became downy

in this private place, and the exposed skin was smooth and almost

delicate. Sly spread his legs a little farther apart. His breaths became

audible as Franklin caressed the hot, hidden gullies on either side of

Sly’s red underwear. The sides of Franklin’s fingers grazed coarser

hair, and the red underwear’s pouch rapidly filled. Franklin did

nothing more than skim the edges of that freight, so hard yet fragile.

This dully-lit street wasn’t appropriate for more brazen exploration.

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 747

“You’re very persuasive,” Sly whispered, “now that you’re

grown.” His hips arched to Franklin’s touch.

The caress continued, at once soft and smoldering. “Let me help

you forget Ricky and erase his effect on you, in every way. Please let

me try.”

“You’re suggesting we stay together? Live together?”

Franklin nodded. “And learn from each other. And . . . care for

each other. If you think you can bear it.”

“I’ll be damned.” Sly turned down his eyes. A fine line of

moisture, almost imperceptible, glistened along his lower lashes. “All

right,” he said softly. “We can give it a try. If you think
you
can bear

it”

Footsteps echoed from the street and slowed as they approached

the end of the lane. Franklin pulled back his hands. Sly abruptly lifted

the Jäger bottle and held it in front of his crotch.

“Hey, Princess! You find your Prince Charming?”

“Oh shit, not again,” Sly groaned.

“I believe,” Franklin said, “a profanity is in order now. And a bit

of a lesson.” Without bothering to stand, he hollered, “Fuck off!” He

lifted two fingers, held one on top of the other, and pointed them at

the bothersome man. A shaft of blue-streaked white light shot from

his fingertips and knocked the inebriated loudmouth on his ass.

“Now maybe he
will
have numb nuts,” Franklin said.

Sly grinned. “Ooo, Frenni Col-Enk, you’re a wicked little fairy.”

Who knows? Franklin thought with a pleased smile. “Maybe

very.”

THE END

Author bio:
K. Z. Snow has published m/m romance through

Dreamspinner Press, Loose Id, and Liquid Silver Books. Her restless

imagination has led her into many m/m romance subgenres:

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 748

contemporary, historical (a little), paranormal, steampunk, urban

fantasy, and futuristic.

Recent releases:

Visible Friend

Abercrombie Zombie (summer 2011)

The Zero Knot (late 2011)

Visit K.Z. at
http://kzsnow.blogspot.com

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 749

VJ Summers – LIAR, LIAR (Goth Club/Friends-to-Lovers)*

Genre:
contemporary

Tags:
goth, club, guyliner, friends to lovers,

Dear Author,

unrequited love

Yes, I ignored your

Words:
2,909

warnings, and I fucked up,

big time.

LIAR, LIAR

He told me he loved me,

by VJ Summers

told me he wasn’t ready to

come out, yet. More the fool

Tim came to Candyland to dance. He came

me.

to relax and unwind and have a little fun. For a

It wasn’t as if *you* knew

long time he’d come to catch a glimpse of Rio.

he was married, either.

To maybe get a smile, or a dance. Or to maybe

[PHOTO: A man’s face:

get the chance to rub up against all that hard

startlingly blue eyes glare

muscle and play pretend for a minute or two.

out from a frame of thick

black eyeliner, under a one-

But lately he came to forget the look on

sided fall of black hair.

Stephen’s face every time he left Tim’s

Lean cheeks and strong chin

are accentuated by a stubble

apartment to go back to his real life. He came to

of beard. His full lower lip

Candyland to get lost in the music and move to

meets thin upper, mouth

the thumpa-thumpa until the steel band around

firmly closed. A chain of

his skull loosened enough to let him think

silver V-links circles his

neck, under his open white

again, and the steel band around his chest

shirt.]

loosened enough to let him breathe.

And for the record, I never

Tonight, Tim had come to Candyland to

said I didn’t care about you.

You said you didn’t want a

forget.

relationship with me.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t working very well.

So, what changed?

The tequila was helping, though.

Sincerely,

Stephen was always so
sorry
when he left,

Blaine D

so reluctant to burst their little bubble of

intimacy. He’d stroke Tim’s cheek, slide his

fingers through Tim’s hair, bury his face in

Tim’s neck and breathe
I love you
hot and damp

against his skin.

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 750

Always, except for tonight.

He needed another drink.

Tim weaved his way through the dancers moving wildly under the

stained glass colored lights. Once or twice he felt hard muscles or soft

curves press against his back, but he didn’t stop. The tequila was

calling, and it was a siren song that was louder than even the Scissors

Sisters pounding in the very floor.

Tonight had started the same as usual. Stephen hungry and

desperate, and Tim so damned grateful to be wanted that he ignored

the fact that they never went out in public, that Stephen wouldn’t even

consider inviting Tim to
his
house just one time.

The sex had been good. It always was. Stephen didn’t bottom –

ever – but he knew what to do with his cock, so Tim could ignore the

slow-burning desire to own his lover’s body as completely as his lover

owned his. Just his body, if he was being honest with himself – which

he’d really rather not. Stephen had never owned his heart.

He’d ignored that, too. Ignored so much, so many red flags. Hell,

he’d deliberately looked right past all the warning signs, defiantly

pretended they didn’t exist.

Once the sex was done, Stephen had rushed to the shower, as

usual. He didn’t like the sticky, sweaty aftermath. Tim had left him to

it, having learned early in their relationship that once he got off,

Stephen really wasn’t much for the cuddling. The fact that Tim didn’t

particularly miss the afterglow should have been a warning all its

own, but he’d stubbornly ignored that, too.

So then the shower was over, and Stephen came to give his

customary good-bye. The stroke of his cheek. The moment playing

with his hair. An unaccustomed kiss that had been Tim’s first hint that

something was up.

“You know I love you, right?” Stephen’s voice had been low,

almost monotone, and he wasn’t meeting Tim’s eyes.

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“I love you, too,” he’d answered, meaning he loved that Stephen

loved him, needed him. That was almost the same, wasn’t it?

“This is killing me,” Stephen continued. He was still looking