The Plot Bunny (2 page)

As he exited the publishing house, Luc thought that perhaps he should quit writing altogether. He didn't seem to be very good at it lately, and his funds were definitely waning. At this rate, he'd have to turn to his parents just to live. How humiliating would that be?

He missed Simon. He missed the way the other man would laugh and cheer him up when things looked bad. When they kissed and made love, Luc felt he really was in one of the fantasy worlds he'd imagined for his characters. A part of him wanted to beg for Simon to take him back, but at this point, his knew his ex-boyfriend deserved better than a washed out, has-been writer.

The solemn sound of a bell tolling drew him out of his musings. Luc didn't know why, but it moved him, attracted him. Perhaps it was cheesy, but didn't priests always say God brought His children peace? Maybe it would work. Luc was definitely willing to try.

Abandoning his quest for a cab, Luc followed the sound of the bell until he reached a large, beautiful building. As he stared at the wooden door, he hesitated. He hadn't been to Church for ten years, more specifically since he'd come out. Thankfully, his family had never been religious people, and they'd taken the news as well as could be expected. Slight awkwardness, disappointment, maybe even a touch of fear. Things were better now, and he'd actually considered introducing Simon to them.

Shaking himself, Luc opened the door. The hinges creaked in an obscenely loud way, or so it sounded to Luc. The silence inside the church astounded him. It seemed like a whole different world, and Luc thought that in moments such as these, when people didn't flock together to Mass, crowding the beautiful building, he really could appreciate the peacefulness of it all.

Yeah, he was antisocial. So what?

As he looked around, a priest in a dark cassock emerged from somewhere in the back. "Can I help you, son?" he asked.

"I don't know," Luc replied. "Can you?"

The priest gestured him to the confession booth, but Luc shook his head. He didn't have any sins to confess—well, probably he did, but nothing that weighed on his soul. He just wanted advice, support from someone who wouldn't say "I told you so" or "Get a real job".

They sat down together on a bench. The priest introduced himself as Father Michael and Luc found himself pouring everything out, his problems with the book, his fears and insecurities, even his homosexuality and Simon. He couldn't help but ask, "What if the others got it right? What if this is some sort of punishment for being gay?"

"God doesn't punish like that," the priest replied. "He is our Father and he loves us all."

Luc arched a brow. "You don't think I'm a deviant for liking other men?"

The priest paused. "I can't say I understand it, and my Church definitely doesn't condone it. But I simply can't believe the Lord would punish someone to eternal damnation just because of their sexual orientation."

Luc nodded. He felt better simply at getting all this weight off his chest. "Thanks for listening."

"No problem," Father Michael replied. "You can come here any time and stay as long as you like. I'll leave you to gather your thoughts now."

With that, the priest departed. Luc sighed and leaned against the bench. "Gather my thoughts, huh?"

He stared at the quiet church, taking in the beauty of it all. Religious ornaments glittered around the altar and saints smiled benevolently at him from paintings and engravings. Filtered through the stainless glass of the windows, the light seemed to shine in a thousand colors. Beautiful. Why couldn't he come up with something like that? Why were his stories dead?

"I need a muse," Luc said out loud. He'd heard and read all sorts of stories about artists, from sculptors to authors, receiving supernatural help from the gods. Perhaps that was what he needed, some help from above to kick start his stuck imagination. "Come on, old guy," he pleaded. "Help me out here."

"I'm not sure He'll appreciate being called an old guy," a male voice suddenly said behind him.

Luc let out a gasp of surprise and turned. Here he was trying to find peace and some idiot interrupted him with random remarks.

"
What the hell?
"
he began. His words died in his throat
at
the sight of the intruder. A young man sat on the bench behind Luc
'
s, his green eyes analyzing Luc with mischievous amusement. Luc couldn
'
t see much of his body, since the light didn
'
t suffice for an adequate examination, but those eyes burned through the darkness.
He wore a funky black cap inscribed with the logo of the Playboy bunny. A tight T-shirt hugged his slender torso, flirtingly asking,
Won
'
t you be my seme?
It made Luc want to look around for a candid camera.

The young man made a shushing motion. "We're in a church. You shouldn't speak like that."

The words snapped Luc out of his trance. Right, the kid had been eavesdropping on him. "How am I supposed to react then, when I'm being spied on?"

The young man had the gall to look surprised. "Spied? You called for me, didn't you?"

Luc gaped.
"
I did what?
"
Had he accidentally dialed the number of one of his former fuck buddies?
Nah
, he would remember those beautiful eyes, those full lips.
Don
'
t stare, Luc, don
'
t stare. You
'
re in a holy place.

"You wanted a muse," the young man replied, unfazed. "Well, here I am."

This time, Luc couldn't even find an answer. What could one say when faced with something like that?

"You look surprised," his little tormentor said. "Come on, let's go outside." He got up, and when Luc followed his example, he took Luc's hand and started pulling him toward the exit. Luc tripped against the bench, making the massive piece of furniture tilt alarmingly and threaten to fall. The young man gave him a reproachful look. "Be careful."

Luc opened his mouth to deliver a scathing reply. He never would have tripped in the first place if not for the irritating little twerp. But he didn't even have time to protest. He was practically swept off his feet by this young man with a lot of imagination and even more craziness.

As they left the church, Luc finally got a better view of his captor. The young man was slender, but toned, his clothing as peculiar as his charm. Strands of blond hair escaped the cap, falling over the boy's face in a naughty curtain. The outfit was completed by combat boots, black tights and a short, ruffled skirt that offered a tantalizing view of the curves of the youth's ass.

Luc knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. He knew plenty of drag queens and cross-dressers, but this young man seemed nothing like them. He created his own style that went beyond his clothes. His eyes, his smile and everything about him mesmerized Luc.

The young man did a little pirouette, presenting himself for Luc's enjoyment. "You like?" he asked.

Luc hesitated, trying to find the appropriate response. Yes, he liked—and very much. But saying that would encourage this whole interaction and Luc didn't think that was a very good idea.

"I know," the young man said. "Beyond words, right? I'm flattered."

"Riiight," Luc replied. "Well, I'd better be going now. You know, things to do, manuscripts to tear apart."

The youth's expression turned serious. "Yes, of course. After all, that's why I came."

He took Luc's hand and grinned. "Come on. Lead the way. Oh, and before I forget, my name is Dury."

* * * *

Luc had not meant for things to turn out this way. He'd wanted an idea, some sort of clue as to how he should fix his manuscript. Instead, he'd received a bubbly twink who took up far too much space in his house and refused to go away.

He'd tried sending Dury away and locking him out. He'd tried abandoning him in a mall and fleeing the scene like one would do with a now unwanted animal. Nothing worked. Dury always showed up back at Luc's apartment, making himself comfortable in Luc's home and life.

Two days had passed in a whirlwind and Luc was going out of his mind. How in the world had he fallen into the clutches of a lunatic? He couldn't take it any longer. He needed to do something, lest he lose it completely.

Angrily, Luc stomped to the kitchen. He was met by a flurry of enticing aromas and the sound of a soft hum. Luc froze in his tracks as he watched Dury move through the room. A pot of some sort of stew brewed on the stove and
the
distinct smell of cake floated from the oven. As he stirred
the stew, Dury danced to a tune only he heard, his hips swaying seductively and his pert little ass wiggling. Luc suppressed a groan.
Be strong. You can beat this. Get a grip.

He cleared his throat and leaned against the wall, watching his new housemate closely. Dury threw a gaze over his shoulder. "Just in time. Come on. Come taste this. I want to know if it needs more salt."

Luc tried to force himself to speak out, but the words just didn't come, not when Dury watched him with that sweet, expectant look on his face. Before he knew it, Luc obeyed and joined his house guest next to the stove.

Beaming at him, Dury took out a spoon of stew and blew on it to cool it down. "Careful," he said. "It's hot."

Luc nodded. As Dury offered him the spoon, their gazes met and held. Luc could swear Dury blushed. The beautiful light in Dury's green eyes drew him like a moth to the flame. As the spoon nudged his lips, he opened his mouth, still lost in Dury's green gaze.

Unfortunately, the spell of Dury's eyes rendered Luc unable to think about anything else—which translated to him drinking in the mouthful of stew with no caution whatsoever. He only realized it when the hot spicy food hit his taste buds, scorching everything in its path.

Instantly, Luc recoiled and started coughing as his mouth protested the assault. "Fuck. Water. Water."

He leaned against the counter, trying to regain his breath. A glass of liquid appeared in front of him and Luc gladly snatched it. As he gulped down the heavenly manna, the burn started to recede, leaving behind only the pleasant taste of the delicious stew. Damn it. Why did Dury have to cook such spicy stuff?

Fury and frustration swept through Luc. He hadn't come to the kitchen to be a cooking aid. "That's it," he growled at Dury. "You're out of here."

Dury's beautiful eyes widened. "But I haven't helped you with your book yet."

"
Exactly,
"
Luc shot back.
"
So far the only things you
'
ve done are cook food with too much pepper and fill my drawers with your own clothes.
"
And give me a hard-on that won
'
t go away
, he mentally added.
"
If anything,
"
he continued to rant out loud,
"
you
'
re making it worse. You
'
re not casting away my writer
'
s block.
"

"That's because you don't believe," Dury shot back. "You spend your time trying to come up with ideas to get me out of here instead of appreciating my help."

Luc crossed his arms over his chest and snorted. "And what do you expect me to do? Some random guy pops up into my life, claims he's my muse—"

"Plot bunny," Dury interrupted.

"—and makes himself at home in my apartment," Luc continued undeterred. "Excuse me if I'm not exactly thrilled."

Dury's eyes filled with tears. "So you think I'm a liar just trying to mooch off you?"

Luc opened his mouth to say yes. He tried to harden his heart, but the sight of Dury's tears simply tore him apart. God, he couldn't allow himself to be manipulated by a pretty boy who could cry on command, even if said pretty boy had incredible eyes, luscious lips, and a body to die for. Instead of keeping to his resolve, though, Luc found himself something else entirely. "Fine. If you prove to me that you really are a plot bunny, I'll let you stay."

Dury wiped his tears. Feeling like a jerk, Luc retrieved a napkin and offered it to the young man. Dury nodded in silent thanks and took it. After he blew his nose, Dury gave Luc a critical look. "For a fantasy writer, you're awfully skeptical."

Luc wanted to come up with a witty comeback, but he didn't get his chance. Before his very eyes, two white bunny ears appeared on top of Dury's head. Dury turned his back on Luc and lifted his Lolita skirt. A white bunny tail appeared just above the curve of Dury's ass.

Luc actually swooned. He'd been so certain Dury was just a freeloader. The last thing he'd expect was to see his house guest sprout bunny ears and a tail.

"Are you okay?" Dury asked, his voice sounding concerned.

"I'm perfectly fine," Luc growled. "Why didn't you show me this before?"

Dury sighed. "I was hoping you'd feel the magic by yourself. A different time, you would have."

Luc felt the disappointment in those words like a stab to the chest. Then, Dury smiled at him, his green eyes open and clear. "It's okay," he whispered. "All you have to do is believe."

Luc reached out to Dury with trembling hands. He hadn't believed in something in a long time. The closest he'd come was with Simon, but it hadn't been enough to save their relationship. He no longer believed in his own ability to write, that much he knew. He kept warm feelings for his family, but their support was so distant it didn't count anymore.

Could he entrust everything to this mysterious young man? Luc's fingers made contact with the tip of those white ears and he marveled at the feel. Dury stepped closer until they were practically embracing. He smelled intoxicating and his gaze seemed even greener.