Truth or Dare [Anthology]

Table of Contents

Good Horses to Ride by Dallas Coleman

True Enough by Quatorze

Braving the Rain by Julia Talbot

Bored Eco-Terrorists and Redneck Lovers by BA Tortuga

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Good Horses to Ride By Dallas Coleman “Tuck? Tuck, you in there?” He heard Jim’s voice like it was rolling down a canyon, a little echo and a lot of hollow and that bare rush of wind carrying it along the stones and scrub brush. He lifted his head up as best he could and tried to nod, wincing as his bones ground and creaked together. He’d stopped being able to holler out long afore the sun started lighting the sky up to pink, which surely didn’t seem fair, as his goddamn body hadn’t figured how to forget to hurt. Lord no. Lord, have mercy, Tuck reckoned that glint of sunshine on metal was either the Jim’s good boots or that damned Mexican’s knife, still sitting where it’d fallen that last time. Since it was feeding time and Jim was a fucking girl about them ostrich boots getting even a hint of horseshit on ‘em, it had to be that knife. He could see the shine of it, plain as day, shining like a new penny and sure enough if his Jim saw it, the man’d come to look – hoping it was fallen treasure and telling himself he was only looking because it might be a ten-penny nail and those would wreak havoc on a horse’s hooves and goddamn but Tuck didn’t care so long as Jim bent to look and peered over with them bright, pretty eyes and saw him, please God. Please, God. He’d made that prayer more than once, from the minute he’d seen the sorry sumbitch in the Star, making eyes at that whoreson, Johnny Tabor, little bastard that’d been caught cheating more than once – at roping and cards and love. Tuck still had the fucking scars, carved right into his pride with a wicked sharp tongue. Lord, he’d done everything he knew to catch Jim’s attention, from buying the durned fool a beer to picking a fight with Sam over the Rangers and Astros and getting his nose broke in the parking lot. There was something about Jim’s ass in those Wranglers, tight and tiny and fine in that way a cowboy with broad shoulders and a wee waist had. Tuck liked his men that way, broad enough at the top to hold tight to while his cock plowed the way in a hole tight enough to be a fist. Liked the man’s laugh, too. It weren’t no pussy-sound, wasn’t fake or too loud or grating. It put his mind to being younger and easier in his own skin, driving on Old Airport Road to go muddin’ with the rest of them, a case of beer in the bed and a bucket of chicken and biscuits in the middle between all of them boys, not a care in the world beyond having enough pennies to fill the tank. Tuck reckoned he’d spent more than his fair share of time – that first night and for the next three weeks - sitting and staring at that goat-roper straw hat that had hit the dirt one too many times, that pretty green shirt that never fucking changed, but seemed clean each night and hoping God would turn Jim’s eyes toward him, let something happen and catch sparks.

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Hadn’t worked, either, at least not until Jim’d finished the race with Tabor and went from heading down the straightaway to crashing and burning on Business 35 after already paying entry fees for the VFW rodeo. Of course, Tuck figured the good Lord hadn’t give him money nor sense, beauty nor an even temper, but he could rope and ride and he always showed somewhere at the right possible second. He could hear it, plain as day and clear like he was right there, standing under a blazing July sky, the hint of a storm just on the southern edge of the Hill Country, his Chevy purred as he idled on the side of the highway and looked at Jim and Dix. “Lord, son. Where’s your ride?” Man and horse was all lathered and stamping on the asphalt that was damn near liquid with the heat. “Heading to the arena with Mickey Underwood and my money.” That old hat came off, kerchief wiping that sweat off that crew-cut. “Hey, Tuck.” Well, well. Jim did know his name. He didn’t hoot, but it was a close fucking thing. “Well, I reckon you’re lucky you got your ride and tack. I seen him leave guys with less.” “No shit.” Jim spit into the tall grass to the side of the road and sighed, shoulders rolling a little under a sweat-soaked t-shirt, the white gone damn near clear, showing off nipples and flat-flat belly. Oh, fuck him raw, he could get on his sore knees and worship at that altar for an hour and not feel the gravel on the road. “I don’t reckon there’s enough room in that trailer for another?” “Well, Dollar don’t mind sharing and it looks like we’re both heading the same way and God knows it’s a hot day to walk it…” That was the first time that grin’d been turned upon him and Tuck knew he was bound and fucked right there. Weren’t no use arguing with it, neither, and God knew Tuck didn’t try. He always did know when to give thanks for the shit God offered. It didn’t take ‘em much, neither, to get Dix and Dollar settled and Jim’s bag tossed in the truck, that wet t-shirt stripped off, showing off tanned, pretty shoulders that made little Tuck stand up and salute, sure as shit. They got themselves buckled in and decided on whether they was in a Garth or George or Alan mood. Then they popped a couple-three beers and headed on. He reckoned he’d been good that whole first ride, singing with the radio and laughing at Jim’s jokes. They’d roped together and made them both some money, then went together with a couple of tire-irons and explained the way to things for old Johnny and Mickey. Explained shit real fucking clear. Some folks were slow learners. They'd been bloodied and bruised some, running like spooked hares when the black and whites came whooping. They drove down to the Sonic and got them some chili pie and Dr. Pepper and hooted as Dix and Dollar stomped and tossed their heads.

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They made it all the way past Austin and into Jarrell before Jim's hand came creeping over the seat. Little Tuck went sproing and reached right for those fingers and they both chuckled some. Soon as they hit Killeen, though, they'd stopped and Jim'd followed him right into that cheap-assed hotel room and locked the door behind them, cock hard as Chinese algebra against his thigh, both of them smelling of sweat and horses and hay and beer. He'd hit his knees hard, neither of them even sharing a kiss because, damn. Then it was about hot and heavy and right fucking now cowboy. Then it was all sucking that swollen tip into the back of his throat and swallowing hard, hearing his name ringing out and bouncing off of thin sheetrock. It took a while for it to be about real shit. It hadn't mattered none right then, though. Right then Jim's hands had tilted his head back and those green-grass eyes had stared into him and shit. That boy was fine when he shot. They'd turned that little room inside out, from the little shower to the too-soft bed. He'd drilled that tight little ass and Jim'd liked to eat him alive, biting his fingers, nibbling his belly, taking his nuts in that furnace of a mouth and sucking 'til he reckoned he'd die happy. They got back to Kilgore and went their separate ways without much of a word. He hadn't fussed about it, neither had Jim. Least for a couple days until the marks faded and Tuck started thinking that he might need him a little more of that. Hell, he'd got himself shaved and washed, clean shirt on and his good watch on his wrist. 'Course, when he'd grabbed his keys from Granny's bowl sitting there by the front door, Jim was standing right there on the porch, looking like a lost puppy and Tucker grinned and scooped that pretty little ass right on in, not even bothering to go for beer. Kept the kid, too. Hell, his fucking name was on the man's hip, along the curve of a rope circling a steer's horns. He'd taken Jim over to Fort Worth to get it done where there weren't no one to point or make comment or nothing. It'd been real easy, even. A picture and an idea and some folding money and pow. Jim was all marked. His. If he had a matching set of ink, Jim weren't gonna tell no one and he weren't either. Looked pretty good, even on his skinny ass. The horses were snorting and stamping up a storm and Tucker sorta frowned. He was awful busy, damn it. The memories were coming good and they was better than just laying there and hurting. Hell, he reckoned Jim was just about the best thing that happened to him. Well, Jim and roping. "Tuck? Honey? Fucking bed was cold like you ain't even slept in it. Blue norther caught me up near to Magnolia or I'd'a been home last night late. You ain't mad, are you? I got

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us some good money for them calves and I brought four yearlings and a Beefmaster that's…" It had been the knife. Tucker knew 'cause that son of a bitch caught on the toe of Jim's work boot and went skittering over the hardpack. "What the…" Hands landed right on his shoulders, shaking him a little and making him sputter. "What are you doing on the… Tuck? Honey? You're cold as ice…" Then the world went red-hot and hurting, the edges of thing plumb grey where they framed Jim's face "Oh, Jesus fuck. Tucker. I. Shit." He'd've laughed, if he could. Yeah. Shit. Jim'd asked him to come on this trip, make it like a vacation sorta, but he had a bit of work over to the Parkers and Jimmy Dale paid real good and God knew they could use the buffer after the transmission went out on the Ford. Goddamn that piece of shit. Not only that, but the missus was known to make up a cobbler that was damn near as good as a long-term cowboy and hell, he was looking forward to a couple days of sleeping across the bed and stealing all them covers. If he'd only not gone for some suds at the watering hole. Or not got into a pissing match with Jack Marshall over the goddamn ball game and ended up duking it out in the parking lot. Or if he'd not broke Jack's nose when Jack'd called him a no-account faggot. Hell, even if Jack Marshall's greasy bitch of a wife hadn't called her little brother and friends to come up to the house and prove that the whole lot of them folks weren't worth pissing on if they was on fire, he might've been better off. They'd started off with throwing mud at the house, then they'd broke the headlights on his truck and he'd come out of the house like his ass was on fire, turning the hose on them and wishing to hell that he hadn't given the shotgun to Jim for the road. There'd been a shitload of them, but he'd held his own up to the end – weren't that always the way? Everything was solid up to the end when shit went haywire and one of them had a knife and took it too far? Couldn't let the fuckers hurt the critters, though. Man had to defend them that was his. Jimmy'd get that, no question at all. Jim was a good'un. He felt Jim land beside him with a thump, fingers sliding on his face. "Shit, Tuck. You just hold on now, huh? Don't you wander far. Help's coming." “You manage that trailer okay?” “Yeah. Yeah, Tuck. I did fine. Kept it between the lines.” Shit, Must be raining, the way Jim’s cheeks was all slick and shiny. “What happened, honey? Who did this?” “Bunch of Mexicans.” Christ on a crutch, he was tired. Cold too, except where Jim was holding him. “Busted the lights on the Ford.”

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“You out chasing their women again, honey? I keep telling you, them dares ain’t worth

taking.”

He’d’ve laughed, iff’n he could, but there just wasn’t none left in him. “You ‘member

playing dares over up at Lake Fork?”

God have mercy, Jim’d looked fine-fine that night, all nekkid and lit up by the full moon like the man was in some black and white movie. Or maybe was one of them statue dealies that them Italian folks made. He’d sat and watched with his teeth in his mouth, little Tucker waving and bobbing and making a ton of promises, yessir. He’d got Jim to lie out on a picnic table – with a blanket underneath for the splinters – and work that pretty cock while he watched. It’d been fine.

Hell, it’d been a pure-D sin and he’d do it again, given time. Hell, yes. Just sit himself in

a lawn chair and get Jim to spread and show all that glory.

“…now. You gotta stay here, honey. I bet we’ll hear the sirens, any second.”

Tucker sorta frowned some, trying to figure out how he’d got so old, so fucking sore. It

hadn’t been all that long since he’d been chasing chickens to get Momma’s eggs and had

been out riding on Old Pie.

He hadn’t seen Old Pie in a while…

“Where’s Pie?”

“Who?”

“My horse, damn it. Where…” Lord, the air was heavy, just like it was fixin’ to blow up

a gullywasher. They could use it, yessir. The ground was so dry it had cracks all the way

to China.

“Honey. Honey, hold on, now. I know it’s gotta hurt like the dickens, but you can’t die on

me, you hear? You cain’t.”

Die? Him? Shit.

He wasn’t fixin’ to die. There was still shingles to be fixed on the house and he had to

repack the bearings in the tractor.

Not only that, but just ‘cause he hadn’t been roping good for a while, didn’t mean he

couldn’t get it back. Hell, he had Jim for a partner, didn’t he?

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Yessir.

He could hear sirens, or maybe they was them damnable mockingbirds up in the

persimmon tree. Shit, he oughta cut that thing down afore the stupid birds went and got

themselves drunk on the rotted fruit.

That sure made Jim laugh, though, them things fluttering and tilting and falling.

Goddamn.

It sure did.

“Here they come, Tuck. You’re gonna be fine. I swear. I do.”

Tucker blinked a little, trying to get the fog outta his eyes. “Jim.”

“Yeah, Tuck. I’m right here, honey.”

“You’re a fine man. A real fine man.” The sun set Jim to glowing and Tuck just smiled,

loving it, through and through. “I sure do love you, you know.”

“Yeah. Yeah, come on. Stop that, honey. You just save your breath.”

“But you know?” He wasn’t sure why it was important. Probably just because he was

tired and stupid-cold, but it was.

It was real important.

Jim sighed and nodded, fingers sliding over his cheeks, down his throat. “I know, honey.

You been real clear, from the start. I ain’t got no complaints. No complaints at all, you

ornery bastard.”

Well, there it was.

God’s honest truth.

Settled deep down, Tucker closed his eyes and nodded, thumb tracing the scar on Jim’s

palm. Damn rope near took the man’s pinkie finger off, which would’ve been a damn

shame.

His Jim had fine hands and could his man ride? Lord, lord. There weren’t nothing better on Earth or in Heaven. Amen.

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True Enough by Quatorze "What's eating you?"

"Huh?"

"I asked," Kevin said patiently over his can of soda, "what is eating you?"

"What do you mean?"

Kevin looked at his friend's frown and sighed. "Come on. You've been brooding over

something for a while now, and imagine I haven't noticed? Is something wrong?"

"No," Barry said. "And I can't understand what you're talking about anyway."

"Man... I've known you since we were, what, eight or so?" Kevin spread his arms. "That

makes over ten years. Don't you think I know you well enough by now to have some

authority to claim that you've been behaving odd?"

Barry bit his lip, one hand absently picking on the armrest of his chair, gaze glued to the

window, and said nothing.

Kevin waited. He knew not to push it when Barry looked like that. Whatever it was, it would come out eventually if he was patient enough. So he shrugged to himself and turned his attention back to his communicator. "How do you know if you're gay?" "Huh?" "You heard me," Barry said irritably. Kevin stared for a moment, communicator forgotten again. "What makes you ask?" he blurted when no explanation seemed to be immediately

forthcoming.

"I was just curious."

Kevin didn't let the airy tone mislead him.

"Curious, oh yeah, sure!" he said. "What, do you think you're gay? Whoa, Barry, I never

knew -- I mean, you've never --"

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"Me neither," Barry interrupted curtly. "I always thought I'm just, well, not that interested. And maybe it's nothing after all. I mean, anyone might have these moments, right?" "Yeah, yeah, but what's made you think about it in the first place? Something must've happened!" Kevin sure wasn't going to let his friend off the hook quite that easily. "Come on, you can tell me! I'm always babbling everything to you, it's not like we have any real secrets anyway!" Barry took a gulp from his drink, then shoved fingers through his dark brown hair, lips pursed into a thoughtful pout. "Well... yeah, something's happened all right and I just can't seem to get it out of my head. It was at the wedding..." *** Lights were glittering everywhere in the huge penthouse patio. Bright lanterns blinked like clusters of stars above the heads of the people and music threaded through the crowd, mingling with talk and laughter. Here and there soft atmospheric lamps gave an eerie glow to selected nooks and corners, doing their best to lure people into those surprising havens of peace and into making use of the chairs and recliners strategically scattered around. Barry took a sip from his glass, savored for a moment the sparkling on his tongue, and sighed. Most everyone present seemed to look either breathtakingly gorgeous, or breathtakingly eccentric, or both. The clothes were expensive, the hairdos outrageous, fashions eye-catching, and he felt distinctly out of place. All right, so he'd somehow become acquainted with the perpetually chart-topping band Katana -- in fact well enough to be called 'friend' by its members. That didn't mean, however, that he would feel quite at home in a party where just about every face was familiar either from advertisements or from the media that followed every step taken by the more popular entertainers, and where he could hardly take three steps without nearly bumping into some music business tycoon or the cover girl of the latest perfume sensation. Even the usually dependable Kevin had abandoned him. No matter how Barry tried, that shock of flaming red hair was nowhere to be seen -- not that that would've been in any way surprising. Most probably Kevin was somewhere hanging out with his older brother Keith and Keith's partner Tsuriya, one of the Katana members, having a good time and enjoying the borrowed limelight to the fullest. Barry sighed. He wasn't too keen on that sort of thing. Oh, he liked everyone in the Katana well enough, and he liked spending time with them in private, but this was a whole different thing. Even seeing his own reflection in the numerous windows around

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gave him a jolt every damn time, simply because he just couldn't associate the handsome young man in that dashing suit with the image that had so far greeted him in the bathroom mirror in the mornings. He glanced around, feeling bedazzled. As flattering as it had been to be among the first invitees, maybe he should've thought it over once or twice before accepting. When the last so far single member of the Katana was now tying the knot with the top female model on the globe, of course the setting had to be posh enough to match the long and dashing guest list, and he should've really been a bit better prepared for what was to come. Barry shook himself slightly. Well, he sure wasn't going to spend the evening just sulking in a corner, either! Even if he was just a student of technology and by no means a proper part of the glitterati currently milling about, he wasn't going to be too intimidated to enjoy himself. He'd go looking for some nice, preferably not too rowdy company, and have fun! He took a deep breath, tossed back the rest of his drink and set the glass down on a stone table that happened to stand demurely next to him. Peals of laughter erupted from behind a row of bushy potted plants, beckoning him over. When he peered over them, he noticed a glittering swimming pool and a circle of some twelve or fifteen people sitting on the tiled floor next to it. Encouraged by the relaxed atmosphere radiating from them, he strolled closer. "Hey, more people!" someone shouted and waved at him. "C'mon, join in!" As Barry hovered closer with a hesitant smile, several people glanced at him and a slot appeared in the circle. "Sit down!" A dark girl in an extremely slinky dress patted the tiles beside her. "Sit down, and someone please pass that drinks tray around, this guy doesn't have a glass yet!" While Barry was settling down in the group that had so welcomed him, a tray full of colorful drinks had already begun its teetering hand-to-hand passage towards him. Miraculously, by the time it reached him all of the remaining glasses were still standing upright, and he picked up one. The taste was pleasantly crisp and fruity, and after a second mouthful he turned his attention to what was actually happening. In the middle of the loose circle lay an empty bottle, looking highly purposeful. One of the male members of the company reached out to grab it. "Hey, so it's my turn, right? Okay, here goes..." The bottle spun around for a few moments, then slowed down until it finally stopped, its neck pointing at a very tanned, very blonde woman who shrieked in delight.

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"Oh no! Not me!" Her protests were drowned by the applause and encouragement from the others, and she pressed both hands on her cheeks. "No wiggling," said the man who'd spun the bottle, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Truth or dare? Your call..." "Pick truth!" someone shouted. "You're sure to get some crazy task if you pick dare!" "Spoilsport," snorted another, "it's not a dare if it's something lame!" The questions and tasks were doled out by one of the players who was holding a little electronic gadget, apparently designed specifically for the purpose, and Barry soon decided that he was indeed lucky because the bottle seemed determined to miss him every time. Time and again it seemed to hesitate and then, at the last moment, point at someone else instead, so that he got to laugh along at the increasingly ludicrous tasks that befell each subsequent victim. Maybe the person reading out the commands was adding something for better effect, or maybe it was just the relaxed atmosphere and a suitable amount of booze that made everything so funny; whatever the reason, very soon his stomach muscles were nearly cramping with laughter. Once again the bottle spun wildly, slowed down, stopped. A roar of laughter emerged from the crowd. "Truth or dare?" "Dare," said the blond young man with an expectant smile. The appointed referee squinted at his gadget, then grinned widely. "Kiss the person on your left. Tongues must be involved." Barry blinked when the blond man grinned mischievously and crawled to sit closer to him. Dark eyes glinted in the dim light and he saw a wink. Then a hand was cupping the back of Barry's head, for a moment Barry smelled the fruit and alcohol in the breath that washed over his face, and the next thing he realized were the lips pressing on his. Too confused to resist, too surprised to really register what was happening, he still somehow managed to take note of the fact that tongues were most definitely involved. He had his arms full of a warm, slim body, another pair of arms was snaking around him, and the soft fabric of the blond man's shirt hissed under his hands. The kiss tasted good. The body molding into his felt good. As for the loud applause...

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Barry opened his eyes, surprised to notice they were closed in the first place, and swallowed as he saw the twinkling smile of the blond who pulled back, lips wet and red and swollen. The man glanced around. "Good enough?" Another round of cheering met the challenge in his voice, and with a triumphant grin he reached out to spin the bottle again. Barry was no end grateful that somehow, miraculously, his luck held to the last. No matter how many times the bottle was made to spin, it just refused to pick him out. Which was just as well, as his brain flatly refused to come up with any scheme that would allow him to even attempt a graceful escape. In the end he was rescued by the newlyweds who arrived to insist that everyone join them on the dance floor, and for the rest of the party he made doubly sure that everyone he danced with was definitely female. *** For a good while Kevin just stared at his friend. "Was that it?" he asked finally. "And now you're suddenly madly in love with him, or what?" Barry rolled his eyes. “Don't be stupid! I don't even know his name!" "That might not mean anything," Kevin argued. "You and he kissed, right? I've heard about people who claim to have fallen in love with someone at first sight -- so why not at first kiss?" "Kev, stop being an idiot and understand that I'm not claiming to be in love with the guy!" Barry exploded. "You're missing the whole point. It's not about him, not really. It's just that it was a he, a guy, and he kissed me, and it felt totally different from anything ever before." "I'm assuming that it felt different in a good way," Kevin mused, unperturbed by the roar. "Well, have you ever been suddenly grabbed and French-kissed by a girl?" "Of course I haven't!" "Then you can't know for sure that something like that might not have a similar effect," Kevin pointed out. Barry nodded but his frown didn't look too convinced.

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"Okay," Kevin tried a different approach. "So it's left you thinking. What about it, exactly?" "That I liked it," Barry admitted grudgingly. "A... a lot, actually."

"Well then!" Kevin threw out his arms. "Don't you think that might mean that you

actually swing that way? Even though you've never come to think about it before? Huh?"

"I suppose so. But how do I know for sure?"

"Well, I guess you ought to try it again and see what happens. How's that for a plan?"

Kevin cocked his head. Barry snorted.

"Try what, exactly?" he asked. "Kissing a guy? You make it sound pretty damn simple!"

"Isn't it simple, then?" Kevin shrugged. "Anyway, kissing might be good for starters, and

then maybe something more, depending on how you'd feel about that."

Barry groaned. "Oh yeah, really simple. So how do I go about finding somebody to try it

out with, huh? Any suggestions there?"

Kevin gave him a slanted look. "Um, surely this isn't the point where I'm supposed to,

dunno, offer to lend a helping hand or something?"

Barry nearly choked. "You? No fucking way!"

Kevin's eyebrows jumped to his hairline, then he grinned broadly.

"I might almost be insulted, Barry old man," he said mischievously. "But I think I know

what you mean, so I'm not. I mean, we're best pals and all that, but I don't think I'd be

ready to go quite that far, even for a friend like you. No offense."

"None taken," Barry sighed. "It's just that you're more like a brother or something, and no. Just, no."

"Anyway, we need to find a solution to this," Kevin continued.

"We?" Barry groaned. "How did it suddenly become 'our' problem?"

"Old pals and all that stuff, remember?" Kevin sat on the armrest of his friend's chair and

put an arm around Barry's broad shoulders. "Of course I want to be there for you.

Besides, why wouldn't I, when I know just the people who can help you?"

***

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"Stop looking so nervous!" "I'm not nervous," Barry countered untruthfully and tasted his drink, just to do something. He just couldn't shake the feeling of being stared at, no matter how he tried to tell himself that he was imagining things. All right, so he wasn't used to be wearing stuff like the slinky silvery shirt and tight black pants that he'd been coaxed into, but one glance around was enough to tell that his attire was among the tamest in the place. Besides, Barry was sure that even if he were stark naked, everybody around them would be too busy looking at his two companions to even notice him. Even though The Galaxy, Delmarva's hottest nightclub was packed as it usually was, there were some people who tended to be noticed no matter what their surroundings, and two such people were currently sitting at a little round table with Barry. Or rather, they were comfortably sprawled against the backrest of the sofa that curled gracefully around the table, enjoying their drinks and getting stared at. "Yes, you are," Keith insisted and winked at Barry. He raised his tall, narrow glass and took a sip of what looked like green slush. "Just relax, Barry, nobody's going to eat you." "I know," Barry grumbled. "I'm just not at all sure if this was the right thing to do." "Why wouldn't it be?" Tsuriya chimed in. "You want to find out something, and here's your chance. Look around, man, go dancing with people, try out stuff, and stop when you like. This was exactly the right thing to do!" Barry threw a sideways glance at a group of youngsters who sauntered by, trying very inefficiently to look like they weren't ogling the handsome Katana member. Tsuriya routinely ignored them while Keith blew them a kiss and got a burst of delighted giggles in return. "Wouldn't it have been better if I'd come here alone, or just with Keith?" "What? No way! Or would you want to be making headlines tomorrow as the guy with whom I'm being unfaithful to Tsuri?" Keith laughed at Barry's shocked expression. "No, I thought you wouldn't! Besides, now it's plenty clear that you're not taken, and that you're here looking for company." "Also, because you're here with us, it's a good guess that you're after guys and not girls," Tsuriya added. "So, r-e-l-a-x. Take a deep breath. You're here to have fun, right?" Barry found it surprisingly difficult to follow the advice, but he did his best. And really, there was no goddamn reason to feel this out of place -- this wasn't his first visit to The Galaxy, nor the first time he was hanging out with gay friends! Still it took a good while before his tension evaporated enough and he began to actually enjoy the evening. Tsuriya and Keith were good company, the music was loud but not overwhelming, the drinks tasty, and at last Barry felt himself relaxing in his seat. So what if he was here to find out things? Nobody was telling him to do anything more that what he felt like, it was perfectly all right to just look around and gauge his feelings about what he saw.

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The music morphed yet again into something new, and an eerie, sensuous melody crept out to dance over a deeper beat. Keith perked up. "Tsuri..." He gave his partner a suggestive glance. "Recognize this?" "You think I wouldn't?" Tsuriya slunk out of his seat and tossed his voluptuous mane over one shoulder. "C'mon, babe, there's no way we could miss this! I hope you don't mind, Barry?" "Of course not!" Barry smiled to himself as he watched how the two joined the crowd on the dance floor. Really, the present-day Keith was a far cry from the serious, uptight youngster he remembered from their boyhood days back in Kinross. This Keith was an altogether different creature, a self-assured young man who handled with admirable patience and good humor the everyday tribulations of his life as the partner of a celebrated pop star. No wonder Tsuriya was so completely crazy about him. Being with them here was also most entertaining, as long as one managed to ignore the staring, but Barry wasn't sure that it did anything to solve his problem. He couldn't deny that he enjoyed looking at the people around -- particularly at the males, in fact, but he was still feeling unsure of what exactly to do about it. That was a feeling that made him more exasperated than anything. How the hell was it possible that he was this clueless? Surely, if he really was gay, he should've noticed at least something already much earlier? Keith, too, had grown up in the insular, prejudiced, apparently asexual Kinross, but he claimed to have realized his own inclinations early on. Thus it didn't do to blame it all on the environment, either. Maybe then he was just mistaken? Or not really interested in any kind of sex? Or "Heyyyy..." Ice chunks clinked in the glass as it slipped from Barry's suddenly limp fingers and dropped back on the table with a muffled thump, luckily only from the height of about an inch. For a moment Barry sat still, as if someone had picked up one of those ice cubes and slipped it down the collar of his shirt. Then he slowly turned around. The face peering over the backrest of the sofa, chin resting on crossed arms, looked familiar. As did the shiny mop of blond hair. As did the brown eyes that glittered at him over a broad smile. "Remember me?" Barry swallowed with difficulty. "Yeah," he managed.

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The smile grew even broader. "I wasn't at all sure you would. Mind if I sit down for a while?" "N-not at all." "Great." Barry couldn't for the life of him understand why his eyes insisted on lingering on the tight, satin-clad bottom that appeared, together with the rest of the young man, from behind the sofa. When it settled next to him on the cushioned seat, he tore his gaze away with some effort and looked at the face once more. "You with someone?" The blond pointed at the two momentarily forsaken glasses. "I hope I'm not intruding?" "No, I'm with some friends, but they went dancing." Barry glanced over his shoulder, but neither Tsuriya's artfully striped hairdo nor Keith's unique shade of fiery red were anywhere to be seen. "Oh, right. Well." The newcomer flashed Barry a fetching smile. "Are you sure that you remember where we've met before?" "Yes," Barry said, feeling how heat crept up his neck. "You were at the wedding. Playing truth or dare." "So you really do remember! Damn, I'm flattered." "I was hardly drunk at all." Barry fingered his glass. "Actually I'm really surprised that you remember me." "Oh? Why wouldn't I?" For some odd reason the tilt of that blond head made Barry's mouth go even dryer. "Well, I just happened to be there, and, uh --" "So what? We got a hell of an introduction!" "Actually we didn't," Barry said and managed to look the other man straight in the eye. "I don't think I ever caught your name, back then." This time the blond laughed aloud, then raked fingers through his hair and looked sheepish. "Oops, I guess. But damn, you're right. I know for sure that I didn't get your name, because I was trying to look for you later in the evening but couldn't find you, and was rather pissed when I realized that I didn't even know whom I was looking for. There were way too many people at that party!"

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"Look for me?" Barry's eyes went round. "Yes I did, handsome, and why do you look that surprised? Anyway, let's get that thing settled right now. I'm Blaise, Blaise Razak." "Barry Conrad." They solemnly shook hands before breaking into a smile once more. "So, Barry, you're here with friends who've run away to dance, was that so?" "That would be about right," Barry admitted. "Um, would you like to have a drink or something? Were you sitting with someone before?" "Nope, just walked in about ten minutes ago. Was looking around to see if I could find anything interesting, and look what I found." Barry realized that he was once again looking into those brown eyes from rather close vicinity, and blinked. Blaise was leaning on his shoulder, chin propped on the back of a wrist. He had quite indecently thick and long eyelashes, Barry observed. "I think I might want to dance," the blond continued. "How about you?" "I... yeah." The tight satin of Blaise's close-fitting pants didn't just look good. It also felt pretty damn good under Barry's palms, particularly with the way the hips inside it were swaying to the beat. He squeezed a little, and was much encouraged by the smile that he got in response. *** "I feel a bit guilty now," Keith said over his shoulder and deftly avoided running into yet another vigorously dancing couple. "Shouldn't get carried away like this when we promised to keep him company." "Your own fault entirely," Tsuriya countered and combed his sweaty hair back with his free hand; the other was of course possessively in Keith's back pocket. "Besides, I think leaving Barry alone for a while is the only way to make him actually do something. Damn, I can't believe he's acting so shy all of a sudden!" "Meh, he's just confused." The redhead stopped to let some dancers continue their choreography past them, then slipped into a marginally less crowded area and headed towards their own table. "Hey, what --" "Confused, my ass." Tsuriya's fingers didn't loosen their vise-like clasp of Keith's wrist. "Just look at that."

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Keith didn't have the advantage of his boyfriend's remarkable height, so he had to crane his neck in order to see what 'that' was. When he did, his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "What the..."

Tsuriya slowly shook his head. "Doesn't look very confused to me."

"Um, no." Keith exhaled loudly. "Tsuri, exactly how long were we gone?"

"Wish I knew. Half an hour, maybe?"

"Right."

Keith leaned lightly against his partner, head tilting back to peek at him. "You're right,

though. He's got over his confusion pretty fast... But don't you think it'd be a good if they

breathed a little, once in a while?"

"Well, yeah." Tsuriya grinned back at him. "So, what're we going to do now?"

"Dance some more?" Keith looked hopeful. "Or get new drinks? I'd hate to interrupt."

"Let's go to the bar."

Tsuriya turned to go but Keith lingered still, eyebrows crunching together. "I'm just

wondering..."

"What?"

"Kev told me the whole story, and according to him it had been some blond guy who'd

kissed him. In the wedding, you know. Do you think that might --"

"Naah, that'd be too rich." Tsuriya nudged Keith's shoulder. "C'mon. I want something

cold and liquid."

***

"Damn, you're hot!"

Barry had to blink a few times to bring his eyes back to focus. Blaise rubbed their noses

together, smiling like a satiated cat and panting a little, and Barry knew he was panting as

well.

"Yeah?" he breathed.

"You still don't believe me?" Blaise licked his lips, and Barry's gaze was irresistibly

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drawn to the pink tip of his tongue swiping over the soft red of that skilled mouth. "Well, well. What should I do to prove it?" He shifted a little closer, elbow brushing against one of the half-empty glasses on the table, and Barry just barely managed to rescue it before its contents were spilled all over them both. He stared at it for a few seconds, then glanced around and swallowed. "Hey, what's the matter?" "Nothing," Barry said and tried to push the blond off his lap, but for some funny reason his arms refused to budge from where they were: around Blaise's waist. He was painfully aware of quite a few things at once, such as the fact that he had no idea where Keith and Tsuriya were, and that he'd just been doing his damnedest to kiss Blaise senseless in a thoroughly public place. And that he still wasn't sure whether he was gay or not but the odds were in favor of it, at least if his current hard-on was anything to go by. Luckily nobody seemed to be staring at them. The sight of two guys kissing passionately was probably far too commonplace in The Galaxy to merit a second glance, which was something of a relief. Barry tried to scrape the rest of his composure together and ventured a look at Blaise, who was still straddling his lap and peering back at him with a worried frown. "Honestly, handsome, is something wrong?" "No," Barry said after a deep breath and held him tighter. The answering chuckle and slight roll of hips made his eyes nearly cross, and he bit his lip not to groan aloud. "Oh fuck..." "Now you're talking," Blaise grinned. "How about we skip a few dances and get going? Your place or mine?" "Are you serious?" Barry gasped. "Absolutely. Unless you'd rather use the men's room?" Barry closed his eyes, listening to the heat licking his balls, and tried to count to ten. He got as far as six. "Where do you live?" "In Royston Terraces. Just five minutes with a taxi." "It's closer than mine, then," Barry said, heart beating very fast. Blaise granted him an angelic smile. "What about your friends?" he asked while trying to get off Barry and onto his feet

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without toppling the entire table. Barry shrugged. "I'll send them a message," he said and followed Blaise towards the door, feeling delightfully dizzy. *** Keith sighed and shook his head, plopping down on the overstuffed seat of the sofa. "Damn, where the hell is he? I haven't seen a glimpse of him for heaven knows how long! And we promised Kevin that we'd take such good care of him." "I wouldn't be so worried," Tsuriya said with a shrug. "Barry's not a kid, and he's such a level-headed and sensible guy anyway." "Well, that's what I've always thought, too," Keith sighed. "But what we last saw him doing was pretty untypical of him." "Oh, just stop fretting!" Tsuriya poked him. "Maybe they've gone dancing? Or to do some more untypical things? Listen, wasn't the purpose of tonight to help him find out if he's gay or not? So why should you worry if he's found someone to give him some handson training." "You... uh, what's that?" Keith fished his communicator from a back pocket and flipped it open. "A message -- from Barry?" Tsuriya watched as a broad, incredulous smile spread on Keith's freckled face. "What is it?" "Listen: No worries, met someone, left already. Big thanks for taking me along. If Kev asks tell him I'll call when home again. PS: gay? guess so." They looked at each other for a while, then leaned back and grabbed their glasses. The edges clinked together, and Tsuriya smirked. "Mission accomplished?" "Guess so." Keith tossed back half of the drink and sighed. "Though we can't take too much credit, really." "Oh, shut up and let me feel righteous for once!" Some three miles away, Barry dropped his own communicator on a small table and slumped more comfortably into a somewhat tattered loveseat, then quickly sat up again with a yelp. "Careful," Blaise chided and handed him the glass he'd pressed against Barry's neck.

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"You don't want to spill this. Especially not all over yourself."

Barry drank greedily, watching as the blond slithered over the backrest and occupied the

free end of the loveseat with a contented sigh. Blaise's hair was still wet after a shower,

his eyes very bright, and apparently he either hadn't found anything else to wear or hadn't

bothered to look, because his only piece of clothing consisted of an ancient pair of

tattered shorts.

Barry was sure that his own body had to be glowing with the crazy, tingling sensation

that lapped over him in lazy waves, and just looking at the flush on Blaise's face made his

own turn even redder.

"Well?" Blaise's bare foot crawled under the crumpled towel, the only thing hiding

Barry's crotch from sight. Barry swallowed an undignified squeak and grabbed a firm

hold of the stray limb.

"Well what?"

Blaise laughed. "What do you think, silly? Of course I want to know how you're feeling

now, after your first time with another guy?"

Barry opened his mouth, then shut it again and thought hard.

"Good," he said slowly. "I feel good in a way I've never felt before. I -- no, you're just

going to laugh at me if I say it."

"I won't!"

"You will, it's so stupid!"

"I promise I won't." Blaise ceremoniously put a hand over his heart.

Barry eyed him suspiciously, then shrugged. "Well, it's -- I don't know what would be the

right word. Like I've found something that's been missing although I never knew it."

Blaise sighed and shook his head.

"I don't think that's anything to laugh at," he said slowly. Then a broad grin crept onto his

face. "Hey, does that mean it's proven, then? That you really are gay?"

"I suppose so," Barry said.

"Suppose? So it probably wouldn't do any harm to make sure?" Blaise's eyes had taken a

mischievous glint. "Because, you know, I'd be more than happy to help."

"You would?" Barry tried to deadpan, lips twitching with laughter. Blaise nodded

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solemnly.

"Sure," he said. "And I have a few more tricks up my sleeve. Tricks you might like."

"What sleeve?" Barry asked lazily and tickled the foot he was still holding underneath the

towel. It wiggled a little but made no attempt to escape.

"Speaking figuratively, handsome!" Blaise gulped from his own glass, then put it down on a nearby table and slid off the loveseat and onto his knees on the floor. "What are you planning?" Barry asked, alarmed, as Blaise leaned closer towards the strategically placed towel. The blond flashed him an innocent smile, then opened his mouth enough to give Barry a glimpse of the ice cube clenched between his teeth. Barry's eyes went wide. "You wouldn't!" "Is that a dare?" was Blaise's somewhat jumbled reply. "Because the truth it sure as hell

isn't."

"Blaise!"

"A dare, then," Blaise decided with a smirk and tossed the towel aside.

end

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Braving the Rain by Julia Talbot How big a fool did a man have to be to ride out on a night like this? The rain came down in sheets, sideways for the most part, just smashing against Johnny's hat and slicker, just pounding him and old Blue, making him wish to hell he'd stayed in the bunkhouse. If it hadn't been for Angel, he would have. That crazy, beautiful Mexican had ridden out three hours before on a dare. A fucking dare. Damn that Linus Cowell anyway. That little banty rooster cowboy had bet Angel anything he wanted that he couldn't go out in the storm and bring back that calf that had gone missing. Angel hated to lose even one head, and in this kind of weather a lost calf would just die, so the man had saddled up. Now Johnny was out looking for Angel, and not on any dare. Nope, this was pure fear. The man should have the good sense to come in out of the rain, and if he didn't, well, Johnny would beat it into him. Blue's hooves slipped and slid on the wet ground, little rivers of fast running water trying to sweep them away. Clicking at the horse, Johnny moved them to higher ground, avoiding the damned arroyo. One good push of flash flood could send him downstream to Mexico, he wasn't careful. He hoped to God that wasn't what happened to Angel. Not that he and Angel was best friends or nothin'. Nope, Angel was like an island. He was the only Mexican on a crew full of Anglos, and while no one made a big deal of it, it still set him apart. He was also the most beautiful thing Johnny had ever seen. Curly black hair that went all the way down Angel's neck paired with sharp brown eyes and a stocky, muscular body to make Johnny crazy every time he looked at the man in the bunkhouse, especially since they shared a room and Angel liked to parade around in a towel. Jesus. He almost slipped right out of the saddle when Blue lost his footing and bucked a little. Stop daydreaming, Johnny, he thought. Get your ass in gear. The water splashed off the brim of his hat, making him grumble even as he searched the terrain for any sign of the man, horse or calf.

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It was the lowing of the calf that finally took him to them, just about two miles from home. The side of the arroyo had give way, mud sliding down it worse than a house going off a hill in California, and that was right where Angel had chosen to light. Naturally. The man himself was clinging to a little scrub juniper with one hand and a weakly struggling calf with the other. Angel had the calf only by the tail, trying to keep the damned thing from drowning. Johnny didn't see Angel's big roan anywhere. "Shit! Angel!" He slid off Blue a safe distance from the treacherous slide, peering over the top. "Angel, can you hear me?" "Johnny? Man, I need some rope!" "Yeah. Yeah. Hold on!" He had his calf rope on his saddle, and he hoped to hell it would reach. It did. Johnny held his breath while Angel pulled that rope around the calf, yanking the silly bovine up so that he had a good grip. Then Angel grabbed the rope above the calf's body. "Ready!" Angel shouted. Right. He had tied off on Blue's saddle and now he set the horse to backing up, just like he would in the rodeo arena. "Come on, old, boy," he said. "You can do it. I know you can." He had to. Johnny helped, straining right alongside his horse, his boot heels digging deep into the mud. He slid forward a few feet before he and Blue got it together, but they finally got moving in the right direction, and endless moments later Angel popped up above the ridge, the calf squalling in his arms. "Oh thank you God and all the little fishes." Johnny moved fast, yanking Angel away from the fast moving water. That stupid fool just gave him a wide, wet grin. "You saved my bacon, man. 'Bout time you came along." Red rage drowned out his vision, and Johnny smacked Angel right on the mouth, a lefthanded backhand that had Angel hitting the ground and skidding a good two feet on his muddy ass. "You goddamned asshole! You scared a fucking year off my life and you think it’s funny! A fucking dare!"

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"Mierda! Johnny, man, what'd you hit me for?" Angel stared at him, wiping rain off his

face. "It's all good."

"No, it's not. If I hadn't come."

"But you did." Angel scrambled up again. "I bet Conchita's run all the way home."

So the big roan wasn't drowned. Relief hit him in another crashing wave. "So you didn't

kill her, huh?

"What the Hell has gotten into you?"

"You could have died, you stubborn, beautiful son of a bitch!" Jesus. Could he be any

more stupid?

Angel just looked taken aback. But only for a minute. Then the grin came up wide again,

Angel moving right up in his face.

"You worried about me, huh? You think I'm pretty?"

Johnny just stood there and shook, torn between running and hitting Angel again. "Don't

play with me, Angel. Please, man. I just…I shoulda never said nothin'."

"No, you should have. You did. You can't take it back." Muddy fingers touched his

cheek, far gentler than the rain. "You can't now."

"I. Damn."

"No. Don't damn me for this." Closing right in on him, Angel kissed him, lips wet and

gritty but so good that he just wanted to cry. Or laugh.

Instead he kissed Angel back like there was no tomorrow, really giving it up, his mouth

opening so Angel could taste him.

Angel pulled him close, that stocky body holding them up, heavy arms closing around

him. They rocked there in the rain, kissing like a pair of teenaged fools, both of them

touching through wet clothes.

He tore at Angel's jeans and Angel struggled with Johnny's shirt and suddenly they both

had skin, both could stroke and pet. Johnny arched, his hips rocking when Angel pulled

out his cock and stroked it, making him moan hard, like thunder.

He got his hands down the back of Angel's jeans, cupping his ass, and they moved and

moved, both of them panting, the rain pouring down on them. Johnny's cock ached and

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he worked it in an out of Angel's hand, his balls drawing right up so hard and fast that it

burned deep in his belly.

"Johnny…"

His name. Angel was calling his name and he lost it, just coming like a freight train, all

over the place. Thank God for the rain or he'd have a lot of explaining to do back at the

bunkhouse.

Angel thrust against him, pushing back into his hands, then forward into his thigh.

"Johnny, man. Come on. I need."

He went to his knees, his mouth against Angel's zipper, mouthing the man through wet

denim before yanking at that zipper and getting it down, getting Angel's thick, hot cock

out and sucking it right in. Just like there was no tomorrow.

Johnny barely had time to count to ten before Angel was coming for him, right into his

mouth, hot and salty and bitter and the best thing he'd ever had.

Once it was over, though, all the million reasons this was a terrible idea crowded his head

and Johnny backed off, wiping his mouth on his sleeve before zipping up his jeans.

"You're panicking, man."

"Uh-huh." What, he couldn't deny it.

"Well, don't. I ain't gonna go bad on you."

"How do I know that?"

Angel laughed, zipping up, too, then coming over to kiss him hard. "Because it’s the

truth. I been wanting you, man."

"Me, too. With you."

"So give us a shot, yeah?"

"I…" Shit. Could he? "I don't know if I can, buddy."

Those dark eyes sparkled for him, one hand cupping his ass to pull him so close they

were like one man. "Come on," Angel said. "I dare you."

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Bored Eco-Terrorists and Redneck Lovers by BA Tortuga Fuck him raw, he was bored.

He'd tried reading. Swimming. Shooting fish off the side of the boat. Jacking off.

Drawing pictures with permanent markers on the top of Sonny's head.

His wrist was still sort of sore.

Finally MJ wandered down into the belly of the boat, looking for some wire, some

detergent, a little gas and a kitchen timer. He hadn't blown shit up in days.

"Precious?" Oh, now, Sonny could nap through almost anything, but let him disappear

out of sight and the man didn't trust him enough to keep dozing.

Smart man.

"Uh-huh?" Now he needed a bottle. A glass one. Oh, and an old sock...

"Whatcha doin'?" That was the sound of Sonny cautiously slipping down the ladder,

treating the cabin like a room he had to clear for safety.

"Making a bomb. How was your nap?" Where the fuck was Sonny's lighter?

"Yeah? It was good. I'm rarin' to go. Thinking we ought to play a game." Sonny was a

damned good looking man, especially all naked and glistening with sweat from lying in

the sun.

"Yeah?" He watched Sonny as the man came over to take the bottle and the gasoline from

him, making sure there were no needles.

Not a syringe in sight, just Sonny. Hot, sun-soaked redneck. Sonny set all his stuff aside and pulled him up for a kiss. "Hey."

"Mmm. Hey." His hands slid down Sonny's back, fingers splaying out over that amazing

ass.

Pushing right back into his touch, Sonny chuckled, the sound low and lazy. "So, do you

wanna play, or what?"

"What're we playing?" Yeah. Yeah, he wanted to play. His tongue dragged along Sonny's

collarbone. Uhn. Salty.

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Sonny touched him right back, fingers rubbing up and down his back. "I was thinking

truth or dare."

"Truth or dare?" He vaguely remembered playing that in college. Blowing up toilets with

dry ice. Drinking pickle juice. Flashing the librarians.

"Uh-huh. Just. You. And me." They moved, Sonny dancing him back against the bunk

along one wall and pushing him down. "A special round."

"Mmm." His fingers moved around, sliding up along Sonny's cock. "Who's going first?"

Hot. Hard. His.

"At this rate I am. But you're out of practice with playing, so I figure I'll ask first. Truth

or dare?" Those dark eyes twinkled, daring him right then and there.

Right. Like he'd say truth. His thumb worked the tip of Sonny's cock, sliding over the slit.

"Dare."

"Uhn." That whole big old body shuddered, Sonny grunting for him. "Uh. Okay. What

was the question?"

"Truth or dare. I said dare. Focus, sunshine." This game was fun.

"Well, if you'd stop doing that I could." Sonny growled well. Must be the Mississippi

drawl.

"Stop this?" He rubbed the wet liquid around the edge of that pretty cock, chuckling as

Sonny's prick bobbed.

"That. That whole...oh, fuck, Precious. Right there." That sweet cock just rubbed and

rubbed, Sonny's hips rolling.

"Uh-huh." He scooted down, got his lips wrapped around Sonny's cock.

"Oh." Groaning, Sonny grabbed his head, pushing into his mouth just like that. He

wrapped his hands around Sonny's ass, tugging Sonny up into him, thumbs spreading that ass wide. Sonny never denied him, just gave and gave, fucking his mouth and rubbing that tight, hot ass back on his hands. "Precious. Fuck." "Mmmhmm." He took Sonny in deep, swallowing hard once before pulling back and working the tip.

Panting, Sonny rocked for him, muscles rippling, hoarse sounds pouring down on him.

Sweat and musk, all Sonny, surrounded him, Sonny's skin so hot it burned. MJ managed

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to push both thumbs in deep, spread Sonny wide as he pushed the tip of his tongue in Sonny's slit. That did it. A harsh cry sounded, and Sonny came for him, hard and fast, hips pushing and pushing. Salty and bitter good, Sonny's come splashed on his tongue, that ass squeezing down. "Mmm." MJ carried Sonny through, sucking and pushing and touching. His own cock was hard as a rock, aching in his shorts. Sonny plopped right down in front of him, reaching for his cock and pressing it. "Wanna fuck me, Precious?" "Yeah." Yeah, he did. Mouth. Ass. Either way it was fucking good. His shorts slid right down over his thighs, Sonny freeing him. Then stroking him. "God, MJ. Fucking hot for me." "Want you." His own fucking redneck, in the flesh. "Uh-huh. Fuck the game. We got anything?" Sonny was climbing on top of him, hair rough and heavy, all fucking man and all about loving him. Right now. "Aloe. There's always fucking aloe around here." He scrabbled for the tube of green shit. It was slick. It worked. "Cool." Lifting up just enough, Sonny leaned and pushed and opened for him. "Get me ready." MJ leaned up, mouth fastening onto the tanned, taut chest and sucking hard, even as his fingers pushed deep, slicked Sonny up. "Uh-huh. Just like that." Riding his fingers, Sonny moved up and down, up and down, really daring him to stop. In and out. In. Out. Fuck. He held on as long as he could, then he bit down, sliding his fingers free. "Now. Now, Sonny." His cock jerked as he lined up, pushed in deep, hands sliding on Sonny's hips. Grunting, Sonny jerked and pushed and rumbled for him, hands coming up to clutch his shoulders. That man just took him right in, just like that. MJ scooted down, head leaning back, and settled in. They rocked and groaned, his feet planted on the floor so he could push deep. "Precious. Need. Fuck!" Sonny arched and shuddered. "Right there. Right, goddamned, fucking there."

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If he'd had a single bit of breath left in him, he would have laughed out in pure victory. Instead, MJ just kept pegging Sonny's gland. That big body kept shaking and shuddering for him, too, like Sonny hadn't just come. Like that ass wasn't clamping down on him like Sonny was about to shoot again. His fingers wrapped around Sonny's cock; teeth sinking into his own bottom lip as Sonny's ass squeezed him. "Precious..." Lashes fluttering and making him chuckle, Sonny grunted one more time and went still. Still but for the cock that throbbed in his hand and the ass that pulled so tight at him he thought he might die happy. MJ shot so hard his abs hurt, forehead on Sonny's chest as he jerked through the last of it. Fuck. "That's it. That's it, Precious. Good." Stroking his hair back off his forehead, Sonny smiled at him, looking fucking happy. "Uh-huh." He sort of panted, caught in the last bit of the whole wow-uhn-fuck part of it. "What were we doing, babe?" "Fucking. It was good." They sort of toppled together, cuddling up. "Oh, okay." Nuzzling his throat, Sonny hummed and oozed over him, covering him and weighing him down against the deck. "Sounds like fun." "Mmmhmm." Comfy. Good. Better. "We'll play later." They sank into each other, so good and warm and he'd forgotten to be bored at all. Too damned cool. *** Hours later, Sonny woke up with the worst kink in his neck. Mmm. Kink. He wondered if MJ had ever done anything kinkier than boxing as foreplay. That was the kind of thing he figured it would take the truth part of Truth or Dare to find out. He rolled, poking MJ hard in the ribs as he headed for the galley. "Wake up, Precious. I'm hungry, and I want to play." "Uhn." MJ grunted and rolled onto the floor with a thump, blond hair all fucked up, face in that 'dazed and confused' state.

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"Uh-huh. You want peanut butter and banana? Or ham and cheese?" Man they needed to go ashore and provision. "Peanut butter." MJ got up on hands and knees, rocking back and forth a little as he worked himself to his feet. God, that was enough to make a dead man rise. Yo ho ho and a bottle of, well, he had moonshine... "You're fucking beautiful, MJ." "No. I'm trying to stand up. The fucking happened earlier. Do we have any ding-dongs left?" "Yes, but you have to have protein first." Slapping together some peanut butter and bananas, he handed MJ a sandwich and a Coke. MJ rolled his eyes, but took the sandwich and chowed down, cock flopping about as the man wandered, looking out the porthole, stretching his legs. Sonny munched and watched, his own cock twitching, which made him look down at it cross eyed. Like he hadn't come twice. Hoo, yeah. Good God. MJ was enough to make him all perky. Of course, he had a great fucking view. MJ started rooting for the chocolate when the sandwich was three-quarters gone. Grumpy bastard, wanting his sugar rush. Sonny decided it might be worth it to look for fried pie... In fact, when his cock snuggled right up to MJ's ass - those strong muscles squeezing Sonny figured fried pies were fucking necessary. "Got any cherry pies, Precious?" Mmm,mmm,mmm. Dessert. "We need to finish that game, by the way." "I think there's one left. What game?" Paper crinkled and MJ stretched and reached. Rocking, Sonny let MJ's ass flex and press around him. "Uh, that truth or dare. Share, will you?" MJ laughed, pulled the... well, whatever sweet he had, in close to his belly. "Share? Don't you mean dare, sunshine?" "I could dare you to share." That would actually be a good dare. MJ was selfish with his chocolate. Big time. "You could." More paper rattled and then sticky fingers trailed up along his arm, painting his skin.

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Humming, Sonny peered at his arm. Then he grabbed MJ's hand and brought it to his mouth, licking. Better to just go ahead and taste. Oh, nice. Cream and chocolate and MJ. Yum. Sonny kept licking even as MJ turned and started sucking at his arm, tongue catching every bit of chocolate. Fuck. That mouth was. Goddamn. His precious was a hungry son of a bitch. And focused. MJ was all about focus, even when he had just woke up from a nap. Sonny groaned, rubbing up on MJ, his brain wandering far away from dares. "Mmm. Rich. Salty." MJ's teeth scraped along the curve of his elbow and the man just

dragged his happy ass right away from any thoughts of games that didn’t involve biting.

Possibly bruising.

Uhn. Bruising.

***

MJ poured a shot of mescal, looking over at Sonny in his t-shirt and one sock, pretty cock

half-hard against one thigh, the other thigh marked with a couple black love bites.

It had been the longest fucking game of truth or dare in human history. He was pretty

sure they'd started somewhere near Bermuda.

They'd taken two nap breaks, eaten twice and had a couple long turns for orgasms. If his

count was right, he was winning.

MJ was sure he got double points for that last blowjob. Sonny'd actually screamed.

"You trying to get me tipsy, precious?"

Sonny asked it so seriously, but MJ wasn't sure the man could get drunk. He'd been flat

drinking for two days.

"Unless I say truth my next turn, I don't have to answer that." He handed over the shot

and the salt. They'd run out of limes. "Remember, if you wince, I get a blowjob."

"Oh, right. Because I would want to avoid that at any cost." Sonny gave him one of those

looks. One of those hot eyed, hey, you looks before tossing back the shot.

Was that his lip curling a little?

MJ stared over, trying not to be completely obvious about it because, shit, Sonny'd peg

him with a couple more shots and then he'd be fucked up.

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Right now, he was just... focused.

Incredibly focused.

Yeah. Focus.

What the hell was he supposed to be doing again?

Getting a blow-job. That was it. He figured it out when Sonny licked his lips like that.

Such a mouth.

"So. Did I wince?"

"What was the penalty for lying again?" He'd better make sure it was worth it before he

did it.

Sonny's brow furrowed. "Uh. Hell, precious, I don't remember. A new bruise?"

Yeah, Sonny liked to bruise him.

"Oh, cool. Then yeah. A big one. I don't know how you missed it." He might've chuckled,

maybe.

A little.

"Oh, you liar," Sonny growled, slipping off his little bench and crawling over to kneel

between MJ's knees. "I owe you one."

"Uh-huh." Oh, look at that pretty ass, his hand print on it, still a little pink.

"Hmmm..." Tracing bruises on his thighs, Sonny looked him over. "Man, I'm running out

of space. You lie a lot."

"I do not. You have an over-developed definition of truth." Oh, that sounded pretty good

for a man who was on the good side of a three-day bender. He spread a little farther,

loving the stretch in his muscles.

Sonny grinned up at him before bending and zeroing in on a tiny patch of flesh on his

inner thigh that wasn't red or purple. And sucking it hard.

"Uhn." Oh. Oh, fuck. That stung. Fuck, it was good. Goddamn.

His balls wrinkled up, going tight and trying to convince him it was time to go again.

The tiny scrape of Sonny's rough chin had him twitching for sure. Then Sonny licked at

his cock, pushing it up so that hot mouth could close over the tip.

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He fucking whimpered as the booze on Sonny's tongue tingled, making that suction sweeter and sharper. Oh. More. More. His fingers tangled in Sonny's hair, tugging that mouth closer. "Mmm." The vibrations of that hum made him grunt, made his thighs go hard. "Your mouth... fucking magic, Sunshine." Oh, hell yes. Pure magic. Enough to make his eyes roll back in his head. Big hands stroking his thighs, Sonny went to town, giving him just what he needed. Mouth riding up and down, Sonny sucked him, tongued him, made him crazy. Between that and the rocking of the boat and the sun and, oh fuck... "Yeah. Just like. Oh. Gonna. Oh..." Fuck, yes. Gonna right now. That always made Sonny go for the finish line. Always. The man was made for speed. Sonny pressed behind his balls, massaging him, sucking so hard he wanted to yell his head off. Everything wheeled around, world spinning as he blew, just pouring himself into Sonny's mouth. When he could breathe again, focus his eyes, Sonny was resting his head on MJ's thigh, petting him idly. He grinned, fingers sliding through Sonny's hair. So fucking soft. "Hey." "Hey, precious," Sonny said, kissing his knee. "Truth or dare?" "Oh, dares are way more fun than silly truth." The spot on his knee tingled a little where Sonny's lips had been. Man, he was so screwed. "Oh, fine. Gimme another drink." Smacking him, Sonny sat back, leaning back on his hands. "'kay." That was an easy dare. Sonny must be getting tired. MJ poured another shot, licking his fingers clean as he spilled. "Oh, don't think you're getting out of it that easy, precious. Let me think a minute." Sonny sank the shot. Right, because they were both so in a place for thinking. MJ chuckled at himself, settled back into his chair.

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God, if Sonny was going to pet his calf like that while he thought, neither of them would

get anywhere. It was good enough that it got his head rolling on his shoulders, thigh

muscles tightening a little.

They'd hit the point where everything turned them on, everything was so sensitive it

almost hurt.

"Okay, do we have any toys, precious? If not your fingers will do. I want to see you get

yourself ready for me," Sonny said, grabbing the bottle from him and licking the mouth

of it.

"You're assuming I'll let you in." Right. Like he wouldn't. Like he didn't love feeling

Sonny inside him, sliding and pushing and filling him up.

"Oh, MJ. We're past that who's on top thing." He got a wink. Sonny knew.

He nodded, leaned down for a kiss, tongue sliding into Sonny's lips, fucking them nice

and slow. Sonny just melted, leaning against him, hands coming up to hold his head, the

back of his neck. Soft, demanding sounds came from Sonny, pushing into the kiss.

It was easy to slide down, end up straddling Sonny's thighs and drinking up those noises.

His belly rubbed against Sonny's, cocks just barely kissing each other.

"Mmm. Yeah, precious." Sonny was more than half hard now, hot and full, wet against

him. The kisses burned like hell, the liquor in them just setting him on fire.

"Mmmhmm." His fingers wrapped around Sonny's prick, pulling in time with their hips.

"I thought...oh, fuck. Good. I thought you were gonna get ready for me. Let me fuck

you."

"Uh-huh. I am. Was. Something. Fuck, you smell good." Man, his fucking lips were

numb.

"Kiss me, and find me the goddamned lube."

Did they have lube? They might have used it all. They might have to make a shore run

just for lube. And cookies.

Oh.

Dude.

Ding Dongs.

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He pushed up into the kiss, hand scrabbling and finding suntan lotion. Tequila. A pack of cigarettes. Sonny took his hand and steered it back to the lotion. Well, it was supposed to be tear free in someone's eyes... Shit, it had to be slicker than tequila. He got the top off, got his fingers good and wet. Then he reached back and started finger-fucking himself. Of course, MJ grinned into Sonny's kiss when Sunshine figured out he couldn't watch. "No fair, Precious." Sonny was gasping for air, pulling him up so his head rested on Sonny's shoulder and Sonny could see over. "Oh, fuck." "Uh-huh. Hard and deep. Want it." He bit Sonny hard, loving the way that skin bruised for him. "Uhn. Gonna fuck you like crazy. Right now I just want the pretty. One more finger, Precious." Sonny's cock was just beating against his belly like crazy, digging into the thin skin above his own prick. "One more." MJ shook, thighs spreading a little farther as he worked himself hard, filled himself up. Sonny's deep groan rewarded him. That and Sonny grabbing his wrist to pull his fingers free so that sweet asshole could lift him just a little more, slide that thick cock back under his balls. "Uh-huh. Now." The tip of Sonny's prick was wide and slick and fuck. Hot. "Now." Then the head of that cock was just in him, Sonny not giving him time to adjust, pushing deep in a single thrust. Hell, he could feel Sonny's hipbones against his ass. His head slammed back, toes curling tight as he groaned. Fuck, yes. "Good?" Barely waiting for his nod, Sonny started moving, pulling him down as those hips smacked up. Every thrust pushed his cock up and down where it was trapped between them. Oh, damn. He was. Uhn. He groaned as Sonny pegged him deep. Good thing they hadn't used tequila. He'd hate to be numb in there. Pushing him faster, Sonny really gave it to him, fucking him hard enough to rock his head back on his neck and snap it forward again.

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"Oh. Don't stop." He leaned down, arms shaking just a little. "Don't you fucking stop."

"Not gonna. Can't. You're...fucking addictive, Precious." Maybe Sonny could get drunk

after all, but only on him.

"Fucking yours." The kiss was toothy and sharp and wild and goddamn, his lips really

were numb, but that was fucking okay.

"Mine." Sonny bent and bit him, and he didn't have any unbruised skin on his shoulder,

so the bite sank deep into a mark that was already there.

Spunk just sprayed out of him, hips jerking and rolling as he groaned. Fuck, yes.

"MJ!" Man, when Sonny called him something other than Precious he was doing good.

Or about to kill someone. In this case it was good, because Sonny shot inside him so hard he felt it deep in his belly. "Uhn." He just sorta... plopped down on Sonny, the boat spinning. "Damn."

"You know it. What were we doing?" Sonny groped and the bottle of tequila appeared,

dangling.

"I..." Dude, look at the sunlight through that...

"Have another one." Sonny took a long drink, then gave him a kiss, sharing the liquor.

Oh. Man, when the Cuervo stopped burning and started tasting sweet, you were in

trouble.

That deep, delicious, heavy fucked trouble.

end

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Contributors

Dallas Coleman: Dallas Coleman grew up in Deep East Texas. She survived. She escaped. She has, thus far, resisted her daddy's attempts to reclaim her. She writes because it's cheaper than therapy. Quatzore: Quatorze is a grown-up female from Finland who, since her university years, has shared her life and interests with her female partner. One major interest has been the exploration of other worlds and universes, all of them somehow rife with male/male relationships. Her profession involves producing and editing various texts, but she only began writing the stories down in 2003. And thus the plug was pulled... since then there's always at least one story in the works, all of them in English. Her other great passions are dogs and Oriental Dance. Julia Talbot: Julia Talbot has been acquired by Texas and lives happily among friends and dogs. Trying to make writing her day job, she's winging it as she goes. You can find her on the web at http://thegates.net/juliatalbot BA Tortuga: B. A. Tortuga enjoys indulging in the shallow side of life, with hobbies that include collecting margarita recipes, hot tub dips, and ogling hot guys at the beach. A connoisseur of the perverse and esoteric, BA's days are spent among dusty tomes of ancient knowledge, or, conversely, surfing porn sites in the name of research. Mixing the natural born southern propensity for sarcasm and the environmental western straightshooting sensibility, BA manages to produce mainstream fiction, literary erotica, and fine works of pure, unadulterated smut.

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