Amy Lane's Blog: Writer's Lane, page 93

Bridge of Karma

So, even though my daughter and I are mostly pagan and my husband and son are mostly agnostic, I've told my kids as they've grown to respect faith.

Be kind to the faithful. You can despise dogma all you want--dogma is the language of the persecutors, the power hungry, the abusers looking for an excuse to abuse. Faith is the language of those who find kindness in the divine. Respect faith. It doesn't have to be your faith, but respect it.

It's become a family credo, of sorts, which is why, as some of you may remember, I didn't throw out that box full of WWJD pins accidentally delivered with my M/M romance swag a few years back. I waited for the Witnesses to knock on my door and I gave it to them. A little funny? Yes. But also not contemptuous.

So, I had to remind myself of that as I pulled up this morning after dropping the kids off, because there were two JW ladies coming from my porch.

The dogs were going apeshit, but seriously-- what am I going to do, let Geoffie loose and scream "RELEASE THE HOUNDS!" while she runs off to lick them to death?

So I got out of the car, reminding myself of what I so often told the kids: Be kind to the faithful.

And the lady who led the duo said, "Hi! Don't I know you? Oh yes-- you're in my aqua class!"

And we had a lovely conversation about aqua, and about dogs. She showed me her pamphlet, and I let her finish her speech about scripture before giving the pamphlet back and saying, "No thanks, sweetheart, I'm pagan."

"Well, I appreciate your honesty."

And I walked them back to their car while the dogs peed on all the things as we went.

It was a good lesson, though.  The red plague visited my uterus last night, and (as evidenced by last night's blog) I was of a mind to be a big flaming twat, if I say so myself. But kindness is so much better for us. It was even better for Geoffie, who got fondled and adored and made much of. Even if we don't agree with a person's faith, if it is true faith, being kind towards it can only make the world an easier place in which to live.

Lecture over. I shall return to my Oreos and my twatdom now--and try to remember to spare a little kindness for my children, who may have remembered how to brush their teeth and put sheets on their bed by now.

How Not to Write an E-mail

Heya, K--

Yes, I adore that show too, do you own the second sea--

"Mom, do we have cookies tonight?"

"Yes, but not before dinner."

"Can you cook us dinner?"

"Sure, in a second."

"What's for dinner?"

"Spaghetti--"

"Red or white?"

"White but I need to--"

"Do you want me to get the water started?"

"No, that's fine, I'll go--"

"Where is it, Mom?"

"In the fridge?"

"It's not there!"

"Fine! Forget the e-mail, let me start dinner! Where's the damned pasta?"

Well, turns out the pasta was on the refrigerator, but that's okay. Dinner is ready, dinner is served, dinner is eaten, I'm ready to start again.

son. I actually looked up the actor of that show to see if he's done any--

"Mom, are you going to watch TV?"

"Yeah, like ten minutes here."

"What are we going to watch?"

"Supernatural, old episodes."

"Do we have to?"

"YES! Now give me a minute here to--"

"It's all queued up. Now?"

"No just wait a minute--"

"Now?"

"FINE! Press play."

And we watched two episodes until Mate got home and it was time for mom to have some time in her own head, and, hopefully, finish this friendly little e-mail and then write.

thing else besides that. He apparently was on Broadway and I think the other two guys in that show should definitely--

"Mom, hugs?"

"Sure. Night. Don't forget to brush your teeth."

"Mom, hugs?"

"Yeah, sure. Don't forget to put sheets on your bed, okay?"

end up together, because that's just my head canon. But I'm usually right about stuff like that. McDanno. It should be a thing. Sterek was totally a real thing. These guys, it should be a--

"Mom, where's the toothpaste."

"In the cupboard."

"I don't see it."

"T, could you help them find toothpaste and sheets?"

"Sure.  Are you sure it's in here?"

"IT'S IN THERE!"  And goddammit, if these kids make me come in there to find the fucking toothpaste that I know is in the fucking cupboard I'm going to throw it at their fucking heads.

"FINE! I HEARD THAT!"

Oh crap. I said that out loud.  "Sorry, T-- this was really not aimed at you. I've been interrupted all night."

"Sure."

"No, I'm sorry. That was not aimed at you."

"It's okay."

"Sorry. Swear. My bad."

"It's okay, Mom. No worries."

I notice the peanut gallery has gotten quiet.

"Have we brushed our teeth?"

"Uh..."

"You don't have any sheets on the bed!"

"Uh..."

"TURN OF THE LIGHT SO I DON'T HAVE TO SEE MY FAILURE."

"Fine."

*sit down*  *huff*

Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes. I'm sorry it takes me so long to get back to your e-mails. It seems that I'm always being interrupted. What was I talking about again?

The Wrong Way to Cook

Long day, really. Got up, took Geoffie to the doc for her checkup (she is, as the doc said, disgustingly healthy. All she's got to worry about is some itchy skin and an underbite, so basically she's me as a teenager.)  Then I took the kids to the pool while I did my early aqua class and then we played for half-an-hour after. (This turned out to be too long, because even after some serious sunblock application, Squish crisped at the edges. I need to remember--blue-eyed red-head. We're lucky she didn't turn into a giant blister and burst.)

Fun-- but extra time in the pool is extra exhausting.  We got home and went to buy shoes. I know that sounds like my kids are totally spoiled, but fact is, Squish was still wearing winter boots--and they were getting both old AND small, and pretty hot!

So they both needed flip-flops and tennis shoes and, well, there were these Skechers with Luke and Leia on them, like from the original Star Wars poster? They were a half-a-size big for Zoomboy, but seriously, the boy is 5'2" and a size 9 in the 7th grade. I think he's good for it before September. And if he isn't, Chicken might steal them when she comes to visit. I asked Mate if he could wear them, but he said--and I quote, "No, because I'm a legitimate 10."

-.-  "So, like, he's an illegitimate 10. Doesn't that make him, like, a 9?"

"Shut up. I mean my feet are too big for them."

"Sure. Cause you're a legitimate 10."

Uh, yeah. Sarcasm. We own it here.

Anyway, so I got about four hours of sleep last night, and had a busy day, and after about an hour of Coraline when we got home (because world's most beautiful movie) I had to go nap.  I woke up two hours later, dazed and drooling, and starving. 

Starving.

I stumbled into the kitchen and made myself an English muffin and threw a bag of Brussel sprouts in the microwave and then tried to wrap my head around something to eat for the rest of the humans.

Now, usually, I can do this. I can. I've written articles and essays on how to just chuck shit in a pan for my family. But this time...

Maybe it was the sun, or the fun, or the shoes (I got a couple of pairs--their flip-flops are THE BEST) and maybe it was the nap, but I couldn't brain.  What I ended up with was... well, ground beef, potatoes, spaghetti sauce, olives and cheese served over bread.  Mate came in to help me and salted it all one more time, and...

Uh.

Yeah.

But you know what? He dressed my Brussel Sprouts and went and got me root beer after dinner. I'm not complaining, and anyone who didn't want to eat "potato hamburger surprise it's spaghetti!"could make himself some soup. And Zoomboy did.

But I know what I'm doing tomorrow--and it's not shopping for dance shoes, which was the other thing on our list that didn't get done.

*sigh*  The grocery store. They love me. I seem to buy just eclectic scads of shit. And now we know why.

Scorched Haven: Part 8--Respite

So, today was completely boring until Steve brought in a dead bird about twenty minutes ago. I shooed her out, and then Geoffie followed her, bringing the bird back.

I took the bird away and IT WASN'T REALLY DEAD.

But it WAS really mangled, and... so sad. Scared and freaked out and, you know, dying.

I put it back outside, up away from where the cat could get it, but somewhere peaceful where it could die surrounded by summer smells and dark.

Damn. Dead thing was icky-- but LIVE thing was tragic. I was NOT expecting that.

So, to move our minds from that, we've got Zeb and Colton, and what happens at night.

* * *

Zeb pulled up to the gas station warily, and looked down at his clothes in despair.

His borrowed sweats were caked in blood, not that they'd been too clean in the first place. Colton's clothes were way worse, but with a bullet hole in the front and back that couldn't be explained away. He sat there, car at the pump, thinking about turning into a wolf and shoplifting clothes, when a tiny man, maybe 4-feet tall with thin, delicate features and limbs, came trotting out.

"Go inside!" he called. "Get clothes. Get food. Wash up!" He held out his wrist, and it was covered with a tattoo--limes resting in the heart of a blooming rose.

Zeb was so grateful he almost cried.

"We're Green's," he said--unnecessarily, because it seemed this man already knew. He pulled up the sleeve of his T-shirt where a giant thorn-less rose rested, it's stem sprouting oak leaves, a lime hanging from each leaf where an acorn might ordinarily go.

"I know," the little man said, flashing a grin replete with spiny teeth. "Nibbles. I'm Nibbles. Let me doctor your car. Go doctor selves."  He turned his smile to Colton in the passenger's seat, who, to his credit, got a little wide-eyed but didn't say a thing.

"That's a deal," Zeb said, getting out of the car.

"Roll up windows!" Nibble said. "Blessed wash, first. Goddess's children, you know."

"Oh!" Zeb felt stupid, and he turned the key enough to roll the windows up before turning it off and getting out. Colton got out on his side, and they headed for the gas station. "Thank you, Master Nibbles," Zeb said respectfully. Adrian had drilled that into all of his converts--you respect the elves, because they protected the vampires and the were-creatures. And the vampires and were creatures navigated the human world for the fey.

"You're Green's. Green's good. We're Green's. Oh! Hot metal!" As Zeb approached the door he looked back and saw Nibbles's limbs splitting, dividing into many, like tree-root hairs. One of his sturdier limbs reached for a hose near the bottom of the pump, and Nibbles started spraying the car down.

"What's he doing?" Colton asked, "I mean, who is he, and what is he doing?"

"Well, he's one of the lower fey," Zeb said, remembering his hierarchy lessons upon coming to the hill. "Fey don't usually touch cars. It's one of the things we can do but they can't. Some of them though--the metal workers--they're good at it. But they need to bless the car first--salt water and herbs, to remove the taint of man. Anyway, Nibbles is making the car safe so he can work on it while we shop."

"We're going to shop Chevron?" Colton asked, and then the second door swung open and he let out an appreciative whistle.

Clothes--about three racks, every size from child's size to men's 4X sweats and T-shirts. Two pairs of men's Large cargo shorts and a couple of T-shirts weren't that hard to find. The T-shirts were plain colors--Colton grabbed rust and then handed Zeb a green one.

"Uh, thank you?"

Colton just looked at him evenly, a slight smile on his face. "You have nice eyes," he observed mildly.

Zeb couldn't fight the flush that tried to crawl past his neck.  "Thanks," he said, looking anywhere but into Colton's eyes. "You do too."

"So, men's room?"

There was a small shower in the men's room--in the back corner, with a drain and a boundary, so the water didn't flood the floor. Zeb made Colton go first, while he ran into the gas station and found some shampoo and soap, and, of course, a gaudily colored beach towel from the racks of clothes. When he got back, he threw the towel at Colton and started to strip himself.

Colton stopped him. "You're not even going to look?" he asked, and Zeb met his eyes grimly and then looked his fill.

His original impression remained. Not tall--but broad in the shoulders, even at nineteen or twenty. Slim-hipped, with a square jaw and thick, shiny hair down to his shoulders. And warm golden eyes.

"You're a good looking kid," Zeb said gruffly. "I thought that when I first saw you. What we did--that wasn't a hardship for me."

Colton nodded, looking unhappy. "I needed it."  He closed his eyes. "I need it... like fire in my heart and my thighs and my... my cock."

Zeb stripped quickly, while Colton watched, and then throwing his clothes in the trash. He walked into  Colton's space and leaned forward, brushing his lips against Colton's temple. "It's like that," he said quietly. "The first week or so. It takes you and you could fuck a tree if one was willing. Don't worry. I'll be your tree. When you're ready to leave me behind, you'll know the blood fever is all gone."

Colton closed his eyes with Zeb's caress, and leaned into him. "What makes you think it will go away?"

Zeb took the next few steps into the shower and turned it on, grabbing the bottle and using the soap liberally, glad the soap and the spray gave him an excuse to avoid the boy's eyes. "Werewolves mate for life," he said, eyes closed. "I'm nobody important, Colton. You'll have... like a banquet at Green's. Better meals than me."

He rinsed his hair then, scraping the water back from his eyes before he turned off the spray.  When he could see again, Colton was no closer to being dressed. He was staring at Zeb's body, long and lean with a bare patch of hair between his pecs. Zeb had blue eyes but he was one of those guys who sported a beard after two days, and it was already growing in.

"Uh..." Zeb reached his hand out for the towel, and Colton unwrapped it from his waist, crossing his arms unrepentantly. Zeb dried his hair first, and then his body, and then, uncertain, he used the towel on the floor while he grabbed his clothes off the counter. "What are you looking at?"

"You," Colton said quietly. He stepped in behind Zeb and took the underwear out of his hands, pressing his slightly damp body up along the back of Zeb's. Zeb closed his eyes, aware of how long it had been since he'd had a long, sweaty, heart-pounding bout of sex.

"I'm... I mean, we don't want to do this here. I saw some camping gear in the station--we can--nungh..."

Colton was kissing the back of his neck, the line of his shoulder, back up to his ear.

"Colton?" Zeb whimpered, his cock full and aching, with just the press of bodies, a simple caress.

"You don't look like a tree," Colton whispered, thrusting up against Zeb's backside. Zeb moaned, holding on hard to the counter.

"That's not what I meant," he muttered, although he could have made a case for sporting wood.

"You meant I should use you." Colton leaned forward and pulled gently on Zeb's chin, until Zeb met his mouth in one of those awkward, over-the-shoulder kisses that made him want so much more.

Colton pulled away and Zeb nodded, feeling both pain and pride. "It would be my privilege to be so used," he said formally.

Colton shook his head then, and backed away. Zeb slouched for a moment against the counter, and then grabbed his clothes one more time, handing Colton his.

"YOu'll need it," Zeb said, trying to make it clear that there was no judgment here. "Colton, it's real noble to say you're not going to take me--use me. But you'll need it." Quickly he slid into his boxers,  adjusting himself against arousal, and then climbed into his cargo shorts and T-shirt, grateful when Colton did the same.

He bent and picked up the sodden towel then, wringing it out and folding it neatly. He knew all the stuff in the station was there's to use--Green didn't operate on a cash exchange, but rather one of fealty and service--but the towel would be useful, and he made a mental note to grab a dry one while they were "shopping" the store.

He drew near to the door, waiting expectantly for Colton to open it so they could leave, but he didn't. Instead, he reached out and clasped Zeb's hand, bringing to carefully to his lips.

"I didn't say I wouldn't need the sex," Colton said quietly. "I just said I'm not going to use you and lose you."

Zeb thought he was above being touched--but he wasn't. He fought a burning behind his eyes. "You're a great kid," he said, voice thick. "But we mate for life. You keep hanging out with me after your new werewolf thing wears off, and you're going to be stuck with me. And kid, I wanted better things for you than that. I sat under that porch and listened to you trying to figure out your life, and I wanted better things for you than what you had planned. That hasn't changed. Better things. Better than me. I'll be your tree--that'll be good."  He closed his eyes. "That'll be real good."

Colton brushed his lips gently against Zeb's. When he pulled back, he brushed a kiss on each of Zeb's eyelids, and along his temple. "I want you so bad," he whispered in the hollow of Zeb's ear. "But I wanted you when you sat next to me in the car and tried to make me laugh. Trust me, Zeb. This isn't going away."

"Sure," Zeb said, his knees weak--but not his resolve. "C'mon. Let's go get some gear."

Colton snaked a hand around Zeb's waist and hauled him in for a brutal, frustrated kiss. Zeb melted against him, out of starch to fight.  Colton had to be the one who ended it, jerking his hips back and feathering his knuckles along Zeb's cheekbone.

"You're important to me," he whispered.

Then he opened the door.

Movie Saturday

Okay-- I'll be honest. I caught up with a LOT of work tonight--editing for Rampant as well as writing-- but what also happened is what Mate calls "Movie Saturday"-- which is sort of exactly what it sounds like.

Today, we were lucky--it feels like you actually do something when you go to the movies. "Hurray! I am contributing to my child's growth in some way, right? RIGHT?"  Some Saturdays just become a delightful worship of cable's best and worst. (Mate has some truly lovely holy grails of crappy movies. Harley Jane Kozak was his celebrity crush for a few years, if that tells you anything.)

So, yes. That is the reason there are no werewolves today. I promise-- promise-- tomorrow. I admit-- this was a big week, and things got away from me.

But, although this is a teeny tiny post? I've got one thing: X-Men: Apocalypse.  I thought I was totally over this franchise, but as it turns out? Not so much. This one made me fall in love all over gain.

And I just woke up after typing that. Seriously-- night all. Werewolves tomorrow. Even nap.

Night!

I Am the Walrus?

A. Those shooting pains in  my kneecap were arthritis. I can now say I have it. The stuff that felt like tendonitis in the IT band was tendonitis in the IT band. *bows* You're welcome.

B. When asked if I used the nighttime pain relief I was prescribed yesterday, I replied, "No, because going to bed dizzy and disoriented is my favorite."  The PT laughed--and proceeded to give me some very good advice on how to avoid pain, if possible. Yay!

C. We drove to San Francisco tonight to have dinner with Mate's Aunt Margie and her delightful friends. Huzzah!

D. The Fairmont hotel in San Francisco is REALLY NICE.

E. The kids enjoyed ordering from the three course menu. But Squish was sorry she let dad talk her out of ACTUAL MUSSELS arriving at her table.

F. Zoomboy was proud to lead us all in a rousing rendition of Happy Anniversary to You!  It was Tom and Margie's 50th. They were very, very sweet.

G. Listening to the piano player was a trip. I heard a classical rendition of "I Am the Walrus", "Girl", "Crazy", "Phantom of the Opera", "Yellow Submarine", and "Peanuts".  Zoomboy and I danced to "Peanuts".

H. I'd like to thank Mary Taylor from FB who shared with me the perfect meme for yesterday's post--it featured a lightning strike, a burning building, and the caption, "Thank you, Jesus, that spider is dead now."  Yes. Whatever it takes. The spider needs to be dead.

I. Between PT in the morning and San Francisco at night? Color me done, folks! Chat with you Saturday!

Amy

Giant Horned Poisoned Slugs--With Fangs!

Squish and Zoomboy had to run stuff out to the garbage.

They came running back in, screaming, "Oh my God! It's horrible! I'm so scared!"

Real tears-- faces scrunched up, hysterical-- inconsolable.

Mate and I remained skeptical. "What was it again?" we asked.

"It was a SLUG," Zoomboy cried. "THIS BIG." He held his hands out to indicate the slug that ate New York.

"If it's that big," Mate muttered to me, "I'm going to donate it to science and have them name it after me!" (This was a little unfair to himself, seeing that I"m the one who has barely moved in three days, thank you tendonitis of the IT band. Urg.)

"Show me," Mate said, putting on his shoes. "Let's go see this slug."

"No! For it will eat us and we may die!" they screamed. (I am paraphrasing here-- it was hard to make out real words in all of the hysterical sobbing.)

Finally he talked them out to the trash cans, and a few minutes later they came back in.

"It was a lizard," he said, baffled. "About this big."  His fingers indicated six inches.  "You ran over its back with the trash can. It was dying."

"Oh! That's so sad!"  Because I like lizards, mostly. They're sort of the friendliest reptile, at least the smaller ones out here. No poison, no fangs, just an appetite for crawlies. Go lizard go!

"But the... the... THING!" Zoomboy wailed.

"That was it's TAIL! I know you didn't mean to--he was probably under the trash can before you pulled it out. But, you know. A lizard!"

"So, not a giant fanged poison slug of the apocalypse?" I clarified. "We are safe?"

"Apparently so."

Later on tonight, as I sat in my chair, knitting peacefully and watching-- finally-- the season finale of Sleepy Hallow (for those of you wondering why I haven't seen the one of SPN yet, you now know where I am in the DVR timeline) Squish looked up quite calmly.

"Oh mother--mother dear," she said. (And in this case I am exaggerating for contrast. She was remarkably unruffled.)

"Yes?"

"A wee spider just scuttled under your chair."

I was a bit alarmed. "A small one? Are you sure? Not big and hairy with fangs?"

"No. But it was black. You know, like a spider who might have lost her husband. I thought you ought to know."

So, given that I am moving too slowly to leap out of the chair and throw it back against the wall in the quest for giant fanged ACTUALLY VENOMOUS SPIDERS,  there's a possible black widow spider wandering around somewhere near my yarn.

And the kids killed a guardian lizard big enough to catch and eat it.

I'm starting to think we really DO deserve giant horned poisoned slugs with fangs. At least Mate and I could have the species named after us.

And Back On Line...

So, the interwebs went down. It was awful. I had to stop my junkie computer tap from one site to another. *shudder*  Like it was a bad dream.

Anyway--it's back up, and I am blogging again.

Sadly, I'm mostly doing the old middle-aged woman thing tonight and whining--so, you know, maybe loiter a bit until the weekend or something exciting happens.

This Sunday my knee started to slip. Mostly I have three things to do when this happens.  One is to only exercise moderately--so, a brief trip around the block and not the whole mile. The other is to make sure I make it to my aqua class and then sit for a while in the hot tub. The third thing is the one I have the hardest time doing, and that's not driving.

Monday, I sat in the hot tub for a good long time, and then, between picking up kids and getting lunch, I was in the car for a hour.

And then I couldn't move.

Last night was a misery of trips to the bathroom and a fierce ache along my IT band that no motrin could relieve. This morning, I could barely walk. Fun stuff!

Anyway--this morning, I was supposed to take my mom--my real mom, the one with many marbles and a few cats missing-- to the DMV. She lost her ID card and she needs help in public situations. Anybody would need help at the DMV-- dudes. Those forms have to be filled out EXACTLY. I'm like, "But I am NOT an exactly person!" and they were like, "We're sorry. Do it again!" Actually, when they realized that Mate and I (Mate had to drive, because I couldn't) were there to help her, they were VERY understanding. They sent my mom ahead in line twice while one of us filled out paperwork. They were great.

But still.

Dudes. The DMV, and I could barely walk.

I brought my knitting, and after I'd pulled it out, I realized my mom was sort of sitting there, looking lost and befuddled. I pulled out my phone and showed her how to play Flow--it's one of those basic games on the phone that kids and grownups can play.

She played a few hands and figured it out (which was pretty good, actually, because until this moment she hasn't even been able to look at pictures on the phone without accidentally turning it off) and suddenly she said, "But Amy, what do I get if I win?"

Hunh. Not even the kids have asked that question.

"Uh, I guess you get to not be bored at the DMV?"

"That's all?"

She played a few more rounds and then gave me back my phone. I was sort of non-plussed, really. There's another reward for games on your phone? I had no idea.

Anyway-- we got her squared away and then came home. Mate went to pick up the kids and I got a nap in, because last night had sort of been a craptastic bit of sleep.

And the rest of the day was working while the kids played. And watching Fozzy Bear on Chris Hardwick, of course.

But it got me thinking. I pulled Mate out of work, and made him take me and my mother to the DMV. And then he had to come home and pick up the kids, and then even make dinner because I wasn't moving.

What sort of reward did he get, besides my eternal gratitude.

According to him, getting out of work was enough, but still.

I guess I can see where Alexa was coming from. There should be a bigger prize than that.

Ficlet Weekend: Scorched Haven, Part 7

*yawn*

Saw Angry Birds today, and then came home and slept. I don't know why I was so tired--but wow. Just, you know, wow.

Anyway, the movie was amusing--I enjoyed it, possibly because I enjoy writing grumpy fuckers like Bracken and Rance and Sonny, and I like the level of sincerity a character like that can show us.

So, that's not really a segue, but it does get us to Zeb, who isn't so much grumpy as "trying to be detached and failing".  And to Colton, who's name I liked so much I named my fictional small town after him, in the book I'm working on now, Geezers in Love. 

I may have to rethink that name... hmmm... but in the meantime, enjoy!

*  *  *  *

Zeb never forgot what a gift his wolf form was.

He loved smelling his world like a wolf, because even if the smells were bad, they were three dimensional, and his brain did whole other things with smells as a wolf than they did as a human. He loved seeing the world in terms of blue sky and prey.

He loved hunting.

Confidently he led Colton the wolf down a small animal track, nostrils flared, in search of game. Oh yes--there we go. A jackrabbit!

Behind him, Colton whined, probably with hunger, but Zeb growled, keeping him on the leash. Don't spook dinner, dammit!  He threw a glare behind him and gestured with his muzzle to a large patch of rushes at the bole of giant tree. They were running through orchard land, and this tree didn't fit in with the others. It wasn't fruit bearing for one, and it was old--a willow perhaps? Birch? Zeb didn't know dick about trees, but this one was meant for shade over a swimming hole.  There were probably rabbits in there.

Sure enough, while Zeb watched, Colton blundered through the brushes, clumsy as a human, and three jackrabbits popped out, running toward Zeb at full speed.

Snap! Snap! Swipe!

Zeb moved with the Goddess's speed (he'd heard Cory call it hyper speed) and took down all three bunnies, then yipped shortly to Colton.

Who was there in a heartbeat, devouring them, bones, skin, and all.

Zeb waited patiently, nursing his own hunger. He was the grownup here--he'd had his own first transition three years earlier, in controlled circumstances, about three weeks after he'd been bitten and cleansed of his addictions.  There had been a ceremony, and a chance to run with all of the other were creatures under the full moon. Afterwards he'd ended up back in his room at Green's hill, a random pixy boy in his bed.

The run had been glorious and the sex had been sweet--if not repeatable. Unless they had a bonded marriage (a thing so rare Zeb knew of only a few couples who had done it) the fey tended to be promiscuous as a rule.

But, as he'd learned in the following three years, sometimes the moment was as important as the future after it, and that moment had made him happy.

Zeb didn't have a full moon feast to give Colton, or a sweet little pixy boy to teach him about happy sex, or an Adrian to tell him that his fuckups didn't matter, he still had so much to offer.

All he had was three rabbits, and the wherewithal to wait for a frozen burrito at the gas station before they were forced to flee again.

Colton finished the final jackrabbit, grunting a bit in what was still hunger, but obviously sated enough to think.  Zeb jerked his nose toward the car, and Colton gave a downcast look.

Yeah, it was cool being a werwolf-- he probably wanted more time.

Zeb licked his ear gently, understanding, and then gave it a little tug.  Colton nodded, and together they trotted back to the car.

For a moment as they drew near, Zeb panicked. He couldn't remember how he'd figured out how to turn back--one minute, he'd been an animal with his pack, and the next he'd been...oh no. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no--

He was in the middle of a full-blown panic when Green sounded faintly in his head. Fight it or fuck it, Mate--pick your comedown. 

Zeb remembered now. He'd become human because there'd been a cute pixy boy, naked and grinning, stroking his pink and blue cock in the middle of the Goddess Grove. Suddenly Zeb had been naked too, and stroking it for him.

Oh.

Zeb picked up speed, hoping to get to the car in time to change, hoping he could give Colton some of what he'd need before the boy got rough. Zeb could take it--like Colton, he healed bullet wounds within minutes. But there was a lingering guilt when you hurt someone during intimacy, even if the Goddess had a hold of you and you were trying to fight it.

He arrived at the car about two hundred yards ahead of Colton and, looking quickly to make sure they were still unmolested on this empty stretch of road, he changed.  And closed his eyes and thought of Colton, naked, wanting, his skin aching with need.

It didn't take him long to get hard--a few moaning strokes of his cock.  He heard a rustle from the weeds by the car, and when he opened his eyes, Colton was there, in wolf form, gazing at him masturbating with hunger in his golden wolf's eyes.  Zeb met those eyes and sucked his thumb into his mouth, and then, very deliberately, skated his thumb across the dripping bell of his cock.

That quickly, Colton was a man, naked, crouching before Zeb, and he pulled Zeb's cock into his mouth like it was the thing that would save his life.

Zeb groaned, sagging back against the car, and let him. Suck, suck, suck, suck... oh, that's a boy-- you know what you need. You need it filling you, your mouth, your throat. You need me, servicing you, slipping my finger behind you, making you scream--

"Aaah!" Zeb screamed, arching and spilling down Colton's throat. God, that had been quick--and he needed to be just as quick on the return. Colton wouldn't be able to think--wouldn't be able to run--unless he got this need met. Damn changeling werewolf biology-- it certainly didn't help two guys on the run.

Colton was still suckling--and Zeb was getting hard again--but that couldn't happen. Not now. Zeb reached down and grabbed Colton by the hair, pulling him up as he whimpered reluctantly.

"My turn," Zeb grated, whirling Colton around so he could lean against the car.  But first... oh Goddess. This poor kid--forced to change on the run. Forced by drives he barely understood to do this thing, this private thing, with a guy he hardly knew. Zeb pressed their mouths together, urgently, taking him in a carnal kiss of apology, apology for getting him shot, for making him change, for dirty sex on the side of the road. He tasted rabbit blood, salt, even tears, and it didn't repel him, because they'd been wolves together, and this thing they were doing, even as humans, it was still mostly wolf.

Colton let out a sigh and then a whine, his hard, muscular body thrusting up against Zeb's without thought. He needed--so bad it probably hurt--and Zeb dropped to his haunches and took what was truly a magnificent cock into his mouth. Thick and uncut, Zeb pulled the foreskin back and played gently with the bell against his palate and tongue. He was rewarded with Colton's whine and rough fingers in his hair.

"Zeb, it hurts... my skin's gonna explode!" he moaned.  Zeb rewarded his honesty with a strong fisted stroke, and a firmer pressure on the cockhead. "Yesssss..."

And again, and again, and faster and harder, until Colton was holding his head and thrusting his hips, shoving that thing down Zeb's throat while Zeb gave thanks he didn't gag. Oh Lord, this kid felt so good in his mouth--his smell and his taste were intoxicating, his thickness filling and good. He shoved his head forward, taking Colton to the back of his throat and it was Colton's turn to whine, Colton's turn to scream, while Zeb swallowed hard, swallowed it all, gave thanks for more, and took all that kid had to give.

At last, he was done, and Zeb leaned his head against Colton's thigh for a minute's respite.

"Zeb?" Colton asked uncertainly.

Zeb looked up and smiled, taking the kid's offered hand and standing, then pulling him into a tight, comforting embrace. "Good kid," he whispered. "Good kid--you did fine. It's okay. Don't worry about the sex--it wasn't wrong. Not your fault. You did good."

Colton relaxed into him, pliant and needy for a moment as Zeb didn't think he was that often. "Thank you," he breathed. "Thank you. Thank you."

"You did good."

"Thank you."

One more moment, holding him. One more moment consoling him for all the things he'd lost and all the frighting things he'd gained. One more moment, their bare skin pressed together in the dusty sun.

And then they had to change and run, because one moment was all they could afford.

Cats and Balls

Short post tonight...

So, went to a party for some friends of Mate's from soccer. They were LOVELY people--and talk about creative with the home and yard stuff-- everything they did was like Pinterest but better. I was impressed. (People who get creative with home decor always impress me. I'm just glad home is still standing. It's all I'm saying.)

Anyway-- they had a deep fryer, and Mate pre-made some Mac and Cheese balls to deep fry.  They came out great-- big and breaded and crispy on the outside and gooey on the inside.

However, Mate was forever to be known as the nice man with the big brown balls.  It was funny, right? A convo starter. "Hey man-- how you doing? Those balls are pretty damned big!" "Oh yes they are, would you like to taste my balls?"  You know--because we're all twelve, especially when there's beer and jello shooters. Saying.

So, Mate came to sit next to me, and the hostess's cat runs out of nowhere and jumps into his lap. The hostess was much impressed. "That cat doesn't talk to anybody! That's amazing!"

"You know," I said, shrugging. "Cat's love a guy with fuzzy balls."

(You saw that coming, right? But I swear it happened.)

And tomorrow, hopefully some Scorched Haven!