R. Cooper's Blog, page 7

The giveaway

    Goodreads Book Giveaway

 
       
 

 
   
          Little Wolf
   
   
          by R. Cooper
   

     
       

            Giveaway ends May 12, 2015.
       

       

            See the giveaway details
            at Goodreads.
       

   
 
 

      Enter to Win

(It's open May 10th to May 12th. Which isn't a lot of time, because I really didn't think it through and I'm an idiot about these things. Sorry.)


Also, Dreamspinner is celebtrating its anniversary, so for this month they are offering discounts on certain writers and making certain collections available for a discount. May 8-14th all my titles will be 35% off. So enjoy that if you were planning on buying anything by moi.

there is a wolf and he is little (but though he is but little he is fierce)

Little Wolf.

That's right. Let's talk Little Wolf.

Or, really, let's talk about talking about Little Wolf. As you may or may not know, the story of a little wolf in a certain familiar small town run by werewolves comes out on Friday the 8th. It's Being(s) in Love number four, which honestly I find so fascinating because I never intended it as a series, or thought I'd end up writing one. I blame Bertie.

Anyway. Friday the 8th. Little Wolf. Which is actually what I wrote first, and then thought maybe it would be nice for people to see Wolf's Paw (and Tim and Nathaniel) from an outside point of view, so I wrote A Beginner's Guide. Because for real the idea of a mate at first sight/sniff is cool and epic and everything and it makes my little heart flutter, but even in that there have to be complications. People in general do not know what they are doing when they are in love, or even in like, and I just wanted to explore that. And I maybe got a little carried away. With all that... and *cough* the sex scenes. Which... well I won't go into that.

Okay so in honor of this, I am going to do another Q&A session on Goodreads, on the page for Little Wolf. (Down where it says 'Ask the Goodreads Community a question about Little Wolf') (Or, as always, you can ask me stuff on my Tumblr. My ask box is open, and I believe I left it open to Anons as well.) Sunday the 10th (which is Mother's Day but I couldn't get the time off to drive up to see my mother so grrrr) is the day of the session. From let's say noon to whenever the questions trickle off or about 3pm, whichever comes first.

Sunday, May 10th, Q&A on Goodreads or Tumblr. 12-3 Pacific Time. Ask me about Beings or Little Wolf or whatever. I can't promise to reveal any spoilers, but you are welcome to ask because I am super excited about The Firebird and Other Stories and thinking of them makes me happy.

ALSO, for the first time, I will have a giveaway.(yeah. I am gonna try this whole giveaway thing. Oh god. Me doing technical things. Watch out, world.) I am about to list it on Goodreads, so check for it there. I will be giving away a signed paperback copy of Little Wolf. What will I sign it? No idea. I am terrible. I tried to sign the other books from the point of view of one of the characters, but I don't know that it worked out well. I think I just confused people.

And uh, yeah. I hope people come hang out and ask me weirdness about my weirdness. There is a discussion on my Tumblr right now about how fairies see shininess compared to werewolves sniffing a mate. I love it. It's so nerdy. And someone will get a book. One of these books,




*although hopefully your copy will not include any Beanie fur. She's claimed those books. She doesn't want to give them up.

Hope to see you there!

stupid pining alpha sheriffs and the confused little wolves who love them

Hey, everyone who hasn't yet seen my nerdy posts on Tumblr or Facebook, guess what? I've got a release date for Little Wolf. It's due out May 8.

Then at the end of this month I started editing Kazimir. Well, the collection of shorts, tentatively titled, The Firebird and Other Stories. (Also, hopefully, starting Tulip shortly before then. Oh Tulip. He has *presence*. Other fairies look out!)

Little Wolf (Nathaniel moons. Tim looks like a pissy, half-starved little thing, which is exactly what he is, really.)

Anyway, just a quick update. (And oh yes. I moved. Now it's the recovery. Sigh.) If you follow me on Tumblr, you got a cute, sort of porny, not really porny, kind of snippet with Will and Charlie the other day. Which is another reason to follow me there, if you needed one. I get why people don't. I mean, Tumblr is... Tumblr. But just putting it out there. Also if anyone ever wants to ask me anything, there are ways. Goodreads has a section (though my notifications only go through sometimes). There's my LJ. My Tumblr askbox. My Facebook. The link on the Dreamspinner author arcade. If you ever feel like contacting me, feel free, just keep in mind I am regular person with no secretary, so responses might take me a while, if I even see them. :):):)

More later. I am tired at the moment. Have an excerpt:



“He’s watching you, like everyone else here. You’re their fanta—” Tim started to say, but the sheriff abruptly broke eye contact, leaving Tim to flounder and deal with the feeling that he should do something to get the sheriff’s attention back.

Tim didn’t want his attention. Yet he was still talking. “Was the traffic accident bad? The one that made you late,” he explained in a rush. “Not that you have to come in here at the same time every day, or I was watching the window for a sign of you. I mean, on your days with later shifts, you eat at different times, so it isn’t a big deal. Carl said there was an accident on the highway, and I thought it must have been bad. I hope everyone was okay.”

Tim was pretty sure he sounded like an idiot. But before he could try to explain or use his big boy words, the sheriff answered.

“One person went to the hospital, but he isn’t critical. We arrested one of the drivers for suspicion of DUI. Everyone else was checked out and was fine.” The sheriff’s voice was level, but he was looking at Tim like he wanted to touch him again.

Tim ducked his head at the flare of heat he felt at that thought. “That’s good, then, no one really hurt,” he agreed, then brought his head back up. “Drunk in the middle of the day. Someone started early.” Maybe if it didn’t take so much alcohol for werewolves to get drunk, they would understand the inclination to drink like that.

The sheriff nodded. “It happened this morning, so someone started very early.”

“Tourists go crazy before they even get here,” Carl muttered. Tim ignored him, though he had a feeling Carl was right and Tim was going to start getting irked by out of control tourists soon too.

“Very early?” Tim pressed, not sure why. Maybe the phases of the moon were a werewolf’s alcohol. “You must be exhausted.”

“And starving.” The sheriff stretched and scratched his belly through his shirt. Tim spent a delirious moment imagining the man’s ab muscles and then another trying to guess what his claws would feel like. The sheriff didn’t seem to notice. “My lunch should be ready. Robin’s Egg should bring yours over soon.”

“I don’t need you to get me lunch.” Tim wasn’t going to forget a meal. But Sheriff Neri didn’t even acknowledge his protest, and it was no good bringing it up to Robin’s Egg. She’d call him a puppy.

“Tim.” The sheriff was staring at him with the unblinking, commanding gaze of a werewolf who had a pack the size of an entire town. Tim kind of forgot his own name for a second. “Tim.” The sheriff inhaled, then lowered his voice. “When the festival starts, it’s going to get crowded in town.”

“Yeah, yeah, people will be jumping you left and right,” Tim snarled softly and then flinched to realize, in addition to snarling, his eyes had narrowed. He hoped a bad mood and insane jealousy were indistinguishable to the sheriff’s nose. All Tim could detect in the air, aside from the brown gravy Cosmo put on almost everything, was the sheriff’s arousing scent and Tim’s own anxious sweat. “Just kidding, oh great and powerful sheriff,” Tim tried weakly. The sheriff let him panic while his gaze skipped over Tim’s face again, as if he was counting every nonintimidating freckle across Tim’s nose. Tim stared back until Carl cleared his throat.

The sheriff lifted his chin before changing the subject. “Once it’s crowded in town, I won’t be able to keep an eye on you. Not the way I’d like.”

“Oh.” Tim wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t going to ask for help, if that’s what the sheriff was after. It was amazing the man hadn’t ordered him to either get out of town or to stay under his protection, because he wasn’t going to get an invitation from Tim.

The sheriff waited, as if he expected Tim to argue or at least keep talking. When Tim didn’t say anything, the sheriff expelled a breath. “I’m letting you know that my offer stands.” He put a hand behind him, probably to preemptively shut Carl up.

“Live in your house?” Tim had to swallow to keep speaking. “Be in your house? With you?” He couldn’t help but sound horrified at the idea, of not only living with another were, but this one. “You offered that before.”

His first day here, after the sheriff sniffed and studied Tim in front of every single person in the café, he had asked about Ray Branigan and if Tim needed a place to stay. Tim had thought he’d been about to be mauled or mounted or some equally horrible fate that would have done Luca proud and had quickly shaken his head no. Then he’d gone back to gawking at the king werewolf in front of him.
It had not been Tim’s proudest moment, not that the sheriff had seemed to notice. The sheriff had let out one disturbingly quiet, almost surprised growl and then asked if Robin’s Egg knew of any rooms in town available for Tim and if she’d hired anyone to work in the gift shop for the summer. Just like that, before Tim could explain that he wasn’t going to stay long, he’d had a place to live and a job.
For a second Tim thought he heard that growl again, but the sheriff was only staring at him, the familiar frown darkening his expression.

“I can’t live with you,” Tim finally answered. “But I’m sure your house is, uh, nice.”

Sheriff Neri didn’t respond to that pathetic attempt at manners, which probably meant the invitation was something to do with the town, or, of course, some damn instinct. After all, the sheriff had made the offer before, and there was another were already living in the sheriff’s house in the woods with him—because the town of Wolf’s Paw wasn’t just some touristy, werewolf-centered resort, it was also some kind of sanctuary for lost weres.

“Don’t worry about it,” the sheriff said, as if Tim had said something, when Tim was reasonably sure he hadn’t, not out loud anyway. As Tim was relearning, weres didn’t always use words to speak. Tim frowned into the sheriff’s lickable face and tried to silently communicate independence and confidence. The sheriff gave him another intent stare. If Tim didn’t know it was the sheriff of a goddamn town full of werewolves in front of him, he’d have said the man was hesitant. “Just be careful.”

Tim couldn’t decide what to call the flavor of the sheriff’s scent. He was debating between wood-burning pizza oven and the skin on the inside of his wrist after he jacked off, which was the closest thing to what sex tasted like that Tim knew, except for the taste of his own come, and that he knew because he was werewolf and the urge to lick wasn’t something he denied when he was alone. Things rarely tasted gross to a were’s tongue, but even so Tim had a feeling the taste of sex and come on Nathaniel’s skin would be divine.

He tried to stay focused on the conversation, but all he could seem to notice was how the sheriff’s chest moved as he breathed heavily in and out. “Me?” Tim remembered to speak again. “I have no need to be careful. First sign of anything and I’m out of this weird, flea-bitten, sex-obsessed town.”

“So you’ve said,” the sheriff remarked and stepped abruptly away, taking his face and his eyes and his mouth with him. Tim stopped imagining his tongue and his fingers and his dick in that mouth and tried to calm down by thinking of the things the sheriff would likely do to him if he tried anything, if the man didn’t die laughing first.

Cookies, boys in love, and a personal appearance.

A Beginner's Guide to Wooing Your Mate (Beings in Love #3) comes out Friday! Yay! Saturday evening/night I will be answering questions on Goodreads. I have been informed that you can use the Reader Q and A as a forum, so we are going to try that. Now, I am always available for questions on Goodreads, so if you miss this event (if it works out) you can still ask me stuff. You can even ask on Sunday since I will be around. (But, since I am getting ready to move, I am not going to be sitting in front of the computer.)

YAY! Talking to people about precious dorks in love! Yay! Release day!


In honor of A Beginner's Guide to Wooing Your Mate coming out this Friday, here, have a recipe.

For backstory, which won't make sense to anyone until the story is out, I imagine the Sheriff sitting with Zeki because he has no one else to talk to, and he ends up with some magical snickerdoodles. Trust me on this. Magical snickerdoodles. (Read the book, it will make sense.) With chocolate milk. Anyway. So Zeki asks Theo to write the recipe down.



Comforting the Sheriff About His Littlewolf Snickerdoodles

First steps: clear your counter space and set out your ingredients. Take a breath. Try not to think about anything. Then reach for what you need. (Zeki says this is when I center myself. I don't know about that. But when I found the Sheriff talking with Zeki, discussing his Littlewolf, it seemed only right to make him something to ease his pain. A lost mate is no small thing. And I did not wish to sense Zeki's guilt when I thought this, so I went to my kitchen. Snickerdoodles seemed the right thing to make, they are simple and quick and comforting when served warm. Mate is wonderful thing, for me now, for us. I want the Sheriff to feel comfort, even if he cannot have his mate. And now Zeki will read this and smile. He calls my recipes spells. He has notions I don't understand. But he insists I continue.)

You will need:

1 cup butter, unsalted
1 1/2 cups sugar
2 eggs
2 3/4 cups flour
2 tsp cream of tartar
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
3 TBS sugar
3 tsp cinnamon

Parchment paper

Preheat your oven to 350°F.
Mix butter, 1 1/2 cups sugar and eggs thoroughly in a large bowl, until it's creamy and fluffy. You will know when it's right, just as you knew then.

But it's not yet ready. Turn to your dry ingredients. Littlewolf is a strange one. An outsider but smart. He blushes hot when he speaks of the Sheriff, something I understand when I think of Zeki. He stays with you, like flour on your finger tips. He seems strong, but he requires delicacy, I think, so sift the flour, cream of tart, baking soda, and salt together. Your touch must be light until it's time to blend the flour mixture into the butter and sugar.

This part makes me warm, which delights Zeki. But I know the Sheriff would think the same. He longs to be with his mate, of course he does. There is nothing simpler, and simple things are the hardest to get right. When he takes a bite of these cookies, he should feel that, but without the sadness of knowing it might not happen.

Chill the dough while you check the oven temperature and lay out parchment paper on the cookie sheets. Mix the cinnamon sugar together in a small bowl. Cinnamon for spice and heat (again, I am blushing, and again, Zeki is smiling at me.) Sugar for the sweetness in how Littlewolf speaks of the Sheriff. The Sheriff might not know, but the town does. I think... I think there is hope to be found.

Take out the dough and use a spoon to scoop out small amounts. Regular cookies would be about an inch, but these are smaller, just a bit, for a little wolf. Shape them into balls and then gently roll them in the cinnamon and sugar before placing them on your cookie sheet.

Bake ten minutes, or until the edges are light brown and firm but the middles are soft. Imagine a little wolf snapping and uncertain and worried and afraid. Imagine him defensive. Then remember his eyes when he spoke of Sheriff Neri, and the care he tries to hide.

Wait a few minutes, then serve warm to a reserved, troubled wolf only Zeki is brave enough to speak to, with a glass of cold chocolate milk if you have one. Chocolate for passion, for taste, for a thirst that cannot be quenched--yet.

(Set aside a handful for your mate to enjoy later. Try to ignore him when he calls you sweet and kind with his mouth full of crumbs. Kiss cinnamon and your own magic from the edge of his lips and wonder how something as basic as a cookie brought that wondering look to your clever, clever mate's dark eyes.)

Snippets!

In between the desperate and humiliating exercise that is apartment hunting on a very small budget, I got some good and unexpected news. Dreamspinner has decided to accept the collection of short stories I did about Beings.

(I know! I'm kind of shocked. It's about as artsy as I get, and a bunch of short stories about magical creatures falling in love during the last century seems like a hard sell. But yay! They wanted it. So now you all get to read about the babies I've been talking about for like a year. Kazimir. Okay. Kazimir. And Rennet. And Miki. And Tank. And and and....)

Also, thanks to LJ user sunakoyue (<3) if I am settled in a place and have internet and everything by then, I will probably do some sort of chat/forum thing on Goodreads in March, around when A Beginner's Guide to Wooing Your Mate comes out.

Now. To the snippets. These are all from Tumblr a few weeks ago. There was a list of prompts and people messaged me with requests while I was trying to distract myself from real life. Gonna put them behind a cut, which might not work when this reposts to Goodreads automatically. So anyone getting a really long post on Goodreads... sorry.




Will and Charlie "coming home"

It took so much effort not to run from his car to Charlie’s apartment that Will felt weirdly lightheaded when he finally reached Charlie’s door. He hadn’t run a fucking marathon, but his heart was fast and his hands were shaking.

He didn’t get it. He’d known Charlie—been with Charlie—before when he’d gone to visit his sister. He’d missed Charlie then, even after only a week of sleeping with him. He had hurried back. He remembered that, but not this sickness. Maybe he had the flu.

He should wait then. Find somewhere else to sleep so he didn’t spread it to Charlie, even if he nearly whimpered to think of how Charlie would take care of him. Charlie would just assume Will would need his care, the way he did after a spanking, or any practically vigorous round of anything. He’d clean him up and tuck him in and feed him, and chide him for not sleeping as if every moment wasn’t something fucking special and rare and—

Sometimes Will thought about Charlie and his hands started shaking. Charlie cared for him. Will had a boyfriend who cared for him. That was a real thing. And that boyfriend was Charlie, hotter than the hottest daddy, and quiet and snarly until he wasn’t, and Will had to get in to see him. Now.

He went to knock, then remembered the hour, how he’d driven back late instead of spending another night at his sister’s. Charlie worked tomorrow—today, now—and had thought Will would be returning in the morning, so he’d given Will a key.

That was it. The reason for Will’s impatience, for his trembling hands and racing heart. He pulled his key ring from his pocket, where of course he’d already put Charlie’s spare key as if it were his to keep.

He slid it into the lock and then crept into the dark of Charlie’s apartment. A small shape crossed into the kitchen as he closed the door, then purred his ankles right as he identified it.

Sam had never purred him before. At least, not without food being involved.

Will put his bag down on the counter and followed Sam to his food bowl. He frowned a little to see it empty and glanced into the living room. The living room was empty too. The light from the window wasn’t much, but it was enough to show the books on the couch, and the coat and cane left carelessly on the floor.

Will forgot all about his plans to jump into Charlie’s bed and kiss him awake. He fed Sam, spilling some bits of cat food since his hands wouldn’t be steady, and left Sam gobbling down food to go in search of Charlie.

He found him spread across the top of his bed, still dressed, curled in a little as if something had hurt. Will assumed it had, and hurt bad, if Charlie had collapsed like this.

He came forward without thinking and put a knee on the bed in order to put a hand to Charlie’s handsome face. Charlie’s skin was hot to the touch, which probably had something to do with the bottle of pills on the floor near Charlie’s hand.

He’d had two hydrocodone left in his prescription when Will had left, now they were gone. Not that Will was keeping track, exactly. But Charlie didn’t do things like refill his prescriptions when he should, which was probably how he’d ended up hurting in the days Will had been gone. He’d let the pain get worse instead of relaxing to make it better, and then today—this.

He’d probably thought Will would never know.

He was such an asshole.

Will picked up the bottle and went to the bathroom to wash his hands and strip off his clothes. He checked Charlie’s alarm, although if Charlie felt like crap in the morning Will wasn’t letting him go anywhere. Then he put on a pair of Charlie’s ridiculous pajama pants that his sisters got him as Christmas presents and took off Charlie’s shoes.

He got his belt off before Charlie stirred, but it was only a murmured, breathless, “Will?” and then Charlie lifting his head without opening his eyes.

"You give someone else a key?" Will demanded, but he didn’t sound angry. He sounded soft and worried and if Charlie had been less stoned, he would have noticed.

Maybe he did anyway, because he scowled and shook his head. “You.”

"Just me?" Will had no idea why he was talking to someone currently out of their mind, or why he kept whispering. But Charlie shifted to let Will strip off his pants and unbutton his shirt, and when Will went for the knot in his tie, Charlie sighed.

"Will," he said again, and Will realized, with a start, that his hands were no longer shaking.

He wondered, vaguely, distractedly, if Charlie had intended for Will to keep the key, and Will had been the one assuming he was supposed to give it back. After all, Charlie wasn’t the kind of man who let just anyone take his clothes off or fetch him a small glass of water from the bathroom.

"Charlie." Will watched Charlie take a few sips, then took the glass back from him and put it on the nightstand. It would be like to him to make a gesture like that, then worry so much that this happened.

God. Will loved him so much it was frightening. This idiot, tying himself into knots over Will. Will climbed carefully over him and this time felt no surprise at all when Charlie let Will settle at his side. Charlie’s skin was hot, sweaty, but Will scooted in closer, and wrapped his arms around him.
"Will," Charlie said again, putting so much into the name that Will closed his eyes.

"Here I am," Will answered, and gave him a kiss on the ear that Charlie wouldn’t remember. "Sorry I took so long."




Jeremy and Benjamin "paradise"

The air smelled like coffee. Good coffee, the kind that costs bucks and came from that little place in Berkeley near Jeremy’s apartment. Jeremy couldn’t afford the coffee there, but one taste and Benjamin had fallen in love with it. He used a French press to make it—not every day of course. Only on special days.

Jeremy smiled and scrunched his nose into his pillow. Not to hide the smile, but to keep Benj from knowing he was awake for a while longer. For just a few more minutes, Jeremy got to lie in bed, in Benj’s comfortable bed, warm from the two of them and one cuddly cat, and not be anywhere. He had no class to run to, no work, and neither did Benj.

It was Sunday. It was Sunday and it was winter break and neither of them had anywhere else immediate to be.

Jeremy wasn’t sure what that would mean, exactly. Maybe it would be like a regular Sunday—staying over Saturday night and sleeping in and having French press coffee made just for the two of them and lingering over toast and then Jeremy remembering he had to study, or write, or work, and leaving.
Maybe it would be like that, but with no leaving.

Maybe they could go to the store, and buy something for lunch. Maybe they would go see a movie, or not go anywhere.

Or maybe Benj had some work to do. It was hard to say. But Jeremy wanted… oh, he wanted to stay. Right here, all day, doing nothing but spending time with his boyfriend like he’d never once gotten to do for a whole, single, entire day.

But Benj was whispering to Persephone as he fed her, and the coffee smelled amazing, so it couldn’t last.

He kept his face in the pillow anyway.

"There’s coffee." Benj sounded like he was in the doorway. Probably in a radiant beam of early morning sun.

Jeremy sighed and turned around. Benj was so pretty it wasn’t fair. Especially when Jeremy could barely manage to look cute in the mornings.

"Or," he suggested carefully, snuggling deeper under a ridiculously wonderful comforter, "there’s this bed. Your bed. Which I don’t want to leave."

Benj’s lips turned up at the corner. “You look good there,” he offered, after a while, making Jeremy go hot and bury his face again.
"Never leaving. Here all day." Jeremy was not at his brightest in the morning, before coffee. It didn’t help that he mumbled into the bedding.

But Benj seemed to understand. He made a thoughtful noise. “I can bring the coffee in here.”

Benj, as Jeremy had quickly learned, was only serious about rules concerning the well-being of the library—and Jeremy.

Jeremy poked his head up again, absently smoothing his hair down as he did. “And you’ll drink it with me? And we’ll be decadent and debauched and never get out of bed for the entire day, except to use the bathroom and forage for food, and when I stay out of bed too long you’ll get worried and come and find me and we’ll end up fucking in your living room. And I can plead with you to light a fire, and you’ll remember you have work to do, but it’s okay, because I can curl up on the floor with you and distract you because it wasn’t that important anyway, not on Jeremy’s first real, entire day off with his boyfriend?”

He sucked in a breath.

Benj’s eyes went wide. Then he swallowed.

And then, And then. He ducked his head and smiled. “You have the entire day off?”
His smile was, there was no other word for it, delighted.




Chris and Nicky "all the way"

(I still haven’t solidified a canon for Nick and Chris, so, yeah)


"Tell me." Nick’s voice in his ear was hard and hungry enough to clear most of the fog from Chris’s mind. Chris stopped, leaning out of bed in the dark, cell phone clutched tightly in one hand. He forgot his fumbling search for glasses or for the light switch.

He hadn’t recognized the number on the screen, but he’d known somehow. Maybe that was why he answered, even at four am in the dark, with class in the morning.

"Nick." His throat tightened so much he couldn’t manage more, but Nick’s command made his heart pound. He thought dizzily of distance and time, perhaps danger, then pulled in a breath. "Nicky, I haven’t… you haven’t… not since Thanksgiving."

His mouth felt sticky. He couldn’t say what he wanted. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what he wanted. He wanted Nick. He wanted more of him instead of this uncertainty and ache. More than kisses, adult kisses, wet and feverish, outside his mother’s house while they jacked each other. More than insisting Nicky stay the night and not fooling his mother, who must have known he’d sneak into the living room in the dead of night to curl around Nick’s back.

Nick awake, if not expecting him, and then furious. Chris could do better, he’d said, and kept saying it, while he turned and put his mouth to Chris’ throat, to his chest, and then at last around his cock. Chris could do better. Should go back to his boyfriends. Decent guys with futures. He said it all like every word stung, and Chris had writhed in pain and pushed up into his mouth and just said, “Nicky.”

It was all he’d ever been able to say. Even when he’d woken up to find Nick gone.

And then nothing. No letters, no calls, for months. He should have been furious, and he was, until Nick spoke again.

"Tell me about your first time," he rasped through the phone, agony in every word.

Nick had been there for Chris’s first time, but that wasn’t what he meant now.

Chris had told him, in a letter like everything else. But he paused. He wondered if Nick was sober. If he was alone. If he’d tried to do what he thought was best by leaving, and that had tortured himself with those letters while he’d tortured Chris with his silence.

He let out a shuddering breath. “My freshman boyfriend.” Chris wanted to be fond; Tyler had been a decent guy, as shy and awkward as he’d been. Friendly and smiling, the exact opposite of Nick. “We’d been seeing each other for a while, messed around, sucked each other off. I let him finger me.” He imagined Nick’s hands wrapped tight around the neck of a bottle and hurt more than he thought Nick ever could. He wanted Nick to feel that pain, sometimes. “It was good. So I bought some lube and condoms and invited him to my dorm when my roommates were gone.”

Normally, when Chris did things like that, bold, brave things, Nick would comment. He’d say something sarcastic and warm about Chris always being the one with guts. But he was quiet now.

Chris’s heart was beating so hard he thought he might blackout for a second.

He closed his eyes. “He took his time. It was good too. I didn’t… I didn’t come just from that, but he blew me after.”

Nick hadn’t ever fucked him. Nick, as far as Chris knew, had never fucked another man. He’d slept with one other man, but he’d never fucked him like that. Chris thought he was waiting. Chris was waiting. He was waiting so much he was sick with it.

"I liked it," he confessed, pushing to get more than short, strangled breaths from Nick. "I told you I did. I told you everything. How it hurt a little but then felt better. How sometimes it was weird, close, with him inside me and our faces like that. I told you how it didn’t hurt enough, how I wished it was you, because you’d hold me down and make me come."

"Stop." Nick spoke again at last.

Chris had mentioned all this indirectly in the letters, but never out loud before.

Chris shook his head, although Nicky couldn’t see it. “No. You called me. You should hear about the guys since then.” Chris was older now, had more confidence, and the men he attracted were the same. “They’re better. It’s better. But it’s still not you.”

"Chris, goddamn it." Again, Nicky stopped.

He hurt so much that Chris smiled. “But none since Thanksgiving.” It was the truth. He only ever spoke the truth to Nicky.

Nick took a deep breath. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

"But I am. And you like it." Chris lowered his voice. "I like it, thinking of you. But I’m getting tired of waiting, Nick."

"Chris." Nicky sounded choked. "The things I want to do to you. You shouldn’t— We ain’t nothing like what you should have."

Chris surprised himself with a laugh, light and loud enough to shut Nick up. “But that’s what I want, and you’re going to give it to me, aren’t you?” The truth was in this call. “You want me, Nick, and you love me, and you want to be my friend, and you want to hurt me too, and you think you can’t have all those things. But you want.”

It was kind of amazing. Nick wanting all of that, with him.

"Chris." Nick was trying to warn him, the idiot. As if Chris was still that kid in high school and didn’t have more experience with men and love than he did. "Chris."

"I’m tired of waiting, Nicky," Chris sighed into the dark. "Come home and you can have everything."
Nicky’s harsh breathing made him shiver. He imagined it in his ear as Nicky fucked him and thought Nicky might be doing the same. He sighed again. “Come home and take it.”

"Chris," Nicky said, warm and angry. "Chris," he repeated himself. It was a yes.




Arthur and Bertie "burn"

Arthur, in all his perplexing humanity, was a mystery Bertie had never thought to solve. He was simply an enigma to be loved, worshiped, if Bertie could get away with it. As he was, every remarkable inch of him.

Nonetheless, Bertie had assumed that after a year with his treasure, he no longer had any huge surprises in store for him.

That, he was learning, was because he had never seen Arthur drunk.

He had never seen Arthur drink, in point of fact. Nothing alcoholic at any rate, except perhaps sips of something Bertie used for cooking when he needed a tester.

He had thought, perhaps too lightly, that Arthur must have done his experimenting in his early college years, before everything. American youths seemed to accept it as part of college life.
Being a creature of magic who didn’t drink, who didn’t know about alcohol and its effects, he had forgotten about Arthur’s sister, and the constant work Arthur had already been doing to stay in school.

Arthur hadn’t done any of the playful partying that his peers had. So perhaps it hadn’t occurred to Arthur either—that only a few drinks would leave him tipsy and flushed and unsteady on his feet. Perhaps Arthur hadn’t expected the professors at this party to ply with him wine and sweet cakes.
Perhaps Arthur had never been in an environment where people sought his attention with drinks, and had accepted each offering to be polite.

There was really no one to blame but those handing him glass after glass. Those who should have known that though Arthur would soften and relax and smile—such wide, pleased smiles—under the influence, he was not there to be taken.

He was handsome. Of course they looked. He was bright and young and interested and capable of such conversation even with his mind addled and slow. He pinked from the wine, cheeks like apples, mouth shining and open, eyes growing heavy.

Of course they brought him more and sought him out. They meant no harm.

Bertie reminded himself of that, of how Arthur would react to know of his jealousy and the roar he was only just keeping inside. He reminded himself of it three times, and then watched a man touch Arthur’s hair.

He was across the room in seconds, parting the crowd with uncontrollable heat and faint trails of furious smoke.

Arthur flinched from the hand on him and then turned, looking up, and up, toward Bertie as if Bertie had grown tall.

The room seemed quiet, although Bertie’s ears were filled with the thunderous sound of his heart. And then Arthur, tipsy, but still nervous Arthur, tipsy but still wonderful Arthur, tipsy, but still Bertie’s Arthur, took a step toward him.

He said nothing as Bertie curled an arm around him, a tail, a small, leathery wing. He only tilted his head back and heaved a breath and allowed Bertie to sigh hotly over the top of his head.

"So," Arthur declared, in his final tone, the one that meant the argument was over and others—Bertie—would accept it in time. "You shouldn’t have touched me, you see. I didn’t ask you to. And--" At this he paused, and his tone became almost shy, "--I am someone else’s treasure."

"Mine." A wispy circle of smoke followed the words, and Arthur pressed against him, as if pleased.

And oh, oh of all things Bertie had never once considered, it was an Arthur who lost his shyness when drinking. He raised a hand and stroked the side of Arthur’s neck. “Mine,” Bertie said again, and Arthur shivered. He doubtless shocked the academics around him, or filled them with envy.

Bertie loved him more than he could ever say. More so a moment later.

"Bertie," Arthur murmured heavily, too drunk to be embarrassed about being owned this way, or perhaps annoyed at being touched without permission and wanting to make someone pay, just a little. "Bertie, take me home."

Bertie curled closer around his treasure, and smiled at the shocked face of the man Arthur had just saved from being eaten. “Of course, pet,” he agreed. “Whatever you say.”


:) Talk to everyone soon, I hope.

they are actually five-chocolate cupcakes

Got an official release date for A Beginner's Guide to Wooing Your Mate! (Actually, I had it a few days ago, but I am distracted by RL stuff and in a weird between moods sort of place, so posting anything meaningful has been beyond me.)

March 13, people can get their hands on a baking werewolf and a very determined wizard with hair issues. A Beginner's Guide to Wooing Your Mate. It's a Being(s) in Love story, and it involves a town filled with werewolves who all insist that Mates find each other a certain way. BUT, f you've been reading the Beings stories, you should know by now that the theme is more how no one really knows anything when it comes it love, not even Beings. Not even fairies, and fairies see the truth. Tsk.

There are wet firemen and tasty sugar cookies and high school crushes gone awry and magic pie. Plus werewolves. And Violet. I can't forget Violet, a pixy drug store clerk, and those goddamn Greenleafs, being all pretty and hot like they are. And orgasmic brownies and sexual frustration cupcakes. And, uh, the Golden Girls. Did I mention wet firemen and werewolves?

Meanwhile, Little Wolf editing continues apace, and Dreamspinner is considering, maybe, the other thing, the weird thing I did, with the Beings shorts.

Anyway. So the thing comes out in March, which is when I will busiest and things will be the most chaotic, so... I was considering doing some sort of chat or something, but... that may or may not be possible. I'll let you know. (Goodreads doesn't seem to do chats anymore? Or something? So maybe not anyway.)

And now, I sleep, or try to. ...wait was I supposed to tell you all something else? I cannot even remember now. Oh when I get a chance (ha) I will put those snippets I did on Tumblr up on the free reads page of my LJ.

he couldn't stay away

Editing editing editing. This is my life now. (Also prepping to move and staring woefully at apartment listings in my price range, but ah well. Hopefully all that will be settled soon. I like things settled. I am not a fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants kind of girl.)

I *think* there might be a galley run through of A Beginner's Guide left, or we might be done, because I saw no errors last time. The cover art is on its way. So... March. Definitely March. Will let you know when I know more. Like the date. :):):) Gentle baker werewolves and insistent, somewhat pushy wizards will be all yours.

Still editing Little Wolf. Round two starts... tonight probably. Or tomorrow after work. Little Wolf is long, so that will take a while.

In other news, to distract myself between edits, I did a short, fluffy bit of silly librarian love story. Well. The working title was "fluffy librarian smut thing" so that should tell you what you need to know.

Here is the actual description:

Jeremy is a grad student with a quick mind and insatiable thirst for knowledge. What he’s currently most curious about is the infamously strict librarian at the small private library attached to his university. He has a weakness for devastatingly clever jerks, so despite his looming thesis, Jeremy decides to pay the famous special collection—and its curator—a visit. But instead of an intimidating beast of a librarian, he finds the librarian’s soft-spoken assistant, Benj.

Quiet, shy, guys with pretty eyes and handmade cardigans are not Jeremy’s type. Jeremy is too smart, and weird, for anyone so sweet. He’d walk all over them, or find them boring after five minutes. Which doesn’t explain why he keeps coming back to the library, despite never once encountering the notoriously protective special collections librarian. Perhaps if he weren’t so distracted by Benj’s surprisingly impressive shoulders and the absolutely charming library he runs, he’d notice there’s more to Benj than knitted sweaters.


Or, as Coffeebuddha says, awkward turtles in like. Yeah there are in some serious like territory. Bordering on smitten. Okay, smitten.

Lots of nerdy, nerdy conversation (mostly one-sided) and longing stares and bending of the rules for the one you just don't want to leave.

Checking Out Love


Now, back to work for me.

you don't need to call in to work cuz you're the boss

(My blog posts on LJ usually also post over here, but this one didn't. Weird. I feel like a double post is going to show up at some point.)

Hello, hello!

I've been frantically working on finishing up the collection of short stories I wrote in the Being(s) In Love universe, and I submitted them today. It's not the usual thing Dreamspinner publishes, so we'll see if they want it. I hope so, if only because I'm kind of in love with some of those characters. (As I generally am when done writing. Sometimes it never goes away either. Chaaaaaaarlie.) It's basically glimpses of different beings (and some humans) during the hundred years since the beings emerged from hiding. Every story is linked and there are all sorts of cameos and references to the books. Like I said, kind of not what DS usually does. But I was compelled, I tell ya!

I have also, in this frenzied rush before I have deal with a bunch of personal stuff in the coming months, been doing that thing where my brain goes all over the place. So if you follow me on Tumblr, by now you have seen trying to match Beyonce songs to all my characters. Just ignore me when I do that. ...although I will now and forever think of Tim singing "Ego" about Nathaniel, and "Green Light" has always been Cal's song to Ray.

Anyway. It's official, A Beginner's Guide to Wooing Your Mate is due out in March, although I don't know the exact date yet. It will be Being(s) In Love #3. Here is the blurb:


Zeki Janowitz has returned to his hometown of Wolf’s Paw to start his wizarding career. Unfortunately, Wolf’s Paw, a werewolf refuge, follows centuries of tradition and shuns human magic and a very human Zeki. He knows he’s in for a struggle, but a part of him has always belonged in the mountain town, or rather belonged to Theo Greenleaf. Years away at school haven’t lessened Zeki’s crush on the quiet werewolf. When town gossip informs him Theo still suffers from his mate’s rejection and does not date, it does little to ease Zeki’s embarrassing feelings. He decides now’s the time to get the man he’s always wanted.

Werewolves usually don’t recover from losing their mates, and Theo barely pulled through by focusing on his love of baking. It’s a daily struggle, and Zeki’s return to Wolf’s Paw shatters his peace. Theo doesn’t know what to think when Zeki attempts to woo him, talking about his wizarding business and settling in town for good. It’s like Zeki doesn’t have a clue how his words years before left Theo a shell of a werewolf.

Beginners in love, Theo and Zeki must seduce each other with a bit of heavenly baking and magic.


...so a werewolf baker. Oh yeah. I'm bringing it. I am definitely bringing... something... to the table.

And then a few months after that, Being(s) in Love #4 should come out. Little Wolf. Prepare yourselves. He is... um. He is.. spiky? Difficult? Scared and so in love he can't see straight but no one ever told him what love felt like? Aw.

That's all I have for updates for the moment, although I might try to do another interview or chat or something in March, or maybe later when Little Wolf comes out. (Yes, I have Tulip in mind still. And also a few other, non-being things if life gives me the time.)

you don't need to call into work cuz you're the boss

Hello, hello!

I've been frantically working on finishing up the collection of short stories I wrote in the Being(s) In Love universe, and I submitted them today. It's not the usual thing Dreamspinner publishes, so we'll see if they want it. I hope so, if only because I'm kind of in love with some of those characters. (As I generally am when done writing. Sometimes it never goes away either. Chaaaaaaarlie.) It's basically glimpses of different beings (and some humans) during the hundred years since the beings emerged from hiding. Every story is linked and there are all sorts of cameos and references to the books. Like I said, kind of not what DS usually does. But I was compelled, I tell ya!

I have also, in this frenzied rush before I have deal with a bunch of personal stuff in the coming months, been doing that thing where my brain goes all over the place. So if you follow me on Tumblr, by now you have seen trying to match Beyonce songs to all my characters. Just ignore me when I do that. ...although I will now and forever think of Tim singing "Ego" about Nathaniel, and "Green Light" has always been Cal's song to Ray.

Anyway. It's official, A Beginner's Guide to Wooing Your Mate is due out in March, although I don't know the exact date yet. It will be Being(s) In Love #3. Here is the blurb:


Zeki Janowitz has returned to his hometown of Wolf’s Paw to start his wizarding career. Unfortunately, Wolf’s Paw, a werewolf refuge, follows centuries of tradition and shuns human magic and a very human Zeki. He knows he’s in for a struggle, but a part of him has always belonged in the mountain town, or rather belonged to Theo Greenleaf. Years away at school haven’t lessened Zeki’s crush on the quiet werewolf. When town gossip informs him Theo still suffers from his mate’s rejection and does not date, it does little to ease Zeki’s embarrassing feelings. He decides now’s the time to get the man he’s always wanted.

Werewolves usually don’t recover from losing their mates, and Theo barely pulled through by focusing on his love of baking. It’s a daily struggle, and Zeki’s return to Wolf’s Paw shatters his peace. Theo doesn’t know what to think when Zeki attempts to woo him, talking about his wizarding business and settling in town for good. It’s like Zeki doesn’t have a clue how his words years before left Theo a shell of a werewolf.

Beginners in love, Theo and Zeki must seduce each other with a bit of heavenly baking and magic.


...so a werewolf baker. Oh yeah. I'm bringing it. I am definitely bringing... something... to the table.

And then a few months after that, Being(s) in Love #4 should come out. Little Wolf. Prepare yourselves. He is... um. He is.. spiky? Difficult? Scared and so in love he can't see straight but no one ever told him what love felt like? Aw.

That's all I have for updates for the moment, although I might try to do another interview or chat or something in March, or maybe later when Little Wolf comes out. (Yes, I have Tulip in mind still. And also a few other, non-being things if life gives me the time.)

Forget the Mistletoe!--and little Will and Charlie for you

If this doesn't make sense, it's because I wrote it will sick and very tired and avoiding real work, and because Coffeebuddha basically mind-zapped me with the idea of Will and Charlie/fake boyfriends/cheesy Christmas fluff.

So here. An Alternate Universe Will and Charlie, in which maybe Charlie was having a better pain day when he first encountered Will and wasn't as grumpy, and was accidentally charming, and Will is a smitten kitten, so when Charlie asks if he's willing to go to a Christmas party with him to get his sisters off his back, Will jumps at the chance.

Or, the simpler title: Forget the Mistletoe



“You don’t have to do this. Really.” Charlie’s voice was low and careful and far too close for Will to prevent a shiver. Will glanced up at him and had to fight a sigh at how serious he was. A grown man, no matter how fine, should not be so earnest while wearing a green sweater with a reindeer on it. The reindeer had a light-up nose; Charlie ought to look ridiculous. But the collared shirt he wore underneath made him a hot professor suffering through an embarrassing Christmas gift, which was exactly what he was. The sweater was a gift from one of his sisters and Charlie Howard, it seemed, would never dream of telling her it was awful.

Charlie would do a lot to keep from hurting the people he cared about. Will should have been alarmed at how warm that made him, but at this point, he was far past flushing when around Charlie and deep into racing heart territory.

He took a breath to steady himself. “Be your fake date to get your sisters to get your sisters off your back? Or be seen with someone in that sweater?” He smiled as he said it, so Charlie would know he was teasing.

A line appeared between Charlie’s eyes, but then it eased away as Charlie gently, but pointedly, poked the Santa hat Will was wearing. Will wrinkled his nose and reached up to return the hat to its jaunty angle. “I look adorable, I’ll have you know,” he huffed, but had to glance away at the unbearably fond look Charlie gave him. His heart felt like it was being squeezed when Charlie did that, and then somehow Will forgot what he was saying or what to do with his hands. He settled for looping one arm around Charlie’s, and blithely ignoring Charlie’s shock. They were fake dating after all. That meant Will got to touch. He had thought about this.

He’d thought about it all week in fact, ever since Charlie had asked, embarrassed and apologetic for inconveniencing Will. He had seemed to think Will had some other plans. Maybe he had. But those plans could be broken for this. Will had been crushing hard on Grayson’s neighbor since the summer when Will had been apartment-sitting and knocked one of Grayson’s plants off his balcony, and an incredibly handsome, if cranky, man with a cane had stopped to yell at him about safety but then helped him clean it up and repot the poor plant.

It had taken an entire summer of languishing on the balcony like Tallulah Bankhead and talking about Charlie nonstop with his friends for Will’s sister to declare Will was smitten. Will had to agree. When Grayson had returned and Will had no reason to stalk, er, see Charlie again, it had been awful. Even friending Charlie on Facebook meant nothing because Charlie didn’t use social media for anything other than liking his sisters’ posts once in a while. Then Grayson had decided to go away around the holidays and Will had jumped at the chance to stay at his place again. And Charlie had smiled to see him and it had been exactly like it had been the first time, except now it was colder on the balcony so Charlie brought him coffee and sugary seasonal lattes, and then… this.

“My sisters--” Charlie kept trying to warn him off. They were on his sister’s porch already. Will was lit beguilingly by a thousand soft Christmas lights and ready to pretend-boyfriend his heart out. Nothing was going to shake him now.

“Pft. Listen, Cinderella, we are doing this, and it’s going to be great, forget your ugly stepsisters.” Will took his chance to snuggle closer and push the doorbell so Charlie couldn’t change his mind. Though the thought made him pause. “Unless, you think they won’t believe it… because we’re so different?” Charlie could make that blank cop face all he wanted, he knew what Will was talking about. He’d thought it too when he’d first met Will. He might still think it. Charlie was a respectable professor after all, and Will was a colorist with no permanent address. Will could pine all he wanted, but someone like Charlie wasn’t normally the kind to bring someone like Will home to the family.

Except here they were. He had no idea what Charlie was thinking.

“They aren’t ugly stepsisters,” Charlie insisted, like the good brother he was. It may have been all the red lights in the strands wrapped around the porch, but it looked like Charlie’s cheeks grew darker. “They’ll believe that I like you.” He cleared his throat. “But they can be difficult,” he added quickly, and straightened when the door opened.

A smaller, curvier version of him opened the door. She was also in a terrible sweater—red, with a drunk-looking felt Santa on it, and she grimaced knowingly when she saw Will glance at it. “Ann,” she explained, apparently to Charlie, because then she began to say something in a stream of Spanish as she took the bottle of wine Charlie offered and pulled Charlie into a hug. The Spanish still caught Will off-guard. He could barely speak the one language so of course Charlie was fluent in two. At least two.

But he missed it when it was gone, because then Charlie’s sister turned to get a better look at him. Every inch of Will suddenly felt like an aging twink in the Santa hat. He shouldn’t have worn it. He wasn’t Eartha Kitt. He should have worn some boring red sweater and flattened his hair. He shouldn’t be touching her brother. Charlie’s last boyfriend—real boyfriend—had probably worn a suit and tie and come off as masculine as the most repressed gay boy in the world.

He focused on the sister, who had indeed noticed how Will was leaning on her brother. She narrowed her eyes.

Charlie said, “Missy,” in a stern voice that went right to Will’s dick and took his arm from Will’s in order to slide it around Will’s back. Will turned to him with an expression he knew was adoring. He couldn’t help himself.

The meaner version of Charlie, or, as Will should probably be thinking of her, Missy, closed her mouth and then smiled. “Will, it’s good to finally meet you.”

The ‘finally” got Will’s attention, but he didn’t get a chance to ask. Charlie put his hand at the small of his back in a show of support that Will didn’t know what to do with, and Will stuttered in thanking her for inviting him.

“Come on in.” Again, Missy directed this at Charlie, but when she glanced at her brother, her face tightened. A moment later she was smiling widely at Will and holding the door for him. Charlie stopped to hug her in the doorway and exchange a few more words in quiet English, something about Ann—the sister Will was learning to fear.

But then Charlie was back at Will’s shoulder and guiding him to a closet by the foyer.

“Okay?” Whispered against Will’s ear as Charlie removed his coat for him, it was like the gentlest, best torture.

Will let Charlie hang their coats in his sister’s closet and then swooned dramatically against him. “My hero!” He almost laughed when Charlie caught him, but then he remembered Charlie hadn’t brought his cane and eased off enough to let Charlie stand. He was completely unprepared for Charlie wrapping his arms around him to steady him.

“Oh.” Will murmured and forgot trying to be decent. He leaned into Charlie even more. “Okay. Yes.” Every breath was full of Charlie’s aftershave, which was probably something simple but expensive and Will loved it. He lifted his head and nearly forgot Missy entirely at Charlie’s questioning look. “What?” Will blinked a few times, mostly to clear his head. He kept his voice down and his tone innocent. “I’m your boyfriend. That means I get to put my hands all over you.”

Yeah, okay, that didn’t sound at all like Will had been dreaming of doing just that or anything. He would have been more embarrassed about it if Charlie hadn’t stared at him in blank surprise. His shock was only there for a moment before it was gone, and then Charlie swallowed. “Because that’s what boyfriends do,” he agreed, but in a funny voice.

“Well, yeah.” Will was about to roll his eyes, because he hadn’t ever had a boyfriend, but he knew that much, until he thought of why Charlie might be so surprised at being touched in public. Charlie hadn’t said much about the pretty jerk on that coffee mug, but Will had gotten the gist. Now he got a little more. So what if the guy had money or manners or a nice suit, he hadn’t been kind to someone who only wanted to take care of people.

Next time Charlie invited him over for coffee—actual coffee, sadly—Will was going to shatter that thing. For now Will was going to be the best boyfriend Charlie had ever had.

Since Charlie wasn’t complaining, Will let Charlie hold him up and looped his arms around Charlie’s neck. Charlie had said his sisters didn’t have a problem with him being gay, so this had better be okay. “Hmm, you are the best way to warm up from the cold,” he told Charlie, loud enough for nosy Miss Missy to hear. Then, when Charlie’s mouth went startled and soft, Will twisted to look at her. “I can’t help myself where Charlie is concerned. Sorry.”

He wasn’t sorry. Well, he was sorry if Charlie was uncomfortable, but to be honest, Charlie didn’t seem uncomfortable as much as confused. Will wished his fingers weren’t so cold, because when he stroked Charlie’s hair—too long and in need of another trim Will would be happy to provide—Charlie shivered.

Missy studied Will with her eyebrows drawn, then her brother for another second before she put a hand to her face. “I’ll just--” she waved in another direction. “Everyone else is in the living room.” Then she left.

“So we’re doing this.” How Charlie could still sound surprised that Will was down for pretend boyfriend time with him was beyond Will, although for the first time he was starting to get his suspicions.

Will hadn’t moved out of his arms. He really ought to feel guilty about that. Really. He was going to try, at least. Charlie dropped his arms, but kept one hand at Will’s back. “Let me know if you’re uncomfortable.”

“Yes, sir,” Will purred, because that was the kind of order he liked getting, and because Charlie definitely blushed for it. His chiding glance at Will was even better. Will petted his hair one last time and sighed. This was going to be hard to give up. “Anything else, Charlie? Should I ease up on the PDAs or act a little less twinky?”

He wasn’t going to lie; he about melted when Charlie pushed the fluffy white brim of his hat up in a gesture Bogart couldn’t have done better. Charlie smiled at him, a happy smile that made no sense with his eyes so dark and sad. “You’re perfect,” Charlie told him, then took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

Will took that as his cue to turn with him and head into the lion’s den—living room. He stepped away only to nearly trip when Charlie stayed at his shoulder, one hand light but steady at his back. Will’s heart was a trip hammer in his ears.

“Oh,” Will said out loud again, and wondered if having a real boyfriend was as dangerous as having a fake one.




The thing about adult Christmas parties—real adults, not Will’s friends—was that while they served alcohol, they also served other things besides drinks. After making the rounds with Charlie at his back introducing Will in a voice that made Will burn, Will had ended up against the wall, next to a table full of Christmas goodies.

Will had eaten dinner, honestly, a whole half of a pack of grocery store California rolls leftover from lunch, but he had never seen so many frosted sugar cookies in his entire life. Snowmen and trees and stars like something out of a magazine, glossy bright frosting that was calling to him. He sipped his spiked eggnog, low calorie, according to the third sister, Katia, and stared longingly at gingerbread men. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a gingerbread man, and that said nothing for the trays of nuts and candies and the actual, honest-to-god gingerbread house in the middle of the table.

Charlie wasn’t far away. Someone whose name Will didn’t remember had called him over, so after a questioning look at Will and Will’s nod, Charlie had gone. He was still and not quite tense in the middle of the room. These were his sister’s friends from what Will understood. Or Missy’s husband’s friends. It was a little unclear. Katia, the youngest sister, had left her newest boyfriend in order to disappear into the kitchen with the other two. Somehow, Will didn’t think it was paranoid to assume they were discussing him. Charlie had said his sisters could be difficult, but Will wondered if he’d expected this level of reaction to the simple idea of Charlie dating someone.

Or maybe it was the idea of Charlie dating Will, with his silly hat and silly hair and tight black shirt threaded with sparkles.

It couldn’t be the hat anyway; he wasn’t the only person wearing a Santa hat, and a joker had brought in a sprig of mistletoe earlier as well. Not to mention that the people not drinking the spiked eggnog were drinking some kind of rum punch. Charlie was the sole person Will knew of who hadn’t taken a single sip of alcohol. He was drinking soda.

Will glanced at the cookies again, then across the room at the table filled with more nutritious and less fattening fare; meatballs and rolls and little taco things and some kind of dip. If he was going to eat, he should stick to that. Real food. Like the adult he could pretend to be. Like Charlie’s last boyfriend, the one who had obviously been very different from Will, the one who hadn’t held Charlie enough or fawned over him or confessed to his wide-eyed sisters that he’d fallen hard for Charlie from the instant Charlie had first frowned at him.

Charlie had gone so very still to hear that, though that had been nothing to how tense he’d gotten when Katia had added, “I can see that. You light up just talking about him.”

She had seemed surprised by that. Which, what kind of bitch couldn’t see how awesome her brother was? Charlie answered her calls no matter what he was doing, and she had the nerve to doubt someone would want him?

It was no good. Will picked up a sweetly decorated snowman and snuck a nibble.

“You can just eat them, you know,” Charlie’s voice in his ear made him choke. Everyone turned for a moment to stare at him and Will glared up to let Charlie know that was his fault. Charlie immediately took the cookie from him. “Sorry. Here.” He put down his cup of soda in order to hand Will his eggnog.

Like that, Will was done being annoyed with him. He obediently sipped then licked a drop from his lip when Charlie took the cup away. For a moment, Charlie seemed arrested. Then he let out a breath and lowered his head.

“Are you bored?” Charlie spoke just above a whisper. “Parties aren’t really my thing, but you must… you go to a lot.”

“Bored?” Will coughed and leaned in to indicate he’d like more eggnog please. He didn’t think Charlie even noticed how he lifted Will’s cup so Will could have another drink, not until Will licked his mouth again. Then Charlie was suddenly very still. “No, I’m not bored,” Will told him truthfully. “Although I’m not sure what your sisters make of me.”

“If they say anything to you, tell me,” Charlie rumbled.

Will made a happy sound and darted out his tongue once more, although he couldn’t have cared less about the taste of nutmeg.

“My big, strong boyfriend gonna do something about it?” Will teased, and momentarily could not breathe for the hungry expression on Charlie’s face. Then Charlie turned to look at the others in the room.

“Your boyfriend,” Charlie said after a long pause, a strain in the words, “was wondering why you’ve been staring at the table of cookies for an hour. Did you eat dinner?”

“I…” Will considered his answer carefully. He knew from experience that Charlie wasn’t great about lies, in that he tended to see right through them, but also disapproved of them. He hadn’t even lied to his sisters yet, Will had noticed. Charlie hadn’t actually said Will was his boyfriend. Instead he’d kept up with the light touches at Will’s back, and one at his shoulder. In addition to lies, Charlie was also not good about the times Will forgot to take care of himself. Will hummed and equivocated. “I ate a small dinner,” he explained at last.

Charlie immediately held out the snowman cookie. He probably meant for Will to take it. Will knew that. The eggnog in Will’s system, however, decided to push Will forward and to have him duck his head to take a bite from the offered snowman. A small sound from the other side of the table made him think that one or all of the sisters had seen that. Charlie’s cheeks were darkening with color. Will couldn’t make himself feel bad about it, although he didn’t think this was kind of thing boyfriends did. At least, not in front of family.

But he chewed and swallowed, and felt a tremor run through him when Charlie used his thumb to wipe a crumb from the corner of his mouth. Then Charlie offered the rest of the cookie.

Will had a figure to think of, but he took a nibble, like a good boy. Like the best boy. Like the kind of boy Charlie could take home and keep, if he wanted.

“Will.” Charlie’s voice made his chest tight, but when Charlie tipped his cup for him, Will took another drink. He thought distantly that this was obviously not pretend, not for him, and Charlie knew that and was probably curious about all the things Will had hinted at before, what he was into in bed. But a distant worry didn’t compare to Charlie gently dusting crumbs from his mouth or breaking off a piece of gingerbread for him when the snowman was gone.

“Your sisters are going to think I’m using you for sex,” Will confessed breathlessly, but whined softly until Charlie fed him another piece of gingerbread.

“They aren’t the only ones watching,” Charlie answered. Will had no idea what to make of Charlie’s frown for that, but finally pulled back and wiped at his mouth. His lips were buzzing too much for the small amount of booze he’d had.

“Good.” Will was one more cookie from giving no fucks. Charlie shot him a curious look and Will tried a shrug. “They don’t like it when you touch me. Your sisters, I mean. Have they never seen anyone want you, or is it because… is it because it’s me?”

Charlie’s eyebrows went up, then down. “I spoiled them when they were little. They’re used to having my undivided attention. Instead I’ve spent all evening with you.”

Will barely, barely bit back a comment about how Charlie wasn’t their father, but considering that two minutes ago he’d been about half a second from calling Charlie ‘daddy’, he thought it best to say nothing. He bobbed his head to the quiet Christmas music in the background, Mariah Carey of course, and finished his drink in an effort to make him forget Charlie touching his mouth.

The world seemed to tilt. Will put one hand on the table and the other on Charlie. Charlie turned back to him. “Oh,” Will announced for the third time at least that night, and curled against Charlie’s side in what was becoming a habit. “Your sisters got me a little tipsy.”

“Very probably.” Charlie seemed to curl around him too, and speak every word into Will’s ear, like he was telling very warm secrets. He put down Will’s empty cup for him. “I should have warned you. Their drinks only look innocent.”

“It’s cool.” Will buried his face in Charlie’s shoulder, almost at his neck, and took a deep breath. “I forgive you, because we’re boyfriends.”

“You say that like you like it,” Charlie observed, almost stopping Will’s heart. “But you said before that you’d never had a boyf…” Charlie trailed off. “That idiot is back and his mistletoe is missing.”

Will didn’t understand why that information was important, but raised his head anyway. Oh yeah, the sisters were giving him polite stares that were also glares if you happened to know they hated you. Well, except for the other one. Ann, she of the tacky sweaters and horrid pillow making. She was outright glaring. Will blinked at her, aware he was now flushed and probably looked as tipsy as he was. He pulled down his Santa hat, although it was starting to get hot.

“Are they onto us?” he asked in total confusion, even more lost when Charlie’s unhappy frown disappeared. Charlie curved his lips in a slow smile and tipped Will’s hat back up.

“Stop doing that,” Charlie instructed gently.

Will nodded. “Yes, Charlie,” he agreed, though then he scowled. “I can wear my hat however I want. But it’s hot now. But if I take it off, I’ll have hat hair.” Charlie’s smile got even better, or worse. He was so fucking charming when he wasn’t trying to be. Will waved at him. “This is because you’re sober. I’m going to have to get you drunk later.”

“When we’re home, Will.” Charlie did not seem to object to the idea.

“Are you going to take me home, Charlie?” Will wondered in the faintest whisper. Playing Charlie’s boyfriend must have gone to his head. Charlie had had plenty of chances to fuck Will and hadn’t yet, to Will’s regret. He sighed before Charlie could answer. “Well,” he said after a while, “should I fawn over you some more to get them used to idea of a boyfriend who adores your everything, or do you think that is really what’s upsetting them?”

“I…” Charlie took a heavy breath. “What do you mean?”

Will squinted at him. “Don’t be dense. They aren’t used to someone who’s actually competition for your attention, but they’ve met your last boyfriend. That guy,” Mark, but Will wasn’t going to say his name, “wasn’t like this with you. They don’t know what this means.”

Charlie had gone impassive and thoughtful again. He was thinking something over, or worrying. Will would never have guessed when he met Charlie that Charlie hid so much behind his blank expressions.

“Hey,” Will called softly, and nudged him until those brown eyes were focused solely on him. “Sooner or later they were going to have to accept that you would settle down. I mean, you’re you. No way is anyone with sense going to let you get away. Let them deal with it. If, uh, if you think they can.”

“It’s… not that.” Charlie worked his jaw, then leaned down so speak the words at the shell of Will’s ear. “Katia took the mistletoe. I think they’re going to try to get us under it.”

“God, I hope so,” Will exhaled without thinking, aching and warm in the moments before Charlie inched back to stare at him. “I mean….” Will ended that there, because he had no idea what he meant except that he didn’t care if it was a test from the sisters to see if he loved Charlie, he’d kiss Charlie right now if Charlie wanted. He wondered if that was on his face, if he was lit up for Charlie the way they had said. “Eggnog,” he tried to explain it away in case he was and Charlie’s silence meant he was uncomfortable.

Charlie angled his head up to glance around the room then returned his focus to Will. He slid his palm along Will’s jaw. Will made a low sound of surprise that turned to a small, heady moan when Charlie brushed his mouth over his.

Charlie immediately pulled back. “I’m sorry.” He apologized as though Will wasn’t blinking at him in shocked need and wetting his lips. “Eggnog,” Charlie echoed Will’s earlier excuse, then cleared his throat. “Missy is signaling that she needs help in the kitchen. I won’t be long.” He looked flushed and uncomfortable and took off before Will could think of a damn thing to say.

Like how Charlie hadn’t had any eggnog, or how Will had been all but asking him for a kiss, how that one had been too short.

Will wasn’t drunk, but he was confused, and getting more so by the minute. He didn’t doubt Missy needed her brother’s help for something—those women always seemed to need their brother’s help—he wasn’t sure it was a good idea to be separated from Charlie’s side right now.

Will took a step, then jumped without any grace at all when Ann appeared in front of him.

Ann crossed her arms and swept a look from Will’s shoes to the top of his Santa hat. Will switched on the smile he used on unpleasant brides. “Ann. We didn’t really get to talk before.”

Charlie had prevented it, in fact, now that Will thought about it.

“So you’re what my brother has been hiding from us.” Ann made a grumbling sound, not unlike the one Sam made when he wanted Charlie to scratch behind his ears.

“Hiding me?” Will raised his eyebrows. “I’m not his dirty little secret. Not that I’d mind.” That was a lie. He’d sleep with Charlie this very second if he asked, but the right to be with him in front of his family was something Will was going to miss after tonight. No one had ever brought Will home.

Ann did not seem amused, or to care very much that Will had been doing his best to make a good impression. “Did you not want to meet us?”

“Well, I’ve never met a guy’s family before. And Charlie was really worried you all wouldn’t like me. Which apparently was a good instinct since you hate me.” He snorted when Ann opened her mouth. “Girl, please. You guys have gone out of your way to question everything or make me feel so uncomfortable that Charlie hasn’t felt safe leaving my side for a second.”

“You think that’s why he’s--” Ann closed her mouth with a snap.

“Someday he’s going to bring someone he really cares about to meet you, and I hope you guys are kinder to him than you’ve been to me, because let me tell you something about your brother,” Will stepped into Ann’s space to hiss the words, “he’s the sweetest, softest marshmallow under that hot, grouchy exterior, and he’s practically dying of loneliness. If he meets someone good for him, really good for him, not like me,” Will wasn’t choking, nope, not at all, “if he meets that guy, that guy he gets to care for and protect and be crazy about….” Will cleared his throat. “If he finds someone like that and you and your sisters scare him off just because you want Charlie to spend all his time on you, well, I will… I will do something drastic. Okay, I have no idea what because violence isn’t really my area, but something!”

He was breathing hard when he finished.

Ann let her arms fall, then crossed them again. She bit her lip. “You look back at him,” she said, then narrowed her eyes. “You’re in love with my brother and you don’t care that anyone can see it.”

Will bumped the table with his hip. Love was different from smitten, so very different. Nonetheless he put his hands to his cheeks and glanced away. “You act like that’s weird,” he answered at last. “Anyway, he doesn’t seem to see it, so it doesn’t matter if I have… If I have feelings. Like that.”

“My brother isn’t stupid.” If Ann was offended again, Will wasn’t in the mood to handle it. He rolled his eyes before looking at her, but then stopped because she was shaking her head. “He’s been hovering over you like he thought we were going to eat you. But it’s not that.”

Will disagreed but didn’t get to say so. Ann took Charlie’s abandoned soda and took a drink, then made a face, probably when she realized it was non-alcoholic. “I have no idea what you mean,” Will admitted, and Ann slammed the cup of soda on the table.

“When that son of a bitch was with him, you wouldn’t even have known they were dating. He wouldn’t go near him, wouldn’t even take his hand. I thought my brother liked it that way, but now I see him with you.” Ann waved at Will, her posture and expression both incredibly uncomfortable. “How he is with other people is how he should be all the time. And he never was. Never got to be, I think now. Then you let him. You encourage him.” Her frown wasn’t happy but somehow Will didn’t feel like it was aimed at him this time.

Will lowered his hands then slowly turned from her to Charlie, who was by the kitchen. Charlie was looking sternly down at Katia, who had the sprig of bagged mistletoe in one hand and wasn’t concealing it very well.

He was going to be a gentleman and insist Katia not force Will to kiss him. Charlie was going to be a gentleman if it killed him, because he was an idiot, and assumed no one would want to kiss him, least of all in public. It’s like he didn’t know Will at all.

Tipsy off eggnog or not, Will pushed past Ann and the straight couple blocking his path. He stopped in front of Charlie and grabbed hold of handfuls of reindeer sweater before Charlie had finished turning to look at him. “Forget the mistletoe,” Will panted, and pulled Charlie down to press their mouths together.

Will’s lips were parted, his breathing heavy before the first incredible second of contact and the puff of Charlie’s startled exclamation. He wanted to beg, murmur, “Charlie, please,” as shivers shot down his spine and electricity burned through him wherever they touched, but he couldn’t pull away. He pressed forward softly, mouth open, inviting, and clutched at Charlie’s stupid, sexy sweater when Charlie finally slid a hand to the side of his face to hold him still and kiss him back.

Gently. Charlie kissed gently and Will should not been so surprised, so charmed by it that he groaned and tilted his chin up for more, only to feel Charlie’s teeth nipping at his lower lip and the firm pressure of Charlie’s hand at his back, keeping him against Charlie’s body. Will pushed his hands up to tangle them in Charlie’s hair and cling to his shoulders. He thought he was begging after all, hiccoughing nearly silent, hitching sounds into Charlie’s mouth, words he couldn’t form.

Then someone coughed roughly, a few times, and someone who wasn’t Will called Charlie’s name.

Charlie raised his head, not far, too far. Will was so hot and confused. He didn’t look at the rest of the room, not with Charlie staring at him with stunned heat. “Oh,” Will whispered. His knees were weak. If he hadn’t been holding onto Charlie, he had a feeling his hands would have been trembling.

Charlie ran the backs of his fingers across Will’s cheek and someone, possibly Katia, gasped.

“Forget the mistletoe?” Charlie repeated, very serious for a man who couldn’t catch his breath.

“Take me home, Charlie,” Will returned, just as serious.

Charlie didn’t take his eyes off Will, but he gave a small twitch. “Everyone can hear you.”

“Duh.” Will had never gone to college, and was no kind of boyfriend, even pretend, for a professor. The smile his reply brought out of Charlie though, was the kind of beautiful sight that people wrote songs about.

Yeah, Will could admit it, to himself anyway. He was all kinds of in love with Charlie Howard. Charlie smiled at him and Will had probably lit up like the tree in the corner. He was going to be the boyfriend Charlie’s sisters never forgot, even if the boyfriend part wasn’t real.

Charlie raised an eyebrow at him. Will could tell he wasn’t sure how much of this was acting. Will wrapped his hand around Charlie’s and pulled it down between them. He kept their fingers twined together. Holding hands, of all things, made him so hot he could have burst out of his skin.

All at once, Charlie’s sisters began talking. Some of it was English, some of it wasn’t. Will found he didn’t care about that anymore either. They were upset, and Charlie stared at Will for another second anyway. “I have to say our goodbyes,” Charlie said finally, rough-voiced and quiet.

“So say them.” Will was as bad as Ann said. He did encourage this. And instead of ignoring him, Charlie wiped the smile from his face and turned to his sisters to say goodnight to each of them.

Will nodded along, tightening his grip on Charlie’s hand through each startled stare and pleading protest. The other guests probably didn’t know what to make of them, but what were the odds Will would see those people again? The three that mattered were fluttering around their brother for another few minutes, and then growing silent and hugging him with expressions that could only be described as pouts.

Ann followed them back down to the foyer and stood watching as Charlie helped Will into his coat. When they were done, before her brother could say another word, she announced, “I’ll package up some of the cookies and bring them for you tomorrow.” She spoke to Charlie, but her gaze was steady on Will.

He couldn’t decide if it was friendly or not, and didn’t think he cared until he was outside and Ann was closing the door behind them.

“They aren’t that bad.” Will surprised himself with the pronouncement. “I mean, all together they are a little much, and talk about not afraid to speak their minds… But you know, one on one, they weren’t….” Okay, he couldn’t quite lie. “Ann was all right, in the end.”

“Yeah?” Charlie didn’t move. A line came and went between his eyes. He didn’t reach out to take Will’s hand and now that they were out in the cold, away from their audience, Will didn’t have the balls to try to take his again. He shoved his hands in his pockets instead. He regretted it when the line returned between Charlie’s eyes. Charlie was going to get wrinkles and it was going to be Will’s fault.

“They love you a lot.” Will added diplomatically, then looked around at the dark street, the bare trees, all those Christmas lights that almost made him wish he lived in a proper suburban neighborhood. Almost. This was as close to playing house as he was ever going to get anyway.

“Thank you for doing this.” Charlie kept his attention on Will. “You didn’t have to.”

He’d already said that at least a dozen times. Will gave him a little eye roll, only to end up glancing out into the street again when staring at Charlie made it hard to breathe. His heart thundered against his ribcage.

“I wanted to do it.” Will wrinkled his nose, because he didn’t regret it, but he hadn’t expected to feel this strongly when it was over. “I’m glad I did it. I wish….” His face was getting cold and yet he was making no move to head toward Charlie’s car. “In old movies this would have been hilarious. Well, if it was a sixties sex comedy we would have been an ongoing gay joke that Middle America wasn’t supposed to get. But, you know, if this was Christmas in Connecticut or something you would have realized by now that the pretense was just that.” He sighed wistfully. “Are you still taking me home?”

“You want to?” Charlie didn’t keep the surprise out of his tone.

Will exhaled roughly, then threw his hands into the air. “Damn it, Charlie. Don’t pretend you can’t see it when your sisters saw it plain as day!”

He shook his head in frustration, then stilled when Charlie reached out to tug Will’s hat down over the tips of his ears. Charlie seemed focused on his hand as he tipped the brim up off Will’s forehead and swept a few stray hairs out of his eyes.

Charlie was killing him. Will whimpered and closed his eyes when Charlie touched his cheek. “Please keep touching me.” Will had no shame and no dignity. “Nobody touches me like that, except you, Charlie.” Will licked his mouth, the lips that had gone cold because Charlie hadn’t kissed him again the second they were alone.

Charlie pressed his thumb to Will’s bottom lip and Will opened his eyes. Charlie was sad and dark-eyed. “Will, you had a lot of eggnog.”

“If I’m dizzy, it’s not from eggnog.” Will took hold of Charlie’s wrist to keep his hand where it was. “I’ve been dizzy since you rescued Grayson’s plant for me. How can everybody see that but you, you big dope?”

“But you’re….” Charlie left that unfinished and stared at Will. He was all warm surprise again. “You aren’t drunk?”

“Tipsy, Charlie, is not drunk. I’ve had more to drink on a slow Wednesday.” Which wasn’t an argument that strengthened his case. Will drew in a long breath. “Is that so hard to imagine? You… like that… with me?”

“It’s hard to believe you’d want me,” Charlie responded without hesitation, and swept his thumb across Will’s lip like he couldn’t help himself.

Charlie’s honesty knocked the wind out of him.

Will was going to find that ex and tear him a new one. “That’s… are you joking?” Will wheezed. “Is that why you never--?” This wasn’t the time to remember how desperately he’d been flirting with Charlie and whatever Charlie had convinced himself Will meant by it. “But you invited me here.”

“And you accepted.” Charlie regarded Will with a puzzled air. “You didn’t even think about it. You said yes, even though I was asking you to--” Charlie stopped and the soft Christmas lights didn’t the hide the realization taking over his expression. “You were excited.”

“Merry Christmas to me,” Will told him fiercely, so Charlie could finally grasp what a stupid smitten kitten Will really was.

“I didn’t want to read into it.” For a professor, Charlie was pretty dumb. Will had waited for him on that balcony in the rain. Which, admittedly, had led to Charlie taking Will instead and drying him off and making him soup, and Will curled up on Charlie’s couch.

Then he’d fallen asleep there and Charlie had gone to sleep in his own bed. Will was going to scream. But later, much later.

He tugged Charlie’s hand closer, bringing Charlie closer in the process, and met Charlie’s gaze as he flicked his tongue against the tip of Charlie’s thumb. Charlie brought his other hand up to cup Will’s cheek.

“Will,” he rasped when Will licked his thumb again before taking it into his mouth. “Will.” His voice was the stuff of Will’s fantasies. “Will, we are on my sister’s porch.”

Honestly, Will couldn’t tell if that was a warning or a dare. He was absolutely willing to blow Charlie underneath a canopy of Christmas lights. This was something Charlie needed to realize. Will wanted him exactly that fucking much.

He pulled his mouth away long enough for Charlie to slide his hand under his chin and urge his head up. Will met his stare. “If you want me to stop, Charlie, tell me to stop.” He wasn’t sure what he wanted more, to keep going or for Charlie to give him an order.

Charlie stroked his cheek, then his jaw, his fingers slipping back toward Will’s mouth. But when Will darted out his tongue for another taste, Charlie made a rough noise.

“Will, stop,” he growled, and appeared startled when Will did. He opened his mouth, as if he wanted to argue something, then closed it again. He skated his fingers over Will’s mouth and blinked in astonishment when Will whined. He took a cautious step forward, almost tense. “At least,” Charlie swallowed, “at least until we’re home.”

Will lifted his head. He couldn’t stop his smile. “Oh right.” He’d almost forgotten the best part. “You’re taking me home with you.”

“Yes.” Charlie’s growly, confident voice warmed Will up even faster than the hand he snuck underneath the reindeer sweater. But Charlie wasn’t moving.

Will peeked up at him, and spoke loudly to be heard over his pounding heart. “Because that’s what boyfriends do?” he asked, hopeful and pathetic, and felt like the real Santa Claus at the way Charlie smiled for him, brighter than any of the lights around them.

The End