Jane Davitt's Blog, page 7
December 5, 2016
Day Five of Advent
Day Five opened by Vivian
Liam, Jay, and Austin from Room at the Top
Tinsel Time
“The tree looks pretty, don’t you think?”
Liam didn’t expect an answer from either sub. Jay’s mouth was filled with a gag the same size and shape as the ornament Liam held in his hand, though considerably less fragile, and Austin’s mouth was filled by Jay’s cock, as it had been for some time.
Since Liam began decorating the tree, in fact.
Liam studied them, not bothering to hold back his grin. Jay stood tall and straight like the blue spruce, red tinsel wound around him from his shoulders to his thighs, trapping his arms, keeping his legs together. His cock, from the glimpses Liam got, was as red as the garland. For Austin, he’d kept it simple; a single strand of silver and white to bind his wrists behind him.
Liam hung the ornament and picked up a length of purple tinsel he’d found at the bottom of the plastic storage bin. It didn’t match the color scheme he’d chosen and it was decidedly ragged. It had to be a decade old. Using it on them as a whip was pointless; it was too soft. The wire at its core held possibilities though. It seemed thicker than the other strands scattered around the carpet. Probably banned now for health and safety reasons. Experimenting, he doubled the strand over and over, reducing it to a short, fairly solid club. Still nothing to damage skin or even inflict pain, but he liked the idea of using it on them.
And after all, it was the season to indulge oneself.
Smiling, he tapped the tinsel against his palm. Austin first. He was flagging in his efforts somewhat. Then after a moment or two, he could rest while Liam tested the effect of the makeshift flogger on Jay’s tormented, teased cock.
The tree could wait. He’d neglected his boys. Let them play without him for far too long.
Time to join the party. He slashed the tinsel across Austin’s arse and startled a muffled yelp from him. It wasn’t going to hurt at all. Pity. But there was time to move to more traditional methods later.
And, oh, the delicious, strangled moans Jay gave when it struck his balls…
Liam, Jay, and Austin from Room at the Top
Tinsel Time
“The tree looks pretty, don’t you think?”
Liam didn’t expect an answer from either sub. Jay’s mouth was filled with a gag the same size and shape as the ornament Liam held in his hand, though considerably less fragile, and Austin’s mouth was filled by Jay’s cock, as it had been for some time.
Since Liam began decorating the tree, in fact.
Liam studied them, not bothering to hold back his grin. Jay stood tall and straight like the blue spruce, red tinsel wound around him from his shoulders to his thighs, trapping his arms, keeping his legs together. His cock, from the glimpses Liam got, was as red as the garland. For Austin, he’d kept it simple; a single strand of silver and white to bind his wrists behind him.
Liam hung the ornament and picked up a length of purple tinsel he’d found at the bottom of the plastic storage bin. It didn’t match the color scheme he’d chosen and it was decidedly ragged. It had to be a decade old. Using it on them as a whip was pointless; it was too soft. The wire at its core held possibilities though. It seemed thicker than the other strands scattered around the carpet. Probably banned now for health and safety reasons. Experimenting, he doubled the strand over and over, reducing it to a short, fairly solid club. Still nothing to damage skin or even inflict pain, but he liked the idea of using it on them.
And after all, it was the season to indulge oneself.
Smiling, he tapped the tinsel against his palm. Austin first. He was flagging in his efforts somewhat. Then after a moment or two, he could rest while Liam tested the effect of the makeshift flogger on Jay’s tormented, teased cock.
The tree could wait. He’d neglected his boys. Let them play without him for far too long.
Time to join the party. He slashed the tinsel across Austin’s arse and startled a muffled yelp from him. It wasn’t going to hurt at all. Pity. But there was time to move to more traditional methods later.
And, oh, the delicious, strangled moans Jay gave when it struck his balls…
December 4, 2016
Day Four of Advent
Day Four opened by me :-)
Penalties and Payback
“And so this is Christmas…” Andy warbled, off-key and way too loud around a man with a hangover.
He was doing it deliberately. Payback for me coming home drunk and late from an office party I’d promised would only take an hour. I’d gotten a ride home and I hadn’t thrown up or become embarrassingly sentimental, but the session we’d planned had been out of the question. The day I whip a sub when I’m tired, angry, or under the influence hasn’t happened yet and never will.
Andy’s revenge for his disappointment was making the morning after hell. Curtains flung open to let in a dazzle of light, clattering pots and pans, the goddamn singing. I’d apologized. Explained my boss had poured me a triple and expected me to drink it. Invited sympathy for my plight in being unable to leave before the Secret Santa handout, delayed because the sack with the gifts was in a locked cupboard and the person with the key had gone home sick the day before.
None of it had erased the pinched-lip disapproval and hurt.
Enough. Time to show my sub who was in charge around here. A spanking and a gag to start with. Then when his ass was nicely warm, I’d plug it and make him scrub the kitchen floor, naked, on hands and knees, encouraging his efforts with a flick of the crop he loathed and loved in equal measure.
I rose from the couch and strode over to him. Halfway across the room, my pounding head slowed me to a stagger, stomach lurching uneasily.
He broke off mid-note. “Sir?”
I could’ve chipped ice off the word.
“Andrew, you--“ I broke off. A Dom didn’t beg. Didn’t grovel. And he didn’t punish his sub for having hurt feelings he’d caused. “Hon? I’m going to lie down. I feel like crap. My fault, I know. I’ll make it up to you when I’m human again, I promise.”
He melted visibly, the sympathy I’d wanted warm in his eyes. “Yes, Sir. May I kneel by the bed while you sleep?”
He was under tight discipline for the week, at his request. He thought he’d become complacent and wanted to reinforce our dynamic. A week of progress screwed up on the final night when we’d planned to wind it up with a deliciously intense and satisfying session.
I drew him in for a hug. “Why don’t you keep me warm in the bed instead?”
And though he was a sub who thrived on pain and extreme discipline, who screamed, but rarely cried, I could’ve sworn I saw a glitter of tears and a smile before he bowed his head and went to his knees to make the journey to the bedroom.
Penalties and Payback
“And so this is Christmas…” Andy warbled, off-key and way too loud around a man with a hangover.
He was doing it deliberately. Payback for me coming home drunk and late from an office party I’d promised would only take an hour. I’d gotten a ride home and I hadn’t thrown up or become embarrassingly sentimental, but the session we’d planned had been out of the question. The day I whip a sub when I’m tired, angry, or under the influence hasn’t happened yet and never will.
Andy’s revenge for his disappointment was making the morning after hell. Curtains flung open to let in a dazzle of light, clattering pots and pans, the goddamn singing. I’d apologized. Explained my boss had poured me a triple and expected me to drink it. Invited sympathy for my plight in being unable to leave before the Secret Santa handout, delayed because the sack with the gifts was in a locked cupboard and the person with the key had gone home sick the day before.
None of it had erased the pinched-lip disapproval and hurt.
Enough. Time to show my sub who was in charge around here. A spanking and a gag to start with. Then when his ass was nicely warm, I’d plug it and make him scrub the kitchen floor, naked, on hands and knees, encouraging his efforts with a flick of the crop he loathed and loved in equal measure.
I rose from the couch and strode over to him. Halfway across the room, my pounding head slowed me to a stagger, stomach lurching uneasily.
He broke off mid-note. “Sir?”
I could’ve chipped ice off the word.
“Andrew, you--“ I broke off. A Dom didn’t beg. Didn’t grovel. And he didn’t punish his sub for having hurt feelings he’d caused. “Hon? I’m going to lie down. I feel like crap. My fault, I know. I’ll make it up to you when I’m human again, I promise.”
He melted visibly, the sympathy I’d wanted warm in his eyes. “Yes, Sir. May I kneel by the bed while you sleep?”
He was under tight discipline for the week, at his request. He thought he’d become complacent and wanted to reinforce our dynamic. A week of progress screwed up on the final night when we’d planned to wind it up with a deliciously intense and satisfying session.
I drew him in for a hug. “Why don’t you keep me warm in the bed instead?”
And though he was a sub who thrived on pain and extreme discipline, who screamed, but rarely cried, I could’ve sworn I saw a glitter of tears and a smile before he bowed his head and went to his knees to make the journey to the bedroom.
December 3, 2016
Day Three of Advent
Day Three opened by Sunne
Dan/Tyler from Wild Raspberries
Domino Theory
It’s probably not the best idea to smack your lover in the face with a snowball when he’s a trained killer, capable of wreaking a terrible revenge, but Dan does it anyway. The snowball arcs through the chill air and—Tyler dodges it easily, twisting his body to the side.
The snowball hits the trunk of a sapling and a shiver runs through it. Cause and effect. The snow deposited on a narrow branch slips off and lands neatly on Tyler’s head.
For a moment, Dan’s fate hangs in the balance. Tyler’s hot as hell, kind in his own way, and Dan loves him to bits, but the guy has a moody side.
Not today. Tyler lets out a startled whoosh of breath, shakes his head vigorously, then charges. Dan lands on his back in the deep snow, Tyler’s weight pressing him into the cold fluff, Tyler’s hands on him in all sorts of interesting ways.
“Brat,” Tyler says and kisses him, cold lips, warm tongue. “Gonna make you pay for that.”
“Yeah? How?”
Tyler’s sneaky. He has the zipper on Dan’s jeans down, the button flicked open, and his hand through the narrow gap before Dan registers the attack. His cock wakes up, eager, hungry, then Tyler tugs on fabric and the world becomes a colder place.
Bare ass against the snow, cock sticking up like an icicle, Dan flails wildly, but Tyler’s not letting him go.
When Tyler’s mouth fits around the head of his cock, warming the chill, sending a sizzle of heat down to his numb toes, Dan loses interest in trying.
Dan/Tyler from Wild Raspberries
Domino Theory
It’s probably not the best idea to smack your lover in the face with a snowball when he’s a trained killer, capable of wreaking a terrible revenge, but Dan does it anyway. The snowball arcs through the chill air and—Tyler dodges it easily, twisting his body to the side.
The snowball hits the trunk of a sapling and a shiver runs through it. Cause and effect. The snow deposited on a narrow branch slips off and lands neatly on Tyler’s head.
For a moment, Dan’s fate hangs in the balance. Tyler’s hot as hell, kind in his own way, and Dan loves him to bits, but the guy has a moody side.
Not today. Tyler lets out a startled whoosh of breath, shakes his head vigorously, then charges. Dan lands on his back in the deep snow, Tyler’s weight pressing him into the cold fluff, Tyler’s hands on him in all sorts of interesting ways.
“Brat,” Tyler says and kisses him, cold lips, warm tongue. “Gonna make you pay for that.”
“Yeah? How?”
Tyler’s sneaky. He has the zipper on Dan’s jeans down, the button flicked open, and his hand through the narrow gap before Dan registers the attack. His cock wakes up, eager, hungry, then Tyler tugs on fabric and the world becomes a colder place.
Bare ass against the snow, cock sticking up like an icicle, Dan flails wildly, but Tyler’s not letting him go.
When Tyler’s mouth fits around the head of his cock, warming the chill, sending a sizzle of heat down to his numb toes, Dan loses interest in trying.
December 2, 2016
Day Two of Advent
Day Two opened by Sunne
John/Nick from Laying a Ghost
Light of my Life
“Christmas Eve and no snow.“
John scratched his nose. The disappointed note in Nick’s voice had him panicking. Suppose the man decided to leave the island, bored with the endless rain and short days of winter? What was to keep him here? They’d been together such a short time, after all. Long enough for him to know Nick was the only one for him, but did that hold true for Nick?
“Well, we get snow . Not often, but we do. Plenty of it on the mainland, I hear.”
Nick stared out of the window at the darkness, mouth drooping before he summoned a smile. “What the hell. It’s Christmas and we’re together. That’s what counts.”
He wanted more than resignation. He wanted joy, delight on Nick’s face; warmth in his eyes. For this first Christmas together to be special.
A memory stirred. Him with his dad one frosty night, his breath visible on the air, the ends of his fingers numb, too entranced to care. Would they be lucky tonight?
He'd risk it. Hadn't he already risked everything for Nick and had it pay off? He was the luckiest man on the island. Time to prove it.
“Come outside with me.”
Nick tilted his head questioningly. “Why? It’s nearly midnight. Too late to go visiting and the pub’s closed.”
Officially, maybe, but John knew behind locked doors there’d be plenty of drinking going on until the wee small hours.
“Trust me. And turn off the lights.”
Outside, the sky was pricked over with sharp, white sparks, stars burning coldly, their light undimmed here. No streetlights, no glowing windows, no moon.
“Close your eyes, love. I won’t let you fall.”
“If I do, I’m telling Santa to put you on his naughty list. Okay, eyes closed, no peeking.”
John took Nick’s hand and led him to the wall running around their land, surefooted even in the darkness, lending Nick his certainty of where to place each step.
“What—"
“Hush,” John told him and stopped his mouth with a kiss, sweet as the sherry his mother had insisted they drink earlier. As they kissed, he turned Nick, facing him toward the north.
Facing toward the lights.
They blanketed the sky, unearthly, luminous, a shimmer of green, a surge of gold raying out to meet a vivid purple. Nature at her gaudiest, dressed to party.
“You can look now. It’s not snow, but you can get that anywhere. Even in England.”
“John—" Nick drew in a breath. “My God, I didn’t know you could see them here.”
“Oh, aye. Many’s the time I’ve frozen my arse off staring at them.”
“So beautiful. Miraculous.”
“They are that,” he agreed, but he was peering through the darkness, watching the smile grow on Nick’s face, not the display in the sky.
That was his Christmas wish granted, right there. Nick’s smile.
***
There are some wonderful pictures of the lights seen from Scotland here:
https://www.visitscotland.com/see-do/...
John/Nick from Laying a Ghost
Light of my Life
“Christmas Eve and no snow.“
John scratched his nose. The disappointed note in Nick’s voice had him panicking. Suppose the man decided to leave the island, bored with the endless rain and short days of winter? What was to keep him here? They’d been together such a short time, after all. Long enough for him to know Nick was the only one for him, but did that hold true for Nick?
“Well, we get snow . Not often, but we do. Plenty of it on the mainland, I hear.”
Nick stared out of the window at the darkness, mouth drooping before he summoned a smile. “What the hell. It’s Christmas and we’re together. That’s what counts.”
He wanted more than resignation. He wanted joy, delight on Nick’s face; warmth in his eyes. For this first Christmas together to be special.
A memory stirred. Him with his dad one frosty night, his breath visible on the air, the ends of his fingers numb, too entranced to care. Would they be lucky tonight?
He'd risk it. Hadn't he already risked everything for Nick and had it pay off? He was the luckiest man on the island. Time to prove it.
“Come outside with me.”
Nick tilted his head questioningly. “Why? It’s nearly midnight. Too late to go visiting and the pub’s closed.”
Officially, maybe, but John knew behind locked doors there’d be plenty of drinking going on until the wee small hours.
“Trust me. And turn off the lights.”
Outside, the sky was pricked over with sharp, white sparks, stars burning coldly, their light undimmed here. No streetlights, no glowing windows, no moon.
“Close your eyes, love. I won’t let you fall.”
“If I do, I’m telling Santa to put you on his naughty list. Okay, eyes closed, no peeking.”
John took Nick’s hand and led him to the wall running around their land, surefooted even in the darkness, lending Nick his certainty of where to place each step.
“What—"
“Hush,” John told him and stopped his mouth with a kiss, sweet as the sherry his mother had insisted they drink earlier. As they kissed, he turned Nick, facing him toward the north.
Facing toward the lights.
They blanketed the sky, unearthly, luminous, a shimmer of green, a surge of gold raying out to meet a vivid purple. Nature at her gaudiest, dressed to party.
“You can look now. It’s not snow, but you can get that anywhere. Even in England.”
“John—" Nick drew in a breath. “My God, I didn’t know you could see them here.”
“Oh, aye. Many’s the time I’ve frozen my arse off staring at them.”
“So beautiful. Miraculous.”
“They are that,” he agreed, but he was peering through the darkness, watching the smile grow on Nick’s face, not the display in the sky.
That was his Christmas wish granted, right there. Nick’s smile.
***
There are some wonderful pictures of the lights seen from Scotland here:
https://www.visitscotland.com/see-do/...
December 1, 2016
Day One of Advent
Door opened by Michaelle
It’s Beginning to Sound a Lot Like Christmas
The metal Sam’s holding glints in the candlelight. Power cuts suck. The motel room is freezing and Dean’s wearing nothing but a thin layer of cold sweat and goose bumps.
“We don’t have to do this now,” he tells Sam. “Really. It can wait. It’s not like it’s a tradition of ours. Well, it wouldn’t be, would it?”
His mouth’s too dry to say more, his fingers curling, relaxing, in time with his rapid, shallow breaths. Shit, he’s shaking here.
Sam frowns at him and hangs the ornament, sparkling, pretty, on the tiny tree they’d bought earlier. It was reduced to a few dollars, the last on the lot with dusk falling on Christmas Eve and snow crusting its needles.
“It’s a tree, Dean. It needs decorating.”
And it does, but Sam’s taking his own sweet time about placing each of the six ornaments (battered box, marked down to a dollar) and Dean’s cuffed naked to a chair, a thin sound lodged deep in his rigid, aching cock, giving it a core of solid metal. Weird how that part of him never registered before. He pisses out of it, no more, no less, but the sound’s turned it into a source of pleasure and pain, touching hidden depths with pinpoint accuracy. The sound’s staying there until the star goes on the top of the tree. He’s been writhing, panting, begging for a solid fifteen minutes. Lube streaks on his balls have dried to an itch he can’t scratch and Sam won’t.
Sam’s a goddamn sadist.
Of course, it’s part of why he loves him. And the sounds are an early gift off his wish list, after all. God, will Sam drag this out until midnight, so it’s officially Christmas Day when he removes the sound? He’ll do it excruciatingly slowly, Dean knows, letting it slide back in now and then, fucking the stretched hole with merciless metal, an intent look in his eyes, the same look he has when Dean’s ass is getting a thorough reaming at glacial speed with a thick plug or best of all, Sam’s cock.
Being Sam’s focus makes Dean warm and tingly, even when he’s screaming and cursing his name.
Sam frowns again, all his attention on the goddamn tree, removes the ornament and hooks it on a lower bough. “Does that balance out the one with the dancing elves?”
Dean whimpers.
It’s Beginning to Sound a Lot Like Christmas
The metal Sam’s holding glints in the candlelight. Power cuts suck. The motel room is freezing and Dean’s wearing nothing but a thin layer of cold sweat and goose bumps.
“We don’t have to do this now,” he tells Sam. “Really. It can wait. It’s not like it’s a tradition of ours. Well, it wouldn’t be, would it?”
His mouth’s too dry to say more, his fingers curling, relaxing, in time with his rapid, shallow breaths. Shit, he’s shaking here.
Sam frowns at him and hangs the ornament, sparkling, pretty, on the tiny tree they’d bought earlier. It was reduced to a few dollars, the last on the lot with dusk falling on Christmas Eve and snow crusting its needles.
“It’s a tree, Dean. It needs decorating.”
And it does, but Sam’s taking his own sweet time about placing each of the six ornaments (battered box, marked down to a dollar) and Dean’s cuffed naked to a chair, a thin sound lodged deep in his rigid, aching cock, giving it a core of solid metal. Weird how that part of him never registered before. He pisses out of it, no more, no less, but the sound’s turned it into a source of pleasure and pain, touching hidden depths with pinpoint accuracy. The sound’s staying there until the star goes on the top of the tree. He’s been writhing, panting, begging for a solid fifteen minutes. Lube streaks on his balls have dried to an itch he can’t scratch and Sam won’t.
Sam’s a goddamn sadist.
Of course, it’s part of why he loves him. And the sounds are an early gift off his wish list, after all. God, will Sam drag this out until midnight, so it’s officially Christmas Day when he removes the sound? He’ll do it excruciatingly slowly, Dean knows, letting it slide back in now and then, fucking the stretched hole with merciless metal, an intent look in his eyes, the same look he has when Dean’s ass is getting a thorough reaming at glacial speed with a thick plug or best of all, Sam’s cock.
Being Sam’s focus makes Dean warm and tingly, even when he’s screaming and cursing his name.
Sam frowns again, all his attention on the goddamn tree, removes the ornament and hooks it on a lower bough. “Does that balance out the one with the dancing elves?”
Dean whimpers.
November 25, 2016
My Advent Calendar
I love advent calendars; opening them up as a kid, we got a picture behind a door, not chocolate, but it was a huge thrill.
So I'm doing my version of one and posting a tiny snippet, a paragraph or so, featuring an original character, someone from a fandom I write (list here: http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jane...) or someone from my books every day of December up to and including the 24th
If anyone has a character, pairing, setting, kink or prompt they'd like to see featured, tell me in the comments!
So I'm doing my version of one and posting a tiny snippet, a paragraph or so, featuring an original character, someone from a fandom I write (list here: http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jane...) or someone from my books every day of December up to and including the 24th
If anyone has a character, pairing, setting, kink or prompt they'd like to see featured, tell me in the comments!
November 19, 2016
Turn Up the Heat Accepted!
The new book by Alexa and me, Turn Up the Heat has been accepted by Loose Id!
It's a contemporary m/m romance, not vanilla, but nothing formalized when it comes to the kink; one guy who likes it rough and with a bit of exhibitionism and humiliation spicing it up and one who...well, you'll have to wait and see ::g::
Here's a teaser...
Without thinking, he blurted out, “You like ordering me around, is that it?”
Shannon folded his arms across his chest, booted feet planted wide. He nodded slowly. “I can beg on my knees for you to get in the truck or pick you up and throw you in and it won’t make any difference to what happens when we get where we’re going. I’m planning to fuck you raw whether you piss me off or not.”
Exhilarated, caught up in the fantasy of being someone else, someone who could meet an incredibly hot man and fuck him without even getting to know him, Rory was tempted not to argue. Still, he felt the need to push. “What’s the magic word?”
“Get your tight little ass in my fucking truck now.” Shannon reached out and caught a fold of Rory’s shirt, twisting it until it was pulled taut against Rory’s body, close as a kiss. “Please.”
Good enough.
It's a contemporary m/m romance, not vanilla, but nothing formalized when it comes to the kink; one guy who likes it rough and with a bit of exhibitionism and humiliation spicing it up and one who...well, you'll have to wait and see ::g::
Here's a teaser...
Without thinking, he blurted out, “You like ordering me around, is that it?”
Shannon folded his arms across his chest, booted feet planted wide. He nodded slowly. “I can beg on my knees for you to get in the truck or pick you up and throw you in and it won’t make any difference to what happens when we get where we’re going. I’m planning to fuck you raw whether you piss me off or not.”
Exhilarated, caught up in the fantasy of being someone else, someone who could meet an incredibly hot man and fuck him without even getting to know him, Rory was tempted not to argue. Still, he felt the need to push. “What’s the magic word?”
“Get your tight little ass in my fucking truck now.” Shannon reached out and caught a fold of Rory’s shirt, twisting it until it was pulled taut against Rory’s body, close as a kiss. “Please.”
Good enough.
November 15, 2016
Boy Meets Boy Ficlet!
To celebrate the birthday of Boy Meets Boy Reviews, I contributed a short kinky m/m fic based on a scorching photo prompt.
Head over here to read it and enter a giveaway!
Schooling Him
Head over here to read it and enter a giveaway!
Schooling Him
The Ultra Cage
My second story for the BDSM group's Kink in Ink event is now live and can be read here by group members:
The Ultra Cage
It will be available after the event for reading/download at A03.
Many thanks to the group for their hard work in setting up the event, Alexa for beta reading, SheReadsALot for the wonderful prompt and Ella for donating cover art.
It's a dark story, with Daddy/boy play, mentions of torture and death and non-con, dubcon elements, but there is a HEA.
I've added it to GR too:
The Ultra Cage
The Ultra Cage
It will be available after the event for reading/download at A03.
Many thanks to the group for their hard work in setting up the event, Alexa for beta reading, SheReadsALot for the wonderful prompt and Ella for donating cover art.
It's a dark story, with Daddy/boy play, mentions of torture and death and non-con, dubcon elements, but there is a HEA.
I've added it to GR too:
The Ultra Cage
October 14, 2016
A Lick and a Promise
My puppy play story for the BDSM group Kink in Ink ficathon is now live and can be read here:
A Lick and a Promise
Have to be a member; if you apply to join, mention my name and the event to help out the mods.
Thanks to Alexa for the beta read, Chelsea for the great prompt, and all behind the scenes working to get the stories up.
ETA added the story to GR:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3...
A Lick and a Promise
Have to be a member; if you apply to join, mention my name and the event to help out the mods.
Thanks to Alexa for the beta read, Chelsea for the great prompt, and all behind the scenes working to get the stories up.
ETA added the story to GR:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3...
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