Tinnean's Blog - Posts Tagged "writing"
For those who want more Mark/Quinn
OMG, how could I have forgotten to post about this? A while back I came across something called CNC- consensual non-consent, which is kind of like role-playing. So I whipped up a little something I call... wait for it... CNC.
I regained consciousness in a surprisingly elegant room, which I studied through my lashes. I was too experienced to give any indication I was awake and aware. My arms were secured above my head, not a painful position, but not exactly the epitome of comfort. However, the bed I was lying on was so soft it almost swallowed me in its embrace.
“It’s good to see you’re with us once again, Mr. Bridger.”
Shit. I recognized that voice, even though I’d only heard it on surveillance tapes. “Double D,” I said coolly, hoping to throw the man off. Word in the intelligence community was he loathed that nickname.
He laughed softly. “Trying to get under my skin, Bridge?”
I ground my teeth. I hated that shortened form of my name. “To tell the truth, I’m surprised to find you here and not your sister.”
“She’ll be devastated to learn she was missed.”
I didn’t reply to that beyond the scoffing sound I made. They were known as the Deadly Duo, another reason for “Double D.” Her name was Dulcie Dylan—a sweet name for a poisonous bitch—and his was Dalton Dylan. God alone knew if those were their real names.
“No, seriously, Bryce, everyone enjoys being appreciated.”
I ignored that. “To what do I owe the honor, Dalton?”
“I thought it was time we met. We’ve been playing cat and mouse for too long.”
“So this is personal?” I closed my eyes to indicate my utter boredom with the situation.
“I like to think so.” He ran a hand up my thigh, and I jerked, the sudden knowledge that I was naked causing a heated flush to rise up over my body. How could I not have known something like that?
“You’re a sick bastard,” I snarled at him.
He just laughed again. “That’s one of the things I like about you, Bridge. You’re so… feisty.”
“Son of a bitch.” I tugged futilely at the cuffs fastening my wrists to what I now discovered was the headboard of the oh-so-comfortable bed.
“Now, now. You don’t want to hurt those elegant wrists of yours, do you?”
“What do you care?”
“Ah, Bridge, I’m cut to the quick you’d think I wanted you to injure yourself.”
“Then what do you want?”
“A taste of that delectable ass of yours.”
“I’m not gay.”
“You don’t have to be. All you have to do is lie there and think of the CBI while I fuck you.”
The agency I worked for—the Central Bureau of Intelligence.
“No.” I turned my head to glare at him.
“Oh, Mr. Bridger, you’re hardly in a position to deny me.” He came close enough to the bed so I could finally see him. His twin sister was lovely, but he… in spite of what I’d said, my mouth began to water. He stood about six foot three—his sister wasn’t much shorter, although she could appear delicate. No one knew the color of her eyes, not even the Organization for National Security, the agency for which she worked. She wore her golden-brown hair in long waves down her back. Dalton’s mass of curls, on the other hand, was the dark brown of a mink’s pelt, while his eyes were a gold-tinged hazel. My gaze was drawn to his chest as his casually began to unbutton the white shirt he wore, and now my mouth went dry as the light dusting of hair that covered his torso was slowly revealed.
“You son of a bitch.”
“You’re repeating yourself, and it’s becoming tiresome.”
“This is rape.”
“Hardly.”
“I said no.”
“Now, perhaps, but soon you’ll be begging me.”
“It will still be coercion.”
He leaned forward and caught my chin in his long fingers. “But you’ll enjoy it.”
“I—” Whatever else I planned to say was cut off by his lips.
****
“You okay, Quinn?” Mark asked as he removed the cuffs from my wrists and rubbed them before planting kisses on my pulse points.
“I’m fine.” I cradled his cheek, then stretched luxuriously. The cuffs were so well-padded they hadn’t even left a mark. “That was fun.” We didn’t often get into role-playing—we’d had to do it too often in our work for the CIA and the WBIS, although never honeymoon work—but this really had been fun.
“Especially since I didn’t have to be the woman,” he groused.
I couldn’t help laughing. It always left my husband disgruntled that I’d written the character that was supposed to represent him as a woman. My publisher would never have accepted Mind Games otherwise.
Little did they know that I planned to introduce Dulcie Dylan’s brother in my next book, Bridger’s Law. The nameless character had been mentioned in a flashback in the first book, but now I’d given him a name, and although my publisher was unaware at this point, Dalton would eventually become Bryce Bridger’s love interest.
Mark rolled me onto my side and curled around me. “Do we have time for this?” I asked. Andrea, our nanny, would be bringing the twins home from the park soon
“I suppose not,” he agreed reluctantly. He dropped a kiss to the back of my neck, but he didn’t let me go.
It was okay. Our bedroom door was locked, but even so, unless there was a fire or someone was bleeding, the entire household knew not to try to open it if it was closed. I pulled his arm tighter around me, and sighed happily.
Life was good.
Notes: Thanks to Gail for the invaluable beta. CNC is consensual non-consent, as in role-playing. I only learned that a couple of weeks ago. smh
This is set in the Mann of My Dreams universe and takes place after Mark and Quinn were married. I fudged the timeline a bit, and if I ever expand this I'll have to find another reason for Mark and Quinn to have to get up. ;-)
I regained consciousness in a surprisingly elegant room, which I studied through my lashes. I was too experienced to give any indication I was awake and aware. My arms were secured above my head, not a painful position, but not exactly the epitome of comfort. However, the bed I was lying on was so soft it almost swallowed me in its embrace.
“It’s good to see you’re with us once again, Mr. Bridger.”
Shit. I recognized that voice, even though I’d only heard it on surveillance tapes. “Double D,” I said coolly, hoping to throw the man off. Word in the intelligence community was he loathed that nickname.
He laughed softly. “Trying to get under my skin, Bridge?”
I ground my teeth. I hated that shortened form of my name. “To tell the truth, I’m surprised to find you here and not your sister.”
“She’ll be devastated to learn she was missed.”
I didn’t reply to that beyond the scoffing sound I made. They were known as the Deadly Duo, another reason for “Double D.” Her name was Dulcie Dylan—a sweet name for a poisonous bitch—and his was Dalton Dylan. God alone knew if those were their real names.
“No, seriously, Bryce, everyone enjoys being appreciated.”
I ignored that. “To what do I owe the honor, Dalton?”
“I thought it was time we met. We’ve been playing cat and mouse for too long.”
“So this is personal?” I closed my eyes to indicate my utter boredom with the situation.
“I like to think so.” He ran a hand up my thigh, and I jerked, the sudden knowledge that I was naked causing a heated flush to rise up over my body. How could I not have known something like that?
“You’re a sick bastard,” I snarled at him.
He just laughed again. “That’s one of the things I like about you, Bridge. You’re so… feisty.”
“Son of a bitch.” I tugged futilely at the cuffs fastening my wrists to what I now discovered was the headboard of the oh-so-comfortable bed.
“Now, now. You don’t want to hurt those elegant wrists of yours, do you?”
“What do you care?”
“Ah, Bridge, I’m cut to the quick you’d think I wanted you to injure yourself.”
“Then what do you want?”
“A taste of that delectable ass of yours.”
“I’m not gay.”
“You don’t have to be. All you have to do is lie there and think of the CBI while I fuck you.”
The agency I worked for—the Central Bureau of Intelligence.
“No.” I turned my head to glare at him.
“Oh, Mr. Bridger, you’re hardly in a position to deny me.” He came close enough to the bed so I could finally see him. His twin sister was lovely, but he… in spite of what I’d said, my mouth began to water. He stood about six foot three—his sister wasn’t much shorter, although she could appear delicate. No one knew the color of her eyes, not even the Organization for National Security, the agency for which she worked. She wore her golden-brown hair in long waves down her back. Dalton’s mass of curls, on the other hand, was the dark brown of a mink’s pelt, while his eyes were a gold-tinged hazel. My gaze was drawn to his chest as his casually began to unbutton the white shirt he wore, and now my mouth went dry as the light dusting of hair that covered his torso was slowly revealed.
“You son of a bitch.”
“You’re repeating yourself, and it’s becoming tiresome.”
“This is rape.”
“Hardly.”
“I said no.”
“Now, perhaps, but soon you’ll be begging me.”
“It will still be coercion.”
He leaned forward and caught my chin in his long fingers. “But you’ll enjoy it.”
“I—” Whatever else I planned to say was cut off by his lips.
****
“You okay, Quinn?” Mark asked as he removed the cuffs from my wrists and rubbed them before planting kisses on my pulse points.
“I’m fine.” I cradled his cheek, then stretched luxuriously. The cuffs were so well-padded they hadn’t even left a mark. “That was fun.” We didn’t often get into role-playing—we’d had to do it too often in our work for the CIA and the WBIS, although never honeymoon work—but this really had been fun.
“Especially since I didn’t have to be the woman,” he groused.
I couldn’t help laughing. It always left my husband disgruntled that I’d written the character that was supposed to represent him as a woman. My publisher would never have accepted Mind Games otherwise.
Little did they know that I planned to introduce Dulcie Dylan’s brother in my next book, Bridger’s Law. The nameless character had been mentioned in a flashback in the first book, but now I’d given him a name, and although my publisher was unaware at this point, Dalton would eventually become Bryce Bridger’s love interest.
Mark rolled me onto my side and curled around me. “Do we have time for this?” I asked. Andrea, our nanny, would be bringing the twins home from the park soon
“I suppose not,” he agreed reluctantly. He dropped a kiss to the back of my neck, but he didn’t let me go.
It was okay. Our bedroom door was locked, but even so, unless there was a fire or someone was bleeding, the entire household knew not to try to open it if it was closed. I pulled his arm tighter around me, and sighed happily.
Life was good.
Notes: Thanks to Gail for the invaluable beta. CNC is consensual non-consent, as in role-playing. I only learned that a couple of weeks ago. smh
This is set in the Mann of My Dreams universe and takes place after Mark and Quinn were married. I fudged the timeline a bit, and if I ever expand this I'll have to find another reason for Mark and Quinn to have to get up. ;-)
Update
Last week, I received the edits for my JMS Books 14th Anniversary story, Two Weeks to Look Forward To, and Drew Hunt, who does the editing for JMS, remarked that he had to put it down a few times and walk away, because he found some of the content disturbing. Gail also mentioned there were parts that bothered her. I sent an email to my publisher, and she suggested a really cool line to warn for this, which will be included in the Author's Notes. So this will be available at some point in July, and as soon as I have a date, I'll post it.
I also finished the Christmas in July story last week. It's called Family Is What You Make It, and I sent it off to Gail. She loved it but expressed regret Kyle's mother didn't have a partner. (I'd insinuated she'd loved and lost.) So I added an additional chapter, reworked the parts that mentioned the person, and sent it off to JMS Books. It's been accepted, (made the deadline by a couple of weeks!) and since it's Christmas in July, the story should be out at some point in... um... July. I am waiting to hear back from Drew Hunt, since the story covers Kyle's life from his birth in July 1982 to Christmas 2005. Well, I'll see what happens. It can always be published as a regular story. And I should mention the wordage topped 101k! Haven't done that in a very long time.
Once that was done, I had to figure what to write next. I have a few stories that are just sitting in a folder, one of which is the Tony/Bryan Sebring story, which I was afraid I'd have to post to AO3, since it involved two brothers who had a physical relationship. Even Amazon wouldn't touch it, due to its content. Then it occurred to me... why not make this another What If? What if... Tony wasn't a Sebring? What if... his father saved Anthony Sebring, Sr. during the Great War? (because even then, he'd be involved in espionage.) And what if... when both Tony's birth parents died, one from lingering affects of the Spanish Flu, the other due to complications of childbirth, Sebring took the baby to raise as his own? That might make a relationship between Tony and Bryan a bit more acceptable.
This will be the third What If I've written that's set in the Spy vs. Spook/Mann of My Dreams universe, (No One Should Be Alone, Family, and Sweetest Taboo.) Maybe I'll start a whole new series, going back to revisit characters and situations and skewing them just a bit. ;-)
That should be fun.
I also finished the Christmas in July story last week. It's called Family Is What You Make It, and I sent it off to Gail. She loved it but expressed regret Kyle's mother didn't have a partner. (I'd insinuated she'd loved and lost.) So I added an additional chapter, reworked the parts that mentioned the person, and sent it off to JMS Books. It's been accepted, (made the deadline by a couple of weeks!) and since it's Christmas in July, the story should be out at some point in... um... July. I am waiting to hear back from Drew Hunt, since the story covers Kyle's life from his birth in July 1982 to Christmas 2005. Well, I'll see what happens. It can always be published as a regular story. And I should mention the wordage topped 101k! Haven't done that in a very long time.
Once that was done, I had to figure what to write next. I have a few stories that are just sitting in a folder, one of which is the Tony/Bryan Sebring story, which I was afraid I'd have to post to AO3, since it involved two brothers who had a physical relationship. Even Amazon wouldn't touch it, due to its content. Then it occurred to me... why not make this another What If? What if... Tony wasn't a Sebring? What if... his father saved Anthony Sebring, Sr. during the Great War? (because even then, he'd be involved in espionage.) And what if... when both Tony's birth parents died, one from lingering affects of the Spanish Flu, the other due to complications of childbirth, Sebring took the baby to raise as his own? That might make a relationship between Tony and Bryan a bit more acceptable.
This will be the third What If I've written that's set in the Spy vs. Spook/Mann of My Dreams universe, (No One Should Be Alone, Family, and Sweetest Taboo.) Maybe I'll start a whole new series, going back to revisit characters and situations and skewing them just a bit. ;-)
That should be fun.
