B.A. Tortuga's Blog, page 87
January 1, 2013
Happy New Year!
May 2013 be y'all's best year ever!
Much love, y'all.
BA
December 31, 2012
Frosty Fiction, Day 31: Knox and Issac
“Another year.” Issac sighed. Again. For the eighty thousandth time in the last hour.
Knox was going to beat him bloody. The man was always so fucking melancholy on New Years. Hell,, Knox had never actually used the word melancholy in a sentence before Isaac.
“Yep. We should get a dog.” He’d given the last one away damned near thirty years ago.
“A dog? Are you hungry?”
“Nope. I just figure I’ll need company when you off yourself in your ennui.” Bing. Another word he hadn’t even known how to pronounce.
“Oooh. Very nice. In another fifty years you’ll be able to do crosswords in pen.”
“I know, right?” He wandered toward Isaac, the old floorboards creaking under his feet as he skirted a pile of books. “In a hundred I’ll be able to burn the words into paper with just my mind.”
“Everyone will be able to. Hell, in a hundred years, words may be obsolete.”
“Nah. You’re too fond of them.” He moved closer, trying for nonchalant.
“I am. Nearly as fond as I am of you, Pup.”
“Not. A. Pup. Old man.” He reached down and hauled Isaac up, smooshing the man against his chest.
“Mmm. My Pup. Eternally.” Those teeth flashed in a quick, happy smile.
“Oh, good. Another year you’re looking forward to, then.” He bared his teeth, leaning toward that long, pale throat.
“What’s another year, Pup? Another century. Another lifetime.” Issac arched for him, the offer clear.
Knox moaned, letting his fangs sink into Isaac’s skin. He’d known all that sighing was just to get his attention.
Thank God, Father Time and the Baby New Year that it worked.
***
TA DA!
Knox and Issac's story is in Timeless Hunger and I'll pick winners Jan. 2.
Thanks, y'all, for all your love and support. I appreciate y'all more than you can ever imagine.
*hugs tight*
BA
December 30, 2012
Six Sentence Sunday: WIP
He needed to see Channing as soon as possible. Thank god for the knock on the sleeper cabin door. Time for breakfast.
Soon he’d figure this shit out. Soon he’d have his mates in one room and he’d remind them who the fucking Alpha male was, damn it.
He couldn’t wait.
***
;-)
Much love, y'all.
BA
Frosty Fiction, Day 30:
Jesus stretched, his paws kicking the air. Oh, he loved a lazy morning. He didn’t even know what morning it was. Jonah was the only one who kept track of days of the week and month.
Mariposa was fat and swollen with pups, her nose covered by her tail as she curled in her den. She opened one eye to glare at him when he woofed softly, but he just gave her a lupine grin. Their lady was never so beautiful as when she was pregnant. And Jonah was never so happy.
Jonah was singing in the little kitchen of their cabin, stirring something that smelled heavenly and Jesus licked Mariposa’s muzzle before padding over to see his Alpha.
“Hello, love.” Jonah scratched his ears, making his eyes cross.
He lapped Jonah’s wrist, tail moving fast and hard. Happy winter, mate. Puppies and food and petting.
Jonah chuckled. “I’m making barbecue sauce, love. I know how you adore grilled meat.”
He chuffed and wagged, leaning hard, the scent of Jonah like a drug.
“I could use some human company today.”
Oh. Oh, sweet Alpha. Jesus pondered that, very hard. Legs. Man. Come on. Jonah needed love.
There. His legs lengthened, his front ones becoming arms.
“Mmmmmate.” He growled happily, standing to push into Jonah’s arms.
“Hello, baby.” Jonah kissed him, tongue flicking his lips. “Shall we make Mari some yummy food?”
“I like food. And Mari.” He sniffed the air. “There’s going to be snow.”
“Is there?” Jonah laughed. “Glad you came north with me, baby?”
“Always.” He was made to follow his mates. They took care of him and he made art for them.
“Good.” He got another kiss, then Jonah squeezed his ass. “Get Mari another blanket, and I’ll give you a reward.
“I will.” He rubbed their cheeks together. “The pups will be here soon, I think.”
“Then we’ll have to be ready. I love you, Jesus.”
“Love.” He took a kiss, smiling as the snow began to fall. Lovely.
Home. Snow. Puppies.
Perfect.
***
Mariposa, Jesus and Jonah live in Desert Lobo. One day left, y'all -- can you believe it? :D
Much love,
BA
December 29, 2012
What I Worked on this Week
Frosty Fiction, Day 29: Stephen and Low
The New Year was upon them and Stephen sat before the fire at the club, eyes watching the flames as he waited on his Scot to return from his familial obligations. The man had an unruly lot of cousins, mostly, more extended family than any Texan Stephen knew.
Francis Lowell was ignored by his family all year, but at this time of year, they all wanted something.
Stephen’s grandmother had passed on a few months ago and so he’d spent the holiday in her odd, rambling house, missing Low and drinking.
He would much rather do anything else, especially with Low.
He shifted, loosening his blasted cravat. Damnable Englishmen and their binding clothes.
“Oh, are you stripping for me, my love?”
He sat up, eyes searching out the beloved face that went with that voice. Low looked tired, but the smile Low kept just for him was there.
“My Scot.” A wave of pure relief flooded him.
“Hello, Stephen.” Low held out a hand to him.
“It is a joy to see you.” He took that offered hand. Please. Please say that there was a room reserved.
“Mmm. Good. You’re my reward for being such a good host. Shall we go upstairs?”
“Please. Now is a perfect time for me.”
“Good.” Low’s smile widened into something almost catlike. Cat with a mouse-like.
Stephen shivered and stood, gathering himself. He could only hope Low had something devilish in mind for him. He needed to drive out his demons.
Most specifically, he needed Low to drive them out.
***
Stephen and Low appear in Hyacinth Club. :D
*smooches*
Much love, y'all!
BA
December 28, 2012
Frosty Fiction, Day 28: Will and Dean
Dean pulled the boxes out of the garage and brought them into the front room. “Okay, these are all of them, I think. You sure all this shit’s going to fit? Looks like Santa’s workshop moved in over the last month.”
Not that he was complaining, because he wasn’t. He liked it. He just thought they were going to be making a run to town for more containers.
Will chuckled. “Well, we had to get stockings for the new pups, and we still had to hang Sadie’s. Then there was that nativity scene you got from old man Hyner.”
“That was pretty damned cool, huh?” The whole thing was carved out of barn wood. Dean was sort of stupid tickled with it.
“God, yes. Almost as cool as the whole box of quilted balls my mom sent.” Will’s momma had wanted to make sure they had plenty of stuff to go on the tree.
“Almost.” He grinned and kissed Will soundly. “Get started and I’ll grab us both a beer.”
“You got it, cowboy.” Will hung on a moment, though, laughing. “Merry after Christmas and Happy almost New Year.”
“You know it. Happy happy.” He winked, grinned. “Get to work, cowboy. Sunlight’s burning.”
Will nodded, whistling Auld Lang Syne, and got to work.
***
3 more days, guys!
:D
Much love,
BA
December 27, 2012
Frosty Fiction, Day 27: Cotton and Emmy
Cotton walked into the kitchen, unzipping his jacket. “Shit, marthy, it’s cold out there. That fucking wind is like...”
He stopped, still.
Emmy was standing there in nothing but an apron and a pair of the highest, sparkliest heels he’d ever seen, stirring a bowl of...of...Oh, who the fuck cared what she was stirring?
He took a step forward and hit his knees. Happy holidays to him.
***
For Sonya. ;-)
Much love,
BA
December 26, 2012
Frosty Fiction, Day 26: Paddy and Neil
He liked the lights best. He sat in their little house and stared at them for hours, letting the reds and greens and purples hypnotize him, fascinate him.
They were the colors of laughter, Paddy thought. They made him smile, made his fingers itch to see if he could touch them and come away with dyed fingertips.
“Mmm. Here we go, love. Hot chocolate and cream buns and those cheeses and crackers you like.” Neil sat down next to him, placing a tray on the low table in front of the sofa. He would have called it a couch, but Neil always said sofa.
“You spoil me.” He leaned over, eyelids heavy, tingling from the lights.
“Do I? I think I merely do happy things for my lover.”
“Happy things.” He chuckled, moved into Neil’s lap. “I have you a present.”
A huge five pound bag of M&Ms, topped with a bow.
“I like presents.” Neil didn’t seem too worried about going and getting presents. Just sitting was good.
“I like you.” He closed his eyes and suddenly he was in Neil’s thoughts, the pattern prismatic, delicious.
Oh, he loved that. It was like looking at a kaleidoscope.
Magic. His Neil. Magical.
“My happy love.” Neil kissed his cheek, stroking his back.
“My Neil. Love. Dearest love.” He laughed, joy crashing through him. Neil always made him happy, but his lover adored Christmas, and that made all those glorious thoughts even brighter.
Neil made things...whole. Even things he never thought he’d find in himself again.
“You’re thinking too hard for a cheese plate, sweet.”
He cackled softly. “But there are crackers, too.”
“Mmm. Deep, those crisp breads.”
“Absolutely. Genius.”
They laughed together and it was quiet. Simple. right.
Home.
***
Paddy and Neil can be found in the Road Trip series. :D
Much love, y'all!
BA
December 25, 2012
Frosty Fiction, Day 25: Coke and Dillon
Dillon was pooped. He’d just gotten back from Australia, where it had been balmy and beautiful. The event had gone swimmingly, and the swimming had been awesome.
Too bad Coke hadn’t gone with him.
On the good side, he was home early. He’d thought he’d be flying in on Christmas Eve. He’d got in on the twenty-third instead.
He pulled into the driveway, frowning as he drove past a travel trailer, a dualie, a Dodge Ram that wasn’t Coke’s. Weird. Coke and him had Skyped right before he got on the plane, and no one had mentioned a party.
He knew the trailer belonged to Sammy and Beau, and the duallie was the Taggarts’, but he wasn’t sure about the new pickup, though, and...
Jesus christ.
He stood in the doorway, staring. Dillon was surprised that no one woke up. To him, his jaw dropping sounded like a champagne cork popping.
Coke lay in his easy chair, one basset hound across his legs. the other stretched out on his chest. That wasn’t unusual at all. The amazing thing was the pile of cowboys strewn about the front room floor.
Balta was upside down in the inversion table, Joa sleeping on the biggest Fila Braziliero he’d ever seen. Raul was sprawled between them, on hand tangled with Balta’s, the other around Joa’s ankle. They were all naked, and it was like the progression of caveman to modern man. Joa looked smooth and waxed, Raul fuzzy but neatly manscaped, Balta an explosion of black hair.
The Taggarts were on the floor in a puppy pile, legs and arms tangled, all sleeping soundly, Adam holding Bri and Chrissy both, each of them with their head on one of Adam’s shoulders.. God, the cuteness.
In the hallway, he saw two sets of bare feet. When he peeked, he saw Beau Lafitte and Sam Bell, a pair of stocky, tiny cowboys. There was a couch cushion under Sammy’s poor broken head, carefully placed. The guys’ bloodhound, Boudreaux, lay across Beau’s feet, head on Sammy’s leg.
Oh, God.
Oh, God, he couldn’t bear it. He grabbed his phone and started shooting pictures. Naked cowboys everywhere. He wasn’t even getting blackmail material. He just needed to records this for his own personal scrapbook. Did everyone’s clothes explode? There wasn’t a stitch of cloth anywhere. Not even a robe.
There were pizza boxes from the little joint right on the outskirts of town. Beer bottles. Four empty boxes of honey buns were stacked on top of a case of cherry fried pies. There was a box of chicken fingers from Whataburger, too, in the refrigerator. Those were so his.
When he closed the refrigerator door, two bassets, a bloodhound and the giant mastiff-hound looking fila Brasilero stood there, all looking particularly hungry.
“Didn’t get any pizza, huh, guys?”
Four tails wagged. Thump thump thump.
“Bad cowboys, not feeding the pups.” He peered at the fila’s nametag. “Are you hungry, Paulo?”
A deep bark answered him, and he laughed, passing out chicken fingers and grabbing four pounds of bacon to cook off. Those guys could eat. He plopped them on the counter.
“Cowboy? You’re early.” Coke stood there, naked and grinning, looking pleased as fuck to see him.
“Hey, babe!” Dillon put the chicken down high up on the back counter to keep the tall dogs out of it, and held out his arms to Coke. His bullfighter came right to him, kissing him happily.
“Missed you.”
“I missed you, too. Got home early. What’s with all the naked?” Not that Dillon was gonna complain.
“We went for a swim around two a.m. and no one else brought suits.”
“Ah. Pool’s nice, this time of year.”
“It is. You shoulda seen Old Man Taggart, swimming with one basset under each arm.”
Dillon couldn’t help but notice that Coke was...appreciating that he was home. Dillon was appreciating it, too, but this was awful public.
“Anyone gonna get mad if we get up late?” He abandoned the chicken to the dogs, tugging Coke toward the bedroom.
“Uh-uh. Told the Cajun and Sammy they could stay ‘til the New Year. Taggarts and the Brazilians are leaving today after the barbeque competition.” Coke followed, hands on his ass.
Dillon squeaked. “Competition?”
“Uh-huh. Sammy and Balta. Brisket and chicken. Noonish. Later.”
“Maybe two-ish? It was was an eighteen hour flight.” He got Coke in their room, locking the door.
“Works for me. If the Taggarts have to leave, they do.” Coke tilted his head for a kiss.
“Mmm. I’ll make it up to them.” He kissed that amazing mouth.
“Uh-huh.” Coke grew him close. “Later.”
“Much later,” he agreed. Really, when it came down to it, Coke was the only naked cowboy he needed.
***
Merry Christmas, y'all! Peace and much love,
BA
