self-pimpage
Mar. 14th, 2009 01:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aaron_michaelsI have a new Sip out today!
Bad, Bad Boys is available over at Torquere Books. *g* Cost is $1.29.
Here's Torquere's blurb about the story:
Marc is ready and willing to punish William for not following the rules, even if it was to help out a friend in need. He loves to make William pay for the little details, and their friend may be sacked out in their garden room, but he's asleep, right? When William turns the tables, though, things go delightfully askew. Will these bad boys be able to face up to their mistakes?
And an excerpt under the cut:
Marc tossed his keys in the wicker basket he and William kept on a small table next to their front door. He shut the heavy door, leaned against the wood, and just let the cool air of home wash over him.
Los Angeles was fucking hot, too hot even for him, especially after all the time he'd just spent working and sweating in Miami. Why again had he agreed to a job where he traveled two weeks out of four every month? Oh, yes, that's right. The salary that allowed him to live in more than a one-room flat in Beverly Hills. At least his work drumming up charitable donations for the organizations that contracted with his company was fulfilling. It made up somewhat for the time he was away from home and missing his partner.
Speaking of William....
Marc's keys were the only set in the basket. William had left his shoes beneath the table but hadn't deposited his keys where they belonged.
The basket was something they'd decided on years ago after Marc had endured one too many searches for William's missing keys. Life with an artist wasn't easy. Marc had learned, the hard way, that his partner's head was as often in the clouds as it was in the here and now. Before Marc had implemented the basket system, looking for William's keys meant sifting through mounds of papers, books, magazines, dirty laundry, and random boxes of just plain stuff left on the sofa. Or foraging beneath the sofa cushions. Or rummaging through the refrigerator after one memorable time Marc had found William's missing keys in the vegetable bin next to half an eggplant and a head of lettuce.
Marc arched an eyebrow. There were penalties for not putting keys in the basket.
He pushed himself away from the door. "Oh, William," he called in his 'you're going to get it now' voice as he started down the hall toward the back of the house. "Someone forgot his--"
The slap of bare feet on the tiled floor alerted him to an imminent kamikaze attack. William wasn't in the back of the house. He'd come from what they called the sun room -- a sitting area with overstuffed furniture and a huge bay window that looked out on William's garden.
William wrapped up Marc in an enthusiastic hug and placed one hand over his mouth. "Ssssshhhh."
Marc could smell the alcohol on him. He didn't need to hear William's giggle to know how drunk he was.
"Have to be quiet," William whispered. "Don't want to wake up the company."
Company?
William took his hand away from Marc's mouth, held a finger up in front of his lips, and grabbed Marc's hand. William led him into the sun room where Marc discovered that they did, in fact, have company.
Arthur Graves.
Bad, Bad Boys is available over at Torquere Books. *g* Cost is $1.29.
Here's Torquere's blurb about the story:
Marc is ready and willing to punish William for not following the rules, even if it was to help out a friend in need. He loves to make William pay for the little details, and their friend may be sacked out in their garden room, but he's asleep, right? When William turns the tables, though, things go delightfully askew. Will these bad boys be able to face up to their mistakes?
And an excerpt under the cut:
Marc tossed his keys in the wicker basket he and William kept on a small table next to their front door. He shut the heavy door, leaned against the wood, and just let the cool air of home wash over him.
Los Angeles was fucking hot, too hot even for him, especially after all the time he'd just spent working and sweating in Miami. Why again had he agreed to a job where he traveled two weeks out of four every month? Oh, yes, that's right. The salary that allowed him to live in more than a one-room flat in Beverly Hills. At least his work drumming up charitable donations for the organizations that contracted with his company was fulfilling. It made up somewhat for the time he was away from home and missing his partner.
Speaking of William....
Marc's keys were the only set in the basket. William had left his shoes beneath the table but hadn't deposited his keys where they belonged.
The basket was something they'd decided on years ago after Marc had endured one too many searches for William's missing keys. Life with an artist wasn't easy. Marc had learned, the hard way, that his partner's head was as often in the clouds as it was in the here and now. Before Marc had implemented the basket system, looking for William's keys meant sifting through mounds of papers, books, magazines, dirty laundry, and random boxes of just plain stuff left on the sofa. Or foraging beneath the sofa cushions. Or rummaging through the refrigerator after one memorable time Marc had found William's missing keys in the vegetable bin next to half an eggplant and a head of lettuce.
Marc arched an eyebrow. There were penalties for not putting keys in the basket.
He pushed himself away from the door. "Oh, William," he called in his 'you're going to get it now' voice as he started down the hall toward the back of the house. "Someone forgot his--"
The slap of bare feet on the tiled floor alerted him to an imminent kamikaze attack. William wasn't in the back of the house. He'd come from what they called the sun room -- a sitting area with overstuffed furniture and a huge bay window that looked out on William's garden.
William wrapped up Marc in an enthusiastic hug and placed one hand over his mouth. "Ssssshhhh."
Marc could smell the alcohol on him. He didn't need to hear William's giggle to know how drunk he was.
"Have to be quiet," William whispered. "Don't want to wake up the company."
Company?
William took his hand away from Marc's mouth, held a finger up in front of his lips, and grabbed Marc's hand. William led him into the sun room where Marc discovered that they did, in fact, have company.
Arthur Graves.
