S.A. Reid

“James sighed. “Seriously, who thought up silent letters? Why include a letter if it’s silent? Just to fuck with dyslexics?”

“Oh, and they said I have ADD, too." He lit a cigarette, his first of the day, and took a long, grateful drag. "But listen mate, I once sucked a geezer for twenty minutes to get him off. The clock was just over his shoulder and I timed it. Attention deficit?" He blew out a plume of smoke. "I don't think so.”

“Gabriel shuddered with obvious pleasure; Joey, half out of his body with the sensation, pumped in and out with terrible urgency. Forever wouldn’t have been long enough. When Gabriel seized, Joey left himself entirely, flesh overloaded with pleasure, spirit suspended between life and death. “Joey? Are you all right?” Drawing a deep breath, Joey opened his eyes. “Never better. You?” “’Twas sweet.” Gabriel smiled. “And I was thinking. Now that we’ve both had each other – that’s as good as taking vows, isn’t it?”

“Unscrewing the cap, Gabriel squeezed a bit of clear jelly onto his fingers and understood. Covering Joey’s body with his own, Gabriel kissed his lips. “But you said – something we haven’t tried …” “We haven’t.” Reaching up, Joey cupped Gabriel’s cheek. “What happened before was one stranger attacking another. What happens now is between you and me.” “Joey.” Gabriel kissed the other man’s earlobe, his jawline, the hollow of his throat. “I can’t hurt you again. I’ll kill myself first.”

“There were no absolutes in fiction, no certain way to deliver what was needed. So it was no surprise most technical writers considered novel-writing a gateway to madness.”