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Chateau d' Eternite

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When Russ Peterson accepts an invitation to an all-expense paid vacation at a resort castle in southern France, the last thing he expects is to learn he has the power to travel through time. As a historian, it’s a dream come true, offering the chance to find answers to all the great mysteries of the past. But it’s not without risks, to himself and to the world as he knows it.

After a few short, supervised visits into the past, Russ still hasn’t made up his mind about his newfound abilities. Then, on his first extended trip, he meets Quentus Maximus, second in command to the Legate of Nemausus. While learning more than he’d dreamed about the realities of life in Roman Gaul, Russ is shocked by his reaction to Quentus’s dominant nature. He has only a week to spend with Quentus before his vacation is up, and he’s faced with a decision he never expected to make: stay in the past with a man he’s only known for eight days or return home to the only life he’s ever known.

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Birthday Boy

"Come on, Lan, don't tease me!"

Landon Mitchell shook his head as he handed a drink to his lover. Paul had never been known for his patience, and tonight was no exception. He'd promised Paul a surprise for his birthday - if he behaved himself. Landon wasn't entirely sure wheedling like a two-year-old counted as behaving, but he also knew he'd cave and give Paul the surprise anyway. He had no resistance against his lover's puppy-dog eyes.

"What will you give me for it?" Landon asked with a grin.

"Whatever you want," Paul promised, the words out of his mouth without a second thought.

Landon's grin turned wicked. "You sure you want to make that broad an offer?"

The shiver that went through Paul was positively decadent. "Yes."

"Go in the bathroom and get ready for bed," Landon said, his voice turning commanding. "Make sure you're completely clean. When you're done, come back in here."

Paul all but scurried from the room in his hurry to follow Landon's directions. He came back into the living room fifteen minutes later, blond hair curling damply around his face, droplets of water sheening his skin. "All clean."

"All?" Landon asked, gesturing for Paul to turn around. When he did, Landon leaned forward, hands closing over Paul's ass and spreading the cheeks wide. He nuzzled the smooth crease, approving the smell of soap and musk that met his nostrils.

"All," Paul replied breathlessly.

"Good. Stay right there and don't move."

Paul tried to bite back a whimper, but Landon heard him anyway, smiling to himself as he thumbed the glistening entrance to Paul's body. He shook his head in amusement at his lover's assumption that he would need to be prepared. Landon had intended to take his time stretching his lover for some hard sex later, but Paul had pre-empted him. Pressing deep with two fingers, he aimed straight for his lover's prostate. The whimper turned into a long groan. "Do you like that?" Landon asked, though Paul's body had already answered the question.


"It's a shame you're already slick for me," Landon went on. "I'd planned on spending some time playing with your ass, but now you don't need it so I'll have to do something else instead."

"No, please!"

Landon rolled his eyes, knowing Paul couldn't see his face, and tugged on his lover's hand, pulling the slender body down onto his knees. "One of these days, you'll learn to do exactly what I tell you."

Paul squirmed a little to get comfortable across Landon's lap, his wriggling adding to Landon's own arousal as well as to the desire to get his hands on the upturned flesh. When Paul settled, Landon cracked his palm down across one smooth plane. Paul jumped slightly, but his moan had everything to do with pleasure. Giving him a moment to recover, Landon stroked the reddened cheek. When Paul had relaxed again, Landon lifted his hand and proceeded to deliver a very thorough, very rousing spanking. Paul moaned and thrashed and jerked beneath his hand, but his erection, trapped between Landon's thighs, never softened and he never said stop, much less used his safe word.

When the pale skin had turned a vivid shade of red and Landon's own palm started to sting, he landed one final swat, his hand staying in place, caressing rather than spanking now. Paul's squirming only increased. Landon grinned again and slid his fingers into the sweaty crease. "Go in the bedroom. Your surprise is there."

"Where?" Paul asked, eyes growing wide as he moved gingerly to standing.

Landon chuckled. "You won't miss it. I promise."

Paul walked across the room, hands rubbing idly at his tender ass. Landon followed more slowly, enjoying the sight of the reddened cheeks disappearing down the hall. He knew the moment Paul crossed the threshold to their room by the squeal of delight.

Joining his lover in the bedroom, he nuzzled Paul's neck. "Do you like it?"

"I love it. Can we try it out?"

Landon laughed. "Of course, baby. Hands and knees on the bed. Grab the brass rungs for leverage. That is why you've been after me to buy a brass bed, isn't it?"

Paul grinned as he moved into position on his birthday present, his ass presented enticingly to his lover. "Well, that and how easy it will make it for you to tie me up."

Landon was tempted to pull out his restraints now, but he didn't have the patience for it tonight, the spanking having primed his body for release. Stripping quickly, he moved behind Paul on the bed. "Don't let go of the headboard."

"I won't," Paul promised, wiggling his backside in invitation.

Landon shook his head indulgently and nudged Paul's knees wider apart. The new stance left Paul completely exposed to Landon's eyes and hands, his sweet hole, his heavy sac, his hard cock. One hand fondled Paul's balls while two fingers of the other hand stabbed back inside the slick passage. Paul cried out in delight, so Landon did it again, his fingers shunting in and out rapidly, wanting that clinging flesh around his cock. "Are you ready?"

"Fuck, Lan, I've been ready since you sent me to clean up an hour ago," Paul groaned.

Landon didn't need any more encouragement, sliding his fingers from Paul's grasping sheath and diving deep in one, hard thrust. Paul grunted beneath him, rocking back onto the invading shaft. Landon stroked the elegant line of his lover's back tenderly.

It only took a few thrusts before all control deserted them, their bodies fighting to get closer, to find release. When it came, it exploded out of them, filling Paul and soaking the comforter beneath him. Landon rolled to one side, pulling Paul with him, safely clear of the mess they'd made. "Happy birthday, baby."

Paul smiled and turned so he could kiss Landon. "Thank you. This was the best birthday spanking yet."
The End


First Kiss

Robin took another sip of his hot chocolate, curling his fingers around the paper mug in the hope of keeping his hands from freezing. He'd thought his gloves were in his pockets, but apparently not. The wind roared down the street, the tall buildings creating a tunnel of vicious proportions and even the three-sided enclosure at the bus stop provided little protection. Shifting back and forth to keep his blood circulating, he wondered how long it would be before the bus arrived.


Robin looked up and smiled at the only thing besides his drink that had any chance of warming him up on such a frigid day. He'd run into Darren one morning at this bus stop and had started walking the extra block ever since. The man was tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired. Everything Robin wasn't. He'd come to terms with being a short, skinny, redheaded twink in college, but that didn't keep him from occasionally wishing he had the looks to attract a man like Darren. The other man was generous with his smiles, though, and his conversation, and that kept Robin coming back every morning at the same time.

"Morning," Robin replied. "Cold today."

Darren nodded. "And it's only supposed to get colder as the day goes on. They're predicting a foot of snow tonight."

"Why did I want to live on the lake again?" Robin quipped.

"Because the breeze off the water is cool in the summer?" Darren suggested.

Robin scowled and took another sip of his hot chocolate, his tongue swiping away the foam that coated his upper lip.

"Where are your gloves?" Darren asked suddenly.

"I must have left them at home," Robin said. "I thought they were in my pockets, but they aren't."

Darren frowned and moved closer to Robin's side. "Here," he offered. "Let me hold your drink so you can put your hands in your pockets at least. You'll freeze your fingers off that way."

"I'm okay," Robin insisted, warmed by the concern. "The hot drink helps."

Darren's frown deepened as he pulled off his own gloves. "Then put these on and I'll put my hands in my pockets. I can see your fingers turning pink from over here."

Robin flushed, cursing his fair skin and freckles silently, sure his face looked like a tomato at the moment. To hide his embarrassment, he took another sip of hot chocolate. Before he could lick the foam away, Darren's finger traced his lip. "You've got cream there," he said softly.

Robin's breath caught in his throat at the slow, sensual touch. He told himself it was just Darren being helpful, but he couldn't stop the ray of hope when his finger lingered.

Then Darren's face moved closer, head angling slightly, and their mouths touched. Robin gasped into the kiss, and Darren took advantage, his tongue darting out to lick the inner face of Robin's lips. The kiss was as hot as Darren's nose was cold against Robin's cheek, but he didn't mind. It was proof this wasn't another dream.

"I knew it," Darren whispered, his head lifting only enough to speak. "You're even sweeter than the hot chocolate."

Robin flushed again, eyes darting away, but Darren wouldn't stand for it, catching Robin's chin in his bare fingers and tipping his head back up until their eyes met again. "What time do you catch the bus home?" Darren asked.

"Five-thirty," Robin replied. "Why?"

Darren smiled. "So I know what time to meet you tonight for dinner. And hopefully more kisses."

Robin's smile grew as well. "That thought will keep me warm all day."
The End

Fourth Date

"You're dressed up," Mark said when his best friend walked into the living room wearing a coat and tie.

"I have a date," Cameron said, not meeting Mark's eyes.

"This is what? The fourth date with this guy?" Mark asked. "I thought you wanted to get laid."

Cameron flushed to the roots of his strawberry blond hair. "I did. And then I met Jeremy."

Mark shook his head. "Dude, you're a twenty-seven year old virgin. You need to get laid."

Cameron's face turned an even brighter red. "Don't remind me," he muttered. "I'm trying to pretend that if I ignore that fact, it will go away."

Mark's face grew serious. "That isn't something you keep a secret from a lover, Cam, even a casual one. It's a good way to get hurt."

"Jeremy isn't like that!" Cameron protested. "He'd never hurt me."

Mark sighed. "Listen, Cam. I'm sure he wouldn't intend to hurt you or you wouldn't be with him, but sex isn't all sweetness and light. It's physical and it can get rough if you get carried away, which it's damn easy to do. You need to tell him the truth before you let him take you to bed."

"It's not exactly something you just bring up in conversation," Cameron muttered.

Mark rolled his eyes. "He isn't going to make fun of you, or if he does, he doesn't deserve you. He's going to be thrilled and humbled that you've picked him to finally pluck your cherry."

"You are so crude."

"You love me anyway. I'm serious, Cam. Call it what you want, but tell him the truth."

Cameron nodded, mostly to be done with the conversation, and walked out the door. Mark's words wouldn't leave him alone, though, as he headed down to the subway. He had been a gangly kid, an awkward teenager, too shy and too closeted to have a romantic relationship. Only since meeting Mark in college had things gotten better, but even then only slowly. He'd started working out, seen a dermatologist about his acne, gotten laser eye surgery to ditch the bottle-bottom glasses. Little by little, he'd come out of his shell, developing some self-confidence, enough to tag along with Mark to the occasional club. He hadn't met anyone special, though. A month ago, he'd decided enough was enough and had gone out alone, intending to find someone to rid him of his inconvenient secret.

Instead he'd met Jeremy.

He hadn't gotten laid, but he had spent the best evening he could remember with a man who seemed as lost as he was in the flashing lights of the club. And he'd gotten kissed, which was far better than the anonymous fuck he'd envisioned when he left home that night.

Since then, they'd met for coffee once and for dinner twice, all three dates ending in more sweet, hot kisses. Cameron had enjoyed every minute of it and didn't want his inexperience to mess it up. Except Mark seemed to suggest that hiding his inexperience was more likely to mess things up than admitting to it.

He walked out of the subway and down the street to the address Jeremy had given him. To his surprise, instead of another restaurant, he found a brownstone condo. Knocking, he waited nervously for someone to open the door. Jeremy answered a moment later. "I hope you don't mind," the other man said, leaning in for a kiss "but I wanted you to myself tonight."

Cameron swallowed around the lump in your throat. "Jeremy, I have to tell you something."

"You can tell me anything," Jeremy said, arms settling on Cameron's waist, "as long as you aren't telling me you're breaking up with me."

Cameron shook his head. "No, not that. I... I'm a virgin."

Jeremy smiled and kissed Cameron again. "I know. I could tell the first time I kissed you. It's just one more thing that makes you special. When - if - you're ready, I'd be honored to show you what it can be like to make love, but that's your timeline, sweetheart, not mine."

Cameron returned the kiss and leaned into the other man's embrace. Maybe being a twenty-seven-year-old virgin wasn't such a bad thing after all.
The End


The sun was warm on Ted's face even with the tinted windows and the air conditioning in the airport terminal. He'd begged and pleaded to be allowed to come through security to meet this particular plane. His friend's injury had finally been what tipped the scales in his favor. Les couldn't walk so he couldn't carry his bag on crutches. The argument wouldn't have worked on a larger airport but Lexington was small enough and Southern enough to bend the rules for a sob story about a man who just lost his leg and needed help adjusting to his new life.

It was all true. It just wasn't the whole truth. The whole truth was that Ted couldn't wait a moment longer to see his friend. They'd kept in touch the entire time Les was gone, but Ted had come to realize it was far more than friendship that bound them together. Thus the flowers in his hand, the stems crushed by his nervous grip. Les had said repeatedly that he wouldn't have made it without Ted's unwavering support so Ted hoped maybe Les felt the same way. It had taken his friend nearly dying, though, to give him the courage to do more than dream.

The plane taxied into place, the jet way moving into position. Ted told himself Les would be the last one out because he'd need a wheelchair, but that didn't stop him from hovering at the entrance to the jet way, just in case.

The departing passengers streamed past Ted, smiling as they saw the flowers in his hand. He figured they were wondering who the lucky girl was. Ted only hoped Les would consider himself a lucky guy. Then Les was there in front of him, hobbling on crutches but under his own power. Ted held out the flowers, hope shining on his face.

"What are you doing here?" Les asked, laughing.

Ted took a deep breath and leaned forward, brushing his lips over Les's. This was the moment of truth. Les would either kiss him back or deck him.

Les kissed him back.
The End