"Oil and Water"

Teaser 4

Further Tidbits, the first describing Jericho's early adulthood, the second Enzo's.

Perhaps he already dimly sensed some separate spiritual destiny; perchance he was searching for his personal kehuna: that devout priesthood of like-minded souls who would show him whether he belonged anywhere at all. But while gifted with boundless energy, spelling never was his forté, and neither was focus. So quite soon he became deeply distracted from his noble quest.


If what one wanted from him instead was verbal intercourse, but one preferred mumbled English over jumbled Italian (the proffered alternatives to impromptu sounds and signals), he’d manage to express through a heavy accent, that a thriving fish was ruined upon the stove by his silly sibling. Just a moment … that he hailed from a village of six houses, including barns, such as exist all over Sicily. Eventually, after much back and forth it would come to light, despite considerable skepticism and loudly reiterated short phrases (how did most of humanity inevitably intuit that what ailed myopic foreigners was actually their ear-canals?), that he wanted to be an electrician. 

Teaser 3

Bits and Bites:

Jericho was literally shocked; he collapsed in a heap, torso sprawled across Enzo's, hands flattened between them, face locked to Enzo’s greedy mouth.


He imagined he must be the love child, sort of, of a lesbian ménage-à-trois in outer space (not an unpleasant notion to him), among the unerring doctor, the empath and the … Whoopi. 

... hands cupped Jericho’s temples as he, Jericho, eagerly took another bottomless draught of the sweet, sexy boy … No, wait, that’s not what's happening here at all.

ashes to ashes rust to rust fountains of tears frozen wastes pillars of salt

Dust, not ‚rust,‘ Moron. Go away. No time right now, we’re rusting here. Rutting. Blazes to hell. Do I have to spell it out? I’m b-u-s-y riding my … his … Dude’s big fat juicy fruit shiny red corvette, so fuck off. 

Teaser 2

The Setting:

Somewhere out there amongst the caverns, today, a real-life Big Bad Wolf, in an exceedingly rare but conclusive sighting, was prowling, which odd behaviour was — barely — audible to Jericho. Those faint noises were plenty blood-curdling, in that Jericho was able to make them out at all, let alone clearly. Just the two of them were shut up tight, in a chamber sound-proofed for privacy, which was moreover constructed, for all intents and purposes, to defy armageddon. All a-growl and a-scowl the Wolf was, scouring for any possible scent of a doomed goat to let scape for the quenching of his wrath. His minions thanked their own Fates, one by one, for being grumblingly spared as irreplaceable, though they were still in the shits.

The team had been ramping up for the imminent Asian tour, Morpheus Dawning, but preparations had stalled while deadlines were looming. The engineer was tearing her fiery red hair out by the roots; the taciturn computer genius was volubly cursing in choice unicode; the avuncular caterer was scowling from behind an untouched tray of mephistophelian baklava that everyone, usually, would rather bleed out for, fingerless, than quickly fetching a ‚band-aid‘ from Jericho first — and the boss Himself … who was as kind, queer and collected as Jericho was hot, empathic and straight, whose … 

… queerer, actually, were one to compare and contrast … (No effing way. I should know. And by the by, I can hear you just fine from in here.) Way. … whose habitual mien lay somewhere between that of a boddhisatva and an ice-pick — that one had at present morphed into one enormous, black bristle, stomping, huffing and puffing the whole carved-from-solid-rock place down. 

Better them than me, Jericho decided. This minute, I’d rather be right here: in a sticky little love nest, pressed up against a sweet kid who has a hard-on for me that I can’t help him with. 

Teaser 1

Opening lines, originally (slightly changed meanwhile):

Towering bare-chested and glorious before the naked, dripping young man, the surfin’ messiah shook his long, trailing dreadlocks and heaved a way too sexy sigh. The young man himself silently responded, blinking several times through his massive specs and slowly getting hard. This was going to be a little complicated. Alas, there was nothing for it but to get to work. The hour that one secretly dreaded, three times a week, and the other fantasized about incessantly, was upon them. The scheduled appointment for Enzo’s deep-tissue massage. 

a humoresque m/m fantasy 'duel'

Tidbits and teasers from my submission to the 2013  "Love Has No Boundaries" Event on the M/M Romance group at Goodreads. Warning: Explicit sexual themes. 

I have to add this stupid other warning because of recent events. My apologies to 99.99% of my revered readers: These words and characters are my own. I expect that simple moral and legal fact to be respected as you enter here. Else I will find you and chew your bits off. Unlike in fiction, that would not be pleasant for either person involved. So lookie no touchie, capiche.


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