- Excerpt from Loving Luki Vasquez
- Excerpt from Delsyn’s Blues
- Excerpt from Yes
- Excerpt from Finding Jackie
- Excerpt from work-in-progress, Parting the Clouds
This is one of my favorite sequences from Loving Luki Vasquez the first book in the Vasquez and James series, (available at Dreamspinner). Regardless, a big step in the rocky path Luki and Sonny tread on their way o loving each other, and in the book the jumping off point for some action. I hope you like it. I always welcome your comments!
RIVER sounds climbed the muddy bank where Luki stood shivering in moonlight so bright it glared, and he had to shield his eyes. He knew there were other kids in the water, though he couldn’t hear them, could barely make out the dark shapes of their heads, like shadows. He heard a call from a short distance off to his left, and when he turned his head, there was another shape. A boy, and something gleaming silver in the air.
Again he heard his name. “Luki, come on over here. I’ve got something for you.”
“Not again, no,” he whispered to himself.
“Yes,” Ronny said. “Again, and again, and again….”
Luki cried out, woke, and rolled instantly off the bed and onto his feet. Sweat soaked him, and the left side of his face burned as if newly slashed. Fear, then grief took their brief turns with him, each like a punch to his throat, cutting off his air. He hurried past them and embraced rage, stood in its white-hot flame until, for this time, it burned itself out.
He knew the drill, knew the dream, knew how to shake off its remaining shards.
Seconds after he woke, he gauged the light and estimated, morning. Which, he knew, demonstrated his brilliant powers of deduction. “Better than Sherlock Holmes.”
As an alternative to testing his detective skills, he looked at the clock. Eight thirty. Still early by his standards, but he never contemplated going back to bed. He stumbled into the bathroom to vomit—an old and bothersome reaction—not even trying to hold it back this time.
Thanks to his invisible housekeeper, who came every day in his absence, somehow always knowing when he‟d be gone, he had coffee ready to brew by the cup. He brushed his teeth so he could enjoy the taste and did just that. Two cups of black and sweet, into the shower, out again in no time. He put on his old and ragged clothes. Yes, he had some. He remembered Sonny’s blunt question. “Why the getup?” He almost smiled, almost wished the intriguing… frustrating and intriguing man could see him now.
Meanwhile, he got out three handguns of various sizes and capabilities, placed them in a case designed for just that purpose, and added ammunition. He kept his firearms, always, clean and in perfect condition. None of his weapons were intended for sport. Intimidation, protection, and defense constituted the mainstay of his profession and of his habits; a life, even his own, could depend on them. And honing all his skills, working them to stay in top form, fought off the dream and the havoc it would otherwise wreak. Guns and targets this morning, and then perhaps tai chi—which he considered the best and deadliest of his martial arts.
By the time he’d driven to the range outside of Port Angeles, reassured himself, and impressed his fellow shooters, the need for breakfast finally caught up, so he stopped at Front Street, a corner restaurant that served steak and eggs seasoned and cooked to perfection. On the way back to Port Clifton, he set his phone on speaker and delegated the day’s work to his various staff, using his fabulous office admin as a go-between.
“They won’t listen to me, boss. You know that.”
“Contrary, Jude. I know you put fear in their hearts every time you speak, and they wouldn’t dare go against you. Make my nefarious plans your orders, and they’ll get it done.”
“Are you coming back soon?”
“That’s all I get, just no?”
After an exasperated groan, Jude hung up. For the second time that day, Luki almost smiled. Which made him think maybe he should go back. Port Clifton was turning him soft.
FOOD digested, business taken care of, cigarette half-smoked, he decided to go straight down to the beach. He could have gone home. He had plenty of room in his condo, or on the balcony, for tai chi. He had a key to the top floor gym, a luxurious space that boasted a three-sixty view. But luxury had never seemed right for tai chi, and, Nebraska child that he was, saltwater still fascinated him.
Besides, this was the closest he’d ever come to a vacation. He might as well at least make a pretense of it.
He drove a little way past town to a stretch not lined by houses and not crowded with people—in fact, it looked deserted. Perfect. For the first part of his tai chi practice, he always worked carefully and slowly through forms; for the next part, he “fought” target posts of various sizes, each about two inches in diameter. In early days, the posts had been wrapped with padding and duct tape, but once he’d mastered the art, he left them bare. The “give” had to be in his own hands, his own stance, and that’s what imbued his blows with deadly force.
He took the targets out of the car, removed his shoes, and walked across the beach to the edge of the water, where the wet sand provided a perfect base. After he’d set his poles and taken a minute to perfect his state of mind, he began the first form, working thoughtfully, slowly, aware of every muscle, every move.
By the time he’d finished, the sun had risen almost midway. With heat and exertion, he’d broken into a profuse sweat. He turned his face into the breeze, let it riffle his curls, took his shirt off, and tossed it to hang on one of his targets.
A dot in the distance moving up the beach toward him. A person. Sonny, no flags in sight.
Oh well, no problem. If there was anything he knew how to do, it was shut out emotional disturbance. He’d just continue with his practice, maybe work another form first, as if Sonny weren’t there. But with Sonny’s long legs, he covered a lot of distance in a short time, and now he’d come almost close enough for eye contact. My God, the man is beautiful.
“Hey,” Luki said.
“Nice out, huh?” Oh, yeah. Great. Talk about the weather.
Sonny ignored the comment.
Thank you, universe.
“It‟s like dancing.”
The conversation seemed like some kind of mirror image of the last time they spoke, when Sonny was checking out colors, which certainly weren‟t all the same, or so Sonny informed him, leaving him to feel foolish. Nice thing was, now they were in his territory. But he had no taste for retaliation.
“It‟s been called that. Tai chi.”
“Oh. Yeah. I’ve heard of it. Sort of dancing that can kill. Seems exactly right.”
Luki didn’t know what he meant by that last remark, so he stayed silent.
“It’s graceful, the way you do it.”
Luki remained at a loss for a response. Was that a compliment?
“I‟ve even thought about trying to learn it. But I could never get away from my studio—or maybe I should say get my studio out of my head—long enough for anything like that.”
Luki still said nothing, but now he subtly eyed Sonny from head to toe—a pleasant undertaking but one with purpose. “You’re in good enough shape to do it well.”
Luki didn’t know how he could speak and hold his breath at the same time, but it felt that way. “I could teach you a little,” he said, “right now.”
To his surprise and nervous delight, Sonny agreed after only a second’s hesitation. Soon Luki had him barefoot and mastering a perfect opening stance. From there, he taught him some traditional warm-ups—not part of the forms but a good way to get the feel of the art. Though his long, loose limbs gave him some trouble and made Luki want to secretly and fondly laugh, and though Sonny giggled—yes, giggled—at a few of the early warm-ups, he attended well and learned fast.
They’d reached the last of the warm-up exercises: Pushing Chi. A little more complicated than the ones that came before, it took focused coordination. When Sonny could Push Chi with acceptable grace, Luki decided to introduce him to at least part of the Chen form: First, he revisited the simple but all-important Opening Movement. Then, Pound the Pestle, Lazy Tying Coat, and Six Sealing, Four Closing.
Single Whip led into White Crane Spreads Its Wings, the name of which made Sonny adorably… all right fine, adorably happy. The sequence involved motions that at first felt counterintuitive. Like probably every student in the centuries tai chi had been around, Sonny needed help with it. As he would with any other student, Luki stood behind him, using his own hands to guide Sonny through the move. He wondered if he could get away with teaching him all the rest of the moves in just that way. Perhaps for hours. Every day. For a long time.
As he was teaching and wondering and probably even almost smiling, a wind rose up, splashing spray and sand and whipping Sonny’s long hair at Luki’s face and right into his mouth. On the word “open,” appropriately enough.
Sonny spun around, gathering up his luxurious baked-earth red hair. Before Luki had a chance to close his mouth, Sonny kissed him. A passionate, seeking sort of kiss. A kiss that Luki instinctively returned, though kissing wasn‟t a large part of his intimate life, and especially not kissing on the beach.
As suddenly as he started it, Sonny ended it, leaving Luki bereft… frustrated and bereft.
Sonny turned away, refusing eye contact. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that.” Without any further explanation, he stepped away.
Luki knew fear, could spot it from afar and pick it out in a crowded room. Right now, it ran hot through Sonny’s veins. He reached for Sonny’s arm. “Sonny, what….” What are you afraid of? he ended the question silently. Sonny had already gone.
Luki hated roller coasters, both the mechanical ones and the emotional. In response to hating it, he relaxed completely, letting his tension be soaked up in the wet sand. Then he took that emotion out on his targets. Using tai chi fajin in a rapid-fire assault, he took every one of those posts down before they knew what hit them. Especially the last.
“You never even saw me leap, you stupid post.”
Here’s a excerpt from book 2 of Vasquez and James, Delsyn’s Blues, also available at Dreamspinner. It’s sex, with some extra fun thrown in, Luki and Sonny style. Rated R+, I think rather than X, but what’s the point of splitting hairs?
Luki stepped outside to smoke, no jacket against the cold, dry wind, nothing between his eyes and the stars. Dry, cold, and clear—a rare March night here on the Olympic Peninsula. He
walked out to sit on the drift log halfway between Sonny’s house and the water. A square of artificial daylight lay on the sandy grass to his left, bursting out through the window of Sonny’s studio, where he was probably hard at work.
“I’m going to my studio,” he’d said a short while ago. “See if I can clean it up some.”
One word answer, “No.” And he walked away.
Luki refused to wonder if now, inside his studio, something bad was happening to Sonny—emotions, memories, dope, whatever. He told himself for the hundredth time it was about trust. Soon, his cigarette had come to its predestined seven-minute end, and he was starting to feel the bite of the cold. But instead of going in, he walked down to the edge of the water, dark as it was, with stars sprinkled in the quiet waves. At the edge of his vision, he noticed the studio light
disappear from the ground, and moments later he felt, more than heard, Sonny coming out of the house, walking toward him. He didn’t turn around, but when Sonny reached an arm over his shoulder, Luki took Sonny’s hand and kissed it, not surprised at all, and led him back to the
Sonny straddled the log next to Luki and leaned in to kiss Luki’s neck. Which tickled in a most seductive way. Sonny’s long legs grabbed hold of him like pincers, and he dragged his lean fingers over Luki’s chest, leaving heat trails on Luki’s night-chilled skin. The whole event felt like a stroke of better-than-luck to Luki because, though he refused to jump to conclusions, he was pretty sure Sonny was making sexual advances. And it had been a couple or a hundred months since any such thing occurred or even was hinted at. So if his response was a little too enthusiastic, a little too heated, he hoped Sonny would forgive him for that.
Better than forgiving, Sonny matched him flame for flame, and pretty soon hands were inside clothes and doing some exquisite touching, tickling, rubbing. But it wasn’t all that comfortable—cold and clothed—so Luki breathed, “Bed, sweetie.”
“Yeah,” Sonny answered, but he didn’t stop what he was doing, and Luki didn’t really want him to. It made it all the more difficult to insist. “Come on, baby, let’s go.” He took Sonny’s hand out of his clothing and they both jogged, holding hands and holding up their unzipped pants with their free hands, moving about as gracefully as contestants in a three-legged race.
Which made Sonny guffaw. Which he did from time to time and which always delighted Luki—made him sort of laugh too.
When they reached the house, Luki slammed the door behind them with a foot and rushed to catch up with Sonny, who was already shirtless and dropping his jeans and a step away from the bed. All Luki could think about was skin, Sonny’s skin: bare, sweet, brown skin over legs and ass and chest and shoulders and toes and fingers and yes, penis. Perhaps the sweetest skin of all, that. He wanted so badly to taste it. When Sonny’s jeans came off and he stood bare and enflamed, molded by lamplight, Luki’s entire being—every sense, every belief, and everything he knew in all the world—was about Sonny, the beautiful, breathtaking, heart-stealing man standing naked before him.
“Damn, baby,” he whispered, and as if the words tilted things, it all slowed down. Sonny reached for Luki and stripped his clothes a piece at a time, and then they stood pressed against each other forever, and then Luki knelt down and took a long, slow, sweet sampling of Sonny’s best flavors. Thighs. Testes. Slick, sweet, hot erection.
But Sonny put himself in charge, this time around, and he pulled Luki away, brought him to his feet. Kissed him, and the thought of Sonny kissing the taste of Sonny off of his lips excited Luki almost to the point of pain. Then Sonny let their bodies separate a few inches and leaned over to kiss him while their erections did a kind of slow dance, loving each other. They fell onto the bed, and for the sake of the silky feel of it on bare skin, they drew Sonny’s beautiful blanket up over
them and burrowed underneath it.
Sonny scrunched down farther, laid his tongue flat against the shaft of Luki’s penis, and licked, base to crown. When he reached the glans, he wrapped it in his lips and ran his tongue around, around, gave it a sweet suck.
“Oh God, Luki,” he said, his voice thick and throaty. Obviously pleased with what he tasted, he fell to again—licking, stroking, sucking.
Luki had as much stamina as the next guy, maybe more, but it had been a long while since he’d had sex. And this wasn’t just any old sex; it was Sonny, and it was love. And he didn’t want it to be over, or even to have a temporary lull. So he begged. “God, baby, that’s so good. Please, stop.”
Sonny apparently didn’t wonder what he meant because he slid up Luki’s body and kissed him again and said in his ear, “I want in, Luki. Let me in tonight. Let me have your ass.”
No five words in English or any other language could have sounded sweeter than those last five. Luki, so used to being in charge at all times, reveled in the conscious act of letting go, falling, coming apart. He became incoherent, only syllables passing his lips and even those guttural.
Sonny rolled him insistently, not too gently, and plied his ass with thick, creamy lube, the silk of it teasing Luki almost as sweetly as Sonny’s hand hot on his back, Sonny’s hard, ready penis
sliding between Luki’s legs and rubbing up against his own hard sex.
Luki knew just the particular instant when he was completely ready, and apparently Sonny knew it too. “Yeah, Luki, that’s it,” he said. “That’s what I want.” And as he started to push the swollen head of his penis slowly inside Luki, “Oh, God! Luki, it’s so damn sweet.” He slid in farther, farther, all the way, and he started rocking.
Luki could barely speak for the pleasure of Sonny moving inside him, massaging the small, secret place that would yield, when the timing was perfect, a strong, lengthy, exquisite orgasm. He couldn’t wait, but he could. And there was more. Sonny’s arms were long and his body nimble. He reached around and slid a circle of fingers down the shaft of Luki’s prick, teasing slowly, just enough. Then it all became, for Luki, a little more than enough. “Baby, damn. It’s too freaking good!”
And then he came and the orgasm shuddered through every part of his body, so hard and so long and so over-the-fucking-top that Luki was remotely glad he worked out a lot. Otherwise he surely wouldn’t have withstood the storm. Just when he thought he’d survived it, he heard Sonny groan deep, roll it out into a long moan. He felt Sonny’s heat inside him, felt him spasm and quiver against his ass, felt his hot breath blow across his back, and he owned that orgasm too.
Two for the price of one.
Yes, A Vasquez and James Novella> is different. It isn’t a mystery, and though there is a fight it isn’t fought with guns. As is always the case when loving humans face impossible odds, Luki and Sonny both reveal their worst, and then have a chance to redeem that with their very best—because they can find the strength to love, and sometimes even laugh. Yes is available from Dreamspinner on July 18th, 2012.
LUKI tried to make it look as though he met the doctor’s eyes, but really, he looked out the fifth floor window to the Seattle city traffic. Downtown, lots of people in the street, though not as many as say, New York, or
London, both places Luki had been. The opulence of the oncologist’s office held no power to impress Luki. He had means, and, before he loved Sonny, this was the kind of place he chose to live and work. Because it was cold, sterile, empty of connotations and implications.
He looked—surreptitiously, he hoped—from the window to Sonny, marveling at the way he looked beautiful in a new way in every setting. As if he wove himself into a scene the same way he wove shining ideas into his tapestries. Would he, Luki, be here listening to the doctor drone if it wasn’t for Sonny? Probably. But it would mean less. He registered the doctor’s voice: “Now, I’m not going to mince words….”
That sounded ominous.
“That would be dishonest, and unfair to you.”
“Yes,” Luki answered, because it seemed something was called for.
The doctor, who was not, Luki thought, cold or empty, continued to drone. That was the only word Luki could think of for it. Blah, blah, blah. He’d already seen two doctors, had a bevy of pictures taken of his interior—like real estate—and endured poking and prodding that would stir the dead. But he inwardly admitted his reaction—or lack of reaction—to the doctor’s words might be less because of the doctor’s boring manner and more because he, Luki, didn’t want to hear a detailed description of the tumor in his lung.
Distracted, he gazed at the axial CT images, which was a view from the top down, and made his lung look like an almost egg-shaped hole, and the tumor look like a yoke splatted in the middle of it. Mr. Vasquez, I’m afraid you have a fried egg in your lung. Luki didn’t realize he’d chuckled aloud until Sonny clamped a hand on his shoulder, and he saw a shocked
look on the doctor’s face. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I was thinking about… something…”
“I’m not sure how much you heard of my explanation, Mr. Vasquez.”
“Just call me Luki, please. I heard it all, I think. Apical tumor, right side, squamous cell, advanced, etcetera.” The doctor and Sonny both looked shocked, and Luki felt shocked too. He hadn’t realized that despite his efforts not to, he really had laid claim to the doctor’s words.
“Yes, well,” Dr. Zhvornak continued, “good, so now this is the important part, Luki.” He slid his stool closer. “There are both positive signs, in terms of what’s in store for you, and negative ones. Negative first: The location in the apex of the lung—”
Another shock, this one physical, coursed through Luki when the doctor tapped his chest to show him where the tumor was growing, rather than pointing to the images. If he was trying to secure all of Luki’s attention, it worked.
“—tends to suggest a less favorable prognosis. And the tumor is advanced, adhering slightly, from what we can see, to the chest wall, here. Understand so far?”
“Some signs that are more positive: Despite the location of your tumor, you have no signs of Pancoast syndrome—which shows up when a nerve is sheathed in tumor. Though the tumor is large and adherent to the chest wall, I don’t believe it truly invades the tissue there significantly. And, believe it or not, it is favorable to you that this tumor is in your right
lung, not your left. Very favorable, we found no evidence for metastases. Do you know what that word means?”
“We can fight this aggressively if you want. It will most likely involve chemo, radiation, surgery, chemo, and radiation again. Then, either immediately or six months later depending on the signs, another round of chemotherapy. That last round is insurance if we’ve been successful. If we’ve not met with success, if the cancer is still active, then that last round will most likely be palliative. That means—”
“We know what it means!”
“Let him say it, Sonny.”
“Palliative means it’s offered to reduce pain and discomfort in the dying process, and it may possibly lengthen your life by months or maybe a year. I’ve outlined for you the most aggressive treatment, Mr. Vasquez—”
“Luki, then. I have twenty years of experience treating cancers, and I can tell you yours is far from the least favorable scenario. This treatment regimen is my recommendation—leaving no medical stone unturned, so to speak. You will find the process painful, debilitating, and long. You may never recover your full strength. You will certainly lose part of your lung.
You’ll have a new scar. During the process you’ll almost certainly lose your hair.”
Luki had no difficulty maintaining his cool exterior until those last three words. Lose. Your. Hair. His heart began to pound at the thought of grieving his carefully tended chestnut curls, which he considered a mitigating factor, making up in part for his frightening visage with its long, livid scar. When he tried to swallow, he coughed. Thankfully, it passed without becoming a spell. Sonny sat behind him and to one side, and now he lifted a hand to those curls as if to protect them.
“Statistics mean little in cancer treatment, Luki, but I like to be completely frank. Considering all the information we’ve gathered, the odds are one in three that you’ll survive for the next five years, if we fight with every weapon we have. Do you want to proceed?”
“Yes!” The word fairly burst from Sonny’s lips.
“Call me Sonny.”
“I appreciate, Sonny, that you are invested in Luki’s welfare. Obviously, the two of you care deeply for each other. That commitment—if you two can make it last through the hell and high water you’ll face during treatment—is in fact another strong point in Luki’s favor. But Sonny, it has to be his choice. You can’t make it for him.”
Luki stood up. “Let’s go, Sonny. Dr. Zhvornak—”
“Dr. Z, please. We’ll get to know each other well, if you opt for treatment, and besides”—he smiled—“everyone massacres my last name.”
Luki laughed—which a few years ago would have been a miracle in itself—but Sonny looked horrified. “Luki, what do you mean, let’s go? We can’t just go. You have to—”
Luki gave Sonny a long, not too friendly stare, then looked over his shoulder at the doctor. “I’ll be in touch. It won’t be long. Thanks for your honesty.” Luki turned to walk out, but Sonny continued to stand in place, his dark skin visibly blanched. Luki raised his brows. “Sonny?”
It was more an order than a question.
This is from my latest Vasquez and James work in progress, Finding Jackie. even though Yes will be published first (Juy 18th, 2012), Finding Jackie is the true sequel to Delsyn’s Blues
Luki turned and looked at Sonny, knowing he had dropped his ice-mask in place, telling himself that at the moment he couldn’t let it melt, not even a little bit, not even for Sonny. Because if he did, he’d evaporate. Nothing would be left of Luki Vasquez but a fog in the wind. But Sonny stood there in the false-gold light of a tiny lamp, in a thin, ribbed muscle shirt and beat up jeans unzipped, silk boxers slipped haphazardly down to the fine hair that nested around his sex. Luki wanted, suddenly and badly, to pull that fabric down and see the beautiful penis—budding erection—that lay hidden there. Instead he raised his eyes to Sonny’s dark chocolate gaze, knowing that against his will he’d already let a tiny flicker of smile kindle deep in his own eyes. Knowing also that Sonny would see it. Because he was Sonny, and Sonny loved him.
Chill nonetheless, voice husky with sex and ice, he said, “Take off your shirt.” Sonny did. “Your jeans.” Watching, striving for cool distance, he commanded his own hands not to reach for the deep red silk under Sonny’s hand, where Sonny’s penis had begun to bloom long and sweet, shapely, just thick enough to be right. He fought down his racing heart, forced his breath to stay slow and steady, but he couldn’t help the sandy growl of his whisper. He locked his gaze again on Sonny’s eyes and pinned him there, forbidding him, without words, to move unless ordered.
The he said, “Your hand. Move your hand.”
Sonny followed the order, but slowly, deliberately, head tilted in coy seduction—his answer to Luki’s icy come-hither. Luki chewed his lip, let go of Sonny’s eyes and dropped them to his swollen sex. The head of Sonny’s penis pushed past the top edge of silk, dark and taut. Even as Luki watched, a drop of crystal clear precum pushed slowly out the slit at the tip. Luki stepped close, brought his lips almost to Sonny’s, but when Sonny went to kiss him he drew back. In answer to the surprised and maybe even angry look on Sonny’s face, Luki winked, leaving all the rest of the mask in place. He waited for Sonny’s faint smile before he continued.
“Touch nothing,” he said, and pushed Sonny’s hands out away from their bodies. “Nothing at all.” He grazed his lips over Sonny’s, barely touching, and that had the unexpected but delightful consequence of tightening Sonny’s nipples—which Luki discovered as he looked down to the beautiful, shining glans of his erection. He spared thumbs for those ultra-sensitive nubs before moving them to the heat emanating from Sonny’s sex. He bent down close and took in the unsurpassable scent of Sonny’s arousal. Flicking out his tongue, he collected that drop of crystal, natural lube, repeating the process when the first drop was replaced immediately by another.
Sonny, grabbed his hair—not unpleasant, but Luki raised his face to meet his lover’s eyes once more: “Touch nothing. Or I’ll stop.” Sonny looked so desperate that Luki knew it was like torture, but he hoped it was sweet torture, beautiful torture, rapture, instead. When Sonny unwound his hands from Luki’s curls, Luki pushed them out again, away from their bodies. He straightened so that he was face to face with Sonny, chewing his lip again while he let his thumb fall on the glans and circle. He brought his other hand to the shaft, snuck that thumb past the opening in the red silk and stroked up and down—slowly, so slowly that a shaky moan escaped Sonny’s lips. Luki shut it up with a hard kiss, raising both hands at once to Sonny’s shoulders and roughly drawing him up against his own, still-clothed chest.
“You have to be quiet, Sonny,” he said, still devouring his lips—unable to stop now that he’d started. “We have to be quiet in this place, and … and not too,” he chuckled, which wasn’t good for the icy action, but that was starting not to matter so much. “Not too exuberant—”
“Exuberant?” Sonny’s quip came breathless, but he quipped nonetheless.
Luki pushed his tongue past the half smile that went with Sonny’s words, sparred and played with Sonny’s, then pulled back. “Yes,” he said, trying to return to straight-faced Sonny-torture. “Yes, exuberant. I went to college.” Sonny’s laugh bubbled, and there went the whole charade. “I hate you, Sonny,” Luki said, but he was laughing, too, which he never would have thought possible five minutes earlier.
“Yeah, me too, Luki. But it’s no reason to cancel your plans. I think you were stroking my hard cock?”
How could such a conversation be taken seriously? Especially when the whole thing was whispered, and Sonny was standing naked but for his red silk boxers, and Luki had all his clothes on, including his gun. But now Luki followed instructions, reaching his whole hand down inside the heated silk to slide it along the smooth skin of Sonny’s penis. What a wonderful thing. Then Sonny was rubbing his long-fingered hand hard over the thick denim of Luki’s jeans and after a minute Luki felt ready to bust the seams. Their lips locked together until Sonny wrapped his free hand in Luki’s curls and tilted his head back.
“The gun, Luki. Lose the gun.” He added “please,” but to Luki that felt like a bow to convention.
And though he’d never in his life allowed anyone else to tell him to put his weapon away, he did as Sonny said, this time. Then he started pulling at his shirt. Sonny said, “Yes,” and lent his hand to the task.
Soon Luki stood naked, and he stripped Sonny’s boxers while dragging him down to the bed. They’re lips and tongues warred with each other in what seemed way more than a kiss. They both broke out in moans and whimpers, and had to part, each putting a hand over the other’s mouth. “Ssh,” Luki said.
“Quiet,” Sonny said at the same time.
They would have laughed, but they were way too hungry for each other by that time. Luki rolled Sonny under him, trying to move as little as possible while grinding their hips together. He put his lips right up against Sonny’s ear. “God you feel good, baby.” Then, after listening to Sonny’s breath come harder, “What do you want, Sonny?”
“No more teasing, Luki.” It sounded a little bit angry, a little bit like pleading.
“No, baby. No teasing. Just tell me. Do you want to fuck me? Or do you want me to fuck you? Or what?”
“Oh. Oh, it all sounds so good” Sonny’s laugh broke through for just a beat or two. “But mostly I want you in me. Yeah?”
Instead of answering Luki rolled almost on to his back, curling up the lowest knee and pulling Sonny up onto him, resting his lover’s back against his broad chest. The he remembered.
Sonny giggled, “Top drawer on your right.”
“You think of everything, huh?”
“Just the important stuff—Ah!” That last was in response to Luki pushing the head of his penis just inside the newly lubricated opening.
“Sh-sh! I’m serious, baby. We have to be quiet here.”
“I know, I’m sorry. You’re fault.”
Luki chuckled into Sonny’s ear. “I’ll be more careful. If it’s going to feel really good, I’ll warn you.”
Sonny groaned—quietly. “How did this really sexy thing turn into a B comedy?”
“Okay. No more jokes. Back to triple X.” Making good on that, he slid his penis in deeper, all the way, and began to stroke—not rough, but not too gently. Slow, not rocking the bed, nothing to tell the tale outside. He kept up the excruciatingly even rhythm until Sonny’s breath started to catch, close to climax.
“Luki,” he said, “God, Luki?”
“Yes, baby.” Luki wiggled his left arm under Sonny and put his hand near Sonny’s mouth, rewarded with Sonny’s sweet suck pulling all his fingers in to be lapped and teased with his tongue. That would work. More than one way to keep a lover quiet. His right hand he ran down over Sonny’s chest, teased the nipples on the way by but in too much of a hurry, driven by the sweet burn in his own sex, to stay and play. On down over the flat, hard belly, and straight down to the hot testes. Then up, grasping the long shaft of Sonny’s perfect erection, to stroke, stroke. Sonny’s left arm braced them both against the bed, and now he reached around with his right and took hold of Luki’s ass, pulling him in at the speed and rhythm he wanted. “Oh, Christ, Sonny,” Luki rasped. “It’s too close, baby. I can’t hold back. Come, Sonny. Come with me!”
In answer, Sonny buried his mouth in Luki’s hand and moaned, orgasm taking him completely.
Luki, too. He clamped his mouth over the hard muscle of Sonny’s shoulder, and came, the sweet spasm of every muscle and nerve jerking him into broken rhythm. His groin and belly pounding against Sonny’s ass, he rode the last long wave. Sonny clenched and pulsed around Luki’s penis, milking it, and his hot, salty semen poured into Luki’s hand.
Parting the Clouds is still very much in the “in-progress” stage. By the time the work is done, this scene may have changed. Nevertheless, I wanted to share–it’s sexy, and it’s very much “Luki and Sonny,” the way they are together. This takes place right after Luki, who’s been struggling with his own demons, rescues Sonny from a near drowning. I hope you enjoy, and of course I’d love to hear what you think. 😉
Following the doctor’s orders was easy and in minutes, Sonny was wrapped up, the fire was stoked and hot coffee awaited Sonny’s readiness. Luki stripped off his own wet clothes and stood before the fire, warming his own cold ass, hands, and feet, then made good on the final step of the process for warming Sonny. Applying body heat. By now Sonny’s eyes fluttered open now and again, and his shivers had become intermittent. When Luki tried to lift his blankets to wrap himself inside with Sonny, Sonny clung to them.
“It’s all right, Sonny. I’m not going to take the blankets, I’m just going to lay down with you for a bit, okay?”
“Don’t be, baby. No reason.” Luki lay down mostly on top of Sonny and wrapped the blankets around them both. Sonny’s shivers gradually left off, and at some point Luki found himself singing his favorite song by Etta James, “At last,” he crooned in a smoky whisper, “my love has come along.” Sonny sighed and relaxed under his touch. Luki thought maybe he’d fallen asleep again, but his eyes, though heavy-lidded, were open. “Are you warmer, Sweetie?”
“Yes… yeah. I’m good, now. I’m… Luki I know what it must have looked like but I didn’t mean to… I didn’t have any thoughts about….”
“Suicide. Okay, I believe you. But why did you swim out like you did?”
“I was just blowing off steam. It was really stupid—I know better. I’m glad you were there, Luki.” Here Sonny tilted his head to get a good view of Luki’s face, meet his eyes. “You saved me… I mean, you kept me safe, Luki. It’s what you do, right? Thank you.”
Luki sat up, letting Sonny’s long legs lie across his lap, and looked away. What could he say? What Sonny said was true—Luki had stepped into his protector role like superman changing in a phone booth. Once wearing the role that he’d nurtured over decades, it was like none of the stuff in between had ever happened. He just did what Luki Vasquez did best. He felt odd, now, like perhaps his actions of the afternoon bore some impact on the mess he had in general become. Like maybe he was almost Luki Vasquez, if he just didn’t make any missteps.
One thing he knew, to answer Sonny’s gratitude with the words, “you’re welcome” wouldn’t make any sense. Instead he said, “I made some coffee. When I talked to Donnell—”
“You called the doctor?”
“Yeah, I didn’t—”
“And even with the damn Scottish br-r-r-rogue you could understand him?”
Luki’s eyebrows went up, and he looked critically at Sonny. “Maybe I should call him back. He said if you were still disoriented… You never speak with a horribly fake Scottish accent unless you have shortbread.”
“No. I’m lucid. You’re Sonny. Do you want coffee, anyway?”
“In a minute. My feet are really cold, Luki. They hurt.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Donnell suggested a tub of warm water, but first let’s just try this.” He turned his body so that he faced Sonny, his back up against the arn of the sofa, his legs running on either side of Sonny’s, and placed Sonny’s soles against his own bare chest. “Oh, fuck! They are cold.”
Sonny giggled. “That feels so good. Stay right there!”
Luki couldn’t help but smile at his lover who could be a bit hedonistic in the best of circumstances. He saw Sonny watching him, and on a whim kissed the closest big toe. Sonny giggled some more. Even though no part of Sonny was touching his sex, Luki felt himself growing hard. It had been a while—he’d been so lost in his misery. He hadn’t even been sure it was still possible.
But he saw movement under the blanket, the outline of Sonny’s long, perfect penis growing full, and he knew Sonny felt it to. He watched his husband’s eyes, no tears but a liquid shine glossed them.
Almost whispering, breathing in fearful sounding gasps, Sonny said, “Luki, I want you to fuck me… No. No, I want you to make love to me.” He looked away then back to meet Luki’s eyes, brow lowered with worry. “Luki, I know—”
“Sh! Hush, baby.” Luki kissed the tender arch of Sonny’s foot—the rest of him being out of reach. He looked at Sonny and nodded. “Yes. I want that, too.”
They both went quiet and still, and Luki thought, He’s afraid to believe I’m going to love him. How did such a sad thing happen? But then, as memories and fears and towering regret came rolling toward him, he realized he was afraid of exactly the same thing. With all the power of his mind, he blocked out the things that would get in the way of him loving Sonny—had been getting in the way for weeks. And with all the power of his heart he focused everything on Sonny. His breath beginning to come faster, biting his lip for stability, he rose on one knee and moved toward his husband.
His hands wanted to wander over Sonny’s skin, and he let them. Let them follow the long slender curves of Sonny’s legs, his inner thighs. When he reached his sex he framed his husband’s familiar and much-missed cock and balls with his hands, but he didn’t touch them. His eyes smiled at Sonny as he instead let his hands continue up over hip bones and belly and abs and pecs with their hard puckered centers of dark, sensitive flesh. Once he reached the chiseled shoulders, he lifted Sonny and pressed him against his chest, and took his lips in a kiss like fire.
“Oh!” Sonny said, after the kiss ended.
“Mm-hm. Come with me, baby.” Luki pushed the coffee table out of the way and took Sonny by the hand, supporting him. “That couch is like a black hole.
Fucking in a black hole isn’t easy.”
Sonny giggled. “I love my couch!”
“Let’s go to bed, though.” Sonny offered no resistance and when they got there Luki realized that sometime that day Sonny had taken advantage of Luki’s relative wakefulness to put clean bedding on, topping it with the rainbow spread he’d woven for their bed almost a year ago. Now, Luki pulled those bright colors back for Sonny to crawl under, grounded beneath by a brilliant sky blue blanket, and then he got in too, rolled right up next to Sonny Bly James and cradled him against his body. Sonny head was tucked into the crook of Luki’s neck—a familiar and natural positioning for them, despite Sonny’s greater height. Luki kissed his way down from the crown of his lover’s head to his lips, spent some time nibbling and sucking and delving deep into Sonny’s mouth, then planted a last light kiss and pulled back.
Gazing at Sonny, he tried to put all he felt into his eyes and a few chosen words—words he’d said before, words that would always be true. “Sonny Bly James,” he started, the syllables shaped into rough whispers. He cleared his throat and continued, trying harder to add strength. “Sonny, you are the most beautiful thing that ever happened to the world. And, God, baby, you have to believe this: I love you.” He dipped down and kissed Sonny again, so tender, and said again. “I love you.”
He began to lick the remnants of sea salt off Sonny’s skin, starting out sweet and slow, but growing adamant, pushy, demanding. And Sonny gave and took in kind, until the two of them were half covered in marks from sucks and scratches and bites. Sonny started suddenly to move his head toward Luki’s cock, but Luki pushed him back down and said, “No, you.” He licked the length of Sonny’s erection from base to crown twice, then stroked, squeezing a little until precum coated the sweet tip. Taking Sonny’s own hand, he passed it over to gather the crystal lube, then gave the harvest to Sonny, feeding him his juices from his own fingers.
Sonny moaned, sucking the pleasure from his own hand, and Luki growled, then lay down over Sonny, grating their hard cocks together. Then, as almost always, he asked, “What do you want, baby?”
“Fuck me,” Sonny said, with no hesitation.
“Yes,” Luki said. Then, “Lube, sweetie?” He never thought of it ahead of time, a shortcoming, he thought, but Sonny was always prepared.
“In the top drawer where it always is,” Sonny said, sounding a little rushed. “Get off me so I can get it.”
“Not on your life, sweetie. I’ll get it.” With that he moved them both closer, sort of inching along and dragging Sonny with him. Sonny was laughing full out by the time they got close enough for Luki to fetch the little tube of slippery stuff. Humor was involved—it was none too graceful—but there was also a considerable amount of bump-and-grind, and by the time Luki squeezed out the lube into Sonny’s hand and said, “Do me, baby,” Luki was so hard he hurt, and Sonny, with the head of his cock stretched tight like a drum and purple with engorging blood, must have felt the same.
Sonny spread lube over Luki’s thick, hard cock, while at the same time Luki used his fingers to lube and stretch Sonny’s hole. When he’d worked three fingers in and Sonny had completely lost focus on anything else, Luki brought all his fingers out then went back in with his long and talented middle finger only. Sonny moaned and said, “No, fuck me, Luki, please!” But no sooner had Sonny said it than Luki tapped his prostate, once, twice. Sonny got so excited then he half-sat up so he could jam his ass against Luki’s hand, demanding what Luki was already freely giving. Finally, though, Luki had to hold him back so he could retrieve his hand and replace the finger with the hard cock he knew Sonny really wanted, anyway.
He entered, let just the crown of his penis remain inside, took hold of Sonny’s long, beautiful, flexible legs behind the knees and rode them down until they were folded back, framing Sonny’s face, and Sonny’s ass was open and lifted high, ready for him to slide in deep. And so he did, his cock practically on fire, his lips burning on Sonny’s. It was all way too hot, and he didn’t want it to end, so he plunged in deep and this time stayed there.
Sonny squirmed and he said, “Be still, baby. Let’s just feel this. Let’s just feel me deep inside you. God baby, look at you, he said, rising up on an arm.
“Hot,” Sonny said.
“Yeah, you are,” Luki said, and chuckled because he knew that wasn’t what Sonny meant. He gathered his breath and blew across the sweat on Sonny’s neck, and smiled as Sonny arched to expose more of his hot skin to the cooling breeze. But Luki was looking at the beauty of Sonny’s body. He saw Sonny’s hand laying alongside his perfect cock. He knew what Sonny would do, later, he would stroke himself. Sonny liked to stroke his own cock while Luki was fucking him—even more than having Luki do it. And Luki loved to see it. It turned him on something fierce. Sometimes he liked to put his own hand over Sonny’s and ‘help’ him. Sometimes the sight of Sonny jerking off was what put Luki over the edge to his own orgasm.
Now, he moved a little to the side without coming out of Sonny’s snug hole at all, and he whispered close to Sonny’s ear. “Touch yourself, baby.”
Sonny shivered, and did as told, sliding one long, slender finger up and down the shaft while his curved thumb played a complimentary rhythm on the beautifully inflamed head. “Luki?”
“Oh, baby. So fine. It feels good?”
“Yeah,” Sonny said it with a giggle. “You know I like it. You’re so hot inside me, Luki. I want you to fuck me.”
“Yes. I want to fuck you, baby. I’m going to. I’m going to fuck you hard. That’s okay? But first I just wanted to watch you for a bit. God damn, baby. You are so, fucking, perfect.” With that, Luki shifted his weight back, gave himself room and set up a hard driving rhythm, rocking Sonny and nudging his gland on nearly every stroke. “Do it,” he said to Sonny, “Please that beautiful cock, baby.”
Sonny did it, his hand stroking the length of his penis none too gently, driven by some rhythm inside of himself, his eyes losing focus. Finally he began to chant, “Luki, Luki, Luki.”
Luki said, “Yes, Sonny, it’s time. Let it happen. Come for me.” Sonny answered with his lover’s name, spoken like a question. “Yes,” Luki said, “Let me see you come. Now, baby.” Then, “Yeah, that’s it!” He watched Sonny’s face go slack with pleasure, then he cried out. Creamy white semen splattered both Sonny’s belly and Luki’s, and Luki melted into his lover’s orgasm, tripped into his own, and followed it through to a kind of bliss he’d somehow nearly forgotten. He never wanted to emerge.