Silver Flash: Lust Never Sleeps #12: Under the Table and Hiding

Hello and Happy Hump Day! And welcome to another Silver Flash, brought to you by assorted authors at Silver Publishing! This week, the Guest Prompt Diva was Brenna Lyons, who gave us:  “There are some lessons in life you just never seem to learn.” And from our very own lovely leader, Ryssa Edwards comes the alternate prompt: Use this line in your story, He/she/they wouldn't stop until the whole world heard. See what the Silver authors did with these prompts.


This week I've brought back my series, Lust Never Sleeps. As you may recall, Darryl, Sawyer, Amandine and Bruston were having champagne at the cafe Dejeuner, when Brushton shouted air raid. Wonder what that was all about?  Don't forget to check out all of the Silver Flashers, whose links follow my story.

Lust Never Sleeps #12: Under the Table and Hiding

One moment Darryl was sitting on Sawyer’s lap, sipping champagne with his ex and her brother at the delicate wrought iron table in the pleasant café—Sawyer’s hand unabashedly exploring his crotch—the next he’d been dumped rather unceremoniously beneath that same table, onto his hands and knees. The pressure of what he assumed was Sawyer’s body atop his only served to increase the feeling of being suffocated as his face kissed the ground. Under other circumstances, and most definitely in a different locale, Darryl might have enjoyed the rather intimate contact, but right here and now, with himself being squashed against the rough concrete of the patio, it was a tad unpleasant.

He attempted to push himself up, protesting, “Wait just a minute now!” But he couldn’t even hear the sound of his own voice over the abhorrently loud buzzing that permeated the air, coupled with the screaming of the café’s patrons.

A fortuitous shift in Sawyer’s position, a lightening of his weight, made it possible for Darryl to lift his head.  The sight which met his eyes verged on the ridiculously sublime. Amandine clutched a struggling Sawyer to her  ample bosom, keeping his hands pinioned above his head. Brushton cowered, his arms wrapped about his purple udders, continuing to scream, “Air raid! Air raid!”

“Let him go!” Darryl hissed at Amandine, but she paid him no heed. Perhaps she hadn’t heard him. He glared daggers at her. To his surprise, she dropped Sawyer’s wrists, allowing the other man to propel himself away from her and back toward Darryl.

Cautiously, Darryl peeked from beneath the dubious cover of the table. From what he’d read of them, air raids spelled planes and bombs, although he’d never directly experienced one himself, and somehow he didn’t see the slender table possessing the ability to stop any sort of explosive in its tracks. If this sort of behavior were common in Lust, he’d have to reconsider a second visit. Although, to be fair, coming here was not exactly his idea to begin with.

He wasn’t sure what to expect. He’d seen quite a few strange things since he’d first cast his lot with Sawyer Thomas. Or rather since Sawyer had chosen him, apparently at random, from among the crowd at Hannagan’s, for his little scheme. Or had it been so random? Before he’d a chance to suss the thought any further, it was stricken from his brain by the sight which met his eyes.

The air was thick with green hornets, some of which were the size of a man’s fist. He’d never seen such huge examples of the beasts in his life, certainly not in that particular shade. As he watched with horrified fascination, they launched themselves—at the tables, at the umbrellas over the tables, at every visible and/or available surface—and at the people hiding desperately beneath them.

A  waiter walked obliviously from the restaurant. He carried a large tray, the stand for which rested beneath his arm. Catching sight of the swarming invaders,hed froze in place, his eyes growing large, before he suddenly dropped the tray, dishes and all tumbling in a pool of comestibles onto the ground. A moment later he was covered in the dive bombing insects and lost to Darryl’s view.

The screaming continued, as did the buzzing. Darryl thought he’d go mad with the sound; it bored into his very brain, his temple throbbed. A sickening sweetness permeated the air, mingled with a coppery scent, one he couldn’t quite place.

Suddenly, Darryl felt his legs go out from under him, as he was yanked back beneath the protection of the table and into Sawyer’s arms.

“Are you mad?” Sawyer cried. Darryl thought that he actually seemed ruffled, for once. He wasn’t sure if he found that thought reassuring or disturbing, under the circumstances. Either Sawyer was more human than he’d imagined—or they were in one hell of a mess.

Amandine was glaring at him, but he had no idea why. She was favoring one hand, cradling it within the other. But he had other concerns at the moment. “What’s going on?” he asked Sawyer.

And just as the words left his mouth, a silence fell.

One moment chaos, the next an ominous hush.

“We’re under attack,” Sawyer tardily replied, his answer sounding larger than life and twice as superfluous.

“What did you do to me?” Amandine hissed at Darryl.

“Me? What?” he asked, confused.

“You burned me!” she accused him.

“He what?” Brushton turned indignant eyes to Darryl.

“I did no such thing!” Darryl protested. “I never came near you!” He looked at Sawyer, seeking his support. “I never touched her…”

Sawyer drew him in and kissed him briefly. “We have no time for this now, lovie,” he said. “That was just the first wave.” He glared at Amandine, who’d given over her hand to her brother. “There are some lessons in life you just never seem to learn,” he said cryptically. “But we need to get the hell out of here. Is there a safe house nearby?”

“Yes, I know of one. Let’s go while we still can.”

Apparently other patrons had the same idea, as the group discovered when they emerged from the dubious protection of the table. Horrified, Darryl saw that some of the diners were wounded, while some would never eat again. The tables were spattered with gore; blood was between the cracks in the patio. Everybody was fleeing the scene.

“Please don’t keep us in suspense, darling,’ Sawyer said, a distinct note of urgency in his voice. “Where?”

“You won’t like this…” she cautioned him.

“Well, I can’t afford to be very persnickety, nowcan I? Please just tell me where!”

“Elias Dickory,” she said at last.

Sawyer groaned.  “Seriously? Is no one closer?”

“No one.”

“Then let’s go!”

“Where’s he at?” A confused Darryl asked as they raced to Sawyer’s car and jumped inside.

“The docks.”

Darryl couldn’t help but wonder what sort of protection they’d find there.

to be continued

Don't forget to check out all the Silver Flashers!

Sui Lynn  m/m

Ryssa Edwards m/m

West Thornhill m/m

Lindsay Klug m/f

Victoria Blisse m/f

Elyzabeth LaVey  m/f

Freddy MacKay m/m

Join us next week for another edition of the Silver Flash! Hope you're enjoying these as much as we enjoy writing them!

Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie

Silver Flash Wednesday - More Two for the Price of One

Happy Wednesday everyone, and happy Hump Day!Thanks for coming back for another week of flash fiction with the authors of Silver Publishing! This week we have our very first Guest Prompt Diva - Reese Dante, our lovely cover artist, who has given us:  :  ...will you stop doing that!  I can't concentrate when you're ....

And the alternative prompt, from our very own Ryssa Edwards is: 

Use these three elements in your story: a full moon, an iron gate, suitcase

This could lead to some rather interesting possibilities, don't you think? As for myself, I have brought both my series to the table again this week, unable to choose between them. In Lust Never Sleeps, the plot thickens as we learn more about the slippery Sawyer, while in Scent of a Wolf, Cameron and Jareth come face to face... or is that nose?

Don't forget to check out all the divas, their links follow my tales!

Scent of a Wolf 4

  

For a moment, the startled Cameron forgot to breathe, staring into those dark velvety eyes. But when the admittedly good-looking man drew closer to him, practically inhaling him, then Cameron automatically reacted, pushing the intruder summarily away. Shifter or not, he didn’t care for the man’s far too intimate manner. And the unhealthy way he was eyeing Cameron up, like he was some cut of Grade A Choice Beef snack. Raw, and on the hoof, so to speak.

“Hey man, what’s your trip? Ever hear of personal space?” He jumped up, debating with himself whether fight or flight should be the order of the day. While not afraid of fighting, this wasn’t necessarily the venue for it. Especially without a better reason than this.

“Excuse me…” Another country heard from. Hopefully a saner nation. Perhaps it was the other man’s keeper; that would explain much. Where the first was tall, dark and handsome—as clichéd a stranger as any found within the pages of a romance novel—the second man was blonder, stockier, and seemed to at least possess something of his own wits about him. Whereas the first man’s sole mission in life seemed to be to get as close to Cameron as he could get, his nose twitching  at him in an almost sensual way. Cameron found that it turned him on, in spite of himself.

“I’m sorry, I must apologize for my friend,” the blond began. He grasped his companion by the forearm, pulling him back. The well-dressed brunet strained against his keeper’s tenuous hold, and Cameron found himself carefully backing away from him. ‘”He’s not himself today. Jareth!”

To Cameron’s surprise, the blond placed his hand over Jareth’s nose, pinching it shut, a move which made no real sense to him. But for some reason it worked, as he instantly ceased from making any untoward movements in Cameron’s direction. That was a start.

“What the fuck?” Cameron growled.

“Shaw, must you do that?” Jareth protested, reaching for the offending hand. Suddenly he stopped, his own hand arrested in mid-aid, staring about him with confused eyes. “Where on earth are we? And why?”

“He’s why.” Shaw nodded at Cameron. “I don’t have time to explain where. Or anything else. I suspect his pursuers are either close at hand, or waiting just outside.”

“My what?” Cameron looked between the two men. Someone was certainly crazy around here, and it wasn’t him. They were very lucky that it wasn’t any closer to the full moon, for at such a time, he was less prone to self-control.

“Look,” Shaw said, attempting to be as patient as he could under the circumstances. Between having to keep a tight rein on Jareth’s nose and watching out for the gruesome twosome, he wasn’t exactly in the mood to play professor. “We know what you are. I don’t know why Jareth is so damned attracted to you, but he is. That’s beside the point. You’re in grave danger from two hooli—“

Just then, Jareth’s nose came loose from its imprisonment. He leapt toward Cameron.

“You know what? I hear your loony bin calling, they want you back,” Cameron murmured, before he did a quick vault between the two men, just as Shaw threw himself toward Jareth. Thanking the powers that be for his wolf reflexes, Cameron leapt down the stairs three at a time, banging his elbow painfully against the wall as he did so. At the bottom, he hurtled himself through the front door and back out into the miserable drizzle which was still falling, calling an apology over his shoulder to the owners of the establishment. With any luck, they wouldn’t ban him from the premises for this lunacy.

It was definitely time to go home. He’d had more than enough excitement for one day.

Too engrossed in evading the melodrama that was no doubt playing itself out on the second floor, Cameron failed to take note of his surroundings. A most grievous error on his part.  A hand emerged from nowhere, clamped itself about his upper arm. Cameron’s head whipped backward. He felt a shockwave of pain run down his arm, as he was jarred into momentary immobility.

The hand squeezed tightly; Cameron winced, drawing on what inner strength he possessed to fight the pain. He changed his mind—he wished it was the full moon. He’d rend this bastard limb from limb, given the chance.

From the corner of his eye he saw a long lean man with weasel’s features. He opened his mouth, revealing sharp pointed teeth. “The show must go on, dear boy,” he said, grinning.

Cameron pulled as hard as he could, one foot coming up in a self-defense kick which caught his captor in the groin. He doubled over, and Cameron ran. He dashed across the street, glancing about for some means of quick escape. A bus was approaching; he feared that would not do. He turned into an alley instead, hoping to lose himself in the shadows.

His arm began to scream; he held it close against his body, his feet lithely dodging the accumulated detritus that blocked his way. An abandoned baby carriage. An upended garbage can. An empty suitcase. Collective pains in his ass.

He dared a quick glance behind him—nothing. Veering course, he ducked down a second alley, speeding along it in desperation. At least he was on familiar grounds, hopefully an advantage his pursuer did not share.

Pursuer?  That’s what the men in the bookstore had said. What the fuck?

Ahead of him, he spotted the entrance to an abandoned shoe factory, its workers long ago relegated to the unemployment line. If he could scale the iron gate, he could slip inside, catch his breath, and plot a course of action.

He reached the top of the gate, swinging one leg over the top when he felt the arrow strike the base of his spine, toppling him. He fell to the ground, unconscious.

“Excellent work, Chambers!” Rutledge hooted.

to be continued

Lust Never Sleeps 11: What is the Real Truth?

“Wait, wait, wait! Let me understand what you’re saying,” Amandine protested, holding up one gloved hand, as if to dam his words. “You let the actual diamonds out of your hands? And into theirs? Sawyer, how could you?”

“Amandine, please, this is no time for reproach. You can beat me over the head later. First things first, my dear, and that is to retrieve my diamonds.”

“Your diamonds?” She arched a silken red eyebrow at him, receiving an annoyed scowl in return.

Brushton let out a long low whistle. “Bugger, Sawyer, I hate to say it but I think you’re royally screwed. The thing I don’t understand is how you’re still alive? I mean seriously, I’d have thought Sue would’ve flayed you like a prime filet for losing the family jewels. I know that forgiveness is a nunly trait, but honestly, that goes above and beyond—“   He paused in mid-sentence, setting his half-empty glass of champagne onto the table so abruptly it imitated a drunken sailor, sloshing onto the tablecloth. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

“Of course not, that’s why he’s here.” Amandine glared at her ex, who refused to meet her gaze.

“No, she doesn’t know,” Sawyer reluctantly admitted. His eyes fell upon Brushton, whose hand was busily scratching at one of his udders.

“Will you stop doing that!  I can't concentrate when you're playing with yourself in public like that!”

“Am not,” he insisted, continuing to rub away at the large teat, “but this damn suit itches. There are worse places I could be scratching, you know. Want me to show you?”

“NO!” Amandine and Sawyer cried in unison.

Darryl was having difficulty in following the back and forth and give and take among these three people, who obviously possessed a great deal of very interesting history among them.  It was like watching a tennis match without knowing anything about the sport, or any idea what the rules were—a lot of pointless head turning with himself none the wiser. He cast his eyes upon Sawyer, who kissed him softly, as if that explained everything.

Brushton released his hold on the udder, reaching for his glass, to a collective consensus of relief. “I say, old beaner, you’re in a bit of a jam here. I mean it’s not like you can just go up to them and ask for them back, now can you? Say pardon me but you filched the real thing and not my fakes, would you hand them over, please.”

“Hardly.” Sawyer snorted derisively.

“Fakes?”  Darryl echoed.

“Sawyer’s the best forger that ever was.” Amandine praised her ex, who did his best to appear to be modest, but somehow failed. “He’s so good, he leaves his victims feeling that they all have the real deal, no questions asked. Of course, they’re forbidden to show them to anyone either. Part of the price they pay for having such expensive trinkets in their collection. So no one can compare notes. Or figure out just how many copies of everything Sawyer’s sold.”

“As long as I keep track of who has what, no harm done eh?” Sawyer insisted. “The point here is what can I do to get back what is rightfully mine?”

“Yours and Sue’s,” Brushton pointed out helpfully.

“Let’s not quibble about semantics,” Sawyer brushed away his assistance. “Let’s think of something.”

“”What about your…” Darryl didn’t know what to call the ability which Sawyer seemed to possess. But he’d seen him touch people and bend them to his will, at least to some degree. So why not use it on Schrodinger and Salisbury?

Sawyer frowned. “That’s a simple parlor trick,” he replied evasively, “of limited usefulness. I would if I could, my love, I assure you. But those gentlemen are too savvy to fall for that.”

“In other words, they caught onto him in that regard a long time ago,” Amandine laughed. Sawyer flushed, but he didn’t deny her words.

“So let me see if I have this right.” Darryl fought to make sense out of the disjointed bits of information. “You forge things and sell them to these two men? Yes? But for some reason they ended up with the real thing, and not the forgeries? Do I understand the situation correctly?”

“Yes and no,” Sawyer equivocated. “I brought the real diamonds to bait the trap, but once I learned who the client was, I intended to give them the fake ones. It’s worked beautifully before. Jewels, paintings, sculpture…”

“You can do all that?” Darryl was impressed.

“And more.” Sawyer broadly winked. Darryl flushed at the implications inherent in that simple motion, his groin tightening with desire.

“So what happened tonight?”

“Good question,” Sawyer glumly replied. “All was going well, until that thief and his bosom companion had to interfere.”

“What about the gypsy who killed the thief? Can you be sure he took the diamonds to those two men? Maybe he kept them for himself?” Darryl was trying to cheer up his lover by looking at the cup as being half full, not half empty. But even he wasn’t sure if that was a better idea or not.

“Milosh? No, he’s one of theirs. As is Mondo.”

“What do you mean, one of theirs?”

“I mean he’s a creature whose purpose is to do their bidding. A servant to do their dirty work. As for Mondo, I’d swear that he’s a golem, actually, although I’ve no real proof of that.”

A distinct shiver traversed Darryl’s spine. Or  it might have been because of Sawyer’s blatant hand pressing 

against his crotch.

“Darling,” Amandine interrupted their tête-à-tête, “I do hate to be crass, and while I do adore the free bubbly, I’m not quite as enamored of watching you and your dear darling Darryl mindfuck one another. Is there a reason why I’m here? Other than to be admired, of course?

Before Sawyer could either explain or apologize, their ears were assaulted by a maddening din.

“AIR RAID!” Brushton screamed. “Everybody dive for cover!”

to be continued 

Now visit the other intrepid Silver Flashers and see what they have to offer! 

Lily Sawyer    m/m 

Ryssa Edwards    m/m 

Catriana Sommers    m/m 

Victoria Blisse     m/f 

Chris Quinton     m/m

West Thornhill   m/m

Lindsay Klug     m/f

Elizabeth LaVey    m/f

LM Brown    m/m

Freddy McKay     m/m

 I hope you're enjoying our humble efforts. Feel free to drop a comment, make a request, or just say hi!

Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie

Silver Flash: Lust Never SLeeps #8: Welcome to Lust

Happy Wednesday and welcome back to another Silver Flash, brought to you by the good people at Silver Publishing! Today's Prompt Diva is the talented Sui Lynn, who gave us these: a zeppelin, a pocket watch, a pair of binoculars and a parasol. Our own Ryssa provided us with the alternate prompt: "Any minute now..."

As you may recall from the last chapter of Lust Never Sleeps, we left Sawyer and Darryl in a flying car, soaring through the clouds, and they had just become aware of another vehicle in the sky. See what or who has joined them, in Chapter 8 of Lust Never Sleeps.  Enjoy!

Lust Never Sleeps

At first Darryl thought that it was the beating of his excited heart, before he came to the realization that what he was hearing was an exterior noise, something mechanical. He and Sawyer simultaneously raised their heads, turning them in unison. There, in the airspace before them, was a zeppelin. Airspace was a relative term, as it was not near enough to be considered in any danger of being on top of them by any means; the sky was a big place. But this was a huge ship, and it appeared to be bearing down upon them. More quickly than Darryl felt was safely comfortable.

The airship was silver in color, but in the sunlight it seemed to shimmer in fluctuating shades of blue. Blat! Another angry honk issued from the depths of the zeppelin—big, brassy and booming. Darryl froze in place, watching his life flash before his eyes, as Sawyer slid back into his seat. Other than the brief time spent with Sawyer, it was a rather disappointing show. Again he gripped Sawyer’s strong thigh, and began to pray.

“Our father, who art in heaven….”

Suddenly he felt the car rise. Darryl was thrown backward against the seat by a force he didn’t even attempt to fight. They ascended, easily clearing the top of the zeppelin which was still moving inexorably toward them at a genteel pace. It sailed on its way beneath them.

Darryl felt Sawyer’s gentle touch as he felt the other man remove the air goggles he wore. He opened his eyes to see Sawyer’s concerned face, also sans goggles. “It’s alright, we’re well above it now. No harm done.”

No harm if you didn’t count the near heart attack Darryl felt as though he’d just survived. But before he could voice his opinion, his lips were stilled by Sawyer’s, and he simply melted into them once more.

Darryl’s breathing calmed, and for a time, they simply sat together, leaning into one another. The car-plane seemed to have a pre-set course, as Sawyer did very little actual work. Occasionally, he checked the instruments, made an adjustment. Most of his attention was focused on Darryl.

It was mid-afternoon when Sawyer reached into the glove compartment, brushing his hand across Darryl’s lap as he did so, producing an inadvertent moan.  In his hand, he clutched a pair of binoculars. He peered into the distance, in a downward direction. “Lust ahoy!” he cried at last, in a chipper tone.

 “I beg your pardon?”

“Look! Down there!” He handed Darryl the field glasses, directing his attention to a point below. Darryl could see what appeared to be buildings and streets coming into view. Maybe even people. At this height and distance, that was hard to determine for sure.

“That’s the city of Lust,” Sawyer explained. “Our destination.” From his coat, he produced a pocket watch, snapped it open. “Right on time too. Good.”

“We’re on a schedule?”

Sawyer dazzled him with a brilliant smile, before turning his attention to the various dials and knobs recessed into the vehicle’s dark-wooded instrument panel. Deftly avoiding answering the question in the process.

Darryl decided that in the scheme of things it didn’t really matter. He settled in for the remainder of their journey. When Sawyer raised one arm, he gladly snuggled against him, wrapped in his warmth, content to be there—no matter where there was or where they were going. He closed his eyes for just a second, breathing in the scent of Sawyer.

When he opened them again, they were on the ground and driving. The way that normal vehicles did, on a paved road. Had they really been flying? Or was that but a crazy dream?

“All real, love, all real.” Sawyer gave him a cocky grin.

Ahead of them, Darryl saw a stone entranceway, flanked on either side by wrought iron gates which hung open. As they drove through them, Sawyer turned to Darryl. “Welcome to Lust, love,” he said.

The city of Lust was big and loud and boisterous; Darryl quickly discovered how it had obviously gotten its name. Everywhere he looked he saw women, with long limbs and short skirts. Unabashed at the amount of skin they displayed, they beckoned to every passerby, grinding and promising a good time. On the sidewalks, shady men with bright suspenders and brighter smiles attempted to lure people into games of chance—dice, cards, brightly lit wheels, or colored bones. Anything and everything that could be conceived of.

There were pretty men in loincloths, who offered to fuck or be fucked.  Men clad in kilts, and others in dresses. Black leather-clad women brandished whips; they offered to chastise naughty sinners. Brightly costumed clowns, men on stilts, and men in bear suits. Penitent priests and scintillating nuns. Whatever your taste, your preference, or your perversion, Lust had a way of satisfying it. And if it didn’t exist, Lust would make it up.

Darryl goggled at the colorful figures determined to part him from his money, and perhaps stomp on his heart as well. He moved closer to Sawyer when one bold woman almost pulled him out of the car. Sawyer touched her arm lightly. She shrieked, then disappeared into the crowd. He couldn’t help but remember the way Sawyer’d parted the other crowd, the one that gawked at the victim of the gypsy Milosh.

“How did you do that?”

Sawyer made a sudden left turn, and parked the car. “We’re here,” he announced, pushing a button. Darryl felt the car shiver, but it was only the top, which Sawyer was putting up. He came around the front of the car.

 Opening Darryl’s door, he reached for his hand, helping him onto the sidewalk, before he locked the car.

“Now we…” he began, just before he was hit from behind, whacked over the head by a cherry-colored parasol.

Darryl started to protest, until he felt the tip jab into his rib.

“Don’t move!” a feminine voice growled.

.

 to be continued

Don't forget to check out the other Silver Flashers!

Sui Lynn       m/m

Ryssa Edwards         m/m

Lindsay Klug     m/f

Victoria Blisse   m/f

West Thornhill   m/m

LM Brown      m/m

Cherie Noel       m/m         **virgin**

Freddy McKay   m/m

 We're going to begin a new round of Prompt Divas and watch out - we may slip some ringers in there! Er, I mean Guest Prompt Divas! Stay tuned to find out who they might be!

What do you think of our Silver Flash? Love it, hate it, can't wait to read it? We'd love to hear from you!

Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie