Wednesday Briefs: Dallas in Wonderland #22

Happy Hump Day to one and all! Are you ready for some flash fiction? This week's prompt was: "Hit me with your best shot"  or there were these alternative prompts:  unicorn, mandolin, some sort of plant or "hit or miss" or 

"sex on the beach"  or "I thought I knew (fill in the blank), until he/she...." or bartender, math, elephant.

In last week's installment of Dallas in Wonderland, Dallas enjoyed a little bit of a growth spurt, and Dr. Levi was not shy about bringing the situation to a climax. However, their idyll has been interrupted by the approach of... what? Stay tuned and find out!

Don't forget to check out all the Wednesday Briefers and see what they're up to this week - you'll find their links after this story.

Dallas in Wonderland #22

“What is that horrible noise?” Dallas winced. He would have covered his ears to protect them from the cacophony, but that would involve letting go of Samuel, something he was loath to do.

“I believe it’s known as burbling,” Samuel commented calmly.  Did nothing faze this man?

“How many of them are there?” Dallas asked in alarm.

“Just one, love. “ Samuel kissed him softly, and Dallas melted into his touch. Until the next ear-splitting screech sent a jolt rocketing through his body.

“We should probably get up.” Samuel rose, lifting a panicking Dallas with him. The good doctor brushed at bits of stray sand that stuck to strategic points of Dallas’s body, including his cock. “There you go,” he said, offering him a small smile.

Dallas realized, too late, that he would’ve been more useful to them in his larger form. Alas, there was nothing he could do about that now. He had lost what remained of the magic mushroom when his clothes had exploded from his body as he’d grown to giant proportions. Probably scattered to the four winds by now.

Dallas shivered as a stray breeze found its way up his backside, chilling him.  “What now?”

“Well, we’ve had sex on the beach. I suggest we work on finding a different locale.”

Surprised, Dallas peered intently into the other man’s eyes, searching for answers. Was he having fun with him or did Samuel want to be with him that badly? He hoped it was the latter, for that would go a long way to justify his own feelings toward the charming Dr. Levi. It would also serve to alleviate some of the insecurities brought on by his ex, Quentin.

“I love you, Samuel,” he blurted out before he could recall the incriminating words.

“I think we should remove ourselves from the beach,” Samuel smoothly suggested.  Dallas noticed that he made 

no comment on his’ impulsive declaration.

“Do you think it’s coming this way?”

Samuel shrugged. “Who knows? There is no logic to the beast. His methods seem to be rather hit or miss at best. At the moment, though, I am afraid we are ill equipped to do battle with him. I think we should regroup. What are your thoughts on the subject?”

“I’d follow you anywhere,” Dallas asserted, his voice thick with emotion.

“Let us go then, you and I,” Samuel quipped.  Dallas’ heart skipped a beat. “Then we’ll live to fight another day.”

Samuel led the way as they turned away from the beach, headed toward the cliffs. Dallas found himself growing horny all over again. He hoped that they’d have the time to make love again.  He felt that he could make love to Samuel forever, and never notice the passage of time.

Without warning they found themselves engulfed in darkness as a shadow fell across the sand, surrounding them like a shroud. This place has the strangest weather. Expecting to hear thunder, Dallas cast a glance upward at the huge black cloud that seemed to have taken control of the sky. But it wasn’t a cloud; it was a strange flying creature with a wingspan so enormous it seemed to obliterate the sun, and talons that looked more than capable of performing visceral damage.  Dallas froze, his legs unwilling or unable to obey his silent command to move. Perhaps a little of both.

He felt a familiar arm circle his waist, heard a gentle voice in his ear that soothed even as it propelled him into motion. Gently thrusting him out of harm’s way behind him, Samuel assumed a protective posture, standing between Dallas and the Jabberwock.

"Hit me with your best shot," Samuel challenged the beast.

The creature shook its head and roared, lunging toward Samuel. The beating of its great wings stirred up the sand around them, embroiling it into swirling dust clouds that obscured their vision. Dallas wiped at his eyes, trying to see through the particulate curtain.

The harder he tried, the thicker it became, clogging his nostrils and mouth.

Dallas began to panic. “Samuel?” he cried. His voice sounded very faint, as if it came from far away. He reached out for the other man, needing to affirm his presence, but he touched only sand. “Samuel?”

He received no reply.

The sand devils battered against him; he threw up his arms in self-defense, then doubled over, shielding his face from the onslaught of fury. He felt it tear at his unprotected skin, slicing at it viciously. He was sure he’d have a number of angry welts to show for this when it was all over.

Then as suddenly as it had begun, the winds died, the roaring ceased, and silence prevailed.

Dallas slowly uncurled from his fetal position, spitting out grains of sand. As soon as he dared, he opened his eyes, slowly, carefully.

All was calm, the sands showing no sign of perturbation. Everything that had been uprooted had somehow found its way back to its original position.

Except for two things.

Samuel and the Jabberwock were gone.

tbc

Now visit the other Wednesday Briefers!

Ashlynn Monroe     m/f MA Church   m/m  Michael Mandrake   m/m Tali    m/m  Nephylim     m/m MC Houle     m/m Victoria Blisse    m/f Sara York     m/m Elyzabeth VaLey     m/f

 Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie

Wednesday Briefs: Dallas in Wonderland #21

Happy Hump Day! Are you ready for some flash fiction, brought to you by the members of the Wednesday Briefs? Well, wait no more, it's that time! Our group is growing by leaps and bounds! We hope you're enjoying our weekly offering of fiction fun! This week we had these prompts:  "It was a dark and stormy night."  

The alternative prompts were: candy, crow, a length of rope or "When I saw his/her eyes, I just knew that..." or 

French kiss, French fry, third French object of your choice or penguin, ventriloquist, rapier or "Are you glad to see me or is that a (fill in the blank) in  your pocket?"

This week, Dallas in Wonderland continues where we left off, with Dallas experiencing a sudden growth spurt. What next? You have to read it to find out!

Dallas in Wonderland #21

Dallas’s whole body felt as if it were expanding, more than just his mind. The ground seemed to be moving away from him, as well as everything upon it. He pulled his foot from the fire and shook it; drops of flame danced off;  the already panicked men ran, scattering in pairs. Dallas threw out one hand to balance himself. It landed smack dab in the strawberry river, but curiously, the water only rose up to his elbow. Surely it had been deeper than that before?

Something tickled his arm. Glancing into the water, he saw a school of tiny fish. They nibbled at his flesh, prickling, but not causing pain; he grinned at the sight. Pulling his arm from the water, he looked down at himself in amazement.  He was easily ten feet tall, maybe fifteen or twenty. It was hard to tell proportion with such a rapid growth spurt—a lot faster than puberty, and twice as confusing. His clothes hadn’t expanded with him; stretched beyond their capacity to contain him, they’d been reduced to tatters early on, to be blown away by the first errant breeze.

He looked about for Samuel, searching for his familiar long red tail.  He finally found him, standing beside Dallas’ overly large feet.

“Hello up there!” Samuel waved. “Are you glad to see me, or is that a forest in your pocket?”

Samuel’s voice went straight to Dallas’ cock. Dallas’ very large, very erect cock—it had to be eighteen inches long, if not more. His eyes bulged at the sight of so much him. He slipped his hand about his own naked hardness, unable to keep from touching it. A giant vein that ran along the underside visibly throbbed along with his pulse. He curled himself around Samuel, careful not to crush him. Samuel was only about one third his size and he didn’t want to hurt him.

“I’m very glad to see you,” Dallas admitted. He yearned for the taste of Samuel’s lips, but somehow he didn’t see that happening, not with the disparity in their sizes. His head was still spinning from the shotgun technique Samuel had employed to share the contents of the joint, every sensation heightened a thousandfold.

Now the question was—how was he going to get back to his proper height so he could be fucked again by the delicious Dr. Levi?

Dallas shivered at an unexpected touch; he looked down to find Samuel licking his cock. He’d taken up a position just below it, wrapped his legs around the base, and begun to taste. A drop of pre-cum dripped from the head, splatting on the ground, narrowly missing Samuel.

“You taste like candy,” the good doctor commented.  “If I had a length of rope, I’d climb up there and kiss you, you know? Alas, I did not come prepared.”

Damn the luck. Dallas’ lips throbbed with unspent passion, his cock reacting to Samuel’s tongue. 

“I need you to kiss me,” Dallas moaned, “need you so much, Samuel.”

“Never give up, Dallas, never surrender. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. If you want it, it will come.”

Dallas thought he’d never heard more beautiful words in his life.  Tears prickled the corners of his eyes.

“What goes up must come down,” Samuel continued, unwinding himself from around Dallas. At first Dallas was disappointed at the loss of his warm body—until he saw Samuel divest himself of his clothing, tossing aside his green kilt to reveal his very pale, very beautiful flesh.

Naked, he began to lick at Dallas’ cock again, pressing against him with his own heated body. Dallas wouldn’t have believed it, but his skin was so super-sensitive that he felt every touch, every nuance of Samuel’s ministrations. His cock began to twitch, his balls to tighten. He gripped his own sac, careful not to unsettle Samuel from his precarious perch.

With the pre-cum that seeped from his hardness, he resembled a seething volcano, pressure building in every crevice and orifice, even to the farthest reaches of his body, his limbs trembling with excitement. Dallas closed his eyes and threw back his head, his moans filling the air at approximately the decibel level of a train whistle. Birds flying by squawked at the sound and raced away. Small animals took cover. The ground began to tremble with the force of the vibrations that shook Dallas’ frame.

“You can do it.” Samuel encouraged him with his words, his lips, his tongue, his hands, and his entire body. “Let it out, let it all out…”

Dallas’ cock began to convulse in the throes of his orgasm. His fingers gripped the earth, clawing divots from the very ground. His leg muscled tightened, his back arched, his balls ached fiercely until he began to release in molten waves that flowed from his spasming cock.

As his essence left his body, he felt a swirl that encompassed his very core, as if he were folding in on himself, like a telescope, growing smaller with each mini eruption and aftershock of his coming. Smaller and smaller, while Samuel seemed to grow larger, although that was simply a perception and not a truth, for the truth was that he did not change at all, while Dallas did grow smaller.

With a last gasp, he was done, and somehow, in the midst of his re-combobulations, he managed to end up with Samuel perfectly aligned atop his body, in just the perfect proportion as they’d been before.

“Welcome back, handsome,” Samuel greeted him before he claimed Dallas’ lips in a heart-stopping kiss. Dallas wrapped his arms about Samuel, clinging tightly, lest he find himself changing again. But no, all remained the same, as they sang to one another, using the medium of their lips.

Until Dallas was torn from his idyllic bliss by a terrible screech which filled the very air about them. What the fuck?  He turned worried eyes toward Samuel.

“Ah,” the doctor said calmly. “The Jabberwock approaches.”

to be continued

Don't forget to visit all the other Wednesday Briefers and enjoy their offerings!

Ashlynn Monroe    m/f Michael Mandrake    m/m Nephylim     m/m Lily Sawyer      m/m  Sara York     m/m MA Church   m/m  Victoria Blisse    m/f AJ Jarrett    m/m Elyzabeth VaLey     m/f

MC Houle     m/m

 Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie

Wednesday Briefs: Dallas in Wonderland #20

Happy Wednesday, it's that time of the week again - time for the Wednesday Briefers to do their thing! This week, This week, Scarlett Knight is our Prompt Diva, and she's given us these wonderful prompts: Prompt 1: Write a scene/story set on a plane, a cruise ship, or a train  and  Prompt 2: Use "macaroni," "diva," and "cape" and Prompt 3: Write a scene/story and include a bird in some way  while I offer  these alternate prompts: "Opposites attract" or 

an interesting use of an electric chair or scarf, cucumber, and a coffee table

This week, Dallas in Wonderland turns 20! Last week, we saw Dallas get his heart's desire - making love with Samuel. Now what's in store for these two? Find out here! And then check out the other Briefers to see what they're up to!  Enjoy!

Dallas in Wonderland #20

A sleepy Dallas opened his eyes to discover they were back where they’d started. Back by the fire,  along with the other wayward wanderers; not back in their own world, much as he might wish to be.

Darkness had engulfed them in a velvety curtain, the stars mere pinpoints of light dotting the background. Staring hazily up into the night sky, Dallas swore he saw two moons, parallel crescents that nestled close together, like celestial lovers. He blinked and looked again. Yes, there were two moons.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” he murmured aloud.

He glanced up, meeting Samuel’s gaze, looking down at him. His head was pillowed in Samuel’s lap; he lay on the sand, near enough to benefit from the warmth of the blaze around which the others sat in pairs. When he looked at them, he received winks and knowing smiles in return. His cheeks grew warm, but not from the fire.

Samuel’s hand stroked Dallas’ hair; he nestled against him contentedly. The sand was surprisingly comfortable, but Samuel’s lap was pure heaven. This wasn’t really so bad, was it? He wouldn’t mind staying here for a while, with Samuel by his side.

Samuel kissed one of his fingers, placed the fingertip against Dallas’ lips in a gesture that went straight to Dallas’ heart. He heard the hoots and catcalls from the peanut gallery, but he didn’t mind. For right now, all was right with the world.

Samuel looked up at the other men. “Gentlemen.” He smiled, revealing his pearly white teeth. “I believe you were telling us your tale, were you not?”

Dallas followed his gaze, saw that he referred to Leatherman, who was now handcuffed to the policeman. He didn’t seem to mind, considering the heated looks exchanged between them.  Dallas wondered what he’d missed. Had he been asleep long? Had Samuel carried him here, after dressing him? A quick glance downward reassured him that yes, he was dressed, just as before.

Leatherman cleared his throat. “Ahem, as I was saying…”

“Here, have some of this.” A moccasin-clad foot gently nudged Dallas. He glanced up to find the Indian Chief, silhouetted against the double moons. He held something out to Dallas, pincered between two fingers.

“I don’t smoke,” Dallas began, but Samuel reached for the glowing object instead.

“Thank you.”

The colorful bonnet on the Indian’s head swayed as he nodded, then walked away. Dallas watched curiously as Samuel took the item, which resembled a cigarette, but was shorter and stubbier, and placed the lit end inside his mouth. He leaned down toward Dallas, who instinctively inhaled, desirous of taking in Samuel’s scent. Funny, it was sweeter than he remembered. Almost dizzyingly sweet…

Dallas could hear Leatherman going on, in the background, but damned if he knew what the man was talking about, neither did he care. The comments of his audience were more entertaining.

“What a diva!” the construction worker snorted, while he heard the cowboy remark, “Give a guy a cape and suddenly they’re the Lone Ranger.” Whatever that meant.

“How’s my baby?” Samuel asked, his fingers caressing Dallas’s temple. Dallas smiled up at him, a smile that reached from ear to ear. In fact, Dallas felt as though he were all smile, and nothing else. He was the biggest smile in the world, because he was the happiest man in the world.

“Meow,” he purred, rubbing his face against Samuel’s crotch, the feel of his hard cock taking his breath away. “Mmm, kitty want milk. Feed kitty?”

Samuel moved Dallas’ face away from his crotch, but not too far. “I’m afraid you won’t find any milk there, kitty. Not the kind that felines enjoy, anyway.”

Undaunted, Dallas opened his mouth as if he intended to inhale Samuel’s cock through the kilt. “Kitty thirsty,” he repeated. “Kitty want to drink…”

“Hey, soldier, I made a mess of macaroni, would you like some?” the military man offered.

Somehow even a cheesy treat didn’t compare to what he knew he’d find beneath Samuel’s kilt.

Something clicked in Dallas’ brain, befogged as it was. Samuel was wearing a kilt, not a pair of traditional trousers. So much the better. Not only sexier, but easier to get into his knickers, ‘cause he wasn’t wearing any!

Dallas grinned again, all the way down to his non-existent toes. “Meow,” he purred, as he pulled back a little bit, contemplating Samuel in all his green glory. He bent down and kissed one knee, then turned to the other and kissed that too, lest he be accused of favoritism, licking along his calf for good measure. The slightly salty taste of Samuel’s skin only served to enflame his desire.

Reaching for the kilt, he lifted it.  Tied around Samuel’s beautiful cock was a string and a tag that read, “Drink me.”

Well, Dallas didn’t need to be told twice, as he quickly untied the little notice and tossed it aside, then swallowed Samuel’s cock whole. Oh blessed cock, blessed relief, blessed great saints in the morning, but Samuel tasted so very good. Best cock ever. Bar none.

Greedily he guzzled and sucked on that beautiful cock. The leather clad bore’s voice droned even further into the background, only occasionally a word or two seeping into Dallas’ consciousness. Bats. And cats. And sometimes even rats.

Do cats eat bats? Do bats eat cats? Do cocks eat locks? Do locks eat cocks? Around and around and around he goes, and where he stops, nobody…

The world seemed to explode inside of Dallas’ mouth and he began to drink, in great long gulps, as if he’d been marooned in the middle of the sea for a long long time, with nothing but salt water to drink.

Now where was that silly albatross?

His first sign that something just might be wrong was when he heard the shriek of the Leatherman, and then cries of concern from all the other men. And then, for some reason, he found that his overly large foot was in the fire.

 to be continued

Be sure to visit the other Wednesday Briefers and enjoy their tales!

Nephylim     m/m

AJ Jarrett     m/m

Ashlynn Monroe     m/f MC Houle     m/m

 Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie

Silver Shorts Week 13: Wedding Cake Blues

The new Silver Shorts anthology is now available at Silver Publishing! Download it now, it's free flash fiction from the authors of Silver Publishing.  This week, I used the prompt "Spring rain reminds me of..." I am proud to present to you my story, Wedding Cake Blues. Enjoy!

Wedding Cake Blues

"What does spring rain remind you of?"

"What?" Drake glanced up from the ivory shell border he was painstakingly piping onto the rim of a wedding cake. Marco had opened the heavy metal back door of the bakery. He leant against the frame, silhouetted against the curtain of the falling rain outside. Darren's heart gave a lurch at the sight.

"The rain. What does it make you think of?" Marco's gaze was fixed somewhere in the distance, far beyond Drake's range of vision, but then it always was. Marco was a dreamer. A schemer and a planner. And he was also hot as fuck.

"I dunno. That it's gonna be wet driving home, and all the idiots'll be out?" Drake squeezed his pastry bag harder, forcing out the decorator frosting. "What about you? What does spring remind you of?"

"The renewal of life. It's a time of rebirth. Everything that winter killed off is coming back, better than ever. And very beautiful."

Like you. Aloud, Drake said, "That's a nice thought. Poetic, even." Focus on the cake, not Marco. But he couldn't help himself, and he glanced at his co-worker again, frowning in dismay, both at the sight and at himself. If he didn't concentrate, he was gonna make the row come out crooked, and then he'd have to redo it. Not to mention Marco seemed determined to get into trouble.

"You should put that out. If you get caught with that, the old man's gonna fire you."

Marco laughed, a deep, rich, throaty sound that enveloped Drake's heart in a surge of fiery heat. Between his slender fingers, Marco held a lit cigarette. "Naw, he won't fire me. Yell at me, sure. But he won't fire me." He negligently flicked the subject of discussion out the door and out of sight. Shrugging, he turned toward Drake. "Do you want to know how I know?"

"Yeah, how do you know?" Drake shivered in spite of himself as his eyes met Marco's. Marco's eyes were so blue that sometimes they seemed to be black. Like a black hole, sucking everything into their rich depths. Drake knew that, given the opportunity, he could get lost in those eyes forever. Not that the opportunity would ever come.

"Because he's doing my old man, that's how I know. No way he's gonna fire me for anything short of burning the place down."

Drake swallowed hard. That was more personal information than Marco had given him in the few months they'd worked together. He didn't tend to talk about himself very much, usually limiting his comments to the world around him. "Your dad? And Mr. Wilson?" Wow, that brought up a rather disturbingly sexy image in his mind. Marco's dad, Dimitri, was damn good looking for his age—it was easy to see where the son had gotten his amazing looks—and so was their boss, the owner of Only Cakes, Jimmy Wilson. Together… Just wow.

But what about the son? Did the acorn fall far from the oak? Drake wished. But his luck didn't run that way. And he didn't have the nerve to ask.

"Yeah, they're dating or something. I'm not sure what they're actually calling it. But whatever it is, it got me a job."

"Don't you like making cakes?"

"I do now." Marco turned away from the rain. He kicked at the box he'd been using to prop the door open and let it fall shut, muffling the sound of the rainfall, reducing it to patters on the flat roof of the bakery. "I didn't before, but hey, it's a job, right?"

"Well, yeah, it's a job. But I'm sure you could do anything you wanted." I'm glad you gave this one a chance.

Marco smiled as he approached the work table. He moved with all of the lithe grace of a dancer. Light on his feet, despite his size, which Drake estimated at close to six feet. A muscular six feet at that, at least from what Drake could see. The closer he got, the louder Drake's heart beat, until he was sure it must be more than audible.

"Pretty cake," Marco commented. "You do good work. What's the theme for this one?"

"Um… uh… Winter. Ice. That kind of thing. Everything's supposed to be done in white and silver and b-blue. No other c-color…"

Marco stepped closer. So close. Irresistibly close… desirably close. Drake forced himself to look away, to focus on the pastry bag in his hand. To breathe. To fight against his nervous stammer, which would pick now to make itself evident.

"What do you think of the topper? Pretty cool, eh?" It had taken him some time to find just the right one, but he'd located the perfect design on the Internet. Two men on skis, dressed in full white tux. The grooms had been ecstatic when he showed them his find. Apparently they'd met one another at some posh winter resort in Europe. Switzerland maybe. And now they were getting married. Lucky them.

"Winter's such a dead season. I hate snow. It's so… cold."

"Yeah, that's why it only comes in winter." Drake tried to joke, but it felt flat. Unlike his dick, which was straining even now against his zipper, fighting for release. Not gonna happen, big boy. Not here, not now.

"The only good thing about winter is getting snowed in and building a huge fire in the fireplace, then getting naked in front of it and making love to a beautiful man."

Drake damn near swallowed his tongue. Both at the image and the words. He tried to keep himself from picturing it, but it was too late. In his mind's eye he saw Marco, stretched out on a bear skin rug. No, scratch that. Something more exotic. Marco laid bare on a tiger skin rug. A white tiger, at that. Beautiful and exotic… like Marco. Such a gorgeous sight with his beautiful skin, the color of a caramel macchiato. His depthless eyes and killer smile. Muscles for days… and a cock to die for.

Of course, Drake didn't know that for sure. The idea was a product of his very vivid imagination. One that was located in his dreams—those of the waking up wet 'cause he blew his load variety.

"Ever make love to a man, Drake?"

Whoa, he hadn't seen that coming. No pun intended. Not trusting his voice, Drake shook his head. Marco had come around the table now, his movements resembling a jungle cat, feral and untamed. Drake watched his undulating hips. Even encased as they were in black work pants, they were a sight to behold. He stifled a moan at the thought of seeing them naked, pressing his hands against them as Marco pumped inside of him, filled him, while they gazed deeply into one another's eyes, fucking the night away…

Wait, what? Had he missed something while lost in his erotic fantasy?

"… in the world. Nothing like it."

Drake's eyes grew wide. He stopped breathing. Marco's face was mere inches from his own, close enough to see how long and thick and luscious his eyelashes really were. Close enough to see the midnight blue eyeliner that rimmed his eyes, accentuating their darkness. Close enough to see the small mole at the corner of his mouth, just at the edge of his upper lip, near the seam. He longed to touch those lips with his, to taste them, to explore them.

Did he just whimper?

His eyes seemed to close of their own volition, because it seemed the thing to do. He'd seen it often enough in movies. The leading man would make his move, claim his love interest's lips, and he or she always closed their eyes. It felt natural, even if it did contribute to a sudden dizziness that passed through him in a wave, unbalancing his center of being. A heartbeat passed in utter silence. When nothing happened, he looked again, confused to find Marco on the other side of the table.

"Marco?" He managed to croak. Then he realized that Marco wasn't looking at him, he gazed past him, at something or someone. He slowly turned his head, suddenly apprehensive. There stood Mr. Wilson.

"That's looking nice, Drake. Almost done?" He slapped Drake lightly on the shoulder. It took him a moment to realize there was a question there.

"Almost." He hoped his boss didn't notice how shaky his voice was, or see the tremor in his legs. Normally he never sat while he decorated his cakes, so that he could achieve the proper angle and use just the right pressure. But at this moment it seemed like a good idea. He grabbed a metal stool from under the table and heavily sat, taking the weight off his legs before they gave out on him.

His cheeks felt hot, yet also cold. He didn't dare look Marco in the eyes again, afraid his own eyes would reveal too much.

"Have you started the order for that birthday party yet?" This question was obviously directed at Marco.

"Getting on that right now."

"Good, good. They'll be by at six to pick it up. Not a problem, is it?"

"Nope. None whatsoever. Plenty of time. We'll get 'er done, Jimmy."

It sounded funny to hear his boss addressed by his first name. Drake wondered again if the son took after the father, or was that just wishful thinking on his part? And why the hell didn't he have the nerve to find out?

* * * *

Drake stood back from the table to admire his handiwork, absentmindedly wiping his frosting encrusted hands on his work apron. The wedding cake had turned out spectacularly. Drake was pleased with the result; he'd created a veritable winter wonderland in decorator frosting and fondant. He'd made slivers of ice using spun sugar that he tinted silver. He glanced up. Marco was staring at the cake too, having helped him move it from the working table to the finishing table, where they were about to box it up. The admiration he saw in Marco's eyes meant a great deal to him.

Everything they needed to do for the day had been done. The birthday cake was decorated and boxed and ready to be picked up. The cakes for the storefront were completed and in the showcase to be sold. Marco had a list of what cakes were to be made the next day, which he'd posted on the wall by his work station. The kitchen was spotless and ready to be shut down for the night. Drake couldn't help but think what a good team they made, grateful all over that Mr. Wilson had started dating Marco's father, since that's what had brought them together.

Well, not actually together. But they were co-workers, anyway—on the job friends. And that was a start.

"Got plans?" Marco's voice—followed immediately by the ringing of the bakery phone—intruded on his thoughts. He reached for the cordless that sat on a nearby shelf, but there was no second ring, so he knew one of the girls out front had gotten it. He slid his empty hand back into his pocket, feeling the weight of his own phone.

"Not really. Maybe watch a little TV. You?"

"I was wondering—"

Whatever Marco had been about to say was cut short. The door to the kitchen swung open, and a bright orange head popped into view. "Mr. Wilson gone home?" she asked.

"Probably, Cindy." Marco shrugged. "Did you check his office?"

"Naw, just looked here first. I bet he's gone, though, don't you?"

"I think so. Just like we're going to be in a couple minutes."

Drake wondered if Mr. Wilson had a date with Marco's dad, but he decided to keep those thoughts to himself.

"Why, what's up?" Marco continued

"I have a very distraught groom on the line. Something's gone wrong, and they can't pick up the cake. He wants to know if we can deliver?"

Drake and Marco exchanged glances.

"We were about to go home," Marco said, jingling his keys for emphasis. Drake nodded his agreement.

"He says he'll be happy to pay whoever does it." The girl looked from one to the other. "Guys, I think he's crying."

Damn. That was hard to ignore. "I'll do it…" he started to offer, but Marco broke in.

"We'll do it. No big deal. Do you have the address?"

"No, but I'll get it, hold on." She disappeared through the door, while the two boys regarded one another.

"I can handle it." Drake didn't want Marco to feel obligated, just because he hadn't ducked out the door yet. Although he hoped he'd agree to do it. More time spent together. In a vehicle even.

"Don't be silly. We can do it together. You ever transport a wedding cake before?"

Drake nodded. "Yeah. It's not too hard. We have a yoga mat we can set it on so it won't skid. I'll disassemble the top layers, and reassemble them there. The only thing is I don't think my trunk will work very well, it's pretty small. What about yours?"

Marco's gaze flickered to the wall. On a peg hung a set of keys. The ones that belonged to Only Cakes' only delivery van. He looked back at Drake. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Drake nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. I'm guessing Mr. Wilson won't mind. It's for a customer, after all, not like we're joy riding."

"You know it." Marco grinned. "What do you need to bring to finish the job there?"

"Just a few things. It's not hard. We just have to drive carefully, that's all."

"Get your stuff together, I'll get the address and we'll be on our way, yes?"

"Sounds good to me." Drake thought it sounded more than good. It sounded like the perfect end to a good day. Did he have the nerve to make it the beginning of something more?

* * * *

Drake couldn't help but sneak surreptitious glances at Marco. He sat in the passenger seat, while Marco had taken the wheel of the bakery van, looking oh so fine. His profile was damn irresistible, drawing Drake deeper and deeper. He tried to focus on what they were doing, where they were going, but it was difficult when he wanted to touch Marco in the worst possible way.

They'd secured the cake, utilizing a cardboard circle in the bottom of the box that was wider than the widest layer, one that kept the cake from touching the sides of the box. They'd set it on the yoga mat, in the back of the van, and carefully boxed the top tiers; Drake carried his tools in a drawstring bag in his lap.

Just before they'd walked out the door, Marco had stopped him, his hand against Drake's chest. Drake's heart had quit beating for that one moment, his imagination soaring. But Marco only pulled the dirty apron he'd forgotten he was wearing carefully over Drake's head. Then he gave him a critical glance, dusting off a spot on his pants and proclaiming him perfect. Drake could only pray he didn't notice the sudden swell of his pants at Marco's touch.

Their destination was about a half hour's drive, a country club on the other side of town. Marco had Mapquested it and written the directions on a piece of paper, which lay on the dashboard.

"By my calculations, we should be in plenty of time," Marco said. "They gotta get through dinner first. And then all the toasts and shit. Then the dancing."

"Yeah, but they'll want the cake on display for that stuff too," Drake commented.

"True. I think we're making good time, though. Not like we can speed or anything. Better to arrive a few minutes late with a whole cake, than a few minutes earlier with one that's been bounced around."

"Yeah."                

They fell into a comfortable silence. Drake peeked over at Marco, not for the first time, and found the other's eyes on him. Blushing, he glanced into his lap.

"So, does Mr. Wilson come over to your house? I mean, to see your dad? If I'm being too nosey, just tell me to shut up."

Marco laughed. "You're not being nosey. I'd ask the same thing if it was our boss and your dad. Sometimes he sleeps over, or Dad sleeps over there. It's all good."

They came to a red light. Marco reached over and laid his hand atop Drake's. The temperature in the van suddenly shot up a hundred degrees at least.

"Do you ever think about what your wedding cake will be like?" Marco asked. "I mean, you're so good at designing and shit. I bet you know just what you want, don't you?"

That was the last question Drake had expected to hear from Marco.

"Actually, no," Drake confessed. "Well, not really."

Marco turned his head, dark eyebrows arched.

"I always thought that when the time came, that would be something I'd discuss with my fiancé. It should represent both of us, not just me or what I like."

"That makes sense. I never thought about wedding cakes at all, 'til I started working there. I never really thought about weddings. Your cakes are beautiful. Whoever marries you is gonna be one lucky guy."

Marco's fingers lightly stroked the top of Drake's hand.

If only this moment could last forever…

The light changed and Marco stepped on the gas, making a left turn. He never released Drake's hand.

When Drake finally found his voice, he asked, "What about you? Do you have something special in mind for your wedding cake?"

"No, I'm not really good with visualizing that kind of thing. But I know one thing. Whatever it looks like, I want it to have a filling."

"Filling? What kind?" Drake had never made a wedding cake with a filling, but he'd seen them in culinary magazines.

"Strawberry and custard. I had one once and it was awesome."

"If that's what you want, then that's what you should have."

"Would you make it for me?" Marco's fingers tightened on Drake's hand. Drake's whole body was on fire from the intimate contact.

"Are you thinking about getting married?" He managed to ask, without stammering.

"If you're asking am I seeing someone, then no, just thinking ahead." Marco raised Drake's hand to his lips, turned it over and kissed the palm, just before catering truck stopped moving. Drake glanced through the windshield. Damn, they'd arrived. Too soon, as far as he was concerned.

"Where do we need to take this?" Marco turned in his seat, facing Drake.

"Probably through the kitchen, but we should ask first. Just in case."

He reached for the door handle, but before either had a chance to get out of the van, a knock came at Drake's window. To his surprise, Mr. Wilson stood there, gesturing at them by rolling his hand. Drake lowered the window.

"Mr. Wilson? What are you doing here?" he blurted out.

"I was about to ask you two the same question?" Their employer was dressed in formal clothes. Drake thought he was looking pretty smokin'. A similarly dressed handsome man stood behind him, also looking pretty hot.

"Hey, Dad!" Marco grinned. "Jimmy, we have a delivery for the Reinhardt-Galapagos wedding. Any chance that's why you're here?"

"Yeah, they're friends of ours." Dimitri came abreast of Jimmy; they both peered inside. Drake felt the intensity of their white hot scrutiny. Or maybe he was just self-conscious at being with Marco outside of the bakery. Wishful thinking, much?

"I thought that was being picked up?"

"That was the original plan, but something happened, so they called and asked for a delivery," Drake explained.

At that moment, a flustered man in a white tux burst out of the posh building. At first glance, Drake thought he seemed to be close to losing his mind. His face was red, his bow tie askew, and his hands were waving apoplectically at the air.

"Oops, there's Bruce," Jimmy said. "Metri, go calm him down, while I help the boys get the cake inside and set up."

"Sure thing." The two men exchanged a quick kiss, before Marco's dad turned to head disaster off at the pass. Drake could just hear his soothing voice as he caught the nervous groom and took him in hand. The words were indistinct, but the tone was clearly meant to calm; they quickly disappeared back into the country club.

"Where should we unload?" Marco asked.

"Let's go in the front. That's faster than taking it around the back and through the kitchen. Come on."

Between the three of them, they carefully carried the various boxes inside, into a small back area just off of the reception hall. Drake peeked into the larger room. He saw black-clad waiters bearing plates of food. Apparently the guests were just being served dinner, so they'd arrived in plenty of time. Thanks to Drake's careful packing, the cake was as immaculate as when he'd first assembled it. Mr. Wilson returned to his date, once he saw that they had the situation under control. Marco kept him company while Drake put the wedding cake back together again. He stood so close that Drake could feel the heat from his body.

"Just like Humpty Dumpty. Except better," Marco chuckled. "Can I set the topper on?"

Drake had been about to do that, but without hesitation he handed him the decoration. Marco held it for a moment, closing his eyes, not saying anything. When he opened them again, he set the topper on the cake. "It's beautiful," he commented, turning to Drake. "Just like you."

Before Drake had a chance to respond, Marco had taken him into his arms, and smothered any possible utterance with his lips.

This was it. This was the moment he'd been wishing for. Maybe this wasn't the ideal place for this, but right now, Drake didn't really care.

Unfortunately, that was the moment their boss chose to walk back in, checking up on them. Drake's cheeks burned, but Marco seemed unperturbed. "All done, see?" When Drake tried to step back, Marco slid a casual arm about his waist, anchoring him beside him. Drake didn't move away—he was far too happy to argue. He couldn't think past this moment, and he wanted this moment to last as long as possible. Assuming Mr. Wilson wasn't about to bust their balls.

"Looks wonderful." He looked from one to the other. "Bruce and Carl would like to know if you two would stay for dinner? You can sit with me and Dimitri. Our table had two no shows."

"Are you kidding?" Drake glanced down at his work clothes.

"No, I'm not. They're so happy you brought the cake, they don't care about anything else. Come on."

"But I… we're not dressed."

"You look wonderful," Marco said. "I'd love to, if you would?"

How could Drake say no? He couldn't.

They ended up sitting with Dimitri and Jimmy, having a fabulous dinner. Afterward, Drake could never say just what it was. He only knew that he was with Marco, and that Marco held his hand beneath the table, and the most delicious feelings were coursing through him. When it came time for the toasts, they were given small glasses of champagne. The bubbles went straight up Drake's nose and everyone laughed when he hiccupped.

After dinner, Bruce and Carl—Mr. and Mr. Reinhardt-Galapagos—led the first dance, and then the floor began to fill with other couples. Marco stood and looked at Drake, holding out one hand. "Will you do me the honor of dancing with me?"

Drake's cheeks flushed, and he could barely breathe, flush with happiness. He reached for Marco's outstretched hand, and laid his own trustingly inside it. "I'd love to," he said.

He had eyes for no one but his handsome co-worker as they found a corner of the dance floor, and wrapped their arms about one another, swaying to the soulful beat of the live music.

"I have a confession to make," Marco whispered into Drake's ear. His blood pressure began to skyrocket, his heart to tap dance.

"What's that?" He was almost afraid to hear. Almost.

"You know when I put the topper on the cake?"

Drake nodded.

"I know it's not exactly tradition, but I made a wish."

"You did?"

"I did. And so far, it's all come true."

Drake looked into the depths of those fathomless dark eyes, his breath catching his throat. "It has?"

"I wanted to spend time with you, and I wanted a chance to hold you in my arms. And one more thing…"

Before Drake could ask what that one more thing was, Marco moved his head into position and their lips had come together once more. Skyrockets were leaping in Drake's head and he'd never felt so happy in his life.

When they pulled apart at last, Marco whispered, "I've wanted to kiss you ever since I first saw you, Drake, but I didn't think I was your type."

"You're wrong. You're what I always wanted, too."

They grinned at one another, almost sheepishly. Drake felt a touch on his shoulder. He turned his head to see Jimmy Wilson. "Can I cut in?" he joked.

"Sorry Jimmy, his dance card is filled." Marco pulled Drake even closer, so close he could feel their mutual desire. "Maybe next time."

Their boss only laughed, as Dimitri appeared behind him, encircling his waist. "I see how you are. Well, have fun, just don't forget you have to work tomorrow." He and Dimitri began to dance together, and soon moved in another direction.

Somehow, Drake didn't think he'd be forgetting about work any time soon. Not with Marco there. Boldly, he reached for Marco's lips, fusing them together. "I wanted to be with you, too," he confessed.

In later years, their children never tired of hearing the story, of how their fathers had found one another because of a wedding cake emergency. It would be a staple of their family history for years to come.

Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie